#on the bright side i’ve been writing much that usual

[heatwavering]

when-harry-met-sally-ification of hangster is genius!!!! i would love to hear more about that if you don't mind sharing!

also - what's on your bradley bradshaw playlist? what's genre do you associate w/ him the most?

oh god. oh you don’t even know man. hangster being harry met sally (1989) is one of those things that only makes sense in my head or with a lot of background context, because if i were to just come out and say “rooster is like sally because he’s a chronic perfectionist and an emotional powder keg that lets everything pile up until the last moment (plus his mom is meg ryan), and hangman’s like harry because he’s an cynical asshole who’s actually gooey on the inside and doesn’t speak before he thinks and chooses to push peoples buttons and yearns more than he lets on” to someone who’s only seen both movies in passing, i’m going to get a lot of blank stares and nervous laughter. "isn't that every romcom couple ever?" yes. but i mean--

BAR. FOR BAR. I have wayyy more examples and comparisons but my computer explodes every time I try to add a picture or god forbid a gif. mostly, the "we've met before and it went terrible both times, but the third time we met it stuck and we managed to finally find equal footing and fall in love," is sooooo special to me. and since when harry met sally is an 80s movie (derogatory) and people bog down on the "men and women can't be friends" thing it gets a lot of flack, but by the end of the movie the whole dynamic shifts and becomes more like "why are we putting such big expectations on a relationship when I just love you. plain and simple. no wishy-washy philosophy applies because we've outgrown it and now know each other as equals." (plus that whole first "idea" is brought up by a cynical twenty-something who changes his entire worldview by the end of the movie bc he's fallen in love. why stick to your guns about an idea that's outdated when (a) people are too complicated to fall into your boxes and (b) uhhh who cares. you're in love. I always thought the change in harry's character is supposed to reverse his previous claim in the beginning of the movie and make fun of it for being kind of elementary. but maybe I'm thinking too hard about it.) I'm definitely glossing over some plot points and nuance and whatever but again, this dynamic is something that came directly out of my mind and basically only applies to how I've sandcastled hangster into what I want to see. plus I watched WHMS at like nine years old and it might've had some debilitating side effects. enjoy with an entire pile of salt.

about music now. I'm one of those people that is the ugly kind of pretentious about character playlists (his ass would NOT listen to hayloft by mother mother, shit like that) but also spends net zero time actually building a playlist that follows a timeline or theme. so I just sort everything into two separate playlists/categories: songs that [insert character] would listen to "canonically" and songs [insert character] is aligned with in my own opinion. sometimes there's overlap!!! and sometimes I'm forcing myself to decide if Bradley listens to third eye blind or is the kind of guy who makes fun of people who listen to third eye blind. I still can't decide. I wasn't alive when he was in high school. and you know you're up a creek without a paddle when American Pie (1999) becomes reliable historical material. anyway here's the best way I can describe the difference in the two:

Bradley's own playlist: teenage boy from SoCal in the late 90s early 2000s. in my mind he was always kinda quiet in school and did partake in band so he could play the piano (yes, in jazz band. if I hear a Whiplash joke I'm airing the room out) and spent a lot of time listening to anything and everything that wasn't uhhh Britney Spears adjacent. but lots of blink-182, foo fighters, Pearl Jam, nirvana. probably some early Coldplay. maybe some of The Killers when he got to college, and Radiohead but in secret and when Maverick wouldn't bully him for listening to so much "sad ass (unspoken: gay) music." and of course he's Goose's son, soooo: Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Jim Croce, Billy Joel, Allman Brother's Band, Hall & Oates, CCR, Eagles, etc. From Maverick (and Ice): U2, Pearl Jam, The Cars, more dad yacht rock, maybe Metallica (??) depends on if you think Maverick would ever mess around with something hair metal adjacent. of course he prays at the alter of Bruce Springsteen like his fathers before him. and his mom filled in everything else: Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, Paul Simon, Wham! (George Michael being outed....hoo boy. #1 topic NOT discussed at the Bradshaw-Mitchell-Kazansky dinner table.), George Strait, Hootie & The Blowfish, miscellaneous female country music from the 90s like Faith Hill and Shania Twain. Alison Krauss & Union Station! Alanis Morissette! The Goo Goo Dolls? now I'm just listing things but you get the picture.

my playlist about Bradley: anything about hating your dad or your hometown with lyrics that apply. see photo below and you'll get the vibe.

[also, that ONE specific photo of miles teller in project x is the photo that sailed a thousand fics. i love that photo. i wrote this entire fucking fic around that photo. it’s so bradley nicolas bradshaw to me.]

but overall my biggest examples of songs that apply to him (for me) are Little Giant by Roo Panes, Release by Pearl Jam, and The Long Way Around by the Chicks. Seventeen by Sharon Van Etten bc of how it makes me feel about Maverick and him (sick in the head.) souvenir by boygenius. faith by bon iver. Hot & Heavy by Lucy Dacus and The Steps by HAIM for hangster vibes. too much Taylor Swift and Maggie Rogers that I don't know how to explain without having a published fic. I have a ton more and I want to pick like 10 songs from each section and go into heavier detail, but I should probably put something out before I dig myself a hole pffft.

[dimesdimesdimess]

CONFESSION

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, swearing, innocent reader, lustful priest.

Readers Notes: Hello! This is my first time writing for this fandom. But it’s also been awhile since I’ve written anything. So the smut may not be great since I’m a little rusty. But if you enjoy it I may write another part. We’ll see. Enjoy! Possible spelling errors, not proof read.

part two

Every Thursday you made your way to the church for confession, confessing to the sins you committed for that week. Most of the time they are little things like swearing, or being a bit selfish and using the lord’s name in vain. Things that make Father Charlie laugh to himself because these weren’t really sinful to him and you were one of the few people that actually came every week. It always made him curious about you and liked when you came even if he didn’t feel it necessary. So every Thursday he listened, absolved you of your sins and made you say your hail marys. You always felt so much better after seeing Father Charlie. He wasn’t like some of the other priests, he was younger than them all, and had different ways about himself. You thought he was a bit strange at first and much too good looking to be a priest. You had to admit to yourself that sometimes you were coming to church just to see him. Much like the other women.. You heard whispers of the other women and the young girls talking about how handsome he was and every now and then one of them would try to flirt with him. He’d just smile at them as if he had no clue. 

You weren’t any different from these women. You also felt the urge to flirt with him, but he was a priest and that would be sinful. But that didn’t stop the thoughts that ran through your mind about him even outside of church. Sinful thoughts of him crossed your mind and you did your best to stop them even praying the thoughts away, but nothing worked. You couldn’t take the fact that God might send you to hell for having such thoughts. 

Thursday was rolling back around and one thing you thought could help and make you feel less of a sinful person was confession. Maybe if you confessed about the sin you’ve been committing that you’d be absolved and it would stop. But you couldn’t tell him the thoughts were about him, so you’d have to make up a story. As soon as you could you rushed over to the church and headed inside, there he was waiting by the confessional booth, he was expecting you. You lightly dip your fingers into the holy water and sign the cross before you quickly walk over to him.

Father Charlie smiled. “Ah, there you are, Y/N. Right on time. 

You were out of breath because you literally ran over. You smiled nervously at him as you caught your breath, those sinful thoughts creeping into your mind as you stared up at him. “Hello father.” you murmured.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Everything alright?” 

You nodded. “Mhm, just ready to give my weekly confession.” you mumbled. 

He chuckles softly. “Alright. Let’s get started.” he opens the door on his side of the booth and he steps inside. You nervously open the door to your side and step inside, sitting down as your hands sit in your lap and you nervously rubbing them together. There's a small light in the confession booth, it was just bright enough that it wasn’t completely pitch black. 

There was silence for a moment and then you started to speak softly. 

“Bless me father, for I have sinned. It’s been a week since my last confession.” you say softly. 

There’s another silence. You nervously rubbed your hands together, unsure of how to confess your sin. 

“Y/N?” Father Charlie says softly. 

You clear your throat. “Sorry, father.” you mumble. 

You sigh softly as you go down the list of your confesses, which was the usual, swearing and using the lord's name in vain. Which Father Charlie expected and made him a smile a bit to himself.

“Anything else, Y/N?” he asks. 

You let out another sigh. 

“Y-Yes.. I’ve.. I’ve been having some thoughts..” you murmur. 

Father Charlie’s interest now peeked. “What thoughts, my child?” he responds. 

“Um.. sinful.. Dirty thoughts…” You pause. “About a man..” you whisper. 

There’s practically a smirk on Father Charlie’s face. This was new for you and unexpected. Now he was more interested in this than ever. 

“What are these thoughts? Is this a man you know? Someone you’re seeing?” he questions. 

You shake your head. “No.. I’m not seeing him.. I just.. He’s just someone I know. Everyday I have the most impure thoughts about him.. And his body and things I’d like him to do to me. It’s terrible, father. Just terrible. I can’t seem to get these thoughts out of my mind. I tried to pray to make it stop. But they just won’t.. I don’t know what else to do, father.” 

Father Charlie sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he listens to you and then his tongue runs over them as he clears his throat. Such an innocent woman like you having impure thoughts like this made him feel a way. He wanted to help. He wanted to help ease these feelings and thoughts you’ve been having in one way he knew how. 

“Well.. It’s perfectly normal to have such thoughts if you feel something for this man. Sinful, maybe. But normal. You can’t avoid sexual feelings. There is something I know that may help with this, Y/N.” he says. 

You glance over through the separator. “There is? What is it we can do? Prayer? Penance? I’ll do anything to make this stop.” you pleaded. 

He chuckles lowly. “No.. None of that. This is something that I’ve been wanting to speak about. Something to bring the church into the future. Embracing sexual desires instead of condemning them or thinking of them as sinful.” he says. 

You furrow your brow, not understanding what he’s getting at. “What do you mean? Isn’t it a sin to have these thoughts if you’re not married?” you respond. 

“No. It’s human nature, now would you like me to help you?” he says quite coldly. 

You would do anything to make this feeling go away and stop lusting after your priest. “Yes father, please help.” you respond.

Just the very sound of that does something to him and he could feel his pants becoming tight at the very thought of what he was going to make you do. 

“Now I must say, what we do in here is confidential as you know. So, I can’t tell anyone and I’ll need you to promise you won’t speak of this with anyone.” he says, peering over at you through the separator. 

He had a seriousness in his voice and you glance over at him. Your eyes meeting in the dimness of the booth, still curious about how he was going to help you. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, father. Honest.” you say, nodding. 

“Good.. Then we can begin, Y/N. You’ll need to obey my every word. This is to help you, that’s all.” he proceeds to say. 

“I understand, father.” you chime in. 

“Good. Now.. Why don’t you start off by spreading your legs..” he hums.

You look over at him. “Father?” you question. 

“I told you, this is to help you. Now spread your legs..” he says demandingly. 

You swallow hard and do as you're told. He is the priest after all.. A holy vessel. What he’s asking must be what God wants. You slowly spread your legs open. The fabric of your dress lies against your thighs as it rides up just slightly as your legs are spread. Father Charlie peeks over and smirks to himself. “Wider.” he demands. 

You spread your legs open even further and now your dress rides up even further along your thighs. Father Charlie pleased with your obedience. “Good girl..” he hums. Now slowly lift the skirt of your dress up just above your thighs.” he whispers. 

Your eyes widened with innocence. You couldn’t believe this was happening and that this is what God wanted. “Now Y/N.” he hisses. 

You quickly lifted the skirt of your dress up just as he wanted and now your thighs and panties were completely exposed. He leans over and looks between the separator, the very sight of your white cotton panties causing the tightness in his pants to become worse than before that his bulge begging to be set free from their confinement. He tries to adjust himself. “Good..” he whispers. 

“Now tell me about these sinful dirty thoughts of yours, Y/N. While you do it.. I want you to touch yourself the way you wanted to be touched in these thoughts of yours.” he whispers, running a hand along his clothed hard on. 

You hesitate. “But father.. I..” he cuts you off before you could get another word out. 

“In order for this to work you need to be obedient. You need to act on these sinful thoughts and do as I say. Now do as I ordered or you will never be rid of this.” he says sharply. 

“Yes father.” you respond in a soft voice. You let out a soft exhale as your hands run over your thighs. “T-This man.. All I want is for him to run his hands along my body.. Touching me.. Teasing me.. Just the very thought of it has an ungodly feeling coming from between my legs.” you whisper.

Father Charlie tries to hold back the low groan that escapes him as he hears your words and his hand is now rubbing against his hard on. “Tell me more.. D-Does this ungodly feeling make you.. You feel wet?” he mutters.

Your eyes widen once again and you nod. “Yes.. Yes.. It’s terrible.. My.. My panties get wet and sometimes sticky against me.. I throb with.. with so much desire for y-.. For this man.. I can’t stand it.” You began to let out soft noises as you picture the father running his hands along your thighs, his head in between them, kissing up to your soaked pussy. Your mind is running wild with the thought.

 Father Charlie’s eyes roll back in desire as you describe it and now he can’t bear it anymore and he slowly undoes his pants and slides his hand in them to pull his cock out. It’s throbbing and hard, precum already dripping from the tip, he spits into his hand and wraps it around his pulsing cock. “Keep going.. T-tell me more..” he hums as he slowly pumps his cock in his hand.

The pitch of his voice sounded a bit different now, but you didn’t think much of it because you were being consumed with your fantasy of him. You run your hand along your panties and you could already feel them being soaked through and it makes a whimper escape you. The entire time Father Charlie is peeking through the holes of the separator as he pleasures himself. “Take ‘em off.. and keep talking..” he mumbles. You don’t hesitate to do as he says and hook your fingers between the hem of your panties and you slowly slide your panties off, your arousal stained on your panties and you gulp slowly. “Oh.. god..” Father Charlie mutters to himself.

“I.. I picture this man with his head between my legs.. He’s wanting to help with the throbbing.. and he.. he…” you stutter over your words. 

“What? What?! What does he do next?” Father Charlie says with an excitement in his voice as his begins to stroke his cock faster, his eyes fixated on your pussy under the dim light.

“He.. He runs his tongue.. along my pussy.. He’s licking up the mess I made in my panties.. Slurping up every last drop.. “ You run two fingers along your swollen throbbing clit and now you let out a loud moan, praying no one else was in the church. Father Charlie’s head leans against the separator as he breathes heavy, watching as you play with yourself and he spits some more on his cock, pumping his hand harder and faster. You continue with your thoughts. “Then he wraps my thighs around his shoulders and he’s buried between my thighs.. His tongue flicking against my clit and then shoving it inside of my pussy.. He’s moaning because I’m so tight around his tongue..” You let out another moan and now your fingers were so wet from your pussy that you slowly slip them inside your tight cunt, you could feel yourself tighten around your fingers and now your back was pressed against the wall of the booth and you’ve brought your legs up against the pew as your legs were spread wide open, completely on display for the father as you moan.

“F.. Fuck…” Father Charlie groans, his cock dripping in precum as he works his hand along the shaft, licking his lips as he watches you fuck yourself. “That’s it.. Good girl... Let those sinful thoughts take over.. G-Give into  your desire..” he mutters between his groans. 

You nodded obediently at his words, completely taken with your own thoughts, completely unaware that he’s getting off to you. Your eyes are shut tight as you shove your fingers deeper into your soaking pussy, the wet sounds echoing within the booth, your breathing heavy and out of control and without even thinking between your moans you say his name. “Oh, father… Yes… Charlie..” you cry out. 

Father Charlie catches this and smirks to himself as his cock pumps in his hand, having revealed that he was the man in your sinful thoughts, this only further provokes his desire and need. Giving him many ideas of how he could use you. He realizes that you haven’t realized what you said. You couldn’t care in this moment as the desire within you was building and soon coming to the surface, a feeling you had never felt before. You felt like you were going to explode. “Father.. I.. A strange feeling is coming over.. over.. me.” You say with a shaky breath. 

“Let it… Let it take over, my child.. Let it out..” he moaned, he was not going to last a minute longer but he wanted to cum when you did.. He wanted to watch you orgasm. Your head is tilted against the wall and your legs trembling and soon your whole body and without realizing it your moans soon turn into loud cries of pleasure as you soon reach your orgasm, cum leaking out of your pussy and onto your fingers and the pew as your body convulses. “Fuck.. yes.. “ Father Charlie mumbles as he reaches his orgasm and he grunts and groans lowly as spurts of his warm cum shoot out of his cock onto the wall of the booth and some of it gets on his suit. “Christ..” he grumbles. 

You whimper softly as you slowly slip your fingers out of your dripping pussy and you’re trying to understand what just happened and what you just did in the church of all places. You look over at Father Charlie though the separator, his head rested against it and he looks sweaty and is breathing hard. His eyes look up at you and now you’re staring at each other for a moment and you could sense what he was doing, but didn’t want to admit that you knew. He clears his throat as he lifts his head up and quickly puts his cock away and buttons his pants back up. You feel so confused now and embarrassed. 

“H..How.. How do you feel now? Thoughts gone?” Father Charlie mutters, fixing his hair.

You swallow nervously as you sit up and push the skirt of your dress back down quickly. “I.. I guess.. My head doesn’t feel as bad. I can think straight again..” you answer. 

He smiles. “Good.. Told you.. Nothing wrong with giving into your desires, Y/N.”

You nod. “And you’re sure this is right? I don’t want to go to hell for doing this in a holy place..” you say nervously. 

Father Charlie laughs. “You’re not going to hell. God wanted you to do this and wanted me to guide you. I think you may need a lot of my help and this should be something I work with you on a weekly basis. We can do it more privately in my office.”

“But father.. I don’t think..” he interrupts you, shaking his head.

“You need this.. Your thoughts are more sinful than I thought.” he says. 

You stay silent. This was all confusing to you, but you couldn’t lie, you did feel a whole lot better. Father Charlie begins to pray to absolve you of your sins. You bow your head and clasps your hands together, praying along with him before signing the cross. “Now go pray five hail marys and our father and I’ll see you next week in my office, Y/N.” he says before he gets up and heads out of the booth. You sit in your side of the booth, pondering what has just happened and then you realize in the heat of the moment what you had moaned out. His name. Was that the real reason why he wanted to continue this? Now the embarrassment really sunk in because now he would think you were just like the rest of the women in the church.. Lusting after him, which you were, but the last thing you wanted was for him to know that. But maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.. To be lusted after. 

Tagging: @nicholasachavez @smokeymountainboy @arianatheangel-girl @suraemoon @aliengoth3 @theycametoconquertheearth53 @suspiciousmindsxo

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[cdragons]

No Hope - Robb Stark x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader

Summary: You ended it. It killed you to do so, but you had to do it. Soon, it won't matter anyway - you were set to travel with Lord Stark and Lady Sansa as her lady-in-waiting to King's Landing. It's not as if you two will ever meet again. How wrong you were...

Warning(s): Hard Dom Robb, OC is cold, Robb is dark AND delulu, Canon divergence, hard smut, slight BDSM, KIng's Landing criminal justice system, etc.

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIPPY!!! I know I'm three days late, and I swear I meant to finish this on your actual birthday, but I ended up overwriting, and then I had to be at the DMV for about 7 hours and then had to pack up my house yesterday 🫠. ANYWAY, thank you so much for being such an amazing friend! It really has been such an honor to see how much you, your writing, and your blog have grown! Here's to another year of friendship and great writing!

The siege against King’s Landing was a success, resulting in an overwhelming victory for Stannis’ campaign as the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.

House Lannister, despite the arrival of reinforcements from House Tyrell, led by Ser Loras, was no more. While it was a clever ruse on House Tyrell’s part, neither house would have expected men from the Riverlands to join Stannis in his fight, resulting in an overwhelming victory. As a result, the futures of two of the ancient Seven Great Houses of Westeros now rest in the hands of a new ruler—King Stannis of House Baratheon, a figure whose emergence will undoubtedly shape the course of Westeros.

Despite being a wheelhouse dozens of miles away from King’s Landing at this point, the shouts and cheers of Stannis’ men rang clear in your ears. Inside were three young women transported to the Westerlands—to Robb Stark, the Young Wolf and King of the newly independent North.

The thought of seeing him again after the way the two of you left things off made the ride all the more unpleasant.

You remained silent and softly stroked your lady’s head as she rested her head on your lap. Tried as she could to stay lucid and awake, but it seemed that the stress and terror from being trapped as King Joffery’s former betrothed before being sold to his dwarf of an uncle had taken its toll. As she slept, you took in her features and noted the changes from the child you knew in Winterfell to the young woman trapped in King’s Landing. Her gorgeous red Tully hair lost some of its splendorous luster, appearing more matted and unkempt than you had ever seen it after years of being in Lady Sansa’s lady-in-waiting. Despite being in the South for over a year, her ivory skin seemed to pale until it was translucent. While the court believed her pale fairness to result from her Northern birth, only you and Shay knew that it was from Sansa’s inability to stomach more than a few meager bites off her plate during her mealtimes.

“The circles under her eyes have darkened further,” you thought as Sansa gripped your skirt – tightly clenching her fist as if she were a small child still terrified of the dark. “She’s grown too thin – she’s barely improved since I’ve returned by her side.”

It terrified you when Shae, who took your place as her handmaiden, informed you that her mood had improved tremendously since Lord Tyrion’s success in releasing you as a wedding gift to his new wife. Knowing that Sansa, to which your previous liege lord entrusted her care to you, was in such a state for months broke your heart. The bright and cheerful smiles you adored had become so rare since you returned to her side. But you hoped that due to recent events, your red-haired wolf would soon smile as brightly with all the more radiance as she did as a child.

“Do you think Lord Tyrion will be alright?”

You looked up to see Shae sitting across from you on the other side of the carriage. Her expression, while usually impassive and unreadable, was fraught with unease about the uncertainty of the future—hers and her lover’s.

“Stannis Baratheon is not one who shows mercy,” you answered truthfully. “It is likely that he will face the same fate as his nephew, as well as his sister and father.”

Perhaps your tone was too blunt, judging by the slight flinch Shay gave when you referred to Joffery Lannister. But, it would not help anyone, much less her, if you spoke anything less than the truth – that was what Ned Stark taught you since you were a child, and it was by that faith you would remain steadfast no matter what. She deserved nothing less than the truth; it was what you owed her. After all, from what Sansa spoke to you, she helped protect her however she could when you were not by her side.

And for that, you were most grateful.

“However,” you continued, “perhaps Lord Varys will vouch for him. The Master of Whispers holds Lord Tyrion in high regard, and out of all his family, your lover is admittedly the best of them. If nothing else, maybe he’ll pledge loyalty to Stannis and convince Tommen to do the same.”

 She grew flustered, “He is not…we are not–”

“You will not find judgment from me,” you assured her with a bitter chuckle. You looked down at Sansa, her sleeping figure sparking a twinge of guilt in your heart. “Believe me, I am the last one to preach about the sins of an affair between a lord and his servant.”

It was a joyful reunion between mother and child. Before the wheelhouse fully stopped, Sansa flung open the doors and leaped out, racing into her mother's arms. Lady Stark was just as eager to hold her daughter – forgetting all forms of propriety and etiquette when she picked up her skirts to run. Both were a mess of wide smiles and joyful tears, and you don’t believe you’ve ever seen Lady Stark act so young. Seeing the two embrace – one who lost a husband and two sons and the other who lost a father and two brothers –made for such a beautiful scene that it made you weep in relief.

“I did it, my lord,” you silently prayed out, “I’ve kept my promise.”

You swore you felt your liege's gratitude by the gentle breeze that blew through the field. But unfortunately, the joy you felt would only further load the weight of the shackles of your guilt and self-loathing that refused to release you. Even if someone as good and honorable as Ned Stark could find it in his heart to forgive you – you couldn’t help but feel you don’t deserve his forgiveness.

…No…you knew you didn’t deserve it, and knowing that made the shackles heavier than you’ve ever felt.

Sansa was absent since Lady Catelyn insisted that her daughter remain by her side for the night. Shae accompanied her, and you remained alone as you lay on the cot set for you. A squire announced himself before entering the tent the men had set up for you and Shae. He called out your name and informed you that you were expected to wait in His Grace’s tent.

“His Grace requested a moment with you,” he explained, “he wishes to thank you for your service and loyalty to Princess Sansa.”

“Well, you can tell ‘His Grace’ that he can thank me here,” you scoffed. “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

You dismissed the young man without a second thought. Seriously? Did he genuinely expect you to come so quickly to him? Honestly, the nerve of that man.

It was not long before the squire returned.

“H-his Grace insists that you meet him,” he stammered.

The poor boy looked terrified, like a little puppy caught by its master for doing something it wasn’t supposed to. Seeing his discomfort was almost adorable – it nearly made you smile.

“And I insist that he let me rest,” you raised your brow and cocked your head to the side. “Or is he, in fact, ordering me to meet him? Ahh, and after such a long journey – honestly, he acts so spoiled sometimes, such a typical highborn born with everything.”

“Please, my lady,” he pleaded.

You impassively stared at the poor fellow briefly. His cheeks were flushed bright red underneath the dirt and grime, and his eyes looked close to crying. Gods, Robb – what in the Seven Hells kind of tongue lashing did you give the poor boy? Surely, he wasn’t so desperate to see you, especially considering how the two of you left things off.

“Fine,” you sighed, “I suppose I could spare him a moment. But it won’t be before I’ve had a bath – I’ve already called for hot water; it won’t be long.”

“Oh, thank you, my lady,” he sighed in relief. “His Grace will be most grateful to see you once he is finished speaking with his council in the war tent.”

Fuckin’ son of a–

You swore you felt a vein on your forehead pop. Did that idiot really summon you to his tent while he was in a council meeting?

The walk from your tent to Robb’s was a battle in itself - your mind dreaded what your heart longed for.

