#sorry I added some salt at the end

[randomnameless]

Lettuce fam headcanon: Going with the theory that the Saints' dragon forms are based on the five auspicious beasts, with Indech and Macuil being the turtle and bird respectively and Rhea being the yellow dragon as the leader or "center" figure, I think that Flayn must be the tiger because of her white cat alt from FEH and her love of fish! Plus a snake/dragon feels more "earth-y" for Seteth anyhow

Barioth!Cethleann when?

That would make sense, and given how FEH is the only game who cares at least a bit about Nabateans, at this point, I'm willing to believe everything they throw lol

(save for "that Fallen!Rhea fell bcs of "despair" but somehow she didn't fell after Zanado" tidbit and the various "Supreme Leader and two young men" or "Dimitri lost his parents in a car accident").

Maybe if the FEH devs remember that a non negligeable part of their fanbase would prefer them to release mythic NPCs from the maingames (like Bramimond or Yune) rather than their OCs for the mythic slots, maybe we could, one day, get Mythic!Cethleann and/or the other saints to give more spotlight to the Nabs...

But I guess "booba lady #55" taking a mythic slot is more important than FEH being a tribute/celebration of the franchise!

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🕸🍒┊Explaining | Katsuki Bakugou꒱

Can’t stop thinking about this post by @tired-biscuit and thinking even harder about catching Katsuki one night.

Will this turn into a thing? Maybe— (update from future! me: This is somehow 2.7k. I don’t know if it even makes any sense, mush brain. It’s midnight. Christ. Edited and added a little read more thing)

『���』 f! reader, best friends to lovers, m masturbation, piv sex, arguing, anxious katsuki for a bit, some praise, fingering, idk guys sex stuff, unedited bc I wrote it half asleep

Katsuki fucks his fist sloppy, chewing on the end of his shirt. Slippery beads of precum well up and spill down the shaft and he circles his thumb over the head.

He chokes back a moan and squeezes harder, slamming his hips forward desperately in need of release. The tension in his body has been pulling like a rubber band for hours. It stretches farther and farther every time.

Tonight was torture for him. You’d worn those stupid shorts and a loose crop top. You never wear a bra under your crop tops, let alone around him.

Every time you’d lift your arms too high he’d get a peek of your pretty tits and jerk his head to the side. Your shorts were no different— showing off the underside of your ass cheeks and tight enough he could just make out the outline of your pussy. Normally both would be fine but, fuck.

His strokes get faster while his mind fuzzes. Lust clouds his thought process as he shoves the guilt to the back of his mind to deal with later. His face feels numb, his lips tingle, the metaphorical rubber band pulls tighter.

Tighter. Like his fist is while it squeezes down on his cock and spreads the precum all over him.

Tighter. Like he’s sure your pussy would be as it was wrapping around him and sucking him with each thrust.

The end of his t shirt is wet and slobbery. A thin sheen of sweat coats his body and the slapping wet noises of his thrusts is getting louder. His brows furrow as he closes overwhelmed eyes. With the sound of the water running in the background he doesn’t even hear you coming.

You’re usually a little loud when you’re sleepy and heading to the bathroom. Your feet amble beneath you without too much sense, body heavy, mind foggy— you’re a sweet little thing when you’re sleepy. One too many times has he woken to you running into walls while trying to get into the bathroom.

But he doesn’t hear you this time.

He pants and whines a little in the back of his throat, sloppily fucking his hand. He’s focused on the thought of you up under him. Sliding your shorts to the side and letting him eat your pussy. Bouncing on his cock in that big shirt you stole from him a year or two ago.

He’s a goddamn mess. The tension and heat in his tummy gets tighter, tighter, until he feels like he might pass out. The world is about to allow him the grace of relief.

And then you sleepily open your bathroom door. You’re still half awake with drool on your face and your eyes hardly open. You’d changed into comfier shorts and kept the crop top, which was now riding up on one side so that your tit was on display.

“Gotsta’ pee,” You blink hazily trying to figure out why your bathroom smells like fresh salted caramel.

He forgot to lock it.

Katsuki is frozen in place. He doesn’t know what to do, say, think— you just walked in on him jacking off in your bathroom. Precum is still dribbling out and all over his hand. He opens his mouth with a red face and lets his shirt drop to cover his abs, quickly shoving his cock into his pajama pants.

And you’re just standing there like you hardly even register what’s going on. Your eyes widen when two and two come together, making four. Watery carmine eyes meet yours as his lips tremble before he’s shoving past you with sparking palms.

He tries to rush out and makes a mad dash to your bedroom to grab his things. Embarrassment and guilt makes him panic, filling his being with a nauseous feeling. And he’s not sure what to do or say.

Does he say sorry? Does he confess? Does he block you and run?

For once, Katsuki doesn’t want to be brave. He is scared and he is tired of being the hero who has no fear. Anxiety makes his fingers shake while tears threaten to spill over his pretty tanned cheeks.

You come rushing around the corner with flushed cheeks and determined hands. Your fingers twist into his shirt and pull him back, spinning him around to face you. It’s a miracle you managed it with how much bigger and stronger he is.

Katsuki’s terrified gaze holds yours with a trembling lower lip. He might be much bigger but right now he feels small.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hey— hey what’s goin’ on?” You coo, pulling him toward your bed to sit. His feet move on their own accord and do as you please. “Why are you leaving?” Fingers twist tighter in his shirt.

The blonde gawks and scrambles for words. Quick breaths leave his lips with little to no time between. Katsuki wants to cry, scream, and just die. You caught him beating his fuckin meat in your bathroom and now you’re comforting him.

“What else m’ I supposed to fuckin do?” He grunts, putting his brave face and frown right back on.

“Get in bed and go back to sleep?” Your head tilts and you say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Katsuki confusedly jerks back with a frown and snort. Thick hands grip his sweatpants for dear life.

“You want me to get in bed with you and go back to sleep after—after that?” The AC kicks on in the background and whirrs to life, sending cool air through the room.

“Yeah? Unless you wanna talk about it now at,” you glance at the clock on the nightstand “, two fourty five in the fucking morning.” You rub your face with your palm.

“I don’t think me jacking off in your bathroom needs explaining.” He spits, flustered and annoyed. His face scrunches up all sour and huffs, the tips of his ears still red.

You sigh and frustration bubbles in his chest.

“What? You can’t seriously want me—“

Your hand presses to his mouth and you shoot him a glare. Exhaustion spreads your features with a huff to shut him up.

“What’s going on? And don’t give me some bullshit. Just tell me what’s going on.” Your tone leaves no room for an argument.

“You and your stupid fuckin— stupid shorts and whiny voice and shit. That’s what’s going on!” He leans in so that his nose is only a few inches from yours and snaps.

“Me?” You mumble, obviously confused.

“Yes, you.” His fingers press near your sternum and poke with a growl.

You squeak and narrow your eyes, moving closer to him yourself and pushing his chest lightly.

“What about you?” You guffaw. You’re not quite wrapping your mind around the situation yet, still tired and not understanding what the big deal is.

And Katsuki nearly loses it. The tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, his mind racing and chest heaving. He’s been dealing with you practically torturing him day in and day out for years— and now you’re asking about him. But before he can speak you start rambling on.

“You run around in these goddamn sweatpants-“ you tug at the grey fabric a little “and you say I’M what’s going on? You still haven’t explained shit!”

Katsuki turns a shade of red you’ve never seen before. He starts noticing your close proximity, the way your breath still smells like toothpaste, your pout. Your lips are an inch away from his and it is taking every little bit of willpower he has to not kiss you.

“Yes.” A puff of air ghosts over your lips and you take in the sight in front of you. Feelings you tried to shove down bubble in your tummy and spread.

The rubber band that’s been winding in his gut and mind for far too long grows tighter. Stretched to the point of which it’ll never be the same.

Heat in your stomach starts to flow and consume your being as things begin to click into place. He was getting off in your bathroom, he said you’re what’s going on.

“Oh..” you breathlessly whisper. Something in you burns. If he feels the same way then.. it couldn’t hurt, could it?

Katsuki jerks his head away from yours and looks to the side. His shoulders tight, grey t shirt with a damp area at the bottoms wrinkling as he fidgets with it. It’s like he’s waiting for the sting of rejection.

You grab his jaw with unsure hands and guide him back to look at you. His big, misty and wide eyes peering into your own.

And then you kiss him.

Snap

All tongue and soft lips, teeth clashing against his from the awkward position. You dig your nails into his chest like he’s gonna float away if you don’t.