You had just finished your bath and changed into a simple linen dress (plain but clean) when you decided you kept His Majesty waiting long enough (two hours, give or take). You were just about to enter when a particularly irritatingly slow clap stopped you in your tracks. There was only one person who could bring out your ire in such a short amount of time. You turned around to see Theon Greyjoy – standing and smirking like the arrogant bitch you fought and played with since you were just a girl.

“Well, aren’t you a vision?” he smirked. “Makes you wonder how the men of King’s Landing kept their hands to themselves when they saw you.”

“Wouldn’t know,” you wryly replied, “after all, I spent most of my time there in a dark, damp cell. I barely had enough food and water to survive, let alone to be a vision.”

Although Theon still joked and teased like he always had, you could see the war had taken its toll on him. He grew thinner. His body had lost weight, and his muscles appeared leaner and more taut. His shaggy curls were more closely trimmed and no longer tickled his shoulders. But his eyes—how they looked so haunted and tired—made your heartbreak.

“He’s missed you,” he whispered. There was no need to state a name – you both knew who he was referring to.

“He got married,” you replied while looking away. To a Frey, no less.

“She's dead, and he never loved her.”

“That makes it better?”

“It does when you were the one who broke his heart,” he retorted.

You sharply turned back, “That is not–”

Light poured out of the tent behind you as the front flap opened. You heard your name being called out in that tone that always made your knees buckle—revering and filled with longing with an undertone of authority. It beckoned you to look at him, and when you did, you swore you felt your heart leap into your throat by him.

“You’re late,” he grunted.

Robb Stark, with his crystalline blue eyes not once looking away from you, shifted to the side and let you in. His gaze moved to Theon and narrowed when he noticed the lack of distance between the two of you. Saying nothing, you silently bowed your head before heading inside the warm tent. However, you remained close enough to hear the brief exchange between the Greyjoy and Stark. But after being away from Robb for so long, you couldn’t focus on any words between the two men.

Taking a deep breath, your body tingled as you took the familiar notes of fine leather and freshly burned smoke. You glanced at his bed and longed to lie in its furs without the hindrance of clothes. Your mouth watered at the idea of wrapping yourself in them. The idea of pressing your nose against the furs made your center throb and grow wet, as the idea of the scent of his hot sweat mixed with his musk trapped in those hides was almost too much to bear.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you nearly missed Robb calling out your name. You responded by regaining your composure as quickly as possible so as not to betray any lustful thoughts swimming in your mind.

“What did you and Theon talk about?” he bluntly asked, standing impassively as you remained silent.

“Was the journey smooth?” he tried again. Nothing.

“I hope my men–”

“Idle prattle doesn’t suit you,” you tiredly sighed. “Just tell me whatever you waited so long for, and then I can return to my tent and finally rest.”

Robb clenched his fists and stared at the ground. How cruel, how unfair – one word from you, just hearing your voice, struck every word on his tongue dead. War made him lax. He, of all people, should know how you could drive good men to insanity.

Yes – it felt like he was going mad.

He looked up from the ground and wanted to weep. There you stood – looking as beautiful as a fresh layer of snow and just as cold. It took everything in him not to reach out and pull you close. He wanted to feel your body close to his, to revel in the softness of your hidden warmth. He wanted to go back to Winterfell – to simpler times with his father and brothers alive and laughing, to when Jon was by his side and his brother and best friend, and to when you would look at him like he was your world.

How you used to look at him – how he still looked at you.

Robb tried to start a conversation to loosen the tense atmosphere, but it was clear you weren’t having it. You even cut him off on his third attempt. Your voice was so cold that it burned him like ice. He wasn’t even sure if you were looking at him or just at a corner of the tent so you could maintain that cold, domineering façade you had perfected since childhood. It was obvious to him that you were trying to goad him into losing his temper – giving you the perfect excuse to leave and ignore him again.

Why else had you sent his squire back to him after he requested your presence to wait for him at his tent? Furthermore, why else did you make him wait two hours for your bath?

“I wish to thank you for your loyalty towards my sister during her time as the Lannisters’ hostage,” Robb calmly said, keeping his voice steady but firm. “You acted bravely.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I acted as anyone else would have in my position. My loyalty to your sister and family is not something to be admired or coveted.”

“That’s not true,” Robb argued. “Your loyalty to my family is nothing short of admirable. It’s only right that–”

“Robb.”

It was infuriating how regal you looked, carrying the air of a queen.

“My loyalty will always belong to House Stark, that’s true – but,” you stared deep into his gaze, “all I cared about in that damp, rotting cell, where I was given barely enough water and food to survive, was whether my lady was well.”

Please stop it.

“I didn’t endure because my lady was a Stark,” you continued, “I endured because it was Sansa.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Is it only for Sansa that you’ve suffered?” he rasped in anger.

This wasn’t good; he just got you back. If he doesn’t properly utilize this chance, you’ll be gone from him forever. He knew you’d never leave Sansa’s side. Your loyalty to her, even when she still acted like the spoiled little princess of the North, drew him to you. As the eldest daughter, Sansa was the one closest to their mother. However, as the second eldest child, it also meant that she had to understand she could not always have their parents’ attention. Before Jeyne Poole, before Septa Mordane – you were Sansa’s first and constant companion. You were someone whose loyalty ran deep and remained unwavering in the worst times.

He collected himself enough to apologize for his outburst when your voice returned – regal and imposing, cold and distant.

“Not just Sansa,” you stated. “…I also made a promise to Lord Stark.”

Something in him snapped. Robb considered himself a good man, an honorable man. One whose father instilled lessons of honor and duty in him since he was old enough to walk. A father who he missed, whose absence was painful. But hearing you speak of him, of his father, it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over him, and it awoke a bitter memory he had long forgotten.

“Is it true?” Robb demanded unannounced after storming into his father’s private study. His father sat at his desk, appearing as tired and weary as the day of his departure from home to the vicious South treads closer with each passing day. Ned set down his quill and sighed deeply. He knew it would not be long before Robb would come in to demand an explanation. He supposed that, as his boy’s father, he owed his eldest son that much… if for not his own sake, then for the sake of closure. “…What may you be referring to, Robb?” he asked, despite already knowing what this was about. Robb furiously shook his head, “Do not pretend with me, Father. Did you or did you not plant the idea of a future engagement between her and me as treason against you?” “…Before I answer that,” Ned began carefully, not wanting to upset his son further, “am I to understand that when you mean ‘her,’ you are referring to a particular lady-in-waiting favored by your sister?” It frightened Ned how quickly Robb’s anger was snuffed out. He whispered your name with reverence and veneration fit for the Maiden. But just as soon as his heir’s fury went away, it came back at a speed and quantity tenfold. Ned could see it in his eyes. Robb may have inherited his Tully mother’s eyes, but the cold storm raging in them could only belong to one whose blood belongs to the Old Gods of the North. “Sansa requested her to accompany us while she learns to be Prince Joffrey's future queen,” Ned explained. “Robb… your sisters need people they can trust – now more than ever with Bran’s accident.” “And she’s agreed to this?” Robb interrogated. “You expect me to believe that?” “Yes,” Ned solemnly nodded, “because it was brought up to me by her…”

Robb didn’t believe it then, and he still didn’t believe it now. He refused to entertain the idea of you, of all people, who would propose to his father that you leave him. You, who Robb loved with a love more fervent and true than any fanciful tale sung by the bards in Southern courts. You, who listened to all of Robb’s deepest fears and worries since you and him were still small children. You, who whispered promises of love and devotion to Robb night after night since he first warmed your bed.

You, who cried tears of joy when he secretly proposed to you underneath the blood-red leaves and snow-painted branches of the weirwood tree, swearing his love to you before the Old Gods and New.

…No…no, no, no—it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be…but what other explanation was left?

“Robb…?” your voice gently called out to him. “If that’s all you wish to say to me… then I must be heading back to my–”

He walked forward and tightly grasped your arms, making you unable to escape. Robb felt your feeble attempts to pry his fingers off with your delicate hands. But it was to no avail.

“Why…?” Robb rasped, letting out all the pain and longing he had been keeping locked inside since you dissolved you and his affair. “Why did you leave? …Why did you leave me?”

“Damn you,” you thought. “Damn you, Robb Stark.”

It was pathetic… how easily this man broke down your walls. One word… one word from him was enough to make you want to surrender everything.  

“I…I-I… only did what I thought was best,” you stammered. “For us…and for you…”

Robb scoffed because why wouldn’t he?

“For me…?” he rhetorically repeated. “Leaving me – no, abandoning me… that was for my benefit? Do you really expect me to believe that?”

You shook your head, “Belief is secondary to truth,” you explained. “And I am telling you the truth. I’ve never lied to you.”

“Right, of course – that’s why you ran off to King’s Landing with my sister,” Robb raged. “Yes, certainly that for my well-being. You, being paraded and courted by knights and nobles with their pretty words and fine silks – what a relief to know that you endured all that for me…”

Oh, this son of a – gods, how could one man be so beautiful, yet so infuriating?!

“Did you ever love me?” he asked, his voice a little rough from choking back tears. “Was it ever real? Any of it? Or was it all a lie?”

“I believe I told you I was expected to wake your sister for her early celebration…” you looked out the window, “…right now…? It would seem…?” It was the morning of Sansa’s eleventh birthday. Lady Stark planned to surprise her daughter with a splendid spread of leek pottage, freshly baked bread, slices of smoked meat, and a cup of sweet Dornish wine. She entrusted the duty of waking the little princess of the day to you, Sansa’s most entrusted companion. It was expected that you would take the role. After all, everyone in the castle knew what an absolute nightmare Lord Stark’s eldest daughter was in the early mornings. …But…it would seem that Lord Stark’s eldest son and heir did not understand the gravity of your role today…considering he remained insistent that you spend your morning with him… in his bed… without any clothes on your person. While usually, you’d be much more cross at his insistence… you couldn’t deny how delicious it felt waking up in his arms after a night of gloriously intense lovemaking. And the way he further convinced you by tracing feather-light kisses down your neck and collarbone was downright sinful. “I believe…” he momentarily nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, causing you to softly shriek and giggle. “…I told you never to speak of my sister or any member of my family while in bed with me.” His lips trailed further down to the valley of your breasts. “Stay here…with me…and let’s forget the world this morning.” Gods, it’d be so easy to give in …to remain hidden from the world within the arms of your beloved…but life was hardly so easy. “You know I – can’t…!” you sharply gasped at the feel of his lips around your teat. You pitifully whined his name. “Robb, please…” “Shhh—careful, my love,” he huskily whispered, “unless you want all of Winterfell to know how even one of its coldest women is powerless against her wolf…” You held his chin to press a soft kiss against his lips. Gazing into his deep pools of sapphire, you knew this was the only man you could ever give your heart to. “My wolf…” you corrected, “and only mine…” “Yours…” Robb agreed as the two of you got lost in each other all over again.

Instinct and fury blinded rationality and composure as a sharp crack rang within the tent as your palm made contact with Robb’s cheek. Hot tears spilled from your eyes as the wet trails streamed down your cheeks.

“Fuck you, Robb…” you grit out.

Did he not think you haven’t craved him and his love as much, if not more, since your separation? Was he so obtusely… thick in the skull to think that you hadn’t cursed yourself for plunging you both into the cruel depths of a life without the other? Had he not realized that what saved you from falling into despair… from the moment you were thrown into the Red Keep’s dungeons… was your sweet memories of him?

You angrily swiped away your tears on the back of your hand before shoving him aside so you could make your way out of the tent. You couldn’t stand to be so close to him, not anymore, not when it cut you so deeply.

What was the point? Of being so close to one when they cannot have the other?

But it seemed your king did not agree with your sentiments as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward him. Your chest collided against his, and you felt the hard planes of his muscles and wanted to sink to your knees while stripping him of all barriers that blocked his glorious body.

Robb growled as he felt the tremulous rhythm of your beating heart, effectively giving away all your true feelings and desires toward him – the same he felt to you.

“You’re a cruel woman…” he growled as he forced you to look into his deep, blue eyes by holding your chin, “but you’re my woman.”

Without another word, he seized you by the arm and threw you onto his bed. He tore off his tunic before gripping your ankles with both hands and forcing them wide open before he forcefully pulled your body to the end of the bed. Not wasting another moment, he clutched the neckline of your nightdress and tore it open, leaving you exposed and defenseless against him. You felt the peaks of your breasts harden against the cold air and tried to cover them with your arms, but Robb slapped your hands away and pinned your hands above your head.

“And I’ll make sure you learn your place by the time I’m done with you…”

Time meant nothing inside that tent. The only things that mattered were Robb Stark, young King of the North and recently widowed, and you, his precious whore he loved so dearly. It could have been an hour, it could have been five –you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that your former lover was currently cementing his claim on you as his bitch-in-heat by making you cum twice with his fingers and thrice more from his cock.

“You *huff* …really…expe- fuck…!” The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, interrupted by the squelch of your juices mixed with his as he moved in and out of you. He loudly groaned when he felt your walls clamp down on his still-hard shaft. “Fuck – how are you still so fucking tight…?”

You didn’t answer him; you couldn’t – at least not with words. Each of Robb’s thrusts hit that spot inside you that made you lose all sense of logic and rational thought. All you could offer was broken garbles and moans of your ecstasy as your insatiable wolf continued to feast on your pleasure. And this only seemed to further incense Robb into driving himself deeper inside you, as if he had not already caused you to peak three times since he first pushed into you. Your vision became blurry as your eyes crossed, but he brought you back by delivering a hard slap against your bottom, the stinging pain quickly shifting to ebbing pleasure.

“Well?” he tauntingly jeered, thoroughly enjoying your sharp tongue could only be quieted by him fucking you dumb. “I expect an answer…!”

“Ah-ah-ah – FUCK…!” you cried out after he delivered another harsh slap on your bottom’s other cheek, making you sharply gasp and continue to slather your drool and tears into his bed’s furs. “I don’t know…!”

Robb cruelly smirked, “Don’t know…?” He grabbed the front of your neck and pulled you until your sensitive back was pressed flush against his hard chest. “Don’t lie to me… you know… don’t pretend that you don’t – but do you want me to tell anyway?”

Fervently nodding, you felt him grin as his hot breath panted against your neck, causing goosebumps to prick across your skin covered in bite marks.

“It’s because…” Robb quickened his pace from rough to erratic as your mind nearly blanks from feeling more and more of him hitting the entrance to your womb, “we both know that cunt belonging to such a cold whore like yourself…could only be thawed with cock like mine and only mine.”

The war changed him. The Robb you knew and loved would never dream of speaking to you in such a filthy and vulgar manner. Before, your Robb always made love to you sweetly with the gentlest touches, and as far as you could tell and feel, he was gone. In his place was a wolf with a voracious appetite who could only seem satisfied with your humiliation from his rough squeezes and unforgiving pace. The evidence was plain to see by how he littered your body with purple love bites down your neck, red bite marks over your breasts and inner thighs, and deep indents of his nails from gripping your hips too hard and too long.

And the worst part of it? You loved it. Every bit of his ministrations was a piece of heaven. If this were torture, then you would only crave pain for the rest of your existence. Everything hurts so good, from the way his thick, throbbing cock stretches your walls to the way his rough, calloused hands manhandle your body with his bruising grip. You weren’t sure if there was anything left of you that Robb didn’t already possess. Your eyes glazed over the veins in his arms bulge as you barely register the rasped grunts and growls leaving his lips. If you looked down, you were sure to see the outline of his cock bulging from inside you as he continued to split you open.

He stilled for a moment and whispered in your ear as you cried out your frustration and begged him not to stop.

“I’m going to cum in you,” he rasped with perverse glee, “and afterward, I’m going to make sure my seed takes root in your womb.” He pushed your face down to the furs and forced your hips to meet his thrusts without mercy. “You tried to… escape your fate by leaving. Well, *huff* let me tell you right now… that’s never going to happen – I’ll lock you… in the tallest tower in Winterfell and chain you to the bed if I have to…”

One of his hands left your hips and went below you as his fingers deftly sought out the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs that was your clit. You tried to protest, not sure if your body could take even more pleasure, but all that came out was a warbled cry as he pressed down and circled your bud. The overstimulation was proving to be too much as your body started shaking. You felt a cord tightening more and more until it just *snapped*, and you screamed out your release as your entire body trembled.

Robb refused to let up his pace, and he continued to thrust in and out of you as you felt him stiffen and – gods, how did he get even bigger? Before he released his seed inside you, he bottomed out – making sure that there was nothing of him that was not inside your sopping cunt. Your vision went white as he let out a loud and powerful groan from his release, and you could feel his hot seed painting your inner walls with his essence.

His peak seemed to drain him of all his energy as he gathered you in his arms without pulling out and resolved himself to finally rest. His sweaty forehead rested against your shoulder as he panted. Between each labored breath, he planted a kiss across your shoulders – your body still twitching from the intensity it endured as you, too, tried to catch your breath.

All was silent until you found yourself speaking, “…There was no hope, was there…?”

Robb lifted his upper body on one arm to hover over you. You repeated your question, to which he gave you a relaxed smile and tucked a stray piece of hair stuck to your temple behind your ear.

“No, love…” he confirmed. “But you must have known that from the beginning…I would have never let you go.”

…How does one respond to that?

You tried to search for the answer in his eyes, but all you saw was love… love, and madness. It was always there inside him; you’ve known that from the beginning… only you were blinded by his beauty and your love for him. But your lord knew the truth; he saw that obsessive love from the start; after all, Robb was his son. He warned you, but you didn’t listen. It wasn’t until you saw him beat a poor knight bloody and broken on the ice-covered ground – all because you made the mistake of smiling at him.

That’s why you ended your secret engagement. You had hoped that time and distance would ebb away the insanity flowing in his blood, or perhaps he would find someone else and eventually forget you – whichever came first.

But that was a fool’s dream; you knew that now.

Wordlessly, you nodded, to which Robb gently pressed his lips to yours, just as he had back in Winterfell. With each second, you began to respond more and more to the kiss. You wrapped your arms over his neck as his lips trailed down your next again, and you felt your sore body humming for more despite its sensitivity. Your fingers gripped his unruly, dark auburn curls as a tear trailed your cheek.

Forgive me, my lord…I’ve failed.

But you know you were secretly glad of it. After all, how could you not be? Life was growing inside you at that very moment.

Tagging: @dipperscavern, @ethereal-athalia, @axelsagewrites, @rise-my-angel, @anewpersonthatexists, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog, @lenasdmns, @justmymindandstuff, @aoi-targaryen, @vyctorya, @metalblindbitch, @h34rts-4uu, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @sylasthegrim

[celestelunia]

I’ve been loving your fics so far! And I was wondering if you could write Jamil being poisoned/hit with a love potion and being all over gn!reader and they’re just kinda like really flustered (turns out the live potion only works on who ever the person already loves) so gn!reader confesses to Jamil once he’s back to normal! Ty!

Aw! Thank you so much! I'm glad you've been enjoying them! I've been having fun writing them lol

Sorry this took a while. Been slowly making my way through the list, but this is my first Jamil ask! I hope it came out okay and that you like it!

Warnings: None. Reader is GN.

"This....is just so weird...." You said as you sat on a cushion in the common area of Scarabia. A pair of arms were wrapped around your waist from behind as Jamil chin rested against your shoulder as he cuddled against your neck gently, causing you to blush.

"Ahahaha! I think it's cute! I've never seen him like this before." Kalim laughed with a grin as he placed his hands on the back of his head.

You didn't get all the details, but one moment you had walked into Scarabia to see your crush, and the next, he was suddenly all over you, showering you with affection.

Needless to say, you almost fainted on the spot at the sudden onslaught of attention from your long-time crush. According to Kalim, he had mentioned something had gone wrong in potions, and Jamil was hit in the face with a puff of dust and magic due to the mini explosion that was triggered by the event. Professor Crewel had mentioned that it would wear off in a couple of hours and to just look after him till it does.

Jamil had acted like nothing was wrong at first, and he seemed like his usual self, so Kalim figured whatever the professor might have been worried about was just a mistake.

That was until you walked into the dorm, and Jamil's personality did a 180! He turned into some kind of love sick puppy who couldn't keep his hands off of you.

"T-This isn't like him at all! I'm sure he is just being this way to me since I was the first one he saw when I came over! This isn't fai-ahhh!" You yelped when you felt Jamil warm lips against the side of your neck as he gave it a small kiss. Turning bright red, you had tried to free yourself, only to have your crush tighten his hold against you. This was torture!!

"Hmmm." Kalim hummed softly in thought as he paid no mind to your struggles. "I don't think that's right. He was with me the whole time and even saw a couple of students on our way back to the dorm, and nothing happened." He explained before pulling out his phone to check something. "We were trying to make a certain potion in class, but because I added the wrong ingredients, it completely changed the contents of the potion."

"So this is your fault?!" You yelled as you pointed at the housewarden who just laughed.

"Yep! I'm sorry!" Kalim grinned as he looked back at his phone.

With a pout, you huffed before looking back at Jamil, who was still happily cuddling against your shoulder. "This...isn't real, though. He wouldn't be like this with me if it wasn't for that potion..."

At hearing your words, Kalim looked up from his phone. He knew about your crush on his best friend, and you two often talked a lot when you were feeling down and frustrated about the situation. If he was being honest, Kalim thought you were perfect for Jamil. He needed someone like you in his life to balance him out. The housewarden paused for a moment as he debated on bringing this up. He really wanted you two to figure things out on your own, but maybe a little push wouldn't hurt, right?

"That's not entirely true." Kalim said as he watched you turn to look at him. "He only started acting this way the moment you showed up. The spell on this potion just amplifies feelings that already existed inside someone." He said with a warm smile.

At his words, your eyes widen. Was that true? If it was, that would mean...

At that moment, your whole face turned red as a puff of smoke appeared above your head as you were suddenly overloaded with this information.

Kalim grinned as he stood up from his spot in front of you. "He should be back to normal in an hour or so. Keep watching over him for me! Thanks, Y/N!" He said before heading off to give you two some alone time..

"Nooo! Don't you dare leave!" You had yelled, but it was too late as Kalim had disappeared somehow. How was he that quick!?

Over the next hour, you had managed to drag Jamil to his room, but he didn't make it easy. Having him being this clingy was killing your heart. As time went on, you noticed how Jamil was starting to get a bit woozy as you managed to get him on his bed in time before he seemed to fall asleep. Good. Maybe this was a sign the potion was exiting his system.

With a sigh, you pulled up a chair to the side of his bed as you waited for Jamil to wake up. At least now you had a moment to gather your thoughts.

If Kalim was correct, then that meant that Jamil felt the same towards you as you did him. Just the thought alone made your heart race! While Jamil did give you some special treatment from time to time, it wasn't really enough for you to figure out his feelings. He was a man who kept his cards close to his chest, after all.

Maybe you could be brave and finally open up to him about your feelings...?

After a moment, Jamil let out a groan as he slowly opened his eyes. Noticing the ceiling of his bedroom, he sighed before placing his hand against his forehead. He had a bit of a headache. What the hell happened? The last thing he could recall was doing potions with Kalim...

"You're awake. How are you feeling?"

At the familiar voice, Jamil's head snapped to the side to see you sitting next to his bed. Why were you here!?

"Y/N?" Jamil called out as he sat up in his bed. "What are you doing here?"

"I was asked to look after you. Do you remember anything?" You asked as you watched Jamil carefully.

At those words, Jamil frowned slightly, not liking how you asked. Why did he feel like something happened that he was missing? He didn't do something embarrassing in front of you, did he!?

Hearing his phone ding the vice housewarden reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Noticing it was a text from Kalim, he opened it to see a photo attached that made him almost drop his phone...

It was a picture of him with his arms wrapped around Y/N as he was basically cuddling with them from behind. 

What happened!? Was this real!? Feeling his face heat up, Jamil put his phone down before placing one of his hands over his face in embarrassment.

You, on the other hand, just watched as Jamil checked his phone before turning bright red. As you went to speak, you felt your phone vibrate, and as you pulled it out, you saw a message from Kalim.

"Jamil should be back to normal by now. I believe in you! You got this!" Was the text he had sent. In that moment, you got the feeling Jamil had received something from the housewarden as well.

"Jamil." You had called out as you got your courage together. When you saw him about to speak, you held up your hand to stop him. You were worried if he said anything that you might lose your nerve. "I like you." You had managed to get out.

At your words, Jamil froze up for a second before he suddenly turned his head towards you. His eyes full of surprise.

"I like you, Jamil." You repeated. "I know you have a lot on your shoulders, but it doesn't change that you're an amazing person. You're smart, a great dancer, and an amazing cook! I really love everything about you."

Feeling his cheeks warm up more, Jamil leaned his head back to look up at his ceiling. To think you would be the one to confess first. He really needed to step up his game...

"H-how about you stay over tonight for dinner? I'll make something special. Just for the two of us." He said before he looked back over at you with a grin. "Think of it as my way for saying sorry that you had to confess first."

At the offer, you blinked before you felt like your heart was going to explode. "Y-you really feel the same?" You whispered in surprise.

Jamil turned as he threw his legs over the side of his bed. "For a long time, but I kept finding excuses to not face this feelings. I shouldn't have put you through all of that. That potion mishaps just opened my eyes a bit more." He said as he made a mental note to give Kalim a lecture about being more careful in the future. He normally wasn't this open and honest, but he owed you that much after what he did to you. Maybe it was okay to be selfish for once.

"Come on." Jamil said as he gently poked your forehead before holding out his hand to you. "Let me treat you like royalty today."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as you stood up and took Jamil's hand. "Just be your normal self." You said happily as it felt like a weight had been lifted off of you.

To think a small mishap like this would work in your favor? You would have to make sure to thank Kalim later.

[temilyrights]

just go with it

melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

summary: reader runs into an old frenemy at the bar and enlists melissa to play her date. hidden feelings are revealed. inspired by the movie just go with it.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: alcohol (beer), swearing, old bully.

a/n: this was so much fun to write! i hope you enjoy <3 i think i included all the warnings but as always pls let me know if i missed anything! if u wanna be added to my taglist just lmk or fill out my form on my masterlist!

The night hadn’t exactly gone to plan, not that you were complaining. The Abbot family were supposed to be celebrating reaching the end of another quarter, even going as far as to select a bar up to Ava’s standards with extravagant cocktails and comfortable booths (but still with a generic enough dart board that Melissa would turn up). Ava had shoot down your usual place saying, “Girl, I’ve got a reputation to uphold and even entering that place would lose me 1K on Instagram,”

However things had immediately started to splinter when Gregory and Janine failed to turn up, still very much in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. And then Barbara had ordered two cocktails which had immediately gone to her head and called Gerald to come and pick her up. Jacob got a text for Avi and ducked out apologetically, Mr Johnson disappeared somewhere, and then Ava declared she couldn’t be seen dead out in only a group of three so she ditched, which meant less than two hours into the night only you and Melissa remained at the bar. 

You’d initially been irritated, having looked forward to a family night out all week. But when Melissa dragged you to the dart board saying “We don’t need ‘em.”, her hand warm in yours and her smile bright. You’d suddenly forgotten every thought you’d ever had.

“Another bullseye for me!” Melissa smirks victorious, dancing as she turns around to face you. “I think that means ya owe me a drink, hon.” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t bring yourself to care that deeply at the sight of the redheads joy. She seems to be having a great time, despite everyone leaving. And you’re determined to soak up every moment of this additional out-of-school Melissa time until she decides to call it a night. 

It feels like a blessing, and the sight of her in a strappy leopard print top with enough cleavage to cause your brain to short circuit when she‘d first arrived definitely didn’t hurt. She looked beautiful with her red curls down past her neck, and her brown leather jacket and red high heels on. Any day now you were gonna get this raging crush under control and not look at Melissa Schemmenti and see the sun, any day… 

…just not today if your traitorous heart had any say. 

“Another of the same?” You ask, nodding towards her beer with a grin on your lips. 

“You betcha.” She shimmies closer to you, her teeth biting into her lip. “And when youse get back we’ll have another game. If you can take the heat.” 

Your face heats up and you force out a laugh to cover up how wildly attractive you find her. You push yourself off the barstool and side step her. “Uh yeah, another game sounds good. I’ll be right back.” You step back, giving her a slightly too tight smile before you run away to the bar. 

So chill Y/N. Wow, excellent game. If she didn’t want you before, I bet she does now.

You groan as you approach the bar, resisting every bone in your body that wants you to slam your head very hard against the bartop to hopefully knock some sense into yourself because that was just plain embarrassing. Instead, you settle on waving down the bartender and ordering two yuengling's. 

They make quick work of your order and you pay and mutter a polite, “Thanks,” before turning away with your drinks, ready to head back to Melissa. Determined to not make a complete fool of yourself this evening. 

“Y/N L/N!” A shrill voice calls and your blood runs cold, “Oh my god, is that really you?” 

Your eyes fall close as you blow out a breath and send a hail mary that maybe, just maybe, that voice won’t be connected to the woman you believe it to be. 

Of course, life doesn’t work like that and when you open your eyes you come face to face with your old college ‘friend’. If a friend meant someone who constantly put you down and had to be better than you at all times. Suddenly the last day of college doesn’t seem long enough ago, god you could’ve gone the rest of your life without seeing this woman and that still wouldn’t have made up for the torment of the three years of friendship with her. 

“Alisha, Hi.” You grimace. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“I know!” She cackles, “I’d never expect you to be somewhere this close to classy. I remember the dives you loved in college.”

Your smile tightens and you force a humourless laugh. “Well, great to see you Alisha, but I really should be getting back to-”

“No, no, no, come on we must catch up!” She interrupts. She shakes her hair performatively and presents her hand, showing off an obnoxious diamond, “I, of course, got married. My husband is here actually and you must meet him.”

“Congrats, but I really should be getting back to my-” 

“I’m sure your friend won’t mind.” Alisha waves a hand. 

She grabs the hand not holding the two bottles of beer, her face etched with pity. “I noticed you don’t have a wedding band. It’s okay, your time will come.��

You try to shake your hand free, but Alisha’s grip tightens. “Seriously, Y/N, not everyone can be as lucky as-”

“Hey hon, everythin’ alright?” Melissa interrupts, an obvious edge to her voice. Her hand perches on the small of your back as she gives Alisha a once over, and despite the other woman being four inches taller than her, you know Melissa could take her effortlessly. 

Alisha’s eyes widen before melting into a smirk as she extends her hand, “Alisha, Y/N’s closest friend from college.” 

Melissa looks at you before looking back at Alisha and scoffing, “Right.” 

Alisha drops her hand, but doesn’t look disturbed, in fact she looks more excited than you’ve ever seen her, if you exclude that one house party she threw where she got the entire football team to attend and ended up sleeping with the quarterback. 

More than slightly disturbed, you push the beer in Melissa’s direction, “Here, sorry.”

“Thanks, hon.” She accepts the drink, her fingers brushing yours as she does. 

You watch Alisha hungrily eat up the action, and you know what’s gonna happen next before she even opens her mouth. “So, you’re Y/N’s girlfriend?”  

The redhead’s eyes widen, her drink pausing on its way to her mouth. And before she can reject it, and Alisha’s face grows even more victorious in your pathetic aloneness, you jump in and answer. 

“Fiancée, actually.” 

You should be awarded an Emmy for the way you keep your face straight and don’t cringe as both Melissa and Alisha swing around to face you. 

“I left my ring at home,” You roll your eyes. “She only popped the question recently. Haven’t quite got used to wearing it yet.” 

“Really?” Alisha questions, eyes narrowing. “Well now you must join my husband and I for drinks. We can toast to the newlyweds and newly-engaged.” 

She grabs your hand, pulling you away before you can protest again. You look back at Melissa, silently begging for help, but she just watches you with an arched brow and smirk before she takes a long sip from her beer and saunters after you.

Alisha doesn’t release her grip until you reach the booth in the corner of the bar. Her husband, an even taller man, presumably quite handsome if you’re into that sort of thing - but in your opinion quite boring looking - sits scrolling on his phone and nursing what looks like a whiskey sour. 

“Honey, I found some friends.” She says, sitting down beside her husband. “This is my best friend from college Y/N, and her fiancée…oh,” Alisha tips her head, smiling widely “In all that excitement I didn’t get your name.” 

Melissa doesn’t respond, instead signalling you to slide in the booth first so she can be on the end. 

“It’s Melissa,” You respond, ignoring the redhead’s dark look for sharing her personal information. 

“Traitor,” She mumbles quietly into your ear, her breath hot. 

You roll your eyes, even as you struggle to breath properly. If she’d saved you when she had the chance you wouldn’t be in this situation. 

“What a lovely name,” Alisha gushes, and you don’t need to turn to see Melissa’s glare.

Alisha drops her head to her husband's shoulder, who wraps his arm around her back with a boy-ish grin, “And this is my husband, Victor.” 

“Ladies, nice to meet you.” 

You force a smile and take a long sip from your beer. 

“I was just saying to Y/N how funny it is running into her.” Alisha laughs, “We’re only in Philadelphia because the jet needed to refuel. It was not part of our plan,” She rolls her eyes, “Honestly, can you imagine living here?” 

“What’s wrong with Philly?” Melissa challenges, eyes narrowing

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be my first choice.” She waves her hand, like she hasn’t said anything offensive. “Victor and I live in California, but we’re heading to Paris because this one’s talking at a convention for dentists.” 

“Wow, impressive.” You nod politely.

“You ended up here?” She asks, pity evident in her tone. 

“I chose here. I love Philly. I’ve got an amazing teaching job and an amazing group of friends. It’s a really good community.” You say seriously. There were some things Alisha could make you feel insecure about, but Philly was never going to be one of them. You were happy with your life. 

“And your fiancée, right?” She challenges, “How long have you been together?” 

Melissa’s arm wraps around your waist and she tugs you tightly into her side. You try not to let the surprise at the action show on your face. 

“Two years. Known each other for three through. She swooped in and saved me when the kids were drivin’ me mad and kinda hasn’t stopped since.” 

Your heart flutters as you stare at Melissa from beneath your lashes, warmth settling in your chest. You know the exact moment she’s talking about, it’s the first time you properly met, about a month into teaching at Abbott. You’d heard the commotion coming from her classroom while your first-graders were in music class, and had popped your head next door - just to check - and found a clearly stressed out redhead trying to control a large class of second and third graders. 

You’d made your way in, with a calm “How can I help?”. Melissa had just thrusted worksheets at you and pointed towards the third-graders. From then on you popped in to help whenever you had a free lesson, and if it meant staying later to catch up on lesson planning you decided it was worth it, especially as it led to one of your favourite friendships.

“You have kids?” Victor asks. “I love kids.” 

“No, teacher. We work together.” 

“Oh, that makes sense. Y/N was never one to have much of a social life outside of her work.” Alisha rolls her eyes, “Of course she’d have to meet her partner at her place of work too. She never had much luck when it came to dating, always so alone.” She juts out her bottom lip patronisingly. 

“I dated.” You defend, “I just happened to put my studies first, which was the whole point of being at college.” 

Alisha nods and takes a sip from her drink. Your eyes narrow at her. You don’t realise your hand has tightened into a fist until Melissa pulls it into her lap and begins gently caressing your knuckles, slowly coaxing it open again. 

Victor’s phone rings, an obnoxious beeping sound that shocks you enough that your hand pulls away from Melissa’s. You miss the touch instantly, wanting to reach back but knowing you shouldn’t. 

“Oh sorry girls, I should take this.” 

“He gets lots of important calls.” Alisha supplies proudly, as she slides out of the booth to let her husband out. Melissa lifts her brows, shooting you a look of disbelief and you struggle not to laugh.

They stand together beside the table. Victor drops his forehead to Alisha’s and inhales deeply. “Your beauty, your drive, your wit.” He breathes dramatically.

Alisha hums, “Your intelligence, your thirst, your strength.” 

Their nose’s rub together, and you swear your soul leaves your body as you watch them open mouthed in disbelief. You turn to Melissa whose face is screwed up in outright disgust. 

Alisha sits back down, a content smile on her face. “It’s something we do whenever the other person leaves. Say what we love most about each other.” 

“You really ain’t from Philly, huh?” Melissa laughs, taking a long sip from her beer. 

“You guys should try it.” 

“I ain’t doing-” 

“I don’t think-” Melissa and you both start to say at the same time.

“Not everyone can do it.” Alisha waves. 

Your eyes narrow and Melissa puts down her beer. 

“You know what, we’ll do it now.” You say, determined. 

Melissa smirks, eyes bright with challenge as she looks between you and Alisha. “Sure thing, hon.” 

“Okay, just look into each other’s eyes and say three things you love most about each other.”

You turn to face Melissa, knee’s brushing against hers. You blow out a breath, suddenly nervous looking at her this closely. Her green eyes hold your gaze, a reassuring smile on her face and it helps you steel yourself. 

“Okay. Uh, I love how much you care about the kids.” You start, easy, honest, tame. “You do so much for them, more than anyone even realises. But they love you so much. You’re a phenomenal teacher. You’ve got such a beautiful heart, even if you do try to keep it hidden.”

Melissa listens to you with soft eyes, a wet chuckle breaking from her lips.

“It’s not even just the kids. The things you do for Barbara, Janine, Me. You are extraordinary. I see how much you care, I see your kindness.” The words flow from your lips, the truth that you should probably keep hidden. 

She scoffs, shaking her head, “I ain’t that soft.” 

“I love how safe you make me feel.” Your breath shakes as Melissa’s eyes widen. God too much, too honest, but maybe she’ll just think you’re selling the lie and won’t know just how true every word coming from your lips is.

“Whenever something happens you’re the person I want to find. And you just know how to make it better. Before you, I never needed someone else, but now I literally…I just, I don’t know, I gravitate towards you. When I’m with you I just know everything is going to be okay. I feel safe, like together we could take on anything.” 

“I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to you.” She smiles gently. 

Your heart stutters, “And your smile, god that smile.” It makes you soar, you can’t breath as words spill from your lips, “I love it. I look forward to lunch everyday because I know I get to see that smile. Your smile starts my day, and everytime I get to see it I feel like I’m doing something right.” 

She stares at you and you clear your throat, breaking your gaze. “And that's three.”  

Melissa grabs your hands, her fingers stroking your knuckles, prompting your eyes to return back to hers. “My turn.” 

You nod silently, unable to speak as you watch the women in front of you. Heart pounding. 

“I love your company. No matter my mood, it’s good. You’re just nice to have around. Whether I’m cookin’ for you, we’re drinkin’, or we’re stressin’ out over work. It’s fun with you.” She shrugs with a shy smile.

You grin. God your heart can’t take this. It still pounds and you can’t differentiate between truth and lie. She sounds so honest, eyes so gentle and you desperately want to fall in and believe every single word leaving her lips. 

“You’re stupidly generous too and I love you for it, even if it makes me wanna hit ya sometimes.” 

She rolls her eyes and you both chuckle. 

“You say I have a good heart, but I watch the way you keep giving to everyone around you without expecting anythin’ in return. You’re always offering to cover a lesson or lunch shift, even though I know it means you’re staying at school later to catch up on lesson plans.” 

You shift, you really hadn’t thought she’d noticed. “It’s nothing really.” 

“It’s somethin’. You’re good. Like, actual good, and you don’t find that often.” 

Your eyes soften, tears threatening to pool as you itch to reach out and pull her in, kiss her. 

“And you know what else I love? Your eyes.” She nods, with a shining smile. “When they catch the light? Stunnin’. They are so expressive, always shining, sayin’ things even if you don’t.” 

You draw in a sharp breath, eyes locked with hers. Wondering maybe if-

“I won a competition for the most beautiful eyes.” Alisha’s piercing voice interrupts. You jolt away from Melissa, having entirely forgotten about the other women’s presence. 

“I’m pretty sure I’d still win if you entered. No offence, Y/N.” She laughs shrilly. 

You drain the last of your beer, your chest still tight and your bearings off. 

Melissa snaps. “Alright, I’m done. I dunno if your parents were too nice to you as a kid or didn’t tell you they loved you enough but either way I don’t care. You ain’t speaking to my girl like that anymore, especially if you think your ugly ass fake contacts in any way compare to her stunnin’ fuckin’ eyes.” 

Alisha’s face finally falls. 

“So goodbye, we’re leavin’. And you and your guy can get the hell out of Philly fast before I find someone to jack your dang car.” She grabs your hand, fingers entwined with yours and tugs you from the booth with her. 

You laugh, feeling lighter the further away you get from the gobsmacked women you left behind. Melissa weaves you between people and out the bar, not letting go of your hand until you're safely outside and the door has shut behind you. 

“That was…” You look at the redhead, shaking your head and grinning, your entire body buzzing. “God, I just…”

She chuckles, her hand landing on your waist. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Her other hand digs into her back pocket pulling out her phone, “I’ll call a cab.” 

Your heart thunders. Your hand reaching for her chin bringing her face back to yours. She’s so close…. “You are extraordinary.” 

Her cheeks pink as she tries to shrug off your touch, “Y/N,”

“No.” You breathe, bringing her back to look at you. Your gaze falls to her red painted lips, your chest tightens. And you know you could let go, step back and you’d both pretend this moment had never happened, but you don’t want to. 

You want to lean in and kiss those pretty lips. Finally say fuck the point of no return. Because all the fears and risks that were keeping you from plunging in all seemed irrelevant when your body felt this alive. 

It’s like you’d finally woken you and you knew you didn’t want to go another day without kissing Melissa Schemmenti. 

You lean in. Melissa’s shaky breath expelling against your lips before she meets yours. Tentative at first, once, twice, three times, before her hand fists into your shirt and yours moves to her hair, and then a moan is pulled from her lips and your gone. Frantic and heated you devour each other. Her phone is roughly shoved into your back pocket so she can paw at your ass and then she’s walking you back into the wall. Her body is finally flush against yours and you gasp in delight as you drown in the sensation, unable to think clearly as you passionately kiss her.

When you finally separate, you’re both breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other. Melissa’s lipstick is a mess, her lips swollen, and you think she’s never looked more beautiful. 

“Ya mess.” She tuts affectionately, breathing still broken as she reaches out to wipe her lipstick from your lips. 

“And who’s fault is that?” You chuckle, grinning like a fool. 

She rolls her eyes and you want to kiss the expression off her face. You lean in to do just that, but she steps back, her eyes shifting away from you. 

“Hon,” She shakes her head, finally wiping the lipstick off from around her own mouth. 

A pit lands in your stomach, panic coursing through your body. No. You’ve come this close. You weren’t losing her now. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel this too.” 

She looks at you, eyes soft and pained, “‘Nd you can’t want this.” 

“Did you not hear a word I said in there?” You ask incredulously. “God, Mel, all of that. Every single word. I meant that.” 

“You meant it?” She questions, unsure. 

You shrug, vulnerable, exposed. “Of course. How could I not? You’re the best person I've ever met.” 

She scoffs, wet, stumbling forward back into your arms. “Fuck you.” She murmurs and captures your lip. You expect it to be harsh and heated, but she’s so gentle and slow, her lips tenderly moving against yours like you’re something to be treasured and if she pushes too hard you might break. 

You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek lovingly when you separate. She watches you in awe, eyes so gentle and you’ve never felt so content in your life. 

“I meant everythin’ too.” She confesses.

You grin and press a quick peck to her lips. “I had my suspicions.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever. You wanna actually get out of ‘ere?” 

You laugh, “Yes, please.” 

“Leftovers and beers at mine?”

You hum in delight, not missing the way Melissa’s eyes darken, her eyes dropping to your lips. “That sounds perfect. And watch something on Netflix?” 

“Whatever you want, hon.” She responds, dragging her gaze away. “I’ll call a cab now.”

She takes a couple steps away, to make the call and you unashamedly watch her the entire time. Your eyes taking in her figure and lingering on her ass. Because, hey, who can blame a girl. 

It was Melissa goddamn Schemmenti. 

Your teeth pulling at your bottom lip, do nothing to suppress your grin.

I guess you really might have to thank everyone in Abbott for leaving tonight if this was the result. 

You weren’t quite a big enough person to thank Alisha. 

You would have gotten there without her.

Eventually.

taglist: @aburman03

[janeyseymour]

Save Me Before I Lose Myself- part 4

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Millie is exhausted. Melissa thinks she understands. Carrie is... different.

WC: ~2.55k

When you show up to work (on time for the second day in a row), you immediately hate the fact that you sit at a cubicle for most of the day. You end up standing almost the entire shift, and your feet hate you by the end of it.

At Abbott, Millie continues to stay quiet, resigned. It’s a far cry from the usually upbeat and happy-go-lucky kid that Melissa usually sees. The redhead swears she almost sees bags under the seven year old’s eyes. She looks exhausted- truly and utterly exhausted.

“Millie?” the teacher calls for your little girl during their snack time. “Can you come here for a second?”

Your little girl obeys, and she practically drags herself to the teacher’s desk. “Yes, Miss Schemmenti?”

“I’ve just noticed that you’re a kinda acting different today,” Melissa notes quietly. “I wanted to make sure everything is alright, and that you’re okay.”

Millie just nods quietly. 

“If you have anything you’d like to talk with me about, you know Miss Schemmenti is always here to lend an ear.”

Your daughter nods silently again. Then, in perhaps the quietest voice, she admits, “Sleepy.”

“Did you not get good sleep last night?”

Millie shakes her head, and her blue eyes sparkle as tears begin to cloud them. “I’m so tired,” she whines.

“Oh, hun.” The more maternal side of the childless redheaded teacher comes out, and she wraps her arms gently around her student. “I’m sorry.”

The seven year old clings to her teacher much like she clings to you, looking for any warmth and comfort anybody can provide. Her tears hit leather with soft thuds.

“Why don’t you just go lay your head down for a few minutes?” Melissa offers. “Close your eyes and relax?”

Your daughter bites her lip nervously. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to say. “But we’re at school.”

“An’ I can’t have a sleepy Mills, now can I?” the teacher teases softly. “C’mon, it’ll be okay. You won’t be in any trouble.”

The little blonde searches for any hints of ingenuity from her educator. Then, she gives the tiniest nod and slinks back to her desk. Before her head even hits the desk, it’s like she’s asleep, exhaustion finally taking over.

Melissa is in the middle of her math lesson when it hits her. She stops in her tracks, marker halfway raised to the board to write the answer to one of the problems on the whiteboard. 

What you said makes full sense to her. Please stop helping me, because it’s only hurting me. While she thought she was helping by slipping you that note to show her support, it was actually a hindrance to you. It made your life so much harder, knowing that she knew exactly what was going on. She had acknowledged what you have been so clearly trying to ignore- put aside for the well-being of your daughter. It makes all of it real for you, and in that instant, she wishes she could take it all back. If she had known that it was only going to hurt your heart, she would have simply dropped the matter of the subject and simply supported you in silence. Or at least, that’s what she thinks you meant- she has no idea the pain her sticky note caused you.

When lunch time comes, the second grade class lines up to make their way down to the cafeteria- all except for one child: Millie, who is still sound asleep at her desk.

Melissa stands at her door as she waits for Janine to begin filing her own class down the hall.

“Pipsqueak,” the redhead calls to her coworker. “Can my class just tag on at the end of your line? I got a student still in the room, an’ I can’t leave ‘er by herself.”

Janine looks slightly confused, but nods with a bright smile. “Of course! The more, the merrier!”

“Yeah, kid. Would ya mind havin’ Barb stop down here with my lunch too? I don’t think I’m gettin’ away from this one any time soon.”

Brows furrow, and there’s the silent question of if everything is okay. Melissa can only nod before the shorter teacher nods again. “Sure thing.”

It’s a few minutes later that Barbara appears in the doorframe of the second grade teacher’s classroom, two lunches in hand. Her eyes immediately set on Millie asleep at her desk. Her brows raise in concern.

“Asleep since snack,” Melissa says quietly. She’s sitting at her desk staring straight ahead. Her eyes don’t even meet Barbara’s.

“And you let her sleep? You never let students sleep in your class.”

“What was I supposed to do, Barb? The poor girl came in silently today, which you and I both know is not normal for her. She told me the other day she hears her mothers up late at night, and she was so tired she started crying,” the redhead sighs. She puts her head in her hands. “God, Barb. This is awful. That poor little girl should not be living like this. And neither should her mother.”

“No,” the kindergarten teacher says softly as she makes her way into the classroom. She sets Melissa’s lunch on her desk. “But you and I both know that Y/N does everything she can to keep Millie safe- she’s well-fed, clean, and loved by at least Y/N. So, we can’t step in.”

“I didn’t,” the redhead mutters. “All I did was slip her a note yesterday telling her I was here for her when she’s ready, and this morning she came in limping and begged me to stop trying to help her.”

“So you stop.”

“I- I don’t know if I can,” Melissa admits. “I- How am I supposed to stop trying to help her when I know what it’s like to be in her situation, albeit mine was not nearly as severe?”

“I know it’s hard, but you have to respect her-”

“She told me that my trying to help her only hurts her,” the second grade teacher mutters. “I- I caused her hurt, when all I was trying to do was help.”

“Melissa, I think you need to take a step back from all of this. Yes, what’s so clearly happening to her is a terrible thing that no human should ever have to endure, but she very deliberately asked you to stop. So, you need to stop and just take care of Millie to the best of your abilities while she’s in your care at school.”

Melissa takes a deep breath and lifts her head from her hands. “You’re right.”

“When are you going to realize I always am?” Barbara teases her. “Eat, Melissa. I’ll bring down a lunch for Millie for when she wakes up too.”

“Thank you.”

Millie ends up sleeping through the entire day, and even when Melissa knows she should wake her, she can’t find it in her to. She has Janine take her kids out for dismissal with the instruction that if you’re outside to come down to your classroom if possible. 

You’re standing there, and you see some of your daughter’s classmates running towards their own parents, but there is no Melissa, and certainly no Millie. You internally begin to panic. What had Millie told her teacher that has the both of them not out here?

Miss Teagues makes her way over to you. “Hey. Melissa told me to have you head down to her classroom if I saw you.”

“Is my daughter okay?” you ask quickly, already limping your way to the front door. You don’t even wait for a response before you’re in the door. You make your way in as quickly as you possibly can- your body still aches. It takes you far too long to get down to the classroom.

“Miss Schemmenti?”

“Hey,” the redhead sighs softly. She points over at your daughter.

“She’s sleeping?” you raise a brow as you lean against the doorframe gently.

Melissa nods. “Has been since snack at ten.”

“Thank you for letting her get the rest she needs,” you say quietly. “Last night was… rough.”

The teacher nods. You can see that she wants to pry. She wants to question your statement. But she doesn’t.

You slowly make your way over to your daughter and squat down in front of her. Shaking her shoulder gently, you press a soft kiss to the cheek that isn’t laying against her arms. “Baby.”

She stays asleep. And on another day, you’re sure you would just carry her home despite the fact that your arms would be sore, and she’s getting too big for you to hold for long amounts of time. But today, you know it’s not even a plausible thought.

“Honey,” you shake her a bit more. “Sweet girl, it’s the end of the school day.”

“I don’t wanna go home, Miss Schemmenti,” Millie grumbles, eyes not even opening. “I wanna stay here.”

You frown, as does the redhead sitting at her desk. “Sweetheart, it’s Momma. Wake up for me please.”

She cracks one eye open. “Momma?”

“Yeah, baby. It’s Momma.”

“Carry me?”