And katsuki just might. Because you taste just like he thought you would, your mouth moves against his like he was just fantasizing about before. He soaks in the kiss like it will be his last until you break for air while panting.

“Don’t you ever try to run from me like that again.” You whine and dive back in.

His body acts before he can think enough to stop himself. You fall back against the mattress, plushie beside your head. His thick heavy body presses you into it and weighs you down while big hands travel up and down you. He explores your body like it’s something to be worshipped.

Your own hands push and pull at him. They slide under his shirt and drag nails down his toned, tan back. Your legs open up so he can slot between them with a particularly good suck on his bottom lip.

A breathy moan leaves your lips and it sends fire down his body.

“Fuck— god.” He whines between kisses. The line of his cock presses against you through your thin pajama shorts and makes you antsy. Your fingers grip at Wheaty blond roots and tug.

“Is this— oh,” You can feel him drag against you through his sweats. “ is this what you were thinking about?”

Katsuki shakes his head.

“Close enough.” He gasps, guttural and needy as your teeth nip under his jaw. Your tongue slides down the column of his throat as his clothed cock does against your heat.

“Wanna know what I think about?”

His mind stills and he nods feverishly before diving into the crook of your neck to suck. Pink marks are left in his wake and his fingers slide under the fabric of your shorts to rub little circles on your clit.

It makes you stutter and forget what you’re doing for a moment, your legs shake and squeeze around him.

“Been thinkin’ bout your cock in me—“ your pussy drools all over his fingers and the breath gets punched out of him all at once.

“God you fuckin minx.” He growls and slips a finger into your already soaked core. He feels a little more sure of himself, a little better about it.

Your head throws back when he adds the second finger and curls them up. The pad of his thumb works in little circles and flicking motions rhythmically. You keep making these little noises that send jolts to his cock and make it twitch.

For the second time that night, his cock drools precum. It smears against the inside of his pajama pants and dribbles even more when your eyes go wide.

“Katsuki— god, like that, like that!” You babble until a particular stroke of his thumb has your body tightening and then shaking. Release covers his fingers and he yanks your pajama shorts off your body and throws them to the side.

“Good girl, that’s a good girl.” Thick fingers rub soothing circles over your pussy while he slides his shirt and pants off.

You feel his cock press against your folds and then his face is right above yours. He licks lazily into your mouth, hand coming up under your thighs to guide them around his back where your ankles cross over.

“Shit— y’so wet for me.” He mumbles between kisses and then links a hand with yours, pressing it into the mattress. “You want it? Want my cock?”

“Quit being a tease! Just give me your ohhh” You whimper and gasp, head throwing back and free hand coming to clutch at anything you can get your hands on.

He’s girthy and hot as he fills you up to the brim. There’s not a space untouched by his cock, making you feel so stuffed and out of breath you can hardly move.

“That’s it, you can take it.” He breathes into your mouth.

You slowly adjust to him and as soon as you relax, he pulls his hips back and thrusts. It makes you hiccup and lose your mind. The sheets are much too sweaty, AC be damned, and he looks like a literal god over you.

All tanned muscle and flushed cheeks. His pretty focused face scrunched up in determination not to cum immediately. You’re not sure how much you can take before you tear the sheets apart and scream.

He sets an even pace with his hips before propping your hips up a little and slowing down. It’s slow but it’s deep. His cock head touches something in you that has expletives leaving both your mouths as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-“ he desperately tries to keep hold of sanity. But you taste good, you smell good- better than any of his fantasies. Your pussy wraps around him in ways he couldn’t imagine. You’re really sprawled under him and moaning.

His cock is frothing near the base because of how wet you are, pussy juice and precum sliding between your ass cheeks and onto the bed. Your pink bedsheets are damp and one of your plushies has been thrown off the bed in the midst of your feverish mess.

It doesn’t last long. His face crumples as he cums and he rubs your clit and pussy until you squeeze down on him right after.

His jaw drops into a low “o” when he cums. You thank every lucky star for birth control while you both come down off a high. The two of you lay there and pant for a while before his cock slides out of you and he collapses onto your bed.

“Holy fuck.” Katsuki mutters to no one but himself. Half of him can’t believe it. He feels like icy hot with his back and forth his thoughts are, reeling and trying to take in what happened and what is happening.

“Yeah—“ you roll and press your chest against him. A kiss to his jaw makes his heart throb. “God that was good.”

A thick, beefy arm wraps around you and he hides his face in your neck. He sighs and pulls you in closer.

“I better not be readin’ this shit wrong but..” He mumbles, yanking up the blankets over the two of you. “We’re a thing now right?”

You snort and laugh for a minute.

“Yeah, duh, dummy” You smack his chest and roll your eyes.

The AC finally does it’s job at cooling the two of you off and he grumbles and gets a towel to clean you off. It only takes a few minutes before the two of you are back in pajamas and laying on top of a throw blanket. The massive comforter pulled over the two of you.

You flick on the TV and scroll through some of the go to shows before curling against him with a sigh. When you glance up, you notice a deep frown on his face and grumble.

“What are you looking so pissy for?” You place a peck on his jaw and turn your attention back to the screen.

His big hands run up and down your body, thumbs dragging over your hips. With a look of defeat and a pout, he admits, “Eiji’ bet me a hundred bucks you liked me back.”

That earns him a smack on the chest. “Don’t you dare tell him it’s cause I caught you beating off in my bathroom, Katsuki.”

[chibinasuu]

Sanji x Reader ― snowstorm; cuddling

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― anonymous tags: sfw, fluff, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, the straw hats are cock blocks

Lazy arms wrapped around Sanji’s waist from behind, and the corner of his mouth turned up when a tiny kiss landed on his suit-covered shoulder.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” said Sanji, turning his face to place his lips gently on the top of your head, “Did you sleep well?”

���Mm-hmm,” you nodded, “Would’ve been better if you were sleeping next to me, though.”

“Sorry, darling.” He chuckled and added half-jokingly, “Should I beg Franky to build us a private suite?”

You scoffed amusedly, continuing to watch him as he placed an onigiri on a platter, lining it up with the others that were already neatly arranged there. 

The reddish rays of the rising sun had seeped in through the kitchen windows, coating the space in a warm glow and bringing a subtle comfort to your skin amid the low temperature. 

The Thousand Sunny had entered a winter island’s climate, according to Nami, which had the Straw Hats scrambling to bust out their thick coats and sweaters from the depths of their drawers. Chopper was especially stoked by the news, thrilled to be feeling some cold air upon his thick fur.

Sanji dipped his hand into a bowl of water, then grabbed some salt and rubbed it all over his palms. He took some rice, put a generous pinch of salmon flakes in the middle, then started expertly molding it into a triangle, rotating it a few times and squeezing it gently to give it that perfect, firm shape. 

Watching Sanji in the kitchen was like viewing a performance art. You could never get tired of the way his fingers moved – so precise and delicate – and the way his lips were always fixed in a faint smile. 

It never failed to warm your heart – watching someone you loved doing something he loved. 

“Those look delicious, Sanji.” 

“Why, thank you, dear. Care to taste-test for me?”

You shook your head, “I already know they’d taste perfect. I’ll wait to eat them with everyone at breakfast.”

You unwound your arms from his waist, your fingers lingering for a moment before reluctantly letting go to start setting up the dining table. 

Sanji stopped you with a hum, puckering up his lips in a blatant request for a kiss before you left his side.  

A small laugh escaped you as you reached up to cup his cheek, leaning in to grant his wish. You gave him a small peck, but Sanji let out a whine of protest and chased your lips, stealing a proper, longer kiss.

His hands itched to go around you, but alas, they were still coated with the sticky residue of rice and salt.

You tilted your head, seeking to deepen the kiss, when suddenly,

“Sanji!” Your Captain’s voice reached the kitchen before he did, “Is breakfast ready yet?”

Sanji sighed, giving you one last peck right as Luffy came barging in, “Let’s continue this later, shall we?”

“Later” ended up being all the way until the sunset.

The cook has always been the busiest among the Straw Hats, with barely any downtime in his schedule. After breakfast was lunch prep, then came the afternoon snack, then on to dinner.

You loved to accompany Sanji while he cooked, just chatting, doing your own things quietly, or occasionally lending a helping hand, but the kitchen was not exactly the best place to get some alone time.

It seemed that every few minutes, a different crewmate would come sauntering in, looking for a drink or a snack, seeking refuge from the cold, or simply wanting to spend some time with you and Sanji.