“You know I would, but I can’t today,” you sigh. “Not after…” you trail off. You know Melissa is listening intently.

“Okay,” your daughter sighs softly as she picks her head up from her desk. She rubs her eyes sleepily.

“Have a good night,” the teacher tells the two of you softly as you make for the door.

You give her what you hope is a smile. “You too, Miss Schemmenti.”

Millie just waves sleepily.

When you get home, you expect your wife to be sitting in her place at the table like she always is. You expect her to be typically quickly and with fervor, as she usually does. But she isn’t. She’s actually standing by the door with a smile soon her face.

“Hey, baby,” Carrie says sweetly. She pulls you in for a kiss that isn’t too dissimilar from the way she used to kiss you when you were dating and newlyweds.

“Hi, hun,” you sigh softly.

“How was your day?”

“It was alright,” you lie. Your body is exhausted, your mind is exhausted, and you really don’t feel like doing anything today. “I’ll start on dinner now.”

“There’s no need to do that,” your wife tells you. She bends down and opens her arms to Millie.

“Hi,” Millie yawns out, but she doesn’t make a move for the woman she looks so much like.

“Sleepy today, little girl?” Carrie asks as she takes matters into her own hands and wraps her arms around your daughter.

“Mhmm.” She allows her mother to hold her for a few seconds before detaching herself from the woman. It’s quite clear to you that your daughter is not comfortable with this. She immediately clings to you again.

You head for the kitchen, but you see that dinner is already in the oven upon walking into the room.

“You’re making dinner?” you furrow your brow.

She nods and gives a shy smile. Carrie reaches for something on the dry sink and hands you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. “These are for you, love.”

You take them gently and look at them in awe. They truly are beautiful. And they smell absolutely delightful.

“Why don’t you go take a load off and relax with Millie on the couch while I finish dinner and set the table?”

“R-really?” you squeak out. The last time that she had done this, it was before everything had really gotten bad. The last time she had done this, she hadn’t hit you yet, but the fight that had taken place the night before had gotten out of hand. “Yeah, hun,” Carrie kisses you again sweetly. She bends down and ruffles Millie’s now lopsided pigtails and kisses her hairline.

Dinner is splendid- absolutely delicious. And when you expect your wife to head up the steps to change to go out for dinner, she doesn’t. She actually stays in the dining room to clean up, does the dishes, and sits next to you on the couch as Millie curls up in your lap. Her long fingers trace patterns on your thigh like she used to- and not in a sexual way, just a way of letting you know she’s there.

When it’s time to put your daughter to bed, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Carrie so maternal. She reads the bedtime story with you, making sure to use silly voices and sing when it calls for it. She tucks your daughter in, kisses her forehead, and promises her that she’ll get great sleep tonight. Millie looks nervous, but not as nervous as she was walking into the house this afternoon.

When you’re alone with your wife, fear begins to seep into your bones. She was nothing short of a dream this afternoon and this evening, but that was in front of your little girl. Now, everything is being closed doors again.

But tonight, there is no hurt. There’s just short, sweet kisses. No hands roam where they aren’t wanted. Soft affirmations of love are whispered into the crook of your neck. She even apologizes for her actions last night. She promises you that she’ll back off on the drinking, she’ll be around more often for Millie, and that nothing like what took place last night will happen again.

You forgive her. Of course you do. You always forgive her. A small part of you believes her- she genuinely seems like she’s feeling remorseful for her words and actions. But another part of you wonders if and when it’ll happen again. A part of you hopes that it won’t ever happen- the more naive side of you. 

But the other part of you- the jaded side that has grown used to this woman knows it won’t be long until she’s back to her habits. Because this has happened before. She’s done things like this before, and yes, this is the worst it’s been, but it never changes. 

It gets better for a week, two at most, before it turns back to what you’ve grown accustomed to. For a short span of time, Carrie will shower you with love and affection, soft touches and gentle eyes. She’ll lull you into a false sense of security like she always does. And when things begin to go south, and you speak up, she’ll turn. She’ll tell you that you’re ungrateful for the life you have, that she’s been nothing but the perfect housewife and you’re taking her for granted. She’ll tell you that she never should’ve married you, threaten you with divorce- promise you that if you were to separate, she would be just fine but nobody would ever be able to love a pathetic, broken woman like you. Carrie is a manipulative, egotistical narcissist. She’ll never change. You know this, and you wish you could just run away. But you have Millie to worry about, and she will always come first. As long as Millie is safe, there isn’t a chance in hell you’ll leave- even if things go back to how they usually are, and you know they will. It’s just a matter of time.

But for now, you bask in the change of pace. Your body is grateful for the healing time that you’ll get. You’ll take what you can get.

Tags (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | damned if i do ya (damned if i don't)

a/n: oooohhhh i love them bad. the slow burn is slow burning a little bit. btw the song is daylight by 5sos!

series masterlist | previous | next

v. damned if i do ya (damned if i don't) by all time low

all the progress luke thought he was making with you was thrown out the window after the concert. at first, he was glad to have some distance between you guys. he was dealing with sorting out what he felt for you. it was stupid, really, how he realized that you reminded him a lot of his childhood nickelodeon crush, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was more than that. 

sure, you were a fucking headache sometimes, but he liked it. he liked you. he liked how you always tore him a new one, made him feel normal, like he wasn’t luke castellan – lead singer of poisoned mercury, he was just luke when he was with you. you asked him about his music, his life, but knew when to stop right before the conversation got too heavy because you understood him. you knew how he felt even when he didn’t say it. 

maybe he’d just been around his bandmates too much, teenage boys with emotional iqs of a thumbtack, but you took one look at him and he knew that you understood what he was feeling. as great of a writer he was when it came to music, he was never good with expressing how he felt. 

but now, it’s been weeks since you last talked to him, like really talked to him. whenever he’d see you in your smoke spot, he’d try to start a conversation, but you’d stuff your vape in your pocket and walk away before he could even say hi. you stopped going to the gym in the morning, often coming into the cabin after your workout during random times of the day, no longer following a set schedule. you rarely hung out with the boys, opting to retire into your room earlier than usual. you still joined clarisse during her counselor duties, but she stopped letting the boys tag along when luke was available as much as she used to. she’d offer an apologetic smile to luke and slip out an excuse why he couldn’t join for music lessons. 

luke was tired of it. he didn’t know what went wrong, what he did wrong, to make you act so cold towards him. even when you didn’t know him yet, you were never like this. you always had a snide remark ready for him, but now, he was met with silence. 

on the bright side, he at least had inspiration to write new songs. 

he wandered into the cabin, thinking that it would be empty. clarisse was being held hostage at arts and crafts again. (she complained the whole morning about it until chris offered to join her so she wouldn’t be the only one covered in glitter this time.) the stolls were in the studio recording the instrumentals for the song luke showed them a few days ago. they’d asked him who the song was about, though he had a feeling they already knew. he wasn’t really trying to be secretive with the words. and you, luke could only wonder where you were. 

he stopped in his tracks at the sound of mr. d’s voice in your room. your bedroom door was wide open and luke feared that you’d see him so he hid around the corner, back pressed against the wall. 

“this is serious, kid,” mr. d yelled. “your teammate is pressing charges so i need the full story! i don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it. this can go on your record permanently.” 

“so let it!” you screamed back. luke heard you pacing around your room, heavy steps against the cabin floors. “i don’t care.” 

“i care! i’ve been pretty goddamn lenient when it comes to you, y/n, but this?” mr. d countered, veins on his neck bulging out as he raised his voice. luke had never seen him like this, “this is fucking serious. you need to tell me exactly what happened.” 

“she was talking about you, okay?” you sobbed. you sat on your bed, hands buried in your open palms. “she said something about your addiction. i don’t fucking know how she found out, but she said something and i just lost it, dad. she was talking out her ass and i just needed her to shut up because she didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.” 

mr. d’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek. he gulped, not saying a word. your dad looked at the decorated wall of your bedroom, polaroids of you and your friends, your framed high school field hockey jersey, and the concert ticket from the first show he ever took you to. he looked down at the pink rug on your floor, unable to say anything. 

you looked up at him, eyes brimmed with tears, “there, i told you. happy now?” 

it wasn’t long before mr. d stormed out of the cabin. luke flinched as the door slammed shut behind him. he heard you sobbing in your bedroom and he contemplated approaching you. you were already mad at him, for a reason that he still didn’t know, so what the hell? 

with a deep breath, luke emerged from the corner and walked towards your door. his knuckles softly knocked on the open door. you looked up at the noise, rubbing your eyes with your forearm. you chewed on your bottom lip, “not in the mood to argue, castellan.” 

“not here to argue,” he stood under your door frame, leaning against the side. “i’m here to see if you’re okay.” 

you had this habit of running away from things when you knew it had the power to hurt you. it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but your fight or flight response was triggered every time you started catching feelings for someone. it didn’t happen often, you developing actual feelings for people. you developed crushes, sure, but not feelings. 

you didn’t get googly-eyed and love-dumb with guys. you knew better– growing up with a dad who could quite literally transform people’s lives with a snap of his finger made you hyperaware of people’s intentions with you. but sometimes, you get blinded by the guy who sweeps you off your feet and you forget about it all. 

after the concert, you couldn’t stop thinking about luke. you already knew what kind of person he actually was, kind, caring, talented, all of the above, but there was still a nagging voice in your head telling you: “what if this is all an act?” “what if this is his move? pretending to be a different guy from the tabloids just to get you to fall for him then break your heart like everyone else did?” so you fled. you ran away from luke. 

clarisse caught onto you avoiding luke fairly quickly. she no longer saw you two walking into the cabin together in the early mornings when she was getting ready for the day. you started declining invitations to hang out at the activities center, stopped having time to help her with music lessons when the band was tagging along, and started hanging out with her in your room instead of the common space. 

she asked you about it after a week of the same thing. you told her you just weren’t in the mood, lacked energy. you said a million excuses but she could see right through you. you and the lead singer weren’t really subtle with your longing glances. 

you crossed your legs under you, pulling the blanket up to cover your legs. you moved over on your bed, tilting your head to let him inside. luke took his shoes off and closed the door behind him, sock-clad feet tapping against the wooden floors. he sat on the edge of your bed, playing with the stray thread on your blanket. 

“you ever feel like your parents wish they had a different kid?” you whispered, “maybe a kid that wasn’t so difficult?” 

“all the time,” luke replied, “every time my name is in the tabloids, i swear it takes years off my mom’s life.” 

you laughed, sniffling, “you need to take it easy on your mom. she’s too good for this world.” 

“that she is,” he leaned back on his elbows, resting his head on his shoulder. he tapped your leg under the blanket, “you know your dad loves you, right?”

“yeah,” you sighed, looking at luke. your makeup was smudged under your eyes and it took all his power not to lean over to wipe it away. you hunched your shoulders over when you spoke again, “just feels like sometimes i’m too much for him and i don’t know how to stop doing that.” 

“i don’t think you should.” 

it was the truth. you dealt in extremes. you were intense but it was only because you were passionate about things. he’d seen you practicing for hours, staying up late to help the younger kids with their projects even if it wasn’t your job, bossing people around to make sure that the camp activities were perfect. when you put your mind to something, luke knew there was no stopping you. 

“so i’m guessing you heard that whole thing with my dad?” 

“yeah,” luke rubbed the back of his neck. he looked at you, feeling caught that he’d been listening in on your private conversation. “i didn’t know anyone was in here when i walked in.” 

“it’s fine,” you shrugged, “pretty sure the whole camp heard my dad yelling anyways.” 

he laughed, “probably. i’d never seen him like that before. he’s usually so chill. it kinda caught me off guard.” 

“me too.” 

“it’s not as bad as when my mom yells at me though,” luke offered, trying to lighten the mood. he grinned when he saw your eyes brighten. you never did pass up the opportunity to have luke embarrass himself. if he could stop you from crying, he would lay out all his embarrassing stories in front of you for your listening pleasure. “the time she found out that me and trav got banned from wichita, like the whole city, she got so mad that the hotel we were staying at kicked us out because there were so many noise complaints. had to sleep on the bus. my back was killing me the entire time we were playing a show the next day.” 

“what the fuck did you guys do that warranted a ban from the whole city?” 

luke’s cheeks turned pink, “we mooned a cop car.” 

you bursted into uncontrollable laughter, falling back on your pillows. luke watched you, laughing along at your reaction. you were crying again, but it was a good cry this time. luke thought you looked pretty like this; cheeks red, eyes shut as you tried to regain your composure, and smiling, all teeth and lips. he hadn’t seen it in a while and he wanted to take a picture of you right now just so he could always remember how you looked at this moment. he wasn’t sure if he could survive another few weeks without seeing it again.

luke nudged you as your laughter died down, “if shit goes down with your teammate, there will be three of us with a permanent record in this cabin.”

you smiled at him, sadly, voice returning to the hushed tone you used earlier, “you think my dad could forgive me for this?” 

“don’t think anyone could hold a grudge against you even if they tried, five star,” luke placed a hand on your thigh covered by the blanket. he relished in the feeling of the hand you placed over his own. it felt intimate. “what does your mom think about all of this?” 

“i dunno,” you played with the rings on his hand, twisting the silver metals on his fingers, “i haven’t talked to her about it yet. been avoiding her calls.” 

“well, happy to know that i wasn’t the only one getting the silent treatment,” he teased, no bite to his voice. “shit, five star, even with your punishments, you still manage to not make me feel special.” 

you squeezed his hand, a giggle escaping your lips, “shut up.” 

luke looked at you, “you should probably talk to her soon.” 

“i will,” you nodded, meeting his gaze, “soon.” 

the two of you stayed there in silence, you playing with his rings and the bracelets on his arm. you were so enamored by the silver jewelry on his hand, twirling his rings to read each engraving, looking at each design, humming in appreciation. you looked at the camp half blood bracelet on his wrist, recognizing the beads on the string. 

“i can’t believe you got a camp bracelet before i did this summer,” you huffed, admiring the beads. “i’ve been here longer than you and nobody made me one yet.” 

“a little girl made it for me,” luke said, smiling at the memory. “i helped her with her with the production of the song for her summer project and she made it for me.” 

“i didn’t know you also produced music.” luke castellan continued to surprise you. 

“not well,” he replied. “just the basics, but i like to think i helped her out. annabeth— you know her? the kid with perfect pitch. fucking brilliant. smarter than i was at her age.”

“i love beth. i’m pretty sure she’s the smartest 12-year-old to ever exist,” your eyes twinkled, moving your index finger to his own, “what’s the story with this one?”

luke looked down at the ring you were touching. it was the silver ring he bought for himself using his first paycheck from their album sales. it cost him a pretty penny, but it was worth it. the font was tiny, but he memorized the words. 

“aγάπη χωρίς πείσματα δεν έχει νοστιμάδα,” luke said, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. “it’s greek. my mom used to read greek proverbs to me as a child. i think she hoped i’d become the next great philosopher, but instead i became a musician. this phrase stuck with me.”

“what does it mean?”

“love without a bit of stubbornness isn’t tasteful,” he whispered, “it’s a little reminder to myself that even though i can be difficult as shit sometimes, i’m worth it.”

luke cleared his throat, “had a tough time when we first got big. i’m sure you’ve heard of some stories. there was a time when me and my mom didn’t talk much. i thought i knew what was best and i pushed her away. i was so stubborn, five star.” 

“my dad left when i was a kid and for second, i thought i would lose my mom too,” he shook his head, the bitter taste of regret in his mouth as he recalled those memories. “im glad i didn’t. this ring reminds me that no matter how stubborn i am, i still deserve love, y’know? maybe it’s stupid, but sometimes i doubt it. mom always told me that love isn’t supposed to be easy, but it’s supposed to always be worth it– worth all the trouble, the stubbornness, the hurt, so this little phrase keeps me grounded in a weird way.”

“worth it to an extent,” you said. there was something hidden in your words like you were somehow asking him if you fell within the extent of it being worth it. it was in the look in your eye, doubt and worry that maybe you pushed it too far this time and you were no longer worth the fight. 

“extent is subjective. i know my mom thinks i’m worth it. i know that no matter how much me and the stolls get into fights, our friendship is worth it. i know that even though me and chris grew up to be different people, our bond is worth it,” luke leaned in closer as if he was going to tell you a secret, something that stays between you and him, only allowed to be spoken within the walls of your room. “and you, five star–” 

he couldn’t finish his sentence. his words got caught in his throat. he was afraid that if he kept talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop. he didn’t know if there was a universe out there where fighting for you wouldn’t be worth it. had you been thinking about him all this time you’d been apart? have your thoughts been plagued by the idea of him? all he could think of was you. all his songs were about you. it seemed like everything had been about you since he met you. 

is it too much too soon to even say things like that? luke didn’t know where you stood, if you even felt the same way about him as he did about you. how evil must the world be to have you exist in his orbit but not allow him to fight for you? 

the corner of your lips lifted a tiny bit and luke knew he didn’t need to say anything else. you understood. 

luke wanted to stop you when you removed your hand from his, but he didn’t want to test his luck. you dug through the drawer by your bed, pulling out the familiar vape, “i could really go for a smoke right now but this stupid thing died.” 

an idea popped into luke’s mind. he got up, motioning for you to do the same. you stayed seated on your bed, eyebrow raised in concern. 

“come on,” luke sighed, playfully rolling his eyes when you still refused to get up. he held out his hand, looking down at you. “you trust me?” 

you glanced at him then at his hand, deciding. it felt like a loaded question, like he was asking about something more than if you’d go with him to whatever adventure he had planned for the both of you. his heart hammered in his chest as he waited for your answer. you didn’t say anything to his question, unsure if you could rationalize your decision, but when you laced your fingers with his, luke didn’t let go of your hand until you were both out of the campgrounds.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

ok since we’re discussing harry’s appearance and you’ve already clarified what you think he looks like from the neck down, now i’m wondering about his face. obviously, the books provide quite a generous description of him — green eyes, black, messy hair, etc — but i’m more curious about whether you envision him as having delicate features? is his face longer and more masculine or a bit more rounded and doll-like? would he be described as being attractive? handsome? beautiful?

since he’s a carbon copy of james, i’d assume that he genuinely is an attractive boy/man, but since we, as readers, see things so much more from his obviously subjective perspective, we also can’t get a very good feel of these things because harry himself isn’t interested in them. and, well, he is quite oblivious to other’s attentions in general.

i’m just curious what your perception of him is from canon, since i’ve seen so so many variations of his character in fanfictions.

Hi 👋,

(Anon is referring to this post regarding Harry's height and physique)

So, we actually have a ton of little details about Harry's facial features in the books. And, contrary to what many characters say, he isn't really a carbon copy of James, especially if he removes his glasses because some of his prominent facial features are described to be Lily's.

Harry is a kid who has his father’s hair, height, and glasses, so when people look at him from afar he looks like his dad. But if you look at him closely, or he removes his glasses, their faces share similarities, sure, but they are nowhere near as similar as you thought they were a moment ago when he had his glasses on. Like, that's how I see it, and the books support this:

It was as though he was looking at himself but with deliberate mistakes.

(OotP)

Harry is one of these kids who's a pretty equal mix of both their parents in his face. So, if he stood next to James, anyone looking would say they look really similar. If he stood next to Lily, they'd say he looked really similar to her (especially without his glasses).

Harry is mentioned to have his mother’s eyes, not just in color, but also in shape:

it was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders and startlingly green almond-shaped eyes — Harry’s eyes.

(OotP)

So, Harry has green almond-shaped eyes like Lily. Almond-shaped eyes look something like this, apparently:

We also have details regarding Harry's nose. Since his nose is more similar to Lily's than James', at least, I think so:

his [James] nose was slightly longer than Harry’s

(OotP)

I imagine Harry to have a more button-shaped nose since it's what I imagine for Lily (James has a straighter nose in my mind). I don't have any quotes for the nose shape though, so it's just my headcanon.

What is canon is that Harry's nose is smaller than James' and Ron's.

As for other features of his face:

but they had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows. James’s hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry’s did, his hands could have been Harry’s

(OotP)

And Harry is consistently described with a thin face:

Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes

(PS)

So, from these two quotes, we can compose the rest of Harry's face shape (sorta). So Harry has a thin face, thin faces usually look more elongated. I assume his jaw is sharper than Lily's since he takes after James there.

We know his mouth and eyebrows are shaped like James', but I couldn't locate other quotes that were more specific, I take it to state his lips are on the thinner side, and his eyebrows are more masculine in shape since it's what I assume about James' appearance.

Now, I know some of the fandom headcanons Harry as not white, but I personally don't think it's the case in the books. JKR mentions very clearly when a character isn't white, with the expectation that any character that isn't given an ethnicity would be assumed white. It's how she writes, and you can say what you will about that, but it's not what I'm talking about. Additionally, contrary to popular belief, Harry's skin color is mentioned in the books to be white and pale (so is Hermione's actually).

I found a few quotes that outright mention Harry being pale, and therefore, white (this isn't an exhaustive list):

“Harry, dear, are you sure you’re all right?” said Mrs. Weasley in a worried voice, as they walked around the unkempt patch of grass in the middle of Grimmauld Place. “You look ever so pale... Are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now, and you can have a couple of hours’ sleep before dinner, all right?”

(OotP)

“Are — are you sure you’re okay, Harry? You’re still very pale...”

(OotP)

Their eyes met over the basin, each pale face lit with that strange, green light. Harry did not speak. Was this why he had been invited along — so that he could force-feed Dumbledore a potion that might cause him unendurable pain? “You remember,” said Dumbledore, “the condition on which I brought you with me?”

(HBP)

Both Harry and Dumbledore are mentioned to be pale-skinned.

The word "pale" is used by JKR to describe skin quite often, and even when someone is "pale" when they are scared or stressed, it's because their skin is pale. I haven't seen her use the word for any of the dark-skinned characters (Like Dean Thomas, who was shown to be scared on occasion, but never described as "pale"). Besides being described as "pale", Harry's face is described as white on occasion as well:

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, “Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!”

(PS)

Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror. There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking

(PS)

And considering Tom, who is repeatedly described as very pale and white, says:

We even look something alike ...

(CoS)

It's clear Harry looks very English, and therefore, very white. I'd go further and say he's likely quite pale considering how often he is mentioned to be pale + his resemblance to Tom. You can obviously headcanon whatever you want, I'm not stopping you, I'm just saying what the canon is.

I'd note that in general, Harry is pretty handsome and good-looking. In books 5 and 6, he's mentioned to be of interest to many girls, among them the good-looking and popular ones (even if he doesn't realize they are good-looking). Being the Boy Who Lived, rich, and famous gets some of this attention too, yes, but Hermione tells him the fact he is hot helps. Which it does:

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.” [...] “And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron.

(HBP)

I know she just mentions he's tall (Ron is there, after all), but the implication is that he's hot and has no idea.

Besides, both James and Lily are described as good-looking by various characters, JKR said of James: "James was reasonably good looking, though not as good looking as Sirius" and considering Sirius is one of the most attractive characters in the series, this is one hell of a compliment. As Harry is a decent mix of both their features, he is likely good-looking. He probably looks pretty cute as a tiny, scrawny kid with bright eyes, and he grows to be more handsome and attractive as he grows. Like, I don't think that many girls would be interested in him in 6th year if he wasn't also handsome, so Hermione is right. Harry isn't as smoking hot as Sirius or Tom Riddle, but he is still very good-looking.

[angelzarchive]

spencer bf hcs? I've read all the spencer tumblr fics too :,)

request: spencer bf hcs? i’ve read all the spencer tumblr fics too :,) / from the lovely @earspop! thank you for giving me the opportunity to write some spencer content, i love his sm so i had a lot of fun with this request. i think i got far too into and it turned out to be a little longer than i was expecting but i hope you enjoy it <33

pairing: spencer agnew x fem! insinuated reader — i’m sorry not all works i do will be gender specific, i’m just a sucker for spencer saying ‘pretty girl’

a/n: yayyy! this is finally my first ever work on tumblr and it’s also my first time doing hcs / x reader so bare with me if it’s not so good lol. i’m so nervous yet excited to share this. i just hope you all enjoy. and by all means, if you see any errors or mistakes, please feel free to point them out. it’s not edited yet because i wanted to get it out quickly, so a little note if you see any would be greatly appreciated! if you have any requests you’d like to see, please leave them <3

for spencer, meeting you was what he could only describe as love at first sight.

from the moment you had first walked through the smosh doors and introduced yourself as their newest addition, he was smitten.

not only did he think you were the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes on, but he was completely infatuated by your personality and how well you immediately got along with everyone.

you quickly found out you both had very similar humour and could riff off of each other effortlessly.

so, it didn’t take long for the two of you to become friends. best friends, in fact. spencer had made it his own little secret mission to ensure it.

and before you knew it, you were attached at the hip. between spending your lunch breaks and most weekends together, your friends found it almost impossible to catch either of you alone.

he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was always trying to impress you. especially by making you laugh with his silly jokes. he had loved the sound of your laugh since the first time he’d made you fling your head back, mouth open wide and hands clutching your stomach. he was in awe of your bright smile and he vowed to never stop trying to make it happen.

falling for you was inevitable, he was a goner from the beginning. and the feeling wasn’t much different on your part, your crush on the man only grew stronger each day.

getting together wasn’t an easy process though, it took far too long for either of you to admit your feelings to yourselves — never mind one another.

you were both too worried about about the consequences of it going wrong, not wanting to ruin the cherished friendship you’d established.

much to the dismay of your friends, of course, who were all progressively getting more and more annoyed at the both of you for being so clueless. it was like everyone but you two could see how in love you were with each other.

it was spencer who built up the courage to admit his feelings first, although he hadn’t actually intended to.

it happened during your weekly movie night. you noticed there was something off about him immediately, sensed it as soon as he had walked through the door and plonked himself on the furthest end of your sofa — quite a distance away from where he’d usually sit, right by your side.

he was fidgeting the entire time and seemed like his mind was else where. you’d barely gotten an hour into the movie when you’d had enough and pressed pause.

you urged him to tell you what was wrong and without a second thought, all in one breath, he admitted his feelings for you.

you were beyond shocked but it didn’t take you long to return the favour.

that night you’d finished the movie in each others arms, whispering sweet nothings.

to this day, spencer regrets how he told you. he wishes it was more romantic and better thought out, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

and you’d been together ever since then.

spencer is the sweetest boyfriend ever and you loved being able to witness this new side of him.

turns out, he’s the biggest hopeless romantic.

from day one, his silly nicknames for you had taken a romantic turn. he started calling you “my love”, “baby” and even “pretty girl” — which you were obsessed with (if you don’t like nicknames, just discard this part!).

the guy literally praises the ground you walk on. he can never seem to shut up about you, always finding some way to bring you up in conversation. usually, he’s bragging about you.

he always says he‘s not entirely sure why you like him or how he managed to bag you, but he’s grateful it paid off. sometimes he’ll make a joke that he knows is really nerdy and he’ll follow it up with a “i don’t know why they like me either” or a “they’ll never want to touch me again”.

he will randomly use the cheesiest pick up lines on you. you could both just be chilling and out of no where he’ll hit you with a “baby, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print” just because he “felt like it”.

at work, he loves to bring you lunch and leave you a cute little note.

at home, he will sit you down on his lap and teach you how to play his favourite games so that he can play them with you. though once you get the hang of it, he does get very competitive. god forbid you get more kills than him in fortnite, even though he is super impressed — “that’s my girl.”

he also likes to play his games with you laying your head in his lap. there’s something about you being interested in what he’s playing that makes him want to take his shirt off really happy. even if you end up falling asleep during, at which point he’ll make great effort not to wake you up until he’s done. which usually doesn’t take too long because watching you sleep so peacefully in his lap has him eager to cuddle up with you in bed.

speaking of, when cuddling, he usually really likes to lay his head on your chest with your arms wrapped around him or have your whole body weight on top of him. he’s happy to be either big or little spoon.

although he may not be the biggest fan of over the top PDA, he does like to be touching you in some way or other. he’ll usually have his hand placed on you, either on the bottom your back or on your waist. he enjoys playing with your fingers and the hem of your clothes. when sitting, he’ll definitely have his arm wrapped around the back of your chair.

he really loves to show you off and as a result, his insta feed is full of your pictures. it may as well be his personal fan account for you. furthermore, he comments on every single one of your posts. he’s always your biggest hype man.

big fan of sending you memes on any and every social media platform you both have. if you don’t react to them, he will send you either an angry or sad face emoji.

he has made custom memes for you and your relationship, with a number of them featuring in who memed it videos. very easy points for the cast members.

he likes to save videos he’s seen that remind him of you or the stuff he thinks would make you laugh, immediately showing you when you’re next together.

spencer is a very good, active listener. he’s always willing to hear you talk, whether it be about your interests or something that’s bothering you and he will always have a question to ask or solution to provide. he even remembers the smallest things you tell him, which he’ll bring up to you months later and you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

he definitely writes down every important date between you both.

he’s a very thoughtful gift giver and likes to spend time just planning what he wants to get you. he believes you deserve nothing less and likes every last detail to be perfect.

you’ll usually get each other a funny card with the presents though. it’s become a tradition for you both to draw a little silly something inside (like a character from a show you’re both watching together)— even if it turns out very poor. the messages inside are pretty romantic and heartfelt, no matter the occasion.

spencer is very quick to notice when you’re upset and when he does, he’ll do everything in his power to cheer you up. playing one of his characters usually works pretty fast, especially the chosen and fred darts. they’re so ridiculous, they end up distracting you.

he definitely makes you playlists of songs that remind him of you or that he recommends and he absolutely listens to all the songs you recommend him, without skipping a second. if he likes them, he’ll let you know it.

whenever he has a new idea for a video or a character to play, you’re the first person he will run it by. he really values your input.

you guys definitely have cat babies and he absolutely will send you pictures of them if you’re away. they’ll have a caption that says something like “we miss you” or “look how cute our son/ daughter is, they definitely take after you”.

a/n: and this is all the hcs i have for now, however i will definitely be updating this list.

[sugarcoated-lame]

Pretend To Be My Boyfriend? | Rhett Abbott x Reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors DNI!

Synopsis: When a guy won't leave you alone, you ask the pretty cowboy at the bar to pretend to be your boyfriend.

WC: 2900

Warnings: not much? this is mostly just fluff :) fake dating, mentions of harassment/guys being creepy, mentions of alcohol and drinking, flirting? like one mention of sex, i feel like that gif of rhett should be a warning

a/n: I've had this idea in my head for a while and finally decided to write it (: kinda feel like it's a bit shit but please enjoy, comments, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! ♥

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“Hey, honey!” Rhett hears a sweet voice call out through the dimly lit, noisy bar. He senses a figure approaching to the left of the barstool he’s sat on, hand freezing halfway to his mouth as he goes to take a sip from his bottle of beer.

It takes him a moment to realize that you’re speaking to him, his confused expression meeting your hopeful, smiling one. He checks behind him for somebody else, but nope, there’s no one there — you’re definitely talking to him.

“Uh…hi? Do I- do we… know each other?” Rhett places his beer down on the bar, wincing as he asks the question; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten a woman that he’d met in this very bar and drunkenly hooked up with. And that situation never usually ends well for him.

You’re very pretty — beautiful, actually — and Rhett decides right then that he definitely doesn’t know you. There’s no way he’d ever be able to forget a face like that.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you step a little closer to him, and though you’re still smiling, within the newfound proximity Rhett can now see a frazzled, almost pleading look in your bright eyes as you go to speak again.

“Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?” You ask, your voice lowered to a level that only he can hear.

“Uh…” Rhett’s confusion is written all over his face, from his brows that furrow adorably to his gaping mouth.

Your own expression turns sheepish as you realize how silly the question sounds, and you’re quick to intercept and elaborate for him.

“There’s a guy over there,” you turn away from Rhett slightly and nod your head subtly to your left and catch a glimpse of the drunken stranger who wouldn’t leave you alone. “He’s been trying to hit on me for the last thirty minutes. Can’t seem to get the hint that I’m not interested.”

Rhett follows your gaze and sees a man sipping a beer and staring at the two of you from the other side of the bar.

“So… I told him that I was waiting for my boyfriend.”

When he meets your eyes again, he can tell that you’re trying to play it cool, but Rhett can sense that little hint of fear in your eyes and the worry in voice. And, though he doesn’t know you, he feels his protective instincts kick in.

You can see the change in his demeanor almost immediately, shoulders squared as he sends the other man across the room an intimidating glare that you don’t think you’d ever want to be on the receiving end of.

But, when Rhett’s gaze returns to you, his blue eyes soften and his lips turn up just a bit. He gestures to the empty stool next to his and you take the seat with a sigh of relief and a grateful smile.

“If I’m gonna be your boyfriend, then I guess you should know my name. I’m Rhett.”

Your own shoulders deflate in relief that this kind stranger — Rhett — has agreed to help you, a genuine smile now forming on your lips as you introduce yourself as well.

You’re not entirely sure what made you choose him, but for some reason you found yourself drawn to the pretty cowboy sitting alone at the bar and drinking a beer. And, you’re glad you did.

He’s even prettier up close — little curls peeking out beneath his Stetson hat, adorable button nose, and his eyes captivating pools of blue, intense in their gaze that’s now focused on you. His voice deep and rich, and oh-so soothing.

“You new to town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.” He’d definitely remember if he had.

You nod your head in confirmation. “Very new, I just moved here two days ago for work.”

“Well, welcome to Wabang. I promise not all us guys here are creeps like that asshole.” Rhett promises, once again glancing toward the man who had been harassing you earlier.

That draws a light chuckle out of you, but before you can respond, Rhett narrows his eyes and goes to speak again.

“Speaking of which, he’s still staring over here. I’m gonna put my arm around you… if you’re okay with that.”

Your head nods in agreement without really thinking much about it. Admittedly, you find yourself a little bit lost in the quiet, gravely tone of Rhett’s voice, that deep southern accent, and you’re fairly certain he could get you to agree to anything if he keeps talking to you like that.

Before you can register what’s happening, you’re enveloped by warmth and a pleasant musk that’s a spicy mix of vanilla and tobacco as Rhett leans in and drapes a protective arm over your shoulders.

“Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?” Rhett emphasizes the last word sarcastically; if he’s going to pretend to be your boyfriend, he’s going to have fun with it.

You take a second too long to answer, too busy trying to inhale Rhett’s scent again as discreetly as possible, hoping he doesn’t notice — he definitely notices.

When you look back up into his eyes, there’s a playful mirth to them, and a smirk overtaking his lips at how flustered you are by the close proximity and the use of the pet name.

“Y-yeah…yes.” You shake your head as though to clear it. “I’ll have a beer.”

As you inwardly cringe at yourself for stumbling through your answer, Rhett simply smirks and raises his hand to flag down the bartender and order your drink, all the while keeping you close to his side underneath his arm.

Only when the bartender places the bottle down in front of you does Rhett remove his arm from around your shoulders, and you find yourself already missing the warmth of the denim of his jacket on your bare skin.

“So, you moved here for work. What do you do?”

You tell him all about your new job and how excited you are for this fresh start in a new place, and Rhett listens intently, chiming in when necessary, loving how passionate you are about your work and content to just listen to the melodic sound of your voice.

“Alright, enough about me. What do you do, Rhett?” It’s the first time you’ve said his name tonight and Rhett feels his cheeks heat, deciding right then that he loves the way it sounds on your lips and that he needs to hear it more.

“I help out on my family’s ranch,” Rhett tells you. “…But I’m also a bull rider.” A small grin grows on his lips that tells you just how much he loves it.

“A bull rider?!” You’re beaming at him, eyes widened in surprise. “No way, that’s so cool! Way cooler than my job.”

Rhett lets out a deep chuckle and shakes his head in an attempt to protest. Bashful and blushing even harder now, he tries to brush it off – unable to take a compliment, but you’re having none of it.

“Come on, it’s very impressive! Maybe I’ll come cheer you on in the stands sometime.”

“Yeah?” The two of you share light-hearted grins and you give Rhett an affirmative nod. Yeah, he would definitely like that.

The two of you sit at the bar and talk for a while longer, Rhett buying you a couple more beers. You discuss anything and everything that comes to mind and share a good few laughs, the alcohol leaving you on just the right side of tipsy, feeling open and content – light.

Rhett only nurses the one beer that he’s been drinking since you approached him earlier in the evening. He finds himself already feeling a bit protective of you, liking the responsibility of keeping an eye on you and making sure you’re having a good time. Besides, he just really enjoys talking to you and doesn’t feel the need to get drunk tonight.

Rhett continues to also keep an eye on the guy who was bothering you earlier – though he’s fairly certain he wouldn’t try to approach you again since you’ve been at Rhett’s side for a while now, his arm once again finding itself wrapped securely around your side.

However, Rhett’s noticed throughout the night that he’s not the only man in the bar he’s caught looking at you – yes, you’re new in town, but he knows they’re also looking – staring really – because of how beautiful you are. And he maybe finds himself feeling a bit jealous.

“Seems you’ve caught the attention of just about every guy in here tonight.” Rhett informs you with a teasing lilt to his voice to make light of the situation, smirking into his beer bottle as he takes the final sip.

“Not that I want it.” You roll your eyes dramatically. A playful smirk then takes over your lips — you’ve got an idea. The corner of Rhett’s lips quirk up a bit too as his brow raises in question.

“Just trust me.” Your face is leaning in closer towards him and before Rhett can process what’s happening, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

The fact that you’re tipsy has definitely provided you some liquid courage, that much is for sure when you pull back and shift to whisper into Rhett’s ear.

“Gotta let them know that I’m all yours.” Your tone is playful, sarcastically seductive, the warmth of your breath against the skin of Rhett’s earlobe sending a shiver down his spine and he has to fight to hold back a groan. God, does he wish that statement were true.

You can’t stop the little fit of giggles that escapes you as you pull back, and Rhett can’t help but chuckle along with you. Admiring the way your eyes crinkle up when you laugh, the adorable way that your nose wrinkles too. The skin of his cheek is still burning where your plush lips had kissed him.

Now it’s Rhett who has an idea, you can almost see the light bulb flicker behind his crystal blue eyes when they peer into yours again.

“Do you have a ride home?” He asks and your brows furrow adorably, curious as to where he’s going with this. You let him know that you were just going to call an Uber.

“I can drive you home… if you’d like.” Rhett’s nowhere near drunk from the one beer he’s had all evening.

“And there is a way you could show everyone you’re mine.” He proposes, that playful smirk returning to his lips and a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Oh?” You narrow your eyes at Rhett, but you can’t help but grin along with him, still wondering what he could possibly be suggesting.

Rhett goes to remove the cowboy hat from his head, repeating your own words from only a few moments ago. “Just trust me.”

He moves to place the hat atop your head, a silly grin still on his face as he adjusts it over your hair. You meet his look with a puzzled smile of your own, unsure of what he meant, but something within you tells you that you can – trust him, that is.  

Rhett flags down the bartender and closes his tab before lightly knocking his fists on the wooden bar top.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” Rhett chuckles like he knows something you don’t, and you can only roll your eyes in jest as you wait to be let in on the joke.

Rhett watches as you shrug on your jacket, stealing a long glance at you wearing his Stetson – feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest and enjoying the way it looks on your head – before he gently ushers you toward the exit of the bar.

Near the door, he sends a self-assured smirk to the asshole who had been bothering you earlier in the evening, who just watches along from a nearby booth with his buddies, a sour look on his face as you walk out into the night with Rhett’s arm draped over your shoulder.

Only when you’re secured into the passenger side of his truck does Rhett divulge the nature of his plan.

“So, uh — the hat,” Rhett nods towards his hat that you’re wearing and your fingers reach up to touch the worn fabric. “If you wear someone’s cowboy hat, you’re supposed to uh…ride the cowboy…”

He trails off, admittedly a bit nervous now – he doesn’t want to come off as a creep – as he explains the ‘cowboy hat rule’ as he called it, to you. His way of making the whole ‘fake boyfriend’ thing seem a bit more real to any prying eyes, showing everyone in the bar that you’re ‘his’.

You stare at him in bewilderment for a long moment, mouth agape. Your expression sends Rhett into a boisterous fit of laughter, unable to refrain, and earns him a playful smack on the arm.

You close your eyes and cover your face with your palms. “Oh my god…”

“Oh, come on. It’s kinda funny.” Rhett contends through his laughter and you send him what you hope to be a scornful pout. But there’s no real malice behind it, a smile fighting to break through as you find it hard to be annoyed with him.

“And it’s not like I’m gonna hold you to it.” He promises with a wink that might make you swoon if you weren’t already sitting down.

Before you know it, you’re joining in on the laughs, unable to hold back any longer and relishing in the humor or the situation.

Once you’ve rattled off your address to Rhett, the ride to your home is filled with quiet music pouring from the truck’s radio – though it merely serves as background noise as you and Rhett spend the entire 20-minute drive talking. Sharing little details about yourselves and making plenty more jokes. His Stetson still sitting pretty atop your head.

Despite having spent hours talking with him in the bar, you still find yourself wanting to know more about him, not wanting the conversation – or this night –  to end.

The truck reaches your little house all too soon, and Rhett finds himself not wanting the night to end either. Pretending to be your boyfriend was the highlight of his evening and he wants nothing more than to see you again.

When he stops the truck at the end of the little path leading to your front door, Rhett clears his throat before moving to speak.

“So, I — uh, I was wondering, c-could I… maybe get your phone number?” Rhett asks quietly, a pink flush taking over his pale cheeks as he internally curses himself for sounding so nervous.

You don’t mind it, though — this seemingly tough cowboy growing all flustered and stumbling over his words for you? You couldn’t find it more endearing.  

Rhett holds his breath as your pretty eyes — slightly glassy still from the alcohol you’d consumed earlier in the evening, look straight into his blue ones, and you grace him with a coy smile.

“Of course. Who else am I going to call when guys are harassing me and I need a fake boyfriend?”

Rhett releases the breath he was holding and bites back a smile, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Great.”

Once you’ve exchanged numbers, you gingerly remove Rhett’s hat from your head, smoothing down your hair.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you scoot closer toward him in the bench seat, reaching up to carefully place it back on top of his head  — your eyes gazing into Rhett’s blue ones as they peer back into yours, the two of you sharing bashful smiles.

With the cowboy hat secured on the head of its rightful owner, you move to pull away. However, you pause before you get too far, deciding to lean in and place one last kiss to Rhett’s cheek before climbing out of his truck.

Rhett’s in such a daze – cheeks flushing that bright pink once again as warmth radiates from where your lips had kissed him, and a dopey grin on his lips – that he almost doesn’t notice as you walk around to the driver’s side of his truck, leaning a bit into the open window. Your face close to his, lit up all pretty in the moonlight.

“Thank you for turning my shitty night around, Rhett.” You bite back a grin. “I had a lot of fun.”

Before Rhett can respond – still flustered from the kiss to his cheek and now from hearing you say his name again, you back away from his window, making your way towards the path. Walking backwards, still facing the truck and grinning at him all the while.

“Oh, and you’re a really great fake boyfriend!” You call out.

Breaking off into a giggle that carries in the night’s slight breeze and Rhett can only chuckle back, shaking his head as he watches you with a fond smile.  

With that, you turn around and walk off to your house with a spring in your step. Rhett stays sat there in his truck until he sees you make it through your front door safely, and he’s absolutely beaming.

Rhett's going to call you first thing tomorrow. He hopes that he can turn this ‘fake’ boyfriend situation into something real.

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Thank you for reading! x

taglist: @wkndwlff @sebsxphia @chaoticassidy @dempy @ohgodnotagainn @shanimallina87 @mavrellover91  @memoriesat30  @that-bitch-bri @classyunknownlover @hisredheadedgoddess28 ♥

also tagging a few people that I think may enjoy/liked my last rhett fic ♥ : @roleycoleyreccenter @sunlightmurdock @rhettabbotts @mothdruid @lewmagoo @foreverrandomwritings @pillow-titties @sobshoney

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[eiightysixbaby]

i’ll be home for christmas

PART ONE: Last Christmas

series masterlist || next part

word count: 5.8k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you feel like you’ve been floating through life since eddie left town last christmas. what are you supposed to do when everything reminds you of him, and christmas doesn’t feel the same anymore?

cw: switches between past and present tense, angst angst angst, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’.

author’s note: i cannot express how excited i am to finally be sharing the first part to this story! i have truly poured every possible ounce of my energy into this and i really hope it shows. thank you in advance for reading, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it.

Present Day: December 17th, 1989.

Snowflakes swirl around your face, dancing in front of your nose before being whisked away in a flurry of cold air. It’s not snowing hard — just enough to make Hawkins feel more magical. You stuff your hands into your coat pockets, eagerly awaiting the steaming cup of coffee you’re headed for. Behind you, Nancy pleads with Mike to put a hat on because his ears are bright red from the cold, and of course he doesn’t listen. Stubborn as usual. Steve calls him a little shit, and you roll your eyes to yourself as they bicker. You can’t quite bring yourself to laugh, though, and you don’t turn around to join in on the teasing like you usually would. Your eyes are angled down, watching as your boots press imprints into the dusting of snow that coats the pavement beneath you.

“I always thought Hawkins looked its prettiest when it’s snowing,” Robin’s voice says from behind you, getting clearer as she jogs to catch up to you.

Your shoes scuff against the frosty sidewalk, a little hum leaving you as you glance around at the town center. The storefronts are all decorated for the upcoming holiday, strings of garland and pretty green wreaths with red ribbon hanging on every door. Cheery window displays with Santa Claus and artificial Christmas trees liven up the shops. Shiny red and gold baubles hang from bare trees, string lights wrap around ornate light poles and coil up until they kiss the big red bows that are tied around the tops.

Robin’s right. It is pretty. The snow makes everything even more picturesque, like you’re living in a town inside of a snow globe. This could be the setting of a holiday movie, as far as you’re concerned. You’ve always loved Christmas, it’s always been the happiest time of the year for you. This year, though, is different. The warmth and joy you usually feel every December is gone, left behind on a snowy night last year. Robin senses your sadness, of course she does, because she’s sensed it just about every single time it’s crept up on you over the course of the last 12 months. Ever the empath, that one.

“Hey, I know it’s hard for you this year, kid,” she says, softer now, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder as you walk side-by-side. Her vibrant blue eyes catch yours, studying you carefully. “You know we’re feeling it too. And we’re all here for you,” she adds, nodding in the direction of the rest of your friends.

Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids all trail behind you, spread out on the sidewalk. You know they’re all feeling the difference of this holiday, too. In their own ways, they’re hurting too. You know you’re not the only one. You almost feel selfish, but you know that’s not what your friends would want, so you try your best to shove it down.

“I know, Rob. Thank you. I promise I’m not trying to be a downer,” you say, taking a shaky inhale. Crisp, cold air fills your lungs, the icy chill almost burning.

“No, hey, don’t do that. You’re not being a downer. We’re gonna have you all merry and bright in no time,” she says with her signature pretty smile, but you feel like she’s trying to reassure both you and herself as she says it.

You hope she’s right. You long to break free from the shackles of the numbness that’s clung to you this entire year. A certain someone’s absence that’s left you feeling hollow.

You reach the coffee shop, holding out a gloved hand to open the door for your friends. You trail in behind everyone, warm air hitting you in a comforting wave, like a blanket wrapping around your frame. The entire place smells like fresh coffee grounds and hints of vanilla, and you inhale deeply, letting it envelope you.

You vaguely hear Dustin and Max arguing about whether hot chocolate or coffee is the better hot beverage, before your ears tune in to the Christmas music playing over the speaker. “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” rings out in the small space, and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the gut as the soothing voice croons through the sound system. What should be a happy, comforting song only adds salt to your wounds, and if you had any say here you’d turn it right off. It reminds you of all of the things you wish you could forget, reminds you that you won’t be spending this Christmas with the person you should be. Longing coils its way around your heart, squeezing tight enough you feel it could shatter.

“What’re you gonna get?” Jonathan asks from beside you, bringing you out of your head as you realize you’d been staring aimlessly at the menu.

“Huh? Oh, um, probably a vanilla latte. Boring, I know,” you give him a little smile, the best you can muster, which he returns.

“Nah, it’s a classic. Can’t go wrong,” he says, walking towards the waiting cashier to go and order.

He orders his drink and yours, paying for both before you can get a word in edgewise. “Jonathan—” you start as you both move to the side to wait for your items.

“Don’t offer to pay me back. It’s my treat, okay?” he insists, giving you a knowing look. It’s his way of trying to cheer you up, to bring that holiday spirit back to life inside of you.

You and Jonathan had been friends for years now, he’d been a part of the group since the beginning, but only in this past year did you become especially close. He’d been such a big support system for you, letting you vent when you needed to and only offering advice when you explicitly asked for it. He’s an exceptional listener, the perfect confidant, and you’re grateful for his friendship. You’re grateful for the whole gang — their warmth and consistent companionship making everything easier for you.

Jonathan tells you to go sit with the others, assuring you that he’ll collect the drinks and bring them over to the table. Coats and scarves and gloves are discarded, hung on the coat rack that’s nestled in the corner right behind the two tables Nancy chose for you all. She sits next to Robin, the taller girl draping an arm over the back of Nancy’s chair, fingertips brushing her shoulder affectionately through her fluffy sweater. You sit across from Steve, opting for the seat closest to the window so you can look out. Max, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike all sit at their own table, animatedly chatting about the Secret Santa gift exchange they’re doing. You giggle lightly when Dustin accidentally reveals that he’d drawn El’s name, the table immediately grilling into him and roaring with laughter.

Jonathan sits down beside you with the drinks and you immediately grab your cup, the warmth from it soothing your hands. You slip into easy conversation; talking about what Christmas gifts you all still have to buy and coming up with a plan for the group Christmas party, discussing your jobs and all of the usual things.

“And so I’m banging on the bathroom door, right? Yelling at Steve to come help me with this customer,” Robin rambles animatedly, her hands flying as she tells a story from work. “He comes out of the bathroom, and the fucking button on his pants pops off. His pants literally fall down around his ankles in the middle of the bakery. I’m peeing myself laughing at this point, the customer is still angrily waving his fist at me—” she keeps talking, you know she does, but your attention is diverted elsewhere in the midst of her anecdote.

A car horn honks outside, making you turn your head towards the commotion just in time to see a van pull up at a stop light outside of the coffee shop. A van that makes your heart feel like it’s plummeted to the bottom of your stomach. A Chevy, a deep burgundy in color with a cream stripe running along the side. You feel your mouth go dry as you’re plagued with a flood of memories. You vaguely register Jonathan and Nancy’s laughter towards Robin, you know you should be laughing too, but your mind is already far away from this moment — transported somewhere else. Back to a year ago. Back to Eddie.

Christmas Eve, 1988.

You hoist yourself up into the van, a smile on your face as you sit down, instantly pressing your hands to the air vents to try and warm them up. You’re buzzing from the party at Steve’s, waving enthusiastically to the host in question as he closes the front door to his house. Eddie had insisted on warming the vehicle up for you while you said your goodbyes to everyone, and he watches you from the driver’s seat as you buckle your seatbelt.

“So, where are you taking me, handsome?” you ask, barely able to contain your joy.

“You’ll see,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze. He shoots you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, but you shake it off easily, assuming he’s just getting tired. You know you were.