You loved your crewmates to pieces, but sometimes, you wished you could get more than just a few stolen moments with your lover.

One of the rare breaks the cook had was the narrow window between afternoon tea and dinner. 

The meat was marinating in the fridge, the pizza dough was on its final proof, and Sanji was leisurely trailing kisses down your neck. 

You and Sanji loved spending this quiet time at the aquarium bar, sipping on one of his delicious mocktails – or cocktails, depending on your moods – while enjoying some much-needed privacy. 

His slender fingers deftly undid the top two buttons of your shirt, giving him access to mouth your collarbone languidly. 

Your back was flush with the velvet couch, and you sighed as you played with the golden strands of his hair. 

Soft jazz music flowed from the Tone Dial sat at the bar top. The dim room, lit only by the blue glow of the aquarium lights, emboldened Sanji to dip his hand underneath your shirt, the fabric trailing up and exposing your skin as his fingers crept higher and higher…

Bang!

The door being slammed open made you both jump, drawing your sights to the intruder.  

“Oi, Mosshead!” Sanji shouted as he shielded your figure, his hands frantically fixing your shirt, “Don’t you know how to knock?!”

“It's common space, Stupid Love Cook!” Zoro yelled back, “I don’t need to knock to enter a public area in my own ship, do I?” 

Sanji scowled, not wanting to admit that the moss-for-brains was right, “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for some sake.” 

The blond man sighed, disentangled himself from you, and walked to the liquor cabinet. He took out a bottle of cheap sake – not that Zoro would complain – and threw it to the swordsman. 

“Now, piss off.”

“Gladly,” Zoro smirked, popping the bottle open and taking a swig before sauntering out the door, “Try a room with a lock next time!”

You still couldn’t quite meet Zoro’s eyes without your cheeks heating up, but otherwise, dinner was your typical, everyday affair – full of chatter and laughter, and occasionally some indignant shouts as rubber hands shot out to steal from unattended plates.

“Ah, right,” Nami began, swallowing her bite of grilled prawn before continuing, “A snowstorm’s coming tonight. It’s gonna be a big one.”

“Uh-oh, who’s on night watch?” Usopp asked.

You raised your finger, “I’m on the first shift.”

Sanji similarly raised a hand, “I’m on second.” 

The navigator frowned, “It might be hard to change shifts tonight – too dangerous to climb up and down the crow’s nest during the storm.”

“I’ll take the whole night, no problem.” Sanji volunteered. 

He always ended up staying awake the whole night anyway whenever the two of you had back-to-back shifts, choosing to sacrifice his rest for a few more hours alone with you. 

“You just rest tonight, dear,” he said, smiling sweetly at you.

He rose from the table and stretched his arms, “I’ll prepare something for breakfast in case I get stuck up there till morning.”

Before long, the fridge was stocked with cold tuna sandwiches, overnight oats with a side of crunchy granola, slices of fruit, cheese, and cured meats. The cook also made sure to leave the boxes of each member's favorite cereal on the counter.

After he freshened up and took his nightly shower, Sanji changed into some comfortable pajamas and went up to the crow’s nest to begin his watch.

He had barely settled down when he heard a knock on the metal hatch on the floor. 

He opened it to reveal your smiling face, your hair sprinkled with powder of snow.

“Sweetheart? What are you doing here?” 

“I’m here for my night shift, of course.” 

“Didn’t you hear what Nami said? A snowstorm’s coming!” His brows furrowed, “You won’t be able to go back to your room once it picks up.”

“Whoops, too bad.” You shrugged, grinning playfully as you climbed fully into the crow’s nest and closed the hatch, “Guess I’m stuck here with you until morning.” 

“And if we can’t leave…” You waggled your eyebrows suggestively at him, “Then nobody could get up here either.”

Sanji’s eyes widened, a blush rising to his cheeks once he caught on to your cunning ploy. 

His laughter that followed – a mixture of joy, shyness, and excitement – was as sweet as honey. 

“Well, come here, then.” He opened his arms wide, “Better make good use of this time.”

You pushed him gently to the floor and straddled his lap, then crossed your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, clinging to him like a koala.

Sanji sighed blissfully at the feeling of your body against his, his arms circling you to pull you in even closer.

The raging wind and snow grew increasingly stronger, making the windows rattle furiously amid the otherwise quiet room. 

You buried your hand in Sanji’s hair, relishing the way the soft threads enveloped your fingers.

Sanji’s digits ghosted back and forth on the straight line of your spine, causing goosebumps to appear all over your skin.

You both stayed like that for a while – eyes closed, hands roaming lazily, bodies pressed together.

“I love you.” Sanji suddenly said, the three little words always succeeding in making your heart skip a beat, no matter how often he said it.

“I know.” You kissed his cheek, “And I love you, Sanji. Always.”

Tears pricked Sanji’s eyes as he hugged you tighter, burying his face into your neck.

How undeserving he was of your love. 

When he first confessed to you, he could hardly believe that you could possibly return his feelings, but thankfully, you reminded him that you did every single day.

You two ended up sprawled on the floor, limbs entangled, with your head upon his steadily – but rather rapidly – beating chest.

Not for the first time, you found yourself looking forward to the day when you could fall asleep against him every night and wake up in his arms every morning.

The muted howls of the winds and the warmth of Sanji’s embrace made your eyes grow heavier and heavier. 

Sanji stayed awake – he was technically still on night watch, after all. He flared his observation haki outward every now and then, though he doubted anyone or anything could attack them in the middle of this snowstorm.

He smiled to himself when you snuggled closer to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth. 

As he stroked your hair and admired your peacefully dreaming face, selfishly, he thought,

He didn’t want this storm to be over just yet.

a/n: soft sanji is my kryptonite

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

↳ main masterlist

[twilightsumu]

everything is romantic | t. kuroo

pairing: tetsurō kuroo x gn!reader

synopsis: kuroo being down bad and falling in love with you anytime he could. based on everything is romantic by charli xcx.

warnings/genre: modern au, timeskip!kuroo, established relationship, fluff, suggestiveness, cursing

a/n: just something cute and short because i #needhimsobad #yearner #onekissplease

in a place that can make you change

freshman year of college.

he is leisurely walking the campus with some of his friends before his night class. the quad is alive, voices and steps bouncing off the brick walls. loud, but weirdly comforting.

that is probably why he was not paying attention when walking into the student center, slamming right into you.

you.

and the first time in kuroo’s life. okay maybe the third time if you count some mishaps in high school and that one time kenma thanked him, he was shocked. like movie scene shocked; his eyes wide, mouth slacked open, and his palms becoming all sweaty.

the most unnatural feeling storming with another feeling that he at times believed he was too logical to feel. love.

he wants to laugh at the absurdity of it but instead he keeps his wide eyes on you. frozen. he wants to stay still, right here.

with you gawking back at him.

“i’m so sorry,” you squeak.

he feels like he’s about pass out. and he kind of hates how corny this all is but with you at the end of it, he wants it all. he wants more.

he wants to study your eye color. he wants to know if you’re going to laugh at his bed hair. he wants to know if you like the beach as much as he does. and he hopes you hate grilled salted mackerel fish so that you could always give him yours.

“it’s okay,” he says back and he’s trying to train his eyes to hear his own voice. making sure it doesn’t sound as weak as his knees are. “are you okay?”

he’s trying to look you over. but he can’t stop looking at your eyes. the books that were in your arms are scattered at his feet.

the student center feels like it’s home. right here. just you two, staring at each other.

“i’m okay,” you say as you smile at him and your nose crinkles. he for sure thinks that he is going fucking crazy. “are you?”

he wants to tell you that he feels like he’s a changed man. as soon as he bumped into you. the electric field of the student center changing him and he wants to be so entangled with you that he continues to change.

but instead, he breathes in a shaken breath and he smiles back at you.

“i’m great actually.”

early nights in white sheets with lace curtains

four years later.

your hair still smells like the sea - salty and wet. despite being a mile away (you’re just on the other side of the bed). he swears he could smell it. as if your smell is imprinted in his nostrils.

the sun, still in the sky but the colors dwindling with the dusk sky pushing in, is trailing into the room at a snail’s pace. the hues of pink and orange dancing along your bare back.

the colors still no match to your beauty. just an added arrangement to your everlasting color, the kind of color that’s burned behind his eyelids — always there, even when he blinks, he sees them. he sees you.

and there you sit, on the edge of the bed. your back to him, the white hotel sheet wrapped lazily around your body.