Snow flies sideways in the beams of the headlights, those big, fluffy flakes that have always been your favorite. You drive past houses decorated like something out of a scene from a movie; rainbow lights coiled around bushes and pine trees, white bulbs lining rooftops and candles glowing in windows. Every door seems to don a wreath with a big red bow, and even some snowmen wave at you with their stick arms, mittens held high in the air.

It’s magical, that’s the only word you could use. Your heart feels like it could burst out of your chest, giddy like a child again. Christmas music plays on the radio and Eddie hums along to it beside you, making you want to grab him and kiss him and just never let go. What you two had going on was unlabeled, at the moment, but the tension between you was tangible. Your seemingly upcoming relationship had become the butt of the affectionate jokes in your friend group, the gang being less than subtle about what they expected from you and Eddie. And they didn’t even know about the kiss yet…

Being with him felt like everything good in the world, wrapped in a tiny package and sealed with a bow. Sometimes he would look at you like he loved you, and sometimes you felt like you loved him. There was no rush, no hurry, no deadline with Eddie. You let things flow naturally, progress gradually as you enjoyed getting closer and closer with one another. You’re feeling like tonight might be the night, like he might finally ask you to be his.

The van drives across snowy backroads, a dense layer of trees on either side. You know exactly where you’re headed now, hands rubbing on your thighs in an absentminded fidget. It’s not long until you pull up beside Lover’s Lake; your usual spot, your special spot. There’s a lonely dock leading out to the water, a dock that you’ve spent many a night sitting at while you gazed at the stars with the curly haired boy. It, too, is decorated for the holiday now, strands of lights twisted around the railings, illuminating the surrounding frozen water.

Eddie puts the van in park, killing the engine before his door swings open with a reluctant creak. You open your own door, only to be met with him extending a hand for you to take, helping you down onto the icy ground. You tug your hat further down over your ears, slipping your gloves out of your coat pocket and onto your hands. Eddie’s grabbed a blanket from the back of the van, tucking it under his arm. You can see your breath with every exhale as your boots crunch through the dirt and grass, walking to the dock with Eddie right in front of you.

The blanket is laid out on the old wooden planks, serving as a buffer between you and the cold, frozen surface of the dock. You gaze out at the vast expanse of the lake, a few lights twinkling on the opposite shore. You reach for Eddie’s hand, giving his fingers a squeeze before just holding them, your gloves providing him with some extra warmth.

“I have something for you,” he says then, taking you by surprise.

“Eddie, I thought we were exchanging gifts tomorrow—” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“This couldn’t wait,” he insists, and his eyes hold an emotion you can’t place.

Is this it? Is he going to ask you to be his girlfriend?

His hand fumbles around in his coat pocket before he finds what he’s looking for, retrieving a tiny velvet box. A dainty ribbon is wrapped around it, tied with a bow on the top, and you gasp a little when you see it. He hands it off to you, watching as you delicately pull the knot loose, setting the shiny ribbon in your lap. You open the box with so much care, a hand flying to cover your mouth when you see what waits for you.

A beautiful gold necklace with a heart pendant rests on the silky bunch of fabric inside the box. You lift the pendant with a finger, noticing an engraved ‘E’ in the center of the heart. The whole thing is dainty, not flashy, not too much, but yet more than enough.

“Eddie—” you breathe, tears pricking in your eyes as you meet his stare.

He looks nervous. He’s not smiling.

“I want you to have that so you never forget me, and how much you mean to me,” he says, scooting closer to you.

He pulls you to him, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I could never forget you, what do you mean?” you ask, clutching the box close to your body.

“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you. And I need you to try and understand,” he says, and the words immediately make your stomach flip. You feel ill, and he hasn’t even told you what he needs to tell you yet.

You close the box, holding it even tighter, as if it could freeze this moment in time.

He pulls back just slightly, enough so he can look you directly in the eye. One hand rests on your cheek, the shockwaves of his touch reaching the deepest parts of your soul.

“I’m leaving Hawkins. Tomorrow,” he says finally, a shuddering breath leaving him.

And that was the moment your whole world shattered.

Present Day: December 17th, 1989.

You’re torn from your memories at the feeling of Jonathan’s hand on your arm, his voice calling to you through the fog you feel floating in your brain.

“Sunny, hey, you okay?” he prods, concern evident on his face when you turn to look at him.

Nancy, Steve, and Robin look expectantly at you from the other side of the table, worried about where you’d drifted off to.

“Yeah, I— I’m fine,” you say, giving a smile that’s less than believable. “Sorry, just… thinking. Lots going on for the holidays, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says, squeezing your shoulder as if to let you know he’s here for you.

He gives you that look he always gives you when he knows there’s something you aren’t telling him, he knows you too well. You feel bad lying to him, but you don’t want to bring up Eddie in front of the whole group right now. Robin was telling a funny story. Your friends deserve to laugh, to be happy. They don’t need your anguish. Saving face is the easiest option.

To your appreciation, they simply ease back into the conversation at hand. Your hand reflexively reaches up to your chest, grabbing at the small pendant that rests there. Your thumb runs over the engraving that you know is the letter E, your breath leaving you shakily. You take one final look out the window, the van from before now gone — much like the man it reminded you of.

You end up making an excuse to leave your friends early that day, no longer feeling able to force a positive attitude. You know they must be worried, know that they see through your facade, and guilt gnaws at your insides. All they’ve done is try and try to keep your spirits up, to help you move past everything, and you’re just stuck in the past. You haven’t exactly been easy to help, either. You miss Eddie, but every time he’s called you decline speaking to him. You can’t — certain that you wouldn’t even know what to say and that you’d just cry helplessly into the phone. And nevertheless your friends persist, always there when you need them and always willing to cheer you up. Plans are made with Nancy and Robin to bake Christmas cookies sometime soon — an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse at the way they so excitedly ask you to join them — before you bid everyone goodbye and part ways.

You stomp your snow-covered boots on the doormat just inside of your apartment, kicking them off haphazardly as the icy sludge begins to melt on the ground. You float around the space as you hang up your coat and remove your gloves, hat, and scarf, your body physically completing the actions but your brain residing somewhere else entirely. You curl up on your couch, wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket as you stare blankly at the black screen of your tiny television. The glow of your Christmas tree does nothing to soothe you — where it used to be a comfort, it now feels like a headache. You have half a mind to tear down all of your decorations, but you know it wouldn’t truly make you feel any better.

As if you weren’t sad enough already, as if the past eleven months haven’t been torturous enough, you really can’t get Eddie out of your head now. Seeing a lookalike van to his shouldn’t bother you, nearly a year later. Something so commonplace shouldn’t phase you. You press the heels of your palms to your closed eyes, willing your tears not to fall, willing yourself to forget him and forget it all and leave him in your past. You know it’s hopeless, you know you can’t possibly forget him, and it only makes you more frustrated.

One hand grips the pendant of your necklace, pulling roughly on the chain and making it snap. You toss it onto your coffee table, sobs wracking through your entire body now. Your fingers rest where the necklace once was, feeling the loss of him, something tangible. Laying down on the worn cushions, tears blur your vision as you cry, left alone to remember. And you remember everything.

Christmas Eve, 1988.

Your brows furrow, your brain not comprehending what he’s saying. “I don’t.. I don’t understand. What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“I found a place in Chicago. I can’t be in Hawkins anymore, Sunny, I’m sorry. I don’t… I don’t belong here. I need to go out on my own and make something of myself,” he says, wincing as if it pains him to speak about. You don’t have the grace in this moment to see that it does pain him. More than he can say.

“No…” you say, tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head furiously. “No, this is a joke. This has to be a joke,” you try to convince yourself, moving to stand. Your chest feels tight, like all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Sweetheart—” Eddie says, standing with you, reaching an arm out to steady you when your boot slips on the icy dock.

“Don’t touch me!” you shout, louder than you’d ever wanted to be with him. “You can’t—” your voice breaks, your lip wobbling. “You can’t leave me.”

“I have to. You’ll be better off without me, okay? You have Nance and Robin, and Jonathan and Steve.”

“What about them?” you ask, voice quiet.

“What?”

“What about them? Did you tell them that you’re leaving? Did you tell the kids?”

“I… no. I need you to explain everything, okay? I didn’t want to ruin the Christmas party,” Eddie says, his eyes averting your gaze, shifting on his feet.

“Oh, but it’s okay to ruin my night? It’s okay to ruin my life?” you hiss. Eddie’s visibly taken aback by this, his eyes impossibly sad. You know the last part may have been too much, but you don’t care.

“You’re going to be fine without me,” he says, puffs of fog leaving his mouth with each word against the cold wind.

“What about us, Eddie!?” you cry, your throat raw with the way you scream it. “You’re going to act like this is nothing? Like we have nothing!?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He stands maybe two feet away from you, silent, his figure illuminated only by the string lights wound around the railings to the dock. His silence rings in your ears.

“So that’s it. You’re just going to go away, leave me here and forget about me,” your voice trembles, your feet stepping backwards as you start to distance yourself from him.

“I could never forget about you, I don’t want to forget about you!” he emphasizes, moving towards you. “You’re the only person I’ve told this to besides Wayne! Because I care about you far too much to just go,” he says, his voice breaking as he steps closer still.

“Oh, my hero,” you scoff, shaking your head as you wipe tears from your cheeks.

You turn on your heel and start running towards the van, your heart feeling like it’s being wrung out in your chest. The wind hurts your face, every snowflake that hits your skin pricking you like a needle.

“Sunny. Sunny!” he shouts after you, his shoes crunching on the frozen ground as he tracks you down. Hearing the nickname he’d so fondly given you ages ago — because you’re always ‘a ray of sunshine’ in his words — simply feels like he’s driving a knife through your heart now. “Please, I need you to understand—”

“How could I? How could you ask this of me!?” you sob, your defenses raised high. “I could’ve gone with you!”

“No! You need to be here, you’re happy here! You have friends and family and a job that you love — here.”

“You have friends here. You have Wayne, and you have me,” you say through gritted teeth, sniffling hard.

“I need to go. I need to get away from this town,” he says softly, mournfully. “Please…”

“Take me home, Eddie.”

“Baby—”

“Take me home! I don’t want to be near you any more, take me the fuck home!” you grit, pushing him away when he tries to hold you.

“Okay,” he sighs, defeated. “I’ll take you home.”

The ride to your place is alarmingly silent, your mind hazy as you stare blankly out the window. The happy hugging families and Christmas lights and snowmen mock you as you drive past, every joyful scrap of the holiday feeling like a sick joke now. Your stomach is in knots, your heart breaking inside of your chest with every passing second. You feel like you’re in a daze, like you aren’t even real.

His van finally pulls into the parking lot to your apartment, the snow swirling harder now in the glow of his headlights. It doesn’t look light and delicate as it had before, it doesn’t shimmer the way it used to. It looks foreboding, plummeting to the ground in fast, aggressive streaks.

“Sweetheart—” Eddie starts, and you scoff before he can keep going. Tears slide down your face as you shake your head, your lip wobbling.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t you dare call me that if you’re really about to leave me,” you say, voice thick with the bile that rises to your throat.

“I have to go. I’m so sorry. You’ll be better without me, I’m so sorry.”

“Goodbye, Eddie,” you say, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it.

You open the passenger door, hopping out of his van for the last time. You’d climbed into this van a mere hour ago so hopeful that tonight he’d make you his, and instead he’s ripping it all away. You chance one final glance at his face, the defeated and empty expression that sits on it. It makes you want to crumble, fall to your knees right there on the snowy concrete and wail until your throat is raw. But you don’t give him the satisfaction, and you slam the door shut instead. The sound of it reverberates in your ears, making your head throb. The little velvet box sits in your coat pocket, your hand clutching it as you walk quickly to your building.

You barely process the fact that you reach your door, that you unlock it and step inside. You only process the hard floor beneath you as you sink down onto it on your knees. Sobs wrack through your body as you hunch over, gasping breaths making your chest shudder. Taking the little necklace box out of your pocket, you stare at it for a moment. Chest heaving, tears streaming down your face, you open the box. You take the necklace out, fumbling with it through your blurred vision. It somehow feels right to put it on, it feels like you need to put it on. It’s the only piece of Eddie that you have.

The pendant rests above your heart, your hand grasping it and clutching it tight. Through all of your anger and your hurt, there’s an unspoken love for Eddie, and there’s a part of you that clings to his gift like it’s a lifeline. Like maybe wearing the necklace could make him change his mind, like you could summon him. And so you sit, still in your coat and your scarf and your hat, curled in on yourself on the floor of your apartment as you cry. Letting yourself feel every ounce of emotion, cursing Eddie’s name for how alive he made you feel and how he’s taking it away in the blink of an eye.

Present Day: December 18th, 1989.

The next morning comes with a blanket of heavy snow, the sun rising over the sleepy streets of Hawkins and making the white powder sparkle. You’d hoped, nearly taken up some faith and prayed that after some sleep you’d feel better. That your problems could be washed away with the morning’s light.

Naïve? Maybe. Probably.

Because as soon as your alarm clock blared in your ears and you opened your tired eyes, you felt honestly worse than you had the night before. You feel as though someone has scooped up your insides, tossing them out and leaving you hollow as you lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.

The promise of coffee and the obligation of work is what gets you out of bed, your head instantly pounding when you stand up. Your feet slide into your cozy slippers as you trudge down the hallway to your kitchen, getting a pot of coffee started before moving to your living room. You go to pick up the television remote when something shiny catches your eye. The light reflects off of a gold pendant, making it sparkle.

Eddie’s necklace. Your necklace.

At least in your sleep you’d been able to forget that you had taken the necklace off. And in your post-sleep still-tired haze you’d been able to remain unaware, if even for a short while. You stare at it for a moment, tempted to put it back on. But then your puffy, sore eyes from last night’s sob-fest and the snot-covered tissues that litter the floor encourage you to leave it off.

All Eddie’s done in the last year is make you cry, so why should you wear his necklace every day? He doesn’t deserve it.

Or that’s what you try to convince yourself, at least, as you stomp into your room and hide the necklace away in your jewelry box. You can’t stomach looking at it for too long, desperately trying not to cry again. You’re not even sure if you have any tears left, or if the reservoirs have run completely dry. Shaking it off, you return to your living area, clicking the TV on and turning it to the news station.

“We sure got quite a bit of snow last night, and we’re definitely not the only ones!” the weatherman says, too perky for this early in the morning. “I was just recently in Chicago and, let me just say, be thankful that’s not us. Talk about a lot of snow!”

Chicago. Your eye twitches at the mention, and then the TV is promptly clicked off. Way to start your day strong.

You were hoping things would improve when you got to work, as your current job could barely even be called a job. Your front-desk position at the school was on hold for the winter break, but this year Hawkins Middle was sponsoring an ice skating event. A temporary ice rink was installed in downtown Hawkins, and you had offered to help run it. You’d mainly been in charge of skate rentals and serving up hot chocolate or coffee, and it was actually really fun most days. Chief Hopper had even been convinced to dress up as Santa, showing up on Fridays and Saturdays to greet the eager children.

Today, though, of course the world has to test you. You can hear kids shrieking and throwing tantrums before you can even fully see them, and as you walk in to the worker’s trailer you hear Vickie, one of the teachers at the middle school, getting royally bitched at by an impatient mother. Wincing, you put a hand on her shoulder when the woman leaves, signaling that you’re here to take over and rid her of misery.

“I’m warning you,” she says. “It’s crazy out there today.”

To make matters worse, on your drive here the first song you found on the radio was one of Eddie’s favorites. You had changed the station only to find another one of his favorites before turning the damn thing off entirely. Then, on the short walk from your car to the ice rink, you’d been walking behind someone who looked exactly like Eddie. The curly hair, leather jacket, white sneakers… it made your stomach turn. You were more disappointed than you wanted to admit when you saw his face and it, of course, wasn’t actually him.

It’s like Eddie was everywhere you went, an inescapable constant.

You just wanted to not be sad anymore. Your heart was tired of hurting, and you truly felt as though Christmas couldn’t be over and done with fast enough.

You try to put on a chipper attitude as you greet families, politely helping them get their skates and giving the kiddos your best tips and tricks for the ice. There’s a larger crowd than you’d expected today, everyone in town seemingly flocking over to grab some hot cocoa and go skating. You expertly maneuver between skate rentals and drink-making, insisting your other helper keeps an eye on the ice rink itself. It keeps you busy, at least, your brain pleasantly distracted by the chaos. In brief moments of downtime, you watch as wobbly children try to stay upright on the slippery rink, parents following close behind with outstretched hands, ready to steady them.

You’re putting skates back in their respective places when the door to the little trailer opens and shuts, a strawberry blonde head of hair lingering in your peripheral vision.

“Hey, Chrissy!” you greet her, setting out cups for the next round of cocoa orders. “How’s break been going for you?” you ask, smiling at her as she pulls off her earmuffs.

Chrissy was one of the cheer coaches for both the middle and high school, and you’d become friendly with her through school events and the like.

“Oh, you know, it’s going fine I guess….” she says, biting back a smirk as she stretches her arms out, hands splayed flat where she holds them in front of her.

You glance down, instantly clocking the sparkly diamond ring on her left ring finger. Eyes widening, you gasp, taking her perfectly-manicured hand in yours.

“No way. Jason proposed!?” you ask, watching as a pink lipgloss smile breaks out on her face and she nods.

Her and Jason had been the it couple for the majority of your high school career, and they’d still been going strong since graduation a few years back.

“Yes!! Can you believe it!? I had no. idea. he had this planned!” she squeals, her ponytail bobbing as she bounces slightly on her feet.

For some reason, it makes your heart feel like it’s about to crack beneath your rib cage. It shouldn’t, this isn’t about you, but the air is whisked from your lungs regardless.

“I— I’m so happy for you,” you say, stammering a little as you try to feign happiness. “Congratulations.”

“You okay?” she worries, her brows furrowing as she tilts her head at you. Her perky demeanor is gone, concern taking over her features.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, sorry, I just feel a little weird. Haven’t eaten much today,” you lie, forcing a smile on your face. “Seriously, congratulations,” you say again, sighing in relief when she thanks you and walks back out of the trailer, going to check on everyone skating.

You slump against the counter, a lump forming in your throat. As much as you wish it didn’t, this only makes you think of Eddie. Again.

You can’t help but let your mind wander to what could’ve been if Eddie had stayed, if maybe in a couple short years he could be proposing to you. Last December you’d been so hopeful that the two of you would make things official soon, and when Eddie gave you that necklace you were nearly certain of it — for a moment, at least. What if he had been here, in Hawkins, this entire year? Surely you’d be spending Christmas together, decorating together and baking together and simply existing together. It feels like you’ve been robbed. All of your feelings for him have had no place to go, the adoration you boxed away clawing at your heartstrings desperately.

There’s a part of you that’s so envious of what Chrissy has, and there’s another part of you that feels guilty for that. It’s not her fault you’re broken, not her fault you’ve been a shell of your former self for months now. You’re too in your head, and before you know it you’re turning away from the service window, furiously wiping at the tears that have started to fall down your cheeks.

The rest of your day is spent the same way it started — the same way all of your previous days had been spent; thinking about Eddie Munson, and what could have been. If only you could change what happened last Christmas.

taglist: @hellfirenacht @writethrough @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @trashmouth-richie @succubusmunson @likedovesinthewnd @tlclick73 @mrsjellymunson @idkitsem

[turtletaubwrites]

A Good Catch ~ Part 1

✨600 Followers Fic Celebration!✨

I am so grateful for all of you! This has been such a wonderful time, and having all of you around to nerd out with, and to share my writing with is the best! Shanks won the poll for the next x Reader fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4367

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, I feel like there's some romance tropes I could tag, but I usually just write smut, so please let me know what silly tropes I have in here 😅

A/N: I am having so much fun with this one! I'm doing my best to keep it to 3 parts, so wish me luck 😅 Please enjoy this fluffy first chapter!

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Now I’m gonna get murdered by pirates,” you grumbled to yourself as the ship crept ever closer. “Just fucking perfect.”

The windless sea was no challenge for the massive pirate ship. All you could do was sit with your pile of fish, jealous of the huge oars guiding the threat to you. 

Dread loomed as that jolly roger closed the distance, like an animal baring its fangs before it strikes. Crossed blades, and a sinister skull with red stripes over its left eye socket. 

You didn’t pay enough attention to the gossip and wanted posters to remember who was headed your way. 

Not that it matters. They’re pirates. 

It was too much to hope that they’d pass you by. 

A few voices carried over from the deck, until a tall man leaned over the side. His bright, red hair hung still against this stupidly windless sky. 

“Hey, friend,” he called, the sun at your back giving you a glimpse of his wide smile, even from so high above you. 

“We’re not friends,” you countered, crossing your arms to keep him from noticing your shaky hands. 

“I suppose not. You seem like you’re in a spot of trouble though, and we’re happy to help.”

His deep voice sounded so friendly. Genuine. Charming. 

He’s just trying to lure me into his trap. Who knows what they’d do to me on that ship…

“The sun’s getting pretty low for a small boat to be all the way out here,” he judged, trying to block the glare as he looked down at you. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more wind today.”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

His pause made your skin itch, wishing he would stop looking at you. 

“We can bring your boat with us. I’m assuming you’re from that village a ways to the west?”

It must have been a trick of your eyes, it couldn’t happen so quickly. But you swore the day inched closer to night faster with every second. You watched the light grow golden as it lit up the red haired man, and his pirate ship.

Fuck.

“I refuse to be rescued,” you choked out, nails digging into your arms. 

“Okay,” he said in an annoyingly teasing tone, “if you insi–”

“I’ll pay you for the service! I had a great haul before…”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed, deep and hearty. As if he were truly happy. 

You had thought pirates would seem scarier. Maybe this is worse.

You barely heard his shouts  as men started to lower ropes down, prepping to save you. 

“You should know I’m armed,” you yelled up at the back of his head, continuing when he faced you again. “Anyone touches me, and they’ll lose a hand.”

“I’ll be on my guard then. I’ve been running out of those.”

You didn’t understand, or appreciate his teasing while you waited. 

~

“Welcome aboard!”

Pirates echoed the red haired man’s welcome, and you assumed he was the captain as the rest busied themselves about. He sat on deck, calm as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Now that you were so close, you couldn’t help but notice the rippled muscles of his chest and stomach between his mostly open shirt. 

Besides the cloak over his shoulders, he didn’t seem to wear anything that could mark him as captain. Unless his red hair, and three scars over his left eye… 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he asked, moving to stand beside you. 

“The jolly roger,” you pointed to the menacing skull. “You must be the captain.”

“Good eye,” he leaned in with a smile. 

His smile should have a completely different word. The sight from your boat was nothing compared to seeing the way this man's lips curled slowly, the left side starting first as it grew, as if he was enjoying the act of smiling itself. And his eyes…

His eyes were way too close to you. 

“Are you alright?”

Concern broke that smile, and he called for someone to bring water. 

Your face flushed, hot to the tips of your ears. You realized that you hadn’t heard what the pirate had said because you were too busy swooning over his pretty eyes. 

The water was welcome, and you gulped half of it down, suddenly embarrassed about how fucking fishy you must smell with your day’s catch beside you. 

“Is there anything else you need, miss…”

Trying to catch your eyes, the pirate leaned toward you. He reached for your shoulder, and you jumped back, spilling water down your chest.

“I’m so sorry, love. I forgot about your warning.”

His soothing voice felt real as he went to a knee in front of you. 

“I do hope you will spare me my fate, I swear that no one on this boat will forget it again.”

He’s really too charming. He’s either the sweetest person in the world, or some sort of demon with powers of seduction. 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could truly defend yourself anyway. The fear of being at their mercy kept you hyper aware of all the moving bodies around you.

“How long until we’re at the village?”

The sun was almost gone from the sky now, and you just wanted to be home. To scrub this stupid day away, and pass out. 

“It should be about three days from now.”

“Three,” you choked out, dropping the now empty mug of water, which he caught without taking his eyes off of yours.

“We’ve got some business on the other side of the island. We'll be stopping by the village to restock supplies before we head out.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you snapped, voice louder than you meant it.

He just smirked, tilting his head.

“Sorry, love. Would you like us to toss you overboard? I don’t think you had many rescuers lined up.”

For some reason, you couldn’t get your mouth to remember that these men could kill you as you growled back at him.

“You didn’t rescue me. I paid you for a trip back to the village.”

His lips quirked as if he was fighting not to smile again. He looked down at your haul, fish still flapping in the net. 

“That is a really nice haul, miss. Afraid it’s not enough for a direct trip, though.”

Pirates came to take your fish away, and it broke the spell his irritating eyes had on you.

“Please, save this one! You can have it, just… Make sure you cook it well.”

The two men with the net followed your gesture to that fish, assuring you they would obey before taking it away.

“Why’s that one special?”

The weight of this long ass day hit you, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you looked back at that pretty captain. 

“It was a good catch.”

He huffed a laugh, the clear amusement he got from your words making you simultaneously annoyed, and pleased. You were mentally smacking yourself for that. 

Don’t be attracted to pirates, dumbass. 

“I’m Shanks. I don’t know if you heard me before, but…”

Your skin flushed again, and he seemed to notice, a warm, evil smile slowly forming on his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know it.”

He gave a real laugh then, loud, and infectious. You had to remind yourself that he was laughing at you.

“What would you like us to call you then, huh? “Fish Girl?” Maybe “Fail Boat?” Or how about “Damsel in Distress?” I think I like that–”

You ripped your hand back as soon as you’d realized what you’d done.

But it was too late.

Your idiotic, suicidal hand had shot out and smacked him, hard, right in the center of that gorgeous chest of his.

The deck roared with laughter while you shook with horror. Shanks had looked down at his chest, and when he lifted his face to yours he looked stunned. If you hadn’t just signed your own death warrant, you might have thought his face comical, brows raised high, with his mouth and eyes wide. 

“Go easy on the girl, captain,” teased a tall man with gray hair, shaking his head at Shanks.

“Yeah, come on, captain! What kinda hospitality are you giving, insulting our guest like that?”

A whole group of pirates crowded around him, reprimanding him, and giving him a few gentle punches and shoves. 

Your mouth hung open. The sight of these pirates being so playfully disrespectful toward their captain didn’t fit in your brain. None of this made sense with what pirates were supposed to be like. 

“Fine. Fine! I’m sorry, miss…”

He’d broken away from his men, leaning toward you with that question. 

“Y/N.”

He hit you with a new grin to outshine all the others, making your breath hitch.

“What a beautiful name for a damsel in distress.”

You didn’t need to hit him this time, as pirates did the job for you, even throwing things at him from across the deck. 

Maybe it was the overwhelm, the fatigue. Maybe you’d gone insane.

But laughter built in your stomach, growing through your body, until you were shaking with it. You had your hands on your knees as it took you over, and the pirates around you joined in. 

How can pirates be laughing and smiling like this with me? How can it be genuine? 

Amidst the continued roars of his men, Shanks shook his head, gesturing for you to follow him. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

Frowning at the back of his head, you followed through the wooden halls until he opened a large door, gesturing for you to go inside.

He rolled his eyes when you hesitated, before going in first. 

The large room was tiled, with lockers and showers, and there he stood in the center, grinning like a creep.

“I’ll pass,” you deadpanned, backing out the door.

“Come on, fish girl,” he taunted, “you stink, and I think you’ll be easier to clean than the blankets you’ll sleep in tonight.”

Blood rushing to your face again, your mouth opened and closed as anger and embarrassment fought to take over.

Shanks laughed again, but tried to stifle it. 

“Sorry, you’re just,” he motioned to his lips, mimicking your movements. “You’re a fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you seethed, leaning toward him. “I’m not taking a shower on a pirate ship when anyone can–”

“I’ll guard the door for you, okay,” he assured, finally seeming to take something seriously. “I’ll make sure no one comes in.”

Now his stupid smile was soft, small, and sweet. You hated it.

“Oh right,” you scoffed, “like I'd trust a pirate captain. Who’s gonna stop you from coming in?”

“What makes you think this pirate captain would even want to come in here, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, turning to leave.

He was so fast. You jumped back as he blocked the door. He saw your wide eyes, and moved out of the doorway so he wouldn’t block your exit, but he still leaned close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, okay? I promise I will sit right outside this door, and not let a single person come inside until you’re done. There’s fresh clothes for you over there too. Whatever you need.”

A very fine trembling worked its way around your body as you studied him. It seemed like such a bad idea to trust him. 

But you were exhausted. 

“You’ll sit in front of the door?”

He straightened up, a look of relief brightening that serious face.

“I will.”

“Will you wear a blindfold?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he agreed with a smirk.

“And let me tie your hands behind your back?”

Shanks sucked his teeth as he leaned back. You had a second of fear as he started taking his clothes off.

But all he removed was his heavy cloak, revealing that he was missing his left arm. 

Guilt hit you, apologies about to pour out, but he held his palm out. 

“Afraid I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do the rest. Is that alright, Y/N?”

~

This is really nice soap.

Still on edge, your body started to relax a bit with the delicious smelling soap on your skin. 

But every time you felt a moment of relaxation, you’d remember the pirate on the other side of the door. 

“You’ve gotta make it tighter, sweetie. Otherwise it won’t work.”

That fucking sentence kept tearing through your brain. The way he’d run his fingers across yours while you adjusted the cloth to blindfold him. The way his hair and skin had felt and smelled as you moved it into place. The way he’d rasped those words while he grabbed your wrist to guide you, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your skin. 

The way you had let him touch you without arguing. His fingers had taken advantage of the moment, but it had felt almost electric to let him.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.”

How did he hear that over the shower?

~

“What the hell is this?”

“Sorry, love, I'm afraid I can't see what you– ow, hold on!”

You definitely had a few red hairs between your fingers after ripping his blindfold off. 

The pirate captain got to his feet to meet your eyes, and fucking snorted.

“What is wrong with you,” you fumed, tossing the blindfold at his face.

The fact that he caught it before it hit him only pissed you off more.

“There has to be something else I can wear,” you demanded, pulling at the frilly lavender dress he stuck you with. You looked like some creepy porcelain doll.

His face was going as red as his hair as he tried not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, no one’s– we don’t have anyone your size,” he choked out, clearing his throat before continuing. “We have a few more dresses like this, though. They were supposed to be a gift for a princess, so you should feel honored!”

“Fuck you.”

His lips were fucking quivering as he fought his laughter. His eyes flicked down to your clenched fists, and he relented.

“Right, sorry, okay! You can have some of my clothes, you’ll just have to roll them up, alright?”

Very judgmentally looking him up and down, you raised your brows at him.

“Do you have any shirts that actually button up all the way? Or do you expect me to let my tits hang out like yours.”

Shanks cackled then, catching himself on the wall, his eyes even tearing up a little. 

You kicked yourself for saying something so sexual in front of a fucking pirate.

“You’re a funny one, fish girl,” he teased between hiccupped laughs, “but you definitely look like a damsel in that dress.”

You kicked the pirate for being such a dick. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he huffed, wincing as he rubbed his shin where you’d kicked it. 

“Follow me. I definitely wanna get you outta that dress– I mean into different clothes,” he almost yelled, warding off a slap with his arm. “So you stop hurting me!”

Practically boiling with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear, you let yourself be guided along. The lantern lit halls were roomier than you would have expected, and you could hear the distant voices of the crew. 

“Here we go,” he said gently, opening another large door. He went in first again, and you entered what had to be his quarters.

Of course. We’re getting his clothes. 

It was full of rich, dark woods, red blankets, a desk that seemed to have more bottles of alcohol than anything work related on it, and a delightful, almost spicy scent filling the air. 

The room was a bit messy, and you felt out of place standing there in that frilly dress while he dug through his wardrobe, tossing clothes to the ground as he searched.

“Here, love, how about these?”

“Do you have a belt?”

~

Managing to roll, buckle, and tuck at his clothes, you were mostly satisfied as you checked the mirror.

Even with all the buttons done up, you still had to tie his shirt to keep your chest from popping out like his does. 

“You almost finished? The party’s star…”

Those pretty eyes brightened when you opened the door. His little smirk made you frown, and he held his hand up.

“You were right, Y/N. This definitely suits you better.”

He offered that hand to you, and even in the warm glow of the lanterns, you could see scars, callouses, and thick veins that made your breath hitch for a moment. 

Your hand had almost reached his when he pulled away.

“Almost forgot,” he teased, his voice somehow lower than normal as he stepped out of the doorway for you. “I’ll lose my only hand if I touch you, right?”

“I…”

“Well, I definitely won’t risk that.”

He stepped further back, letting you follow him into the hallway. 

Your brain seemed to stutter, unable to join the moment as it flew through conflicting emotions. 

Like why it upset you that he wouldn’t risk it. 

Shanks moved in close, his spicy scent filling your lungs as you looked up at him. 

“Just let me know if that ever changes.”

He turned away after a subtle wink that made your brain short circuit. 

“You comin’? I’m hungry.”

Still barefoot without your fishy shoes, you chased that red hair down the hallway.

He really is some sort of seduction demon.

~

“Hey, girly. Is this jackass treating you alright?”

“This is how you talk about your captain?”

The older man with long, gray hair ignored Shanks’ protests as he looked you over.

“You should be more worried about him,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the captain.

“Ha, I’m sure you’re right.”

He grinned down at you, before motioning toward the fire. 

“Come on, the food’s almost done.”

The crew had found a remote beach, and set up camp. Their camp supplies seemed to be mostly alcohol. 

Shanks had said they had business here, and that they’d go to the village in about three days.

What kind of business are pirates getting up to on my island?

The thought was pushed aside as Shanks called for you. Most of the pirates were holding their plates, or using boulders or crates while they ate. Captain Shanks had a dingy little table by the fire, and was waving you over. 

“Come on, love. Let’s eat, and find out why that fish of yours is so special.”

The day's events hit you again, but you joined him in a mismatched chair, and grabbed a fork. 

It smelled good.

“Here,” Shanks demanded, shoving a mug of some kind of alcohol into your hand, before standing and lifting his own to address the crew. “Here’s to our luck! We found an unlucky fisherwoman, and now we’ve got good eats. To Y/N!”

The sheer volume of their enthusiasm made your eyes go wide as you faked a sip.

“So tell me, fish girl,” he leaned toward you, the small table not leaving much space between you. “Why is this fish so special?”

Ignoring him, you focused on your plate. The way it looked and smelled was perfect, but you had to know.

He watched your movements, following along as you pierced into the flesh, bringing the first bite to your lips. 

It was perfect. Whoever had cooked it had treated it right. The tender meat and the subtle flavor were given just the amount of spice to balance it out.

It would have sold well. After all it took to get it, you were grateful that it didn’t go to waste, and tasting it yourself was wonderful.

Even if you were sharing it with a pirate.

“This is incredible, Y/N. You really are a fish girl.”

Letting out a sigh, you dug in, trying to enjoy the meal that had put you in this situation. The night was filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and endless calls for cheers, the clanging of metal mugs like the shifting heartbeat of this joyful crew.

“So, I had someone take a look at your boat, in case we could help fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” you spat out, wishing you could have enjoyed your meal in peace. Without this too fucking handsome and annoying pirate captain.

Shanks tapped his fingers on the table, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“That was the report,” he said softly, the teasing tone building slowly in his voice. “They did say that one of the oars is missing.”

“Thanks for the report,” you grumbled, watching the fire now.

“Come on, just tell me what happened. How’d you get stranded out there?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Your face felt hot, the fire not close enough for the burning in your skin. 

“Consider it payment then. For my clothes, and for my company,” he taunted, his voice dipping low. 

“I could do without the latter.”

“You wound me, sweet damsel.”

He put his hand to his heart, chuckling at your frown before chugging whatever was in his mug.

“It was a really good catch,” you mumbled, giving in. He scooted even closer to you, excitement in those lovely eyes, mixing with the light of the fire.

Shanks kept that beautiful mouth shut, just tilting his head toward yours as he waited.

“My grandma used to talk about her best catch. That was it,” you said flatly, gesturing to your empty plate. “She made me promise that if I ever caught a fish like that, I had to eat it myself, eat it with friends.”

“Don’t waste a fish like that on berry, sugar. It’s a gift.”

He raised his mug as you mimicked your grandma’s voice, and you brought yours up with a sigh, still just pretending to drink.

“I’m honored, then. Your grandma was right, that fish was amazing.”

Memories of her seemed to join you at the table, bittersweet, and heavier than you’d like. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You, uh… You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed, a hint of anger back in your voice as you fought against the prickling in your eyes.

“Well,” he drawled out, extending the word for way too long, “you still didn’t tell me how you got stranded out there with nothing but the perfect fish.”

Groaning, you put your forehead on the dingy table and blurted it out, as if you could make it not true if you said it fast enough. 

“I caught the fish. I saw what it was. It started to slip through my hands. I knew it’d sell well, so I didn’t want to lose it. I ended up tripping over one of the oars. I should have let it go, I could have grabbed the oar if I’d seen it slipping. But I was greedy. I wanted to sell that stupid fish instead of eating it, and now grandma’s probably cussing at me from the afterlife.”

Shanks at least had the decency to shove his knuckles between his teeth before he started laughing. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you huffed, standing to leave the captain’s dingy table.

“Wait, please,” he called, catching your fingers in his, and pulling you back toward him. Only to drop your hand as if he’d been burned when you met his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean–”

Whatever you might have said was lost in a wave of too many things at once. Humiliation over the whole thing, fear that these pirates could still hurt you, especially if you fell asleep, and the burning in your stupid cheeks because this gorgeous asshole held your hand. 

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

The moon was mostly full, so there was plenty of light on the sand as you walked away from the camp. They were so fucking noisy, but the ocean beckoned for you to sit, gentle waves like your grandmother’s sweet voice. 

When she wasn’t giving me shit, you thought with a laugh, digging your toes in the sand. 

“The ocean makes me feel better too.”

His deep voice annoyed you more than it startled you. 

Shanks sat beside you, but not too close.

Ignoring him did not make him go away. 

“What do you want?”

“I wanna make your shitty day better. How can I do that?”

“Take me home.”

“Three days on that one, love. Anything more immediate?”

Your plan to stay up all night was already failing, exhaustion dragging you down.

His eyes were so soft under the moon, the hint of a smile brightening his face.

“I don’t want to sleep out in the open with everyone. Is there somewhere… safe where I can sleep?”

Shanks nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat. 

“Of course, let me take you now.”

The ship itself seemed to be sleeping, so quiet with only a handful of crew watching it as the rest camped on the island. 

Red hair under lantern light guided you through those wood paneled halls again, until he led you to the guest quarters. 

“Here’s the key, and you’re welcome to shove this chair under the door knob as well. Breakfast will be at the beach in the morning,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be the afternoon depending on the hangovers, but you– Are you alright?”

He knelt at your feet, looking you over as you slumped onto the bed.

“How long were you out there today? Have you been drinking water? Are you…”

This charming pirate stopped himself from touching your forehead, and some insane, fatigued part of you reached out, grabbing his hand with both of yours. 

“I lied,” you confessed, voice quiet and close, his pretty eyes on your lips. “I can’t cut your hand off. I’m not armed.”

The slow smile he gave you now was your favorite, somehow making the light in his eyes shine brighter. Your hands reluctantly let go of him as he shifted, but instead of moving away, Shanks touched his calloused fingers to your cheek. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I am obsessed with these two now. What the heck. I need Shanks to make fun of me like that 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[moonselune]

Some tav angst could be interesting. Where tav feels like they've spent so much time learning and figuring out each individual companion, but Tav feels like no one truly knows them yet. I think it could be particularly angsty with Astarion or Gale. And maybe particularly comforting with Halsin who i think would react maturly to that feeling. Dealers choice on whether to end with fluff or angst.

P.s. Youve been writing so many great pieces. It's really made my weekend!

Ooof I am a sucker for angst I cannot lie, tried to balance the angst and comfort but who knows what I've concocted really

Astarion:

The camp was quiet, the fire’s embers glowing faintly as everyone settled down for the night. You sat apart, staring into the flames, feeling a heavy weight on your chest. Despite the camaraderie and the bond forged through countless battles, an emptiness lingered, a sense that no one truly knew you.

Astarion approached silently, his usual swagger subdued. He settled beside you, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "You’re awfully quiet tonight," he remarked, his tone light but probing.

You sighed, tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick. "I’ve spent so much time getting to know everyone, understanding what makes them tick. But sometimes, it feels like no one really knows me. Not even you."

Astarion’s smile faltered, replaced by a rare look of vulnerability. "I thought… I thought we were getting closer. I’ve shared things with you I’ve never told anyone."

"I know," you said softly. "And I appreciate that. But it feels one-sided. I’ve been so focused on you and the others, making sure you’re all okay, that I’ve forgotten to let anyone in. To let you in."

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it rested on yours. "I’m not good at this," he admitted, his voice strained. "Caring. Loving. It’s foreign to me. But I do care about you. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the struggle within him. "I know you do. But it’s not just about caring. It’s about knowing. And I don’t think you know me, not really."

Astarion’s grip tightened, his expression pained. "Then help me. Let me in. Show me who you are. I don’t want to lose you because of my own failings."

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded. "I’ll try. I promise."

Gale:

The stars were bright above as you wandered away from the camp, seeking solace in the night’s stillness. Gale found you near the river, his presence comforting but also a reminder of the distance you felt.

He approached cautiously, sensing your turmoil. "You’ve been distant lately," he observed, his voice gentle. "What’s on your mind?"

You turned to face him, your heart heavy. "I feel like I’ve spent so much time understanding everyone, including you. But I don’t think anyone truly knows me."

Gale’s brow furrowed, his concern evident. "I thought… I thought we had something special. That we were connecting on a deeper level."

"We do," you assured him, your voice wavering. "But I’ve been so focused on you, on all the others, that I’ve forgotten to let anyone truly see me. To let you see me."

He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek. "I want to know you. All of you. But you need to let me in."

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you leaned into his touch. "I’m scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Of not being enough."

Gale’s eyes softened, his thumb brushing away your tears. "You are more than enough. And I want to help you carry your burdens. Let me be there for you, as you’ve been for me."

You nodded, the weight on your heart lifting slightly. "I’ll try. I’ll let you in."

Halsin:

The forest was a place of refuge, its tranquility a balm for your troubled soul. Halsin found you among the trees, his presence steady and reassuring. He approached without a word, sensing your need for space yet wanting to offer his support.

You leaned against a tree, your heart heavy with the feeling of being unknown. "I’ve spent so much time learning about everyone, understanding their pains and fears. But it feels like no one truly knows me."

Halsin nodded, his expression calm and understanding. "You’ve been a pillar of strength for all of us. But even pillars need support."

You looked at him, tears in your eyes. "I feel like I’ve lost myself in the process. That no one sees the real me."

Halsin stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. "It’s easy to lose oneself when caring for others. But you are not alone. I see you, even if you feel hidden."

Your tears flowed freely as you leaned into his embrace. "I don’t know how to let people in. I’ve been so focused on everyone else."

Halsin held you tightly, his presence a source of comfort. "It’s okay to be vulnerable. To let others see your true self. You are worthy of being known and loved for who you are."

You nodded against his chest, his words a soothing balm to your aching heart. "Thank you, Halsin. I’ll try to open up more. To let you in."

He smiled, his eyes warm and full of understanding. "Take your time. I’ll be here, ready to listen and to know you, whenever you’re ready."

Hope you guys enjoyed this :) - Seluney xoxox

[wyervan]

@r0tting-rat & @amarynthian-fortress I hope you don’t mind each other’s company in this ask.

I also hope u don’t mind that I tried writing for this ask. Also it’s halfway through November 😆 hope your not too sick of Halloween. I know I never am 😝

It’s been a reeeeally long time since I’ve written much of anything 😳 but I wanted to try it out again and both you guys are such amazing writers and i would be totally open to your feedback and suggestions 🥺🥺

DCA Slasher AU

content warnings: general spookiness i guess lol? oh but also characters describing acts of graphic violence :D

🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾 🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾

The October air is refreshingly cool as you step out from your car. Looking up into the fading pale sky, you see pink cirrus clouds lining a glowing sunset. You stand there for a moment and inhale deeply, briefly in awe of the color of the light. A sudden whistling breeze rattles the branches of a balding tree, sending a flurry of yellow leaves skittering across the parking lot.

Remembering that you have somewhere to be, you turn on your heel, slamming the car door a bit too hard and startling both yourself and a crow that was sitting on a nearby fencepost. It chides you sternly for your disruption with a caw.

Ignoring the jeer, you start down the sidewalk toward downtown, joining a half a dozen others leaving the lot, all of them dressed in varying degrees of costume.

Apparently for Halloween this year, the town had sectioned off a whole six block radius of shops, restaurants, and other commercial establishments to encourage business and tourism for the holiday. Blockades prevented cars from entering the area for the evening while vendor booths and pedestrians filled the streets. Local businesses handed out goodies to the trick or treaters, usually working in some advertisement of their wares and services.

You found yourself actually excited for this Halloween in a way that you hadn’t felt since you were a child. You even dressed up! Ahh—kinda. You just pulled something from your closet and did your hair in a way that made you look like that one character from that show that you watched two seasons of three years ago.

But you had promised Sun you’d wear a costume tonight. You had left work much earlier than usual, vowing to return to the arcade now and stay late to assist with the festivities. Your outfit was quick enough to put on that you had managed to sneak in a nap before heading back out.

You pass kids in costumes. They walk and chitter to each other excitedly, yelping happily and playfully pushing each other around. A smile spreads widely across your face at the sight of their joy. Parents or scowling teen siblings follow closely behind. Now inside the blockades, booths displaying all manner of seasonally-themed crafts, foodstuffs, and trinkets line both sides of the street, people flitting from vendor to vendor. Candy bowls sit ripe for pillaging at the edge of every station.

Enjoying the sights and sounds, but not wanting to get caught up with the fair, you stick to the sidewalk. You round the last corner and across the street you see a small crowd of strange creatures gathered in front of the arcade—a cat, a wizard, two pirates, Shrek, and multiple Disney princesses.

Their attention, you see as you cross the street and finally step on to the curb in front of the arcade, is entirely focused the clown crouched in front of them. You stop behind the group of kids and the clown’s eyes raise meet yours, flick down your form, and then refocus on the little girl in front of him, all in half a second.

“Mr. Sun, we know magic isn’t real. My cousin showed me that trick and then he showed me an entire book about fake magic! It’s all slide a hand or whatever…”

The clown, dressed in pale bright yellow and burgundy stripes, shakes his mane and brandishes a card with bear and the number 4 on it to the girl (one of the pirates). His already wide grin stretches further.

“Little Captain Shelley, if magic wasn’t real, then how did I know that this is the card you actually wanted, hmm?” he says.

Shelley the Pirate opens her mouth to retort, but before she can say anything, the clown suddenly flicks his pinkie and flips the card once, twice, thrice… and then there’s a bar of chocolate grasped between his gloved fingers instead of the bear card.

The other kids give small gasps of delight. Shelley is quiet and wide-eyed for a moment before a shy smile breaks over her face and she snatches up the chocolate bar, dashing away giggling to her parents standing a few paces away. They scold her lightly for not saying “thank you” to the clown, who is now passing out candies to the remaining trick or treaters.

You look around, taking in the decor that you and your bosses sweated over just this morning. You had watched as Sun hung string lights from the eaves at painstakingly even lengths. The goofy-looking giant spider that you had wrestled with earlier sat fat and content in a gauzy net of cobweb pinned over a window. A fog machine situated in the entrance between the two sets of doors into the arcade spilt thick mist out onto the pavement.

You spy the other clown fifteen or so feet away, slumped in a fold-out lawn chair next to the arcade’s doors. His deep blue hat and pants, accented with yellow stars, stand out starkly against the ruddy red of his seat. He’s already watching you—head propped up in one hand braced against the chair arm, the other idly fishing through the bucket of sweets he has resting in his lap.

“Star light, star bright, won’t you grant me candy tonight?”

You pull your attention back down to the red and yellow clown to see that the trick or treaters have ran off to raze other pastures, leaving him alone with you. He’s looking up at you now, cheeky grin cradled in his palms... then suddenly springs from his haunches to his full height—easily six and a half feet. The bells on his wrists chime abruptly with the motion. He weaves his fingers together, palms out, and brings his arms out and over his head, spine arching with the force of a full-body stretch.

He drops his long arms and takes one stride to close the distance between you. He leans a bit to the side, hand going absently to rub at his left knee, and gives a dramatically contented sigh. “Ahh. Little monsters and princesses may come and go, but the Star always returns to the evening sky,” waxes the clown—who is your boss of course, because that’s the kind of life you lead now.

Ah. And he’s in character. More so than usual.

“Starlight, what kind of treats did you bring us?” he asks, bright blue eyes wide, chin tucked to gaze steadily down at you.

“Oh shit. I forg-“

He leans further in toward you, face suddenly less than a foot from yours, and you jump a bit. He raises a single slender finger as if giving an instruction, or about to shush you.

“Language, Star, especially when there are children in the vicinity. Anyway, it’s fine, fine, fine. We have more inside” Sun steps back and gives a dismissive wave. “Moony, could you get the two other five pound candy bags from the breakroom, pleeease?”

Moon’s head rolls lazily to give Sun a dead look, long strands of black hair spilling across the stark light side of his face.

“You can have all the licorice, red and black.” Sun states.

Apparently satisfied with this, Moon’s head lolls back to a neutral position. He sets his candy bucket on the sidewalk, gets up with a low grunt, and trudges through the fog and into the arcade. You turn, opening your mouth to ask Sun what he’d like you to do now that your here, but he’s already prancing back to his post—just in time to excitedly meet a Mario and Luigi pair.

You walk over and take up Moon’s nearly empty bucket of candy. Hmm… you wondered if Moon had been eating most of this himself, judging by the numerous empty wrappers mixed in with few yet untouched pieces of chocolate you see at the bottom of the bucket.

“Trick or treat!” Two pairs of children’s sneakers enter your vision.

You look up to see a couple of familiar faces—Gregory and Cassie, both wearing blocky helmets and body pieces made of tinfoil-covered cardboard and covered in glued-on switches, buttons, and dials. They have their arms and legs stuck through wide flexible tubing and are holding lumpy pillowcases filled with their spoils.

“Oh, hey guys. Robots—nice. How’s the haul been tonight?” you ask.

The styrofoam balls that top the antennae attached to their helms bounce in the air when they look at each other and nod their square heads.

“Pretty good. Wickson’s down the street was giving out caramel apples. Think you can top that?” Cassie says.

You glance down at the meager dregs of what was left in the candy bucket. But before you can offer up the scant pickings and apologize, Moon’s voices rasps from behind you.

“Kid, don’t you know treats aren’t for brats?” Moon’s arm brushes your shoulder as he remerges from the arcade, two bags of assorted candies clutched in one fist. He looks down on Gregory, lips pulled into a slight sneer. Gregory faces him fully and juts up his chin at a defiant angle.

“Sounds like a sore loser talking.”

“Kid, I already beat your score again this morning. Ain’t got nothing to be sore about.” The sneer turns into a smug lopsided smile, displaying a sharp canine. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. Moon had forgone his usual nap on the break room couch, choosing instead to stand hunched over an arcade cabinet for the entire morning upon seeing GREG in mocking neon green at the top of the high scores. His desperation was evident by eleven when he snapped at you for vacuuming too close to the power cable.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll be back in this weekend.” Gregory promises, narrowing his eyes and attempting to awkwardly cross his tube arms in front of his blocky shell. “Your scores aren’t safe.”