“i don’t think i have ever seen anything as beautiful as you,” he whispers into the room. and he knows you’re going to roll your eyes. he kind of wants to roll his too because of how normal corny things sound slipping off his tongue when it comes to you.

but you laugh most of the time, so he’s never going to try to stop.

you look over your shoulder, a light blush dusting your cheeks. another color added to your ever growing rainbow. he feels his cheeks tint too. a little competition on who could make the other blush.

“we left a cliffside overlooking the bluest water we ever saw,” you playfully roll your eyes at him. “you’ve saw more beautiful things.”

“i don’t think we should argue over what my eyes deem the most beautiful,” he says back and along with the eyeroll (he loves being at the receiving end of) you send him a smile. small and sweet.

“fine, no arguing,” you shrug, turning your head back to the window. he hears the laugh that wants to escape your mouth.

and he doesn’t need to actually hear it to feel it. he has the vibrations of your laugh etched on him like a spotify barcode.

with a light breeze coming in through the lacy curtains, your hair sways a bit and the salt water smell drifts to him and he smiles because he knew. he knows everything when it comes to you.

“come here,” he whispers and he feels the shiver that rips through your body.

you turn to him, your eyes racking over his body like you’re trying to etch him into your brain the way you’re in his.

you crawl over, the white sheet still entangled on your body and he almost feels jealous.

you’re inches away and because he’s selfish and he wants to be the one entangled with you, he grabs you. his hands find their home on your waist as he shuffles you up.

you’re straddling him and and he feels grateful for the new position. he could see the dusk wash over you, playing with the colors of your eyes and the tint on your cheeks and ears.

“we have dinner reservations,” you shyly whisper and he chuckles a bit because after four years, you still get flustered under his stare.

“i know. i made them dummy,” he whispers back. you laugh and he feels his heart swell and he wonders if you feel it too. “i just want to be close to you.”

he runs his hands up your sides, trying to stay near your ribs to feel the flutter of your heartbeat.

“you’re so corny sometimes,” you lean down as you say this. your nose brushing his and he almost wants to push you back so that he could see your smile as you said this.

“my special talent when it comes to you,” your lips are brushing his so softly, like a feather brushing the tip of a nose.

your laugh is muffled as his lips finally meet yours. a soft battle.

and with your moans on the tip of his tongue, he realizes, for possibly the thousandth time since he’s met you; he’s in love with you.

fall in love again and again

he’s standing at the alter. his palms aren’t sweaty like people said they would be. he’s not crying — yet. but if you do that nose scrunch smile when the doors open, he’s finished and bokuto is most definitely going to laugh at him.

for the most part though, he feels calm. he feels ready.

that’s a lie. a little one.

he feels impatient, because all he wants is for you to walk down already. for you to walk right through the doors, a smile of your face. that smile that you only ever send to him. the one that meets every facet of your face. your eyes gleam, your cheeks tint, and your nose crinkles up a bit. maybe even a giggle when you look at him.

because he for sure didn’t do his hair and he knows that makes you laugh. even after six years.

but before that, he thinks he should wait. and despite his bouncing leg because he just wants to see you already. he wants his hand in yours and he wants to hear that weary sigh you let out whenever too many people are looking at you. he wants to appreciate that he is so lucky to be here right now. appreciate the fact that you’ll forever be his and he’ll forever be enchanted by your smile. (legally that is. he doesn’t need a piece of paper for your smile to grace his life with every ounce of love he may ever need).

he wants to pause and just think about every instance where he fell in love with you. every single moment as a collective swiping through his mind like those powerpoints he makes for work. a simple slideshow showcasing the smiles, the laughs, or just the moments where you’re standing away from him; your back to him but even then he knows it’s because you’re waiting to lead him somewhere.

he thinks back to the moments he catches you reading. you finding beauty in the words on the book your nose is buried in and him finding beauty right there on the couch. you read pages and he reads you.

or when you first told you loved him. it was three months after he realized he was in with love you. the night was young and the breeze was cool but he felt warm. you didn’t have to touch him. just the three words and the smile that you lead with the statement and he knew that he’ll fall for it everyday of his life. you could’ve waited sixteen years to tell him and he would’ve waited happily. his heart in your hands and your smile etched on his eyelids.

or after your first argument. it was over something so stupid and small but when he saw that one little teardrop from your right eye (if he had a ruler he would’ve measured how far it dripped before your hoodied covered hand swiped it away). he swallowed his pride and apologized. so quickly because he fell in love with you again.

he thinks of other moments: him having to explain volleyball to you (and you still not fully understanding), you always giving him your grilled salted mackerel (even though you secretly love it), you laughing at his bed head every morning and how you watch him at the doorway of the bathroom, trying to fix it before work.

or now, you finally walking to him.

greeting him with that smile and the nose scrunch. he feels his eyes getting watery. he ignores bokuto’s snicker.

eyes on you, he knows that he’ll fall in love with you again. as he did all these years. waking up everyday and falling in love with you again.

©twilightsumu all rights reserved. please do not repost/modify my work.

[satorupasta]

JUJUTSU KAISEN IN . . .

jealousy

synopsis. you’re hanging out with your friend and he thinks you’re talking to him a bit too much. in his perspective, at least / jujutsu kaisen men being jealous.

content warnings. modern au ( except sukuna is in true form so i think it’s modern ), death threat ( sukuna ), fluff ( ? ), SLIGHT suggestiveness. pinch of salt

includes. ryomen sukuna . satoru gojo . kento nanami . choso kamo .

an. this was originally for an anonymous person’s request but i kinda messed up the thing so i’m making it separate……sorry if u see this buddy also gojo’s part was kinda rushed so erm.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

. Jealousy was a two-headed snake. Arrogant, and much too full of itself.

That’s what the King of Curses found himself thinking as he catches you, his partner, snickering as the guy walking alongside you makes yet another joke. And every time, you laugh. That statement from before seems to take an opposite turns while he watches your kind banter between the other.

He shouldn’t be, really. Some low-life feeling, and yet, here he is. Feeling nearly overcome by it.

Sukuna accompanied you for whatever reason. And at first, your mind wandered off to different reasons—perhaps he thinks you’d be unfaithful. (Who would dare to go against the King of Curses?)

It pisses him off, really. The mere thought of another man catching the even slightest upturn of your lips is (more than) enough for a beheading, in his eyes.

And it’s not that you’re unaware of what he’s pondering about. When you mentioned wanting to go out with a friend, who is another man, Sukuna had been stomping around with a seemingly irritated look ever since then. Well, he always looks like that. But there’s something adding to it this time.

"When are we leaving? I have better matters to attend." The curse questioned, one set of arms folded over his chiseled torso. Of course, what better would it be having an over six-foot-tall curse with intimidating tattoos pacing next to you?

You sigh and hold up a hand to your friend, signaling for him to wait a moment. "I told you that you didn’t have to come with me—"

"I wanted to! I’m just asking." He’s quick to reply for clarification, though you can tell he’s still mad because he scoffs when he finishes talking.

You start talking to your friend after a beat of silence, lowering your voice to apologize before picking up where you and him left off.

Sukuna, meanwhile, is still fuming about the fact that you’re still speaking to him. The tiny eye below his main one still narrows at you, and you miss this detail. So, he’s going to take matters into his own hands (without ending someone’s life, which was your request).

Without a word, he hoists you over his shoulder, turning around and walking off. You stare at him in protest, before craning your head to look behind you. Your friend looks even more perplexed than earlier, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

However, you don’t bother fighting back. You know it’d be worthless, because he’s not letting go any time soon. And so does Sukuna, because he’s shrugging.

He knows he’s won.

And, plus. He’ll make sure you’ll make up for that simple interaction when the two of you are back home.

SATORU GOJO

. Sky-colored eyes watch as your arm hooks around your companion’s shoulder, the both of your cackles filling the night air. Your friend is drunk, but luckily, you’re a little more sane than him to keep aware of your surroundings. And Satoru, who had come because you may need a ride home.

He’s considering giving you an early ride right now, despite the fact you said you won’t be leaving the party until three or so hours later—but you two aren’t even in the building anymore. Just wandering on the sidewalk mindlessly with a guy he doesn’t know.

Fine. Be that way. He scoffs.

It’s more playful, at first. But when you give him one reply that’s straightforward and equally annoyed? Oh, he’s pouting for the next ten minutes, but you don’t notice.

Too many inside jokes. Too many giggles, too much everything for his liking. And in that moment, unfortunately, Satoru realizes there’s no one to bother anymore. To talk to, so now he’s bored. Displeased, because you’re conversing with someone else that isn’t him.

Is it petty? Yes. Does he care? Absolutely not!

"I mean—who even is this guy?" He finds himself latching onto the thought, biting the inside of his cheek at the prospect. The more he thinks about it, the more he’s piqued.

A little while goes by of him hearing uneven footsteps and taps against the pavement, and he’s had enough.

"Hey, we should go get ice cream," Satoru suddenly suggested, not looking over in your direction.

"It’s the middle of the night—" "I’m sure there’s some place open! Come on. Plus, you don’t seem to care anyway!" he urges, nearly sounding like a little kid with the way he’s begging you to come with him.

"I’ll even buy your favorite flavor."

Your half-impaired self forgets about your friend for a moment at the mention of ice cream. Satoru makes eye contact with you, and before the silence can start, you’re quick to break it. "Okay!"

You practically skip off with Satoru, more than ready to stuff your mouth full with the sweet treat. It might be considered irresponsible, since you’d left your drunken friend alone on the sidewalk, but don’t worry. Satoru’s got that covered.

Hopefully.

KENTO NANAMI

. Nanami is at home cooking. It’s for no particular reason. He’s hungry.

You would be too. Well, if you were there.

You’d gone out for a few drinks with a friend. He doesn’t mind that, of course—he knows you’re faithful. You’re not someone who’d do that, he thinks.

Your presence, however, would be much more appreciated than the sudden silence that’s filling his usually calm house. It’s unusual. Because you aren’t there to fill it.

He doesn’t want to admit it.

He misses you.

A cold cup of coffee from earlier in the morning sits on the island counter. Untouched after two sips, because you’d distracted him.

You were there earlier simply because you wanted to bother him. You felt like he could use some company. And from the way he’s grabbing his phone every two minutes to see if you’ve messaged him—you haven’t since you left—it seems it was very much needed.

He eventually ends up texting you first. Something he rarely does, excluding if it’s an occasion, or requires his business.

Thirty minutes. Again, there’s still no response.

He’s slowly getting ticked off. Nanami knows this, but—not in the way one would think. Like…a clock. Time clicks every few seconds with the turn of the handles.

He runs a hand down his face. How bored does he have to be?

He finds himself feeling something that is unexpected for the sorcerer—impatience. It’s even strange to him, an odd feeling that he pushes down. He reads a book to pass the time.

Nanami hears the blaring of muffled music outside, and he’s aware you’re back. He has no idea why you’ve decided to return to his home instead of yours, but you aren’t exactly unwelcome.

He opens the door. And there you are, a little wasted, and…accompanied by someone else. Someone you know, apparently, since you give him a little thank you. Him.

Nanami’s brow quirked, staring at the other man. "Much appreciation for bringing her home." And he starts to close the door. The guy has the audacity to hold it open.

"You her boyfriend?"

"No."

He hums, staring Nanami up and down before waving him off. "I see."

The scent of smoke fills Nanami’s nose as the man moves, making his expression tighten for a moment. For a moment, he feels something akin to…protectiveness, seeing the man. How could anyone like that associate with you?

He watches as the other turns around, heading back into the car. Which is still, loudly, playing music that was heard down the street.

Nanami sighed, shutting the front door behind him. You try to greet him, speech somewhat slurred. But he hurried you along, unwilling to hear any of your sentences. "Get yourself fixed up."

His demeanor is still straightforward, the usual behavior. Though, he can’t deny the question from before is still lingering over in his head. It’s much to consider. Enough for him to believe that it’s a discussion for tomorrow.

He’s very tired after waiting for you.

CHOSO KAMO

. Initially, when you said you were going out, he was okay. He can wait. You’d promised movies with extra-buttery popcorn exactly when you’re back. His favorite part about any Friday, really—it’s become a tradition.

But with an interruption, it’s set on hold. And it’s a little upsetting. Of course, he doesn’t show this.

"I’ll be right back, Cho!" you shout, before stepping down and closing the front door behind you. When he hears the lock click, along with the loss of the car engine in the driveway, he now acknowledges that he is alone. Like, you are not next to him anymore, alone.

Oh, what will he do?

—

An hour goes by, and Choso recognizes yet another thing. Most of his activities when you’re over (which is almost everyday) include you.

Cleaning the rooms? You’re right there with the dustpan when he’s sweeping. Reheating leftovers? You’re there to clean up the mess. And, last but not least, he can’t watch any shows.

It’s not that he hasn’t tried to do each of those things, because he has. But he can’t sit still.

It’s just not the same.

And he has to force his eyes not to stare at the time because he knows it’s only been thirty minutes in (his time frame) since you’ve left.

At that moment, his phone dings with a new notification. He looks at the name—it’s you! His face practically lights up. You’re back, and now you both can finally watch that new movie rotting on your lists for a few months now!

He opened the message, but…it’s not what he’s hoping it’ll say.

You sent a photo. Still at the party, but you left an extra response at the bottom of the picture, saying you’ll be back in thirty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

That’s still something!

"Yes!" he whispered, his mind already wandering.

"Should I prepare the popcorn now, or twenty minutes later? It’ll be fresher then. Oh, and it’s pretty cold in here. I’ll warm the blankets." Maybe he should’ve texted you that, but he’s already off to getting the living room ready.

And you arrive. Five minutes a little late. But you’re back. And changed into some pajama pants so you can fully immerse into relaxation.

The movie starts. Only twenty minutes in, it’s quite interesting. The sound of quiet crunching and shuffling from the popcorn being moved around fills the room, aside from the dialogue between the actors.

"Y’know, I made a new friend today. He’s—"

"What?" Choso says, looking over to you when you mentioned his gender.

"…He was really sweet. I got his number, he should watch movies with us sometime."

"I’ll think about it. Let’s focus on the movie."

That’s all you get in response. Short and straight to the point, the movie starts back up again. A little difference in behavior, but you don’t mind it.

You bring him up again, and Choso’s a little more perked up this time. "Let’s keep watching the movie." he repeats again, as if on autopilot.

Okay, now you’re confused. Have you done something?

"…Sorry." You mumble, and the half-curse looked down at you.

"For what?"

"You know."

There’s a beat of silence between you two.

"Well, he’s just irrelevant. And I think the movie is much nicer than some stranger you met."

Choso awkwardly pats your back, clearing his throat. He’s gotten a little choked up now, for some reason. He’d rather not talk about a random guy when he’s the only man in the room right now.

"So, let’s enjoy the moment, yeah?"

You grin and nod, eyes immediately widening as the movie jumps right into action.

While your mind shifts on the topic, Choso’s staring at the screen and occasionally back at you.

He’s just happy to be there.

[infevious]

I NEED a part 2 of that Latino kinich pls pls make it fluffy 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

APOLOGIES

a/n: pt 2 of this !! probs ooc 😓 im also surprise surprise high as balls again so im probably thinking im writing shit shakespeare himself couldn’t but it’s actually ass. i also have a test tomorrow and need to sleep early today so pls dont hate me for not writing an actual ending i’ll finish tomorrow maybe 😭😭😭

…………………………………………….

The final straw for the hunter was when he saw you and Yaotyl playing around, he hated how the man was touching you, he had tried convincing himself he wasn’t jealous but he knew he was lying to himself. His saurian companion only added salt to the wound.

“Would you look at that! She’s enjoying her time with someone else while you’re over here looking like a kicked puppy- you ever seen her smile that big? Maybe you should just jump off the nearest cliff to end this horrible feeling!”

.

.

.

.

You were walking home after a long day of commissions, the sun was setting and all you wanted to do was rot in bed the rest of the evening. You heard some footsteps behind you but thought nothing of it, multiple people use this path it’s nothing, you kept walking until you felt someone grab your hand and turn you towards them.

It was Kinich. He let go of your hand and gripped your arm, pulling you close to his chest, a little too close, and you could tell he was annoyed.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

You blinked. Didn’t he tell you you were being annoying? You blinked again.

“I’m not ignoring you..”

“Bullshit” His grip on your arm tightened. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks.”

“I’ve just been..busy..?”

Wow. Best liar in all of Teyvat he’s surly going to be convinced.

“Uh huh? Busy with what? Busy with everyone in Natlan that you can’t even spare me a glance?”

“Why do you care? I thought you said I was annoying?”

He bit his lip and looked down for a moment before looking back at you.

“I did…but you’re my f-” He sighed, mentally cursing at himself for caring so much. He didn’t really mind you ignoring him for the first couple of days, but when he saw you were with another man he realized how bad he regretted it, he realized his feelings for you.