Moon rolls his eyes and brings the hand holding the candy bags up, releasing one into the bucket you’re holding. Unprepared for the sudden weight, you almost drop it. He grips the top of the other in both hands and splits the plastic seam. Then he offers it stiffly to Gregory and Cassie.

“Here. Before I change my mind. Pick what you want then scram. No licorice though.” The kids don’t hesitate, hands diving into the bag to fish out a Banana Laffy Taffy and an Almond Joy. Both of them crinkle their noses at the choice the other made. Cassie smiles sweetly and thanks Moon, starting back toward the vendor booths. Gregory also turns to leave but then gives Moon another narrow-eyed look. He brings two fingers up to his own eyes and then turns his hand so that his fingers jut toward Moon—the classic gesture for I’m watching you—then he waddles away, tube legs impeding his movement slightly.

You set the candy bucket down in Moon’s chair and turn to face him, hands coming to your hips.

“Kind of lazy, don’t you think, to just be wearing your work costume for Halloween?” you tease and flick the bell of his hat resting at his shoulder. Moon just shrugs and gives you a bored look. His thick dark eyebrows flick up.

“Yeah, and what are you suppose to be? Some sort of nerd businessman?”

“No! What? You don’t know? I’m that one guy from that show with all the other people who all do the thing together.”

The street light above you two suddenly flickers on. You look up at the sky. In the half hour or so since you had left your rental, it had already darkened to a bruising indigo. You look back to Moon and in the stark orangey light, you spot a dark reddish mark on the white half of his shirt that you didn’t see before. You peer closer and raise a finger to point out the stain just below the blue ruffle collar he wore around his neck. “Hey, you got something right there. Jeez, is that blood?”

You scan him over again, looking for any sign of injury but find nothing concerning on what two-toned skin you could see… but looking at him carefully revealed an even larger stain on the dark-side of his costume, deepening the charcoal color of the fabric to almost black.

Glancing back up, you see a strangely stiff expression frozen on his mouth. But Moon’s eyes are intense, slightly wide, trained carefully on you. A spark of something jumps in your stomach under his gaze. You look away and try to break the weird sudden energy with a joke. “You know you should really be more careful while you laze about on—“

“Last time I wore this, I killed someone.”

This statement, spoken flatly, makes you forget your awkwardness and look back at him again sharply, mouth slightly agape. A moment passes while you stare at him blankly… then two… then a small impish smile settles on your face.

“Yeah? Did you suffocate him with a balloon animal?”

“I hit him in the back of the skull with a heavy statue from his mantle,” Moon says in the same matter-of-fact tone. You’re slightly taken aback again, but then he continues steadily “And when he woke up, I smashed his knees with a bat so he couldn’t run away.”

“Ah, the ol’ Tonya Harding. Classic,” you deadpan.

Moon’s face suddenly dips down closer to yours. His eyes have widened further in somewhat alarming glee and a slow smile was beginning to stretch his lips. You jerk slightly at the sudden closeness but stand your ground, not wanting to be the first to give into this odd game.

“And I took a knife and peeled strips off him until he begged for me to kill him… then I stuck it in his throat… and watched him choke to death on his own blood.”

“Moony, my old friend—my partner in clown, brother of bells—“ You break away from Moon’s gaze to see Sun approaching, his hands gesturing in a whirling motion in the air. “I’m SURE what you’re blathering to them about is very important—BUT, I need to pull our shining Star away so that they may attend to the prize counter. Some children inside will certainly be wanting to exchange their hard-won tickets for treasures very soon—mhm!” He finishes with a hearty confident nod.

“Sun was there. It was his knife.” Moon breathes, close to your ear, then he leans back from his hunched position over you and you find you can finally take a full breath.

Sun’s jester shoes stop-short mid-step with a violent jingle and a harsh scrap. His gesturing halts and his expression freezes in a wide but strained smile. He hums a nervous, sort of giggly noise of confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Sun asks through his teeth, head tilting at a sharp angle.

“Moon was just telling me about what you guys do in your free time. You didn’t tell me you guys were suppose to be dressed as the Killer Klowns from Down the Street. I don’t even see any blood on your costume, Sun.” This actually earns you a low devious chuckle from Moon, which makes you feel an embarrassing bloom of pride. Sun doesn’t seem to find it so funny.

His eyes flick to Moon, to you, to Moon, and then back to you, and then Moon again… and then again back to you. His smile doesn’t drop.

“Ah yes… well, you know how hard even fake blood can be to get out of clothes.” Sun says in a constrained, somewhat aloof tone. He’s staring at Moon again with a strangely pointed look in his eye. “Wouldn’t want to scare anybody with stains like that after the holiday, now would we? They’d think we were a couple of lunatics.”

“You guys are kind of nuts though, you know.” You state. This draws both their gazes to fix on you again. “You bought this place didn’t you? With its history and everything.” You stick a thumb back in the direction of the arcade. “Pretty crazy. But you turned it into a cool place.” A smile lights your face at a feeling of genuine appreciation for your current situation in life. Sure, your showers were mostly cold water and your car was probably gonna fall apart on the drive home, but you had a pretty cool job with two people whom you now considered to be more your friends than bosses.

“Aight, I’m gonna head inside now.” You pivot with a wave and turn away from Sun and Moon, feeling the heavy weight of their twin gazes on the back of your neck. The sky is now nearly black, cold, distant stars glinting. A gust of wind picks up and sends fog swirling around your legs as you enter the arcade. The air, pleasantly cool only an hour ago, now bites chillily at your exposed face and throat.

🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾 🌞🔪🤡🪓🌜🩸 💫 👾

Okay that’s all folks :D This was what I was working on most of the week. I started the first paragraph and was like “this is really hard!” then skipped to halfway through to some dialogue I knew I wanted. It’s hard to find the most efficient words to describe the scene and characters.

I’m happy with it! but I feel like it might read a bit stiff? Maybe you can tell I’ve read and watched too much historical fiction. Worry sometimes I come across a bit stuffy or old fashion-sounding.

Idk idk like I said at the beginning, it’s been a very long time since I’ve written any prose. Hope you liked it~ most probably definitely will do more, it just takes a lot of time and thought.

Please leave me your thoughts~~

[rollinouttahere]

Joyride

Yandere Strawhats + Ace x Isekai Reader

2.2k words

Part 2

Yet again, this fic is inspired by @lovelybrooke ‘s Isekai reader stories.

I also want to say thank you for all the support and kind comments on the last story I wrote! I’ve actually been working on my own yandere one piece fic that I’m hoping to start posting in a few days give or take, so if you like what I’ve written so far, keep an eye out for that! All future writings are gonna be posted on my writing blog @rollinouttahere-writes​ so go follow that blog if you’re interested!

Trying to act normal and inconspicuous in the One Piece universe was a far from easy task. Being the massive fan of the series that you were, it was damn hard to not give away that you knew all about the crew that was so generously letting you stay with them after appearing on their ship with zero explanation.

It became even harder to stay lowkey when Ace temporarily joined up with the Strawhats. All you wanted was to hug that man and tell him how loved he is and that he deserves to live just as much as anyone else, but you really couldn’t say or do any of that without looking weird. You’ll just have to settle for being extremely nice to him, which was very easy.

Ace himself was already an easy guy to get along with (now at least), but he was noticeably very interested in you. You couldn’t blame him, what with Luffy almost immediately outing your insane situation to him. He seemed incredulous at first, but warmed up to and accepted the story way faster than you expected. It didn’t take long for his questions to go from feeling like an interrogation to being genuine.

You were so busy soaking up the attention from such a beloved character that you almost missed how jealous your crewmates were getting. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper were taking it the best. Chopper probably because he was still so new to the crew that he wasn’t all that bothered by one of them not paying as much attention to him. Usopp was too busy building Nami’s weapon to concern himself with it too much. Meanwhile, Luffy was just so happy to see Ace again that he didn’t really notice that you were spending a lot of time with him. That, and he would usually be hanging out with both of you anyways. 

The others though, oh boy did they not like this. Nami was the most blatant about it, straight up glowering at you and Ace whenever you two were too close for her liking. You’re pretty sure the only thing keeping her from up and dragging you away from him is Luffy dismissing her complaints and telling her to stop fretting over it. You love being a part of their crew, so she should quit worrying!

Sanji and Zoro were both vying for your attention in their own ways as well. Sanji suddenly wanted more help around the kitchen, insisting that he needed an extra pair of hands now that there was another mouth to feed. Given that Ace’s appetite was on par with Luffy’s, you could understand the desire for help. Zoro’s attempts were considerably less convincing. One time he wanted you to spot him while he was working out, making you laugh right in his face at the mere idea that you would be able to help him with the ridiculous weights he lifts. His face had gone bright red after you pointed it out to him, prompting him to walk away immediately, much to your amusement.

Right now, though, you weren’t with Ace. Him and Luffy were busy doing something and you didn’t want to butt in on all their time together. Instead, you were ogling Ace’s boat that was currently tied to the side of the Going Merry.

You absolutely loved the design of his ship, it was such a clever idea to use his devil fruit ability to power a steam engine and make what looks like a tiny sailboat function like a jet ski. It didn’t appear in the anime too many times but everytime it was on screen it looked so cool. 

“I wonder what it’d be like to ride that,” you quietly mused to yourself.

“Wanna find out?”

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sudden arrival of Ace. He laughed at your reaction, not a care in the world for the near heart attack he just gave you.

“Oh my God, Ace, you scared the hell out of me!” You lightly slapped at his shoulder, your other hand resting over your now racing heart.

He laughed some more, “I could tell, and I’m sorry about that.” He didn’t sound even vaguely sorry. Ace elbowed your side, “But seriously, do you want to go for a ride?”

The offer had you staring wide-eyed at him. Then the boat. Then back at him again. “Really? Are you sure?” You were desperately trying to keep your cool and not show how insanely excited you were about the idea.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t. Come on,” he hopped up onto the railing and held his hand out to you. You didn’t need to mull it over, eagerly taking hold and stepping up with him. As soon as you did, he wrapped an arm around you and was ready to jump down onto his boat when Nami started yelling.

“Woah, woah, woah, what the hell are you two doing???” Nami, who was previously pruning her trees, had abandoned the activity entirely in favor of sprinting over to where you were and grabbing onto your leg.

“(Y/N) wanted to try riding my boat, so we’re going for a little joyride, that’s all,” Ace flashed Nami a dazzling smile, not at all deterred by her interruption.

“No way! What if they fall off? That thing doesn’t look safe at all!” Nami was now pulling on you, trying to get you down from the railing.

Ace held on tighter in response, “It’s perfectly safe, it has to be. I’m a devil fruit user, remember? (Y/N) isn’t, so really, I’m in more danger on that than they are. It’s fine.”

You could tell Nami was ready to argue more, but thankfully Luffy piped up, “Don’t worry about it Nami! If Ace says it’s safe then it’s safe!” Luffy, who was perched on his special seat at the bow, came bounding over, “But I wanna go next!”

“Sure thing, Luffy, we’ll be back in a bit,” Ace was quick to jump down with you in tow, not wanting to give any of the other Strawhats a chance to object. After untying it from the Going Merry, he knelt down slightly, “Hop on my back, you’re not gonna want to have your feet down there when we get going.”

Not wanting to get set on fire, you obliged. If you weighed anything to him, he didn’t show it, simply standing up straight as soon as you were on. “Ready?”

You excitedly nod your head, holding on tight to Ace in preparation. It was a good thing too, because he decided to immediately start at the leisurely speed of what felt like mach 7. A shriek emits from your throat as you take off. You think you can hear Nami yelling something again, but couldn’t make it out over your own screaming and the noise of the steam engine roaring to life.

Ace laughed loudly at your reaction, but did slow down slightly, “Sorry about that, I just wanted to get some distance before anyone else tried to stop us.” One of his arms let go of your leg and tugged at your arms around his neck, “But would you mind easing up a bit? I won’t be able to take us back if you choke me out.” 

“Oh oops, I’m sorry!” You immediately loosened your arms and readjusted them. Accidentally strangling Ace was not something you wanted to do today. Or any day really.

He simply shrugged it off, telling you not to worry about it. It’s not like you could really hurt him. “I’m gonna speed up again, you ready for it this time?”

The second you confirm that you are, the boat lurches forward, cutting through the waves like nothing. Now that you weren’t panicking, you could properly take in the experience and thoroughly enjoy it. 

The wind was whipping through your hair and sea water misted the air, droplets clinging to both yours and Ace’s hair. He hit a particularly big wave causing the boat to go airborne for a moment before crashing back down. You found yourself laughing and cheering as Ace continued to show off, which only egged him on more.

After a while, Ace slowed to a stop and let you down from his back. “C’mere, step up on this,” he stepped to the side and motioned for you to step up onto the front of his boat. His hands rested on your hips to keep you steady, presumably not wanting to get chewed out by Nami if you came back sopping wet. 

“This is one of the best parts of being at sea,” he was staring straight ahead. “Sunsets out here are something else, you don’t get a view like this on land.”

He was completely correct, it was beautiful. Orange, red, and pink hues colored the sky and reflected gorgeously in the ocean. It was a breathtaking view, one you would remember forever.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, quietly admiring the view with nothing but the natural sounds of the ocean around you. It was nice, very peaceful. 

“What do you think about staying here?”

You tense at Ace suddenly speaking. “Like staying out here a little longer?” As lovely as this was, the others were bound to get antsy if you stayed out after dark.

“No, I mean staying here in this world,” he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms fully around you and resting his head on your shoulder to be able to see your face. “It’s nice here, right? Why not stick around? I know Luffy wants you to. Hell, I’m sure the rest of the crew does, too.”

You were taken aback by this statement, and weren’t really sure how to respond. Sure, it could be nice here when you all weren’t being hunted for sport by marines, but this wasn’t a place you could see yourself staying long term. That, and you had a life back home, you couldn’t just throw your friends and family to the wind like that.

Sucking in a breath, you searched for the nicest way to say all that. “It is nice here, but I have to go back.” You could feel his posture stiffen behind you, “Don’t get me wrong, you all have been super nice to me! It’s just that I’ve got all my friends and family back home and I miss them terribly.”

“Your family?” Ace said this so quietly that you weren’t even sure he was saying that to you. Abruptly, he straightened up, “I know! If you want a family so bad you can join the Whitebeard pirates!”

What? You joining the Whitebeard pirates? You already feel inadequate enough around the Strawhats, you can’t imagine how pathetic you would feel around those people. Of course, it would be awesome to get to meet them, but you want to keep to yourself as much as possible since you will eventually have to go back home.

While you were thinking, Ace kept going, “Pops would love you, I just know it. We haven’t gotten another sibling in a while, everyone would be psyched to meet you.” His once comforting hug was growing tighter by the second. Suffocating even.

“Ace-”

“And you already have friends with my brother’s crew, so that’s all taken care of!”

“Ace, ple-”

“Of course, I’m your friend too, but after you join I’ll be your big brother!”

“ACE!” Your yell startled him, mercifully making him let go of you. You take the opportunity to inch forward and create some distance, however minute.  “That’s,” oh, how to put this without hurting his feelings, “that’s very kind of you to offer, but I’d rather stay with the Strawhats for now.”

“Oh…” You don’t even need to turn around to know how disappointed he was by this declaration. He chuckled awkwardly, “I’m sorry about that, looks like I got a little carried away there.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” frankly, you just wanted to go back to the ship after that. The atmosphere was uncomfortable now.

After a few more seconds of silence, Ace cleared his throat and spoke again, “We should probably head back now, it’s gonna be dark soon.”

You were quick to agree and clambered onto his back, “Yeah that’s a good idea, Nami would throw a fit if we stay out much longer.” She’ll probably be mad regardless, but still.

Ace got his boat going and began the trip back. The Going Merry was a lot further away than you’d realized, it was so small that you could just barely make it out in the distance. You internally cringe, your crewmates are no doubt unhappy about you being this far away.

Despite the distance, you couldn’t help but notice how slow Ace was going compared to earlier. It’s like he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. You decided not to call him out on it, not deeming it worth it.

“I’m not giving up, you know.”

“What?” 

“I’ll drop it for now, but I’m not giving up on you joining Whitebeard’s crew. Just… think about it, okay?” Ace’s voice was quiet, just barely loud enough to hear over the engine. 

The rest of the ride back remained dead silent, giving you plenty of time to mull over what just happened. It felt so… Weird. Out of character, really. He’s known you for, what? 24 hours? If that. Yet he’s trying to talk you out of going home and seems dead set on replacing your family with his own. Granted, everyone’s been more clingy than you thought normal, but this was downright bizarre. 

You really need to find a way home, and fast.

[dee-writes-anime]

Aches, Pains, and Futures in Soccer with Yuji Itadori

FEATURING Yuji Itadori x Reader

SUMMARY You weren't sure what you were expecting when you decided to have a baby with Yuji, but it definitely wasn't being his kid's punching bag.

CONTENT WARNINGS play fighting, silly banter, baby's first kicks, pregnancy trope, yuji trying (and failing) to be a couch hog :(

AUTHORS NOTE This was really heartwarming to write and I actually had a lot of fun! I hope you all enjoy it just as much. Yuji is my special boy and he deserves all the love.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The golden afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting soft, warm patterns across the living room. You were tucked into the couch, a rare moment of peace settling over you as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. But you could hear the telltale sounds of Yuji’s footsteps coming down the hall, and you braced yourself, knowing he was about to enter with his usual whirlwind energy.

Sure enough, Yuji bounded into the room with that signature bounce in his step, looking like he was just waiting to liven things up. He stopped when he saw you comfortably nestled into your corner of the couch, his hands on his hips as he gave you a mock glare.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I leave for, what, five minutes, and you’ve already stolen my spot?”

“Your spot?” you shot back with a grin. “Yuji, I’ve been here all day. I claimed this spot fair and square.”

He squinted at you, dramatically suspicious, like he was sizing up a fierce opponent. “You’re telling me that my half of the couch was suddenly yours the second I got up? Hmm, pretty fishy.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face as he plopped down beside you. “I mean, if you want the spot so bad, you could just—”

He wiggled in closer, all elbows and knees, not even bothering to give you the chance to finish your sentence as he leaned into you. “Could just… what? Move you over a little?”

You tried to put on a serious face, nudging him with your shoulder. “Yuji, if you wanted to reclaim this side, maybe you should’ve put down a warning sign or something.”

“A warning sign?” he laughed, eyes bright with that mischievous sparkle. “Come on, you know I don’t need warning signs to get what’s mine.”

Your laughter was immediate, filling the room as you swatted him with a throw pillow, which he pretended to dodge. “Oh really? I’d like to see you try! I think you’re underestimating my commitment to this spot.”

His eyes widened in playful shock, and he grabbed a pillow of his own, holding it up like a shield. “I see. So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

And just like that, you were drawn into the gentlest “battle” imaginable. He shifted closer, playfully pretending to push you over as you pushed right back, all while exchanging goofy banter that kept you both laughing. It felt like being kids again, like no one else in the world mattered but the two of you and the laughter echoing through the room.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded after a minute, his cheeks pink from laughter as he dramatically threw his hands up in defeat. “You win. You can have the ‘prime spot,’ but only because I’m feeling generous.”

You gave him a triumphant smirk, snuggling deeper into your claimed cushion, though your victory was short-lived as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer anyway. “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” you teased, settling comfortably against him.

He chuckled, resting his chin on top of your head, his arm protectively wrapped around you as if to keep you from slipping away. His other hand found its way to your belly, fingers splaying gently over the small bump. “Well, I mean, you’ve got my kid in there,” he said, his voice softening. “I can’t just not hang out with my favorite people.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest as he shifted to get a better look at you, his expression equal parts adoration and amusement. “Think they know we’re out here bickering over couch space?”

“Oh, definitely,” you replied, glancing down at his hand on your belly. “They’re probably rolling their eyes in there, just waiting to take after their dad and be just as stubborn.”

Yuji grinned, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your belly as he spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “Listen, little one, just so you know, your dad’s never been stubborn in his life. That’s a rumor your mom likes to spread.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he went on, murmuring little reassurances to the baby like he was already trying to win them over.

He settled into a calm silence after a while, his hand still resting on your belly, his touch light yet firm. The sun had shifted lower in the sky by now, and the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow. Yuji’s eyes softened as he gazed down at you, a look of wonder lighting up his face.

“What?” you asked, grinning as he stared.

“Nothing, just…” He shrugged, his cheeks tinged pink. “Just thinking about how strong our kid’s gonna be. And hoping they don’t end up stronger than me by age five.”

“Oh, they absolutely will,” you teased, elbowing him gently. “And then you’ll have to get used to having your spot stolen all over again.”

He feigned a look of horror. “You’re saying… I’m not even safe from my own kid?”

You nodded, patting his shoulder as if to console him. “Exactly. Your days of couch domination are numbered.”

“Oh man,” he groaned, leaning back dramatically before pulling you with him, letting you settle comfortably against his chest. “Well, if that’s the case, I guess I better make the most of it now while I can.”

And for a while, you just stayed there, tucked up against him, both of you savoring the warmth of the moment. The peace, the quiet laughter, the shared anticipation—all of it felt like a glimpse into the future you were building together, a future that already felt so perfectly, messily, you.

But suddenly—bam!

The force that jolted through your belly was so surprising, so powerful, that it knocked the breath right out of you. You felt a solid, undeniable thump, like someone had just launched a mini football inside you. Your hand flew to the spot, your eyes going wide as you tried to process what had just happened. It was nothing like the gentle, butterfly-like flutters you’d read about in those pregnancy books. This felt like a full-blown kickboxing practice.

Yuji was immediately alert, straightening up with a look of alarm. “Whoa, what was that?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uh… I think it was…” you stammered, still catching your breath, “the baby?”

For a split second, Yuji looked almost as stunned as you were. And then, as if a switch flipped, his face broke into the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “No way! Are you serious?” He practically threw himself onto his knees, hands gently pressing against your belly like he was afraid he’d miss the next move. “Did they really just kick you that hard? Already?”

“Already?” you laughed breathlessly, still reeling from the force of it. “Yuji, that was like a mule kick. I think they were trying to send me flying off the couch.”

Yuji let out a loud, delighted laugh, his eyes shining as he looked up at you, clearly thrilled. “What can I say? They’ve got my genes.” He leaned in closer, his face only inches from your belly now. “Hey there, little champ,” he cooed, sounding every bit the proud dad. “That was an awesome kick. You’re already a total powerhouse!”

“Oh, fantastic,” you teased, still rubbing the spot where you’d felt the impact. “You’re already egging them on?”

He just grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he placed his ear against your belly, as if he could somehow hear what was going on inside. “I’m just saying, they’ve got the makings of a real legend here. They’re strong and feisty! I mean, that was no ordinary baby kick—that was like, pro-level stuff!”

You shook your head, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face as he continued to praise the baby’s newfound strength. “Please, Yuji, they just kicked once. You’re already planning their career path?”

He sat back, feigning deep thought. “Okay, so they’ve got to be an athlete. Martial arts, maybe? Or, ooh, they could go pro in soccer! Or volleyball!”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as he leaned in closer again. “I don’t think they’ve declared their career ambitions quite yet, Yuji. I’d be happy if they could keep it down to a gentle nudge next time.”

He gave you a playful, sympathetic smile, rubbing your back as he nodded solemnly. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk to them.” He bent down toward your belly, speaking in a gentle but conspiratorial whisper. “Hey, little one, maybe try not to knock the wind out of Mom, okay? I mean, she’s got to catch her breath, too.”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the room filled with warmth and lightness as Yuji kept his hand on your belly, eagerly waiting to feel another kick. He was quiet for a moment, and then he looked up at you, his gaze full of wonder, like he still couldn’t believe it was real. “You know, I think they’re just saying ‘hi.’ Like a little ‘Hey, Mom and Dad, I’m here!’”

You smiled at him, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. “Well, they definitely know how to make an entrance.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he chuckled. “Gotta stand out from day one—that’s my kid, alright.”

Just then, there it was again: another solid, unmistakable kick, and this time Yuji felt it, too. His eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in amazement as he looked between you and your belly. “Did you feel that?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He looked completely captivated, as if he’d just witnessed some incredible, once-in-a-lifetime event.

“Yep,” you replied, managing a half-laugh as you recovered from the second blow. “That’s exactly what it felt like last time.”

Yuji shook his head, clearly in awe. “I just… wow. I mean, I knew they’d be strong, but this is something else.” He looked at your belly with absolute adoration, leaning down again to press a gentle kiss against it. “Alright, I get it—you’re here, and you’re awesome.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as he continued to talk to the baby, his voice filled with excitement and pride. He was already so attached, so invested, and seeing him like this—so full of love—made your heart swell.

“So,” he said, looking back up at you with a cheeky grin, “how many more karate chops do you think you can handle?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you replied, pretending to think about it. “If they keep this up, I might have to start wearing some kind of body armor.”

Yuji burst into laughter, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you the best protection money can buy.” He leaned back, his arm around your shoulders, and gently squeezed. “But for real, I’m so glad I was here for that. It’s like… they were saying hello to both of us. Like they couldn’t wait to let us know they’re already raring to go.”

You looked up at him, feeling a rush of affection as you saw the pure, unfiltered joy on his face. “I’m glad you were here, too.”

He beamed, squeezing your shoulder again as he leaned down to press a playful kiss to your cheek. “Guess we’d better start training for when they get even stronger. I mean, we’re gonna have our hands full with this one.”

You laughed, snuggling closer to him. “Good thing they’ve got a dad who can keep up.”

Yuji grinned, the pride practically radiating off him. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m ready for this. Bring on the kicks, the chaos… I’m here for all of it.”

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