“You’re my friend. I just needed some time alone.”

You felt your throat start to burn a bit. Friend. You should have known, you never had a chance with him. You swallowed the feeling back and looked down.

“Okay”

Okay? That’s it? You’ve ignored him for almost a month and the only thing you can say is okay?

He gripped your arm tighter and pulled you closer.

“Is that all you’re going to say? Okay?”

“Well what do you want me to say!?”

That came out a little louder than expected but whatever..all you wanted right now was to rush home and lock yourself in your room.

“Anything other than okay!”

“I’m sorry for listening to you and giving you the space you wanted!”

He scoffed and let you go, crossing his arms and looking away. He knew he should just apologize to you so you two could go back to before and get past this.

“..I’m sorry”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t really expect that.

“What?”

“I said i’m sorry alright?”

.

.

.

.

After a while, it was actually a day and a half, you two were finally back to normal, you just tried to tone it down a bit. He noticed that, but he also noticed how your hand stopped brushing against his when you would walk together, how you seemed slightly less cheery when talking to him, how you stopped looking at him with a small little smile when he would talk.

He was walking back to a customer after finishing a commission when he heard your voice.

“-I don’t know how long I can take it anymore..! I can’t get rid of my stupid feelings! How do I make them go away!?”

He saw you shake Mualani as you looked like you were about to burst out into tears. Feelings? What feelings? Who were you talking about? His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to listen to what you were talking about.

“Uh- how are you sure he doesn’t like you back?”

“He was annoyed at me for spending time with him! He called me a friend..!”

Wait. Was it him you were talking about? He almost started praying to the archons then and there that it was him, he was ready to pay what ever price if you could return his feelings. He was snapped back into his thoughts as he heard Mualani confirm.

“Kinich is a weird guy, who knows?”

“Lani don’t get my hopes up..”

She gave you a small smile and then noticed Kinich standing a few feet behind you. She saw how his cheeks were slightly blushed and raised her eyebrow. He realized that she saw him and quickly left to find the customer.

Interesting.

…………………………………………….

[hummingbird24220]

please plsplspslpslps shanks x reader where shanks saves reader from drowning because they're a devil fruit user (idk what fruit tho) and was thrown overboard by some pirate shanks had come across that had the gall to attack him

also idk when this is maybe when he still had both his arms or just sent benn to pull reader out of the sea

daddy shanks 🛐🛐

Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long <3 Hope you like it

He has both arms in this just FYI ^^ Kinda a rollercoaster, bit random and convenient for plot sake, but hey ho its fanfic.

A Hand Through the Waves

Shanks x Reader

The sea didn’t care that you were screaming.

It was too loud. Too heavy. Too cold. Your voice didn’t even reach the surface — it was swallowed by the swell and crushed under the weight of the Grand Line’s cruel embrace. You thrashed in vain, your limbs sluggish and clumsy, every movement dragging you deeper. A Devil Fruit user with a bounty high enough to warrant attention — but clearly not enough to earn respect.

You didn’t see who pushed you.

The crew that ambushed you was small, cocky, and stupid enough to try and pick a fight with Red-Haired Shanks. You happened to be at the wrong port at the wrong time — or maybe the right one, you’d later wonder.

Because the moment your vision began to blacken, a ripple tore through the sea.

And then there was fire in the water. Not literal fire — but something burning bright, cutting through the blue like a sword. A splash above. A hand. Large, calloused, warm despite the water. You couldn’t see his face — just red hair, wild and waving like a flag.

Then the world twisted, and air hit your lungs again like an explosion.

You gasped, coughing seawater onto the deck of a ship that wasn’t yours. The wood beneath you was warm. The voices around you were muffled. And one, clearer than the rest, laughed low and easy.

“Well, that was dramatic.”

You looked up, dazed. Shanks.

Red hair slicked back from diving in. Shirt soaked, clinging to his chest. One hand holding a half-empty bottle, the other holding you steady by the shoulder.

“Next time someone throws you off a ship,” he said, “aim for somewhere less deep.”

You blinked. “You—why would you—”

“Save you?” He grinned. “Couldn’t just let a Devil Fruit user drown in front of me. It’s bad manners.”

You tried to push yourself up, but your arms trembled. He immediately dropped the bottle and helped you sit, more careful than you expected from a pirate so feared.

“Besides,” he added, brushing a soaked strand of hair from your face, “I liked your glare when they dragged you across the dock. That’s the look of someone who doesn’t go down easy.”

“I would’ve… gotten out,” you wheezed.

He smirked. “Sure. Eventually. I just sped things up a little.”

You were quiet for a second, staring at him. “Why were you even there?”

Shanks leaned back, propping himself up on one elbow. “Coincidence. Or fate, depending how poetic you are. Either way—” his grin returned, easy and warm, “—I’m glad I was.”

A beat of silence.

“…I owe you,” you muttered.

“No, you don’t.” He tilted his head. “But if you insist on repaying me…”

You braced for a smug flirt.

“…you can share a drink.”

You stared.

He raised the bottle in offering — then looked at it, frowned, and chuckled. “Ah, sea water. Guess we’ll need a fresh one.”

You surprised yourself with a breathy laugh.

Shanks helped you to your feet. His grip never faltered. His crew gave you space, friendly enough to not overwhelm you but curious enough to watch. You stood beside him on the deck, shivering from the cold but steady.

He draped his cloak over your shoulders without a word.

“Let’s get you dry, yeah?” he said, voice low. “And then… you can tell me how someone like you ended up in that mess.”

The clothes were soft. Loose. A bit too big.

You didn’t know whose they were — someone from Shanks’ crew, probably — but they smelled faintly of salt, citrus, and something warm. You sat tucked into a corner of the captain’s quarters, wrapped in his heavy cloak, both hands curled around a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

Not rum. Not sake. Cocoa.

You didn’t expect pirates to stock it, let alone serve it in chipped, homey mugs like it was just another Tuesday.

Shanks sat opposite you, sprawled out in a chair with one leg hooked over the other, a faint grin tugging at his mouth every time your nose dipped toward the cup.

“You’re staring again,” you muttered.

“I’m not,” he said, still very clearly staring. “You just look different when you’re not soaking wet and furious.”

“I wasn’t furious.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“…Okay, I was a little furious.”

“You cursed at them in three different languages.”

“And I meant every word.”

Shanks laughed — a full, belly-deep sound that filled the room like sunlight. You looked away, ears hot despite the chill still clinging to your skin.

He didn’t press. Just let the silence settle. The room creaked with the gentle rock of the ship. Somewhere outside, his crew laughed and shouted over something completely unrelated. For a moment, you felt like you were sitting in a little pocket of peace.

“So,” he said, voice quieter, “you wanna tell me who those bastards were?”

You sipped your drink. “Low-level pirates. Cocky. I didn’t recognize their flag.”

“And they still had the guts to throw you overboard?”

“They knew I couldn’t swim.” Your tone sharpened slightly. “The moment they figured it out, they used it.”

Shanks’ smile dimmed. His one visible hand clenched slightly.

“They’ll regret that,” he said simply. No threat in his voice. Just truth.

You believed him.

He watched you for a moment more, then reached into his coat pocket and tossed something your way. You caught it on instinct — a small, carved wooden token.

“What’s this?”

“A charm,” he said. “For good luck.”

“…Do I look like I need luck?”

“No. You look like someone who deserves a second chance.”

You stared at him, confused. His expression was unreadable now — steady, thoughtful. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees.

“You’ve got that edge to you,” he said. “Like someone who’s been through a lot and doesn’t trust kindness when it shows up.”

You didn’t answer.

He smiled anyway. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Alive. And welcome to stay until you figure out what’s next.”

“…You’re offering me shelter?”

“I’m offering you cocoa, warm clothes, and a damn good crew to lean on if you need it. The rest is up to you.”

You looked down at the token again. It was warm from your grip.

“…Thanks,” you muttered.

He stood up, brushing crumbs from his sleeve. “You can rest here as long as you want. There’s food in the mess if you get hungry.”

As he turned to leave, you glanced up. “Shanks?”

He paused in the doorway.

“I didn’t say thank you. For saving me.”

He looked over his shoulder with a grin that could disarm a navy fleet. “You’re welcome. Just try not to fall in again — I can’t keep jumping into the ocean every time someone picks on you.”

You huffed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He winked — then was gone, leaving you alone in the warmth, the sea humming just outside the walls.

-

You didn’t stay forever.

As comforting as Shanks’ ship was — as warm as the crew, the cocoa, and the laughter had become — you weren’t meant to be tethered for long. The sea called to you in a different way. One day, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, you handed Shanks back his cloak and stepped off the Red Force with a nod and a promise.

"Don't go getting thrown overboard again," he had teased. You had grinned. "Only if you promise to be the one to save me."

You had walked away before he could respond.

Years passed. You made a name for yourself, slowly but surely. Smaller adventures. Quieter ones. You stuck to the edges of chaos, learning from the currents instead of fighting them. Still, every so often, you’d catch wind of Red-Haired Shanks — his name whispered with awe, in taverns and bounty posters, drifting like seagulls on the wind.

You never asked. Never wrote.

But you always listened.

You didn’t expect the push.

It came sharp and sudden, a shove from a group of rowdy, half-drunk pirates you’d brushed shoulders with at the port. You cursed your balance, cursed your timing — cursed the damned Devil Fruit as your body hit the water with a splash and everything turned to cold, cruel silence.

Just like before.

But this time, you didn’t see fire. You saw green.

A blur cut through the surface — a strong arm hooked under yours, and suddenly you were rising fast, coughing and gasping as the sun stabbed through your eyelids. You hit the dock hard, sputtering on your hands and knees.

"You alright?"

The voice was low. Calm.

You blinked past the water in your eyes and looked up — and saw it.

That hat.

Straw-brimmed. Familiar. Beloved. Your heart thudded painfully against your ribs as your voice broke through the panic.

“...Shanks?”

There was a pause. Then a laugh — not deep and mellow like his, but bright, high, and joyful.

“Shanks?! That’s a first!”

You blinked harder, the haze lifting. The outline shifted, the figure sharper now — not tall and broad-shouldered with red hair, but younger. Much younger. Barefoot and wide-eyed, with a smile that looked like it had never known a day of fear.

You sat up with a shaky exhale, as the green-haired man who’d saved you stepped aside, eyeing you cautiously.

“Oi, don’t scare her,” he muttered to the boy.

The boy — the one with the hat — squatted beside you, head tilted.

“I’m Luffy,” he beamed. “You know Shanks?”

You stared. Then laughed softly, the sound cracking like a wave against the rocks. “I… I used to.”

He leaned in, almost buzzing with excitement. “He gave me this hat! He saved my life! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

You blinked again, heart twisting strangely at the fierce certainty in his voice. There was no fear. No hesitation. Just fire.

Something about him — the glint in his eyes, the way he talked about Shanks, the way he reached out with a hand to help you up without a second thought — tugged deep in your chest.

Like you’d seen him before, in a dream. Or maybe a story Shanks had once told over a drink.

You took his hand.

“Thank you, Luffy,” you said softly. “You saved me.”

He grinned wider. “Zoro did the saving.”

You glanced at the swordsman — soaked up to his thighs, arms crossed. “Thank you too, Zoro.”

He nodded once. “Don’t mention it.”

“You’re lucky,” Luffy added. “You fell in near our ship. If it was further out, we might not’ve seen you.”

You stared at him a moment more. “You remind me of him.”

“Shanks?”

You nodded. “Not just the hat. The heart.”

He looked stunned for a second. Then grinned again, impossibly brighter.

And just like that — without meaning to — something settled inside you.

A sense of purpose you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“…Do you guys have a ship?”

“Oh yeah! We’re the Straw Hat Pirates!”

You smiled, brushing damp hair from your face. “That’s… a very fitting name.”

Zoro squinted. “Why are you smiling like that?”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy watching Luffy bounce on the balls of his feet, already asking if you wanted food, if you could fight, if you wanted to meet the rest of the crew.

And you? You were already following him.

Because even if your path had drifted far from Shanks, somehow, you’d found someone carrying his light.

-

By the time you made it onto their ship — the Thousand Sunny, they proudly told you — your hair had dried, your clothes hadn’t, and your heart hadn’t slowed since that moment you saw the hat.

The Straw Hats welcomed you with open arms… and varying energy levels.

Nami looked you up and down and immediately got you a towel and spare clothes. Sanji offered warm tea and sparkled like a chandelier when you thanked him. Usopp stood behind Luffy, peeking nervously until you smiled at him. Chopper buzzed around you like a doctor on caffeine. Robin observed, polite and unreadable, but kind. Franky shouted something about “HELL YEAH! SEA-PLUCKED FRIEND!” Brook made a skull joke. You politely pretended to laugh.

Zoro, already back in dry clothes and leaning against the rail, just nodded like you weren’t a big deal.

You liked that. It reminded you of Shanks’ crew — strong, strange, loud, loyal.

And then came dinner.

The galley was alive with the clatter of plates, the smell of food, and laughter. You sat at the table, now warm in borrowed clothes, sipping soup while Luffy devoured enough for three people beside you.

“I still can’t believe you know Shanks!” he said with his mouth full.

You smiled. “I met him a long time ago. After I got tossed off a ship and nearly drowned.”

The table quieted.

“…Wait,” Luffy said slowly, looking at you like you’d just grown another head. “You too?!”

You nodded, amused. “I was thrown overboard by some pirates. Couldn’t swim. Next thing I know, he’s diving in after me. Pulled me out like it was nothing.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up. “That’s what he did for me!! When the bandits tried to drown me as a kid! He didn’t even hesitate—he just jumped in! Lost his arm and still smiled at me.”

Your smile faltered slightly, surprise flickering in your chest. “He… lost his arm?”

“Yeah!” Luffy grinned. “Saved me from a Sea King. I was little. Thought I was a goner.”

You stared at him — this bright, ridiculous boy who burned with so much of Shanks’ same chaotic kindness — and felt something strange twist in your stomach.

“Guess he has a habit of saving waterlogged idiots,” you murmured.

Luffy laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

The crew relaxed again, picking their own conversations back up. But Luffy stayed turned toward you, grinning like a kid at storytime.

“So then what?” he asked. “Did you sail with him?”

“For a while,” you said, swirling your soup. “His crew is good people. They let me heal a bit. Then I left. Didn’t want to be a permanent passenger.”

“That’s dumb,” Luffy said cheerfully. “You could’ve stayed forever.”

You gave him a look. “You didn’t stay with him either.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna be King of the Pirates! I had stuff to do!”

You laughed softly, eyes fond.

He grinned back at you. “So do you think meeting me was good luck or bad luck?”

You paused.

“…Honestly?” you said. “I don’t know. It feels like the universe is laughing at me a little. Same Devil Fruit curse. Same hat. Same stupid smile.”

“Hey!”

You gave him a small nudge with your elbow. “Better teeth, though.”

“HA!” he barked, not remotely offended.

You looked around at the crew, warm and bright and loud — and felt something soft settle in your chest.

You weren’t drowning anymore.

And maybe fate did have a weird sense of humor. But this time, you were willing to see where the current led.

-

You’d never been good at staying in one place.

The sea had always pulled at your bones like a tide you couldn’t fight — never violent, just constant. No matter how warm the company, how sweet the food, or how loud the laughter, you felt it again: the urge to move.

So you made up your mind.

You told them the next morning.

They didn’t argue.

Nami hugged you tight. Chopper clung to your leg. Sanji swore dramatically that he’d cry for weeks. Zoro gave a low grunt that meant more than it sounded. Franky gave you an exit speech. Usopp pretended not to tear up. Robin smiled like she knew you were lying to yourself about not looking back. Brook played a few sad violin notes.

Luffy just stared at you like a kicked puppy.

“I’ll come back,” you said softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

“You better,” he pouted. “Or I’ll find you and throw you into the sea again.”

You laughed, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to the top of his straw hat.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He grinned. “You’re right. Zoro would have to save you again.”

“Hell no,” Zoro muttered from behind him.

You hugged them all one last time — all warmth and gratitude and just a little bit of ache — then stepped off the Sunny with the world ahead of you and your bag over your shoulder.

The dock was quiet.

The breeze curled around your ankles, carrying the scent of the sea and something else — something familiar.

You didn’t realize you’d stopped walking until your body froze entirely.

Because there — like he’d been plucked out of memory and dropped into your line of sight with all the grace of a cosmic joke — stood a man.

A man with one arm, a sword at his hip, and a head of unmistakable red hair.

You blinked.

And blinked again.

"...Plot convenience powers," you mumbled. "That's the only explanation."

He looked up.

And smiled.

Like he’d known you were coming. Like not a single day had passed.

“Been a while,” Shanks said, voice as low and bright as you remembered.

You stared at him like your brain had short-circuited.

“I—what—how—?”

“Nice to see you too.” He strode forward casually, boots echoing against the dock. “You look good. Bit salty. That’s new.”

You gawked. “You can’t just appear. I just left them. They’re still within earshot!”

He tilted his head. “Them?”

“The Straw Hats!”

His eyes sparked with understanding. “Ah. The Straw Hat.”

“His name is Luffy—oh you know that, don’t play dumb!”

He laughed.

And you stood there, still stunned, still trying to figure out if this was a hallucination brought on by too much nostalgia and soup.

“You didn’t write,” he said softly. “Not once.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I don’t know how.”

“…Fair.”

There was a pause — not tense, just heavy. Full of too many years and too much almost.

“I missed you,” he said, easy as breathing.

You exhaled like you’d been underwater all over again. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“And yet,” he smirked, “here we are.”

You looked at him. At the way his eyes softened. At the familiar cut of his coat. At the wind catching his hair the same way it did in your memories.

“Don’t say this was fate,” you warned, voice weak.

“I wasn’t gonna,” he said, stepping closer. “I was gonna say it was bad luck. Like always.”

That made you laugh. A little broken, but real.

“I was leaving.”

“I can see that.”

“…Should I stay?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Because your feet moved before your brain did — and when he opened his arms, you were already there.

Right back where you’d started.

But different.

-

You were mid-embrace, forehead against Shanks’ collarbone, when you heard it.

“SHAAAAANKS!!!”

Your head whipped around just in time to see a human blur launching itself from the deck of the Thousand Sunny.

“No—wait—” you began, stepping back.

But it was too late.

Luffy hit Shanks like a cannonball. Arms and legs wrapping around him like a sea-wet koala, hat askew, laughing so hard he was nearly sobbing.

“I KNEW IT WAS YOU!!” he yelled, hugging him tighter. “I saw the hair! I KNEW IT!”

Shanks staggered slightly, laughing and patting him on the back. “You're louder than ever, huh?”

“You’re real! You’re actually real! You’re here and she’s here and wait—” Luffy suddenly twisted mid-cling, his wide eyes locking on you with way too much suspicion for someone currently attached to another human being like a backpack. “—Are you Shanks’ WIFE?!”

You spluttered. “What?!”

Shanks snorted.

“NO!” he laughed. “But…” He tilted his head toward you and gave the world’s most irresponsible, charming wink. “She’s the woman I told you about when you were a kid.”

Luffy froze. Eyes wide. Brain shaking hands with a long-forgotten memory.

“The—THE ONE WHO PUNCHED A SEA KING?!”

You blinked. “I didn’t punch a Sea King, I hit a Sea King. With a cannon.”

“THE ONE WHO TOOK ON A WHOLE FLEET ALONE?!”

“That was mostly an accident,” you muttered.

“THE ONE WHO CALLED YOU A ‘FLAMING-GINGER DRAMA PRINCE?!’”

Shanks grinned. “That part is true.”

You slapped a hand over your face. “You told him that story?!”

“He was crying!” Shanks defended. “I had to cheer him up! You were my most hilarious near-death experience!”

Luffy was vibrating.

“You’re so COOL,” he whispered to you like he was five years old again. “You were in a story. A real-life Shanks story.”

You groaned and turned away. “I swear, if he told you about the octopus incident—”

“He did,” Shanks beamed.

“And the blown-up bathhouse?!”

“Oh, that one’s his favorite,” he said, ruffling Luffy’s hair. “He’s been telling that one to his crew for years.”

You turned slowly, eyes narrow. “I am going to drown you.”

“You tried that once,” Shanks grinned. “Didn’t take.”

Luffy was cackling.

The three of you stood there in the sunlight — you fuming, Shanks glowing, Luffy clinging like a starfish — as the Straw Hat crew began cautiously wandering over from the ship.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “I take it this is the red-haired menace?”

“Yup,” you muttered.

Nami blinked. “You know Shanks?!”

“She knows him very well,” Luffy grinned, still latched onto his old mentor.

Shanks tilted his head toward you again. “She’s trouble,” he said proudly.

“And you love it,” you grumbled.

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I really do.”

You sighed, rubbed your face, and turned to Luffy, who finally slid off Shanks and landed back on the dock.

“…You gonna be okay heading out soon?”

Luffy nodded, still smiling wide. “Course! You staying with him?”

You hesitated. Looked at Shanks. Then at the crew behind Luffy.

“…For now.”

He beamed.

“Good,” he said, “'cause if you don’t stay for dinner and at least one round of storytime, Sanji’ll cry and Zoro’ll say he won’t care but he will.”

Shanks chuckled. “I like this crew.”

You smiled. “They’re family.”

He glanced at you. “Then I’m glad they had you. Even for a little while.”

You didn’t answer.

But as you walked back with them toward the ship — Shanks beside you, Luffy dragging both your hands in his — it hit you like a wave:

You weren’t a wanderer anymore.

You were just… waiting to come full circle.

[midnight-mourning]

Hook, Line, & Sinker

🐟🐟Midnight's DCA MerMay Day 1🐟🐟

SORRY TO START OUT MERMAY SO LATE IM IN HELL WEEK (FINALS) AND COMMENCEMENT IS TOMORROW PLEASE ENJOY THIS FIRST STORY

Prompt:

I've got one :3

One of the boys accidentally got a hook in their tail (I think sun would be best, he'd probably freak out harder) and Reader's gotta calm him down and help remove it

DCFPU prompt used: Hook

Word Count: 1949

Story will be posted to ao3 soon!

🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊

The sound of the waves floats in through your open window, becoming clearer as you start to wake up. You sit up, turning to see your thin curtains blowing in the breeze. Another beautiful sunny day. And hopefully, said sunny day will include the brightest, sunniest one of all. 

You hop to your feet, going through the motions of your usual morning routine. Humming in thought about whether you'll see—one of—the mers you've called friend over the course of the past six months or more. Moon, the darker of the pair with his blue and white coloring, hadn't given you any indication of his counterpart's whereabouts. Therefore you could only make assumptions, and even then they didn't add up. 

There were plenty of fish around for this time of year, the warm waters encouraging all kinds of species to migrate through the area, so it wasn't like he'd be pressed for a meal. Adding to that, the only competition around was Moon and they were civil enough with each other. You'd argue friends even, though they'd deny it vehemently if asked. 

Definitely not hibernation either, he would've tried to drag you to join him based on previous experiences. Which left... some not so lovely options to choose from. But, that would be jumping to conclusions. It's only been a few days, surely he's fine. Surely...

You do a quick cleaning of your house, sweeping away any sand that'd been dragged in, wiping off surfaces to remove any potential salt. Really you're just trying to pass the time as an excuse to not go looking for them at this hour of the morning. You'll admit you've become a bit attached over the time you've met both mers.

Moon's teasing remarks and actions, trying to pull you in the water or making—in your opinion—poor taste jokes about having you as a snack if he got hungry enough. Though that was back when you'd first met. He’d gotten a bit better since then. More light-hearted at least. 

Sun's enthusiastic rambles and the likes, constantly needing to go, go, go and show you all sorts of things that he found whenever the two of you were apart. He found your world fascinating as well, insistent you tell him anything and everything about it. You'd really bonded in that way, over your shared pursuit of knowledge. And of course, your genuine connection as friends. 

Ergo, you felt it was justified then to harbor some level of worry regarding his whereabouts. You'd do the same for Moon too. You realize your cheeks are suddenly burning and shake your head. Yes, you'd be concerned for your friends, always. 

Once you've finished your cleaning and have had breakfast, you decide you're not going to stall any longer. You slip on sandals, your sunhat, and head outside to the shore. With any luck, they'll both be around your dock area and all your worry will dissipate in an instant. 

If Sun is not however...

You'll wait to be concerned when it gets to that point. 

The sun's still warming up the sand as you step outside. The semi-cool feeling as your toes sink into it wakes you up fully finally. You squint and look out past where the waves break, to the end of the dock. It's hard to make out, but you think you spy a bobbing head near the rocks there. Just the one, however. 

Sure enough, you find Moon lounging back in the water, eyes closed as he floats semi-in place. The water's clear enough you can see the rest of his body and tail down, down, down, under the water which laps against him. 

In the sparkling reflections you see dark, yet shiny scales which blend with pure white, creating patterns and splotches throughout. Eyes that are currently closed that are a deep ruby red, mesmerizing, you could get lost in them even. He really was quite the mer, they both were. 

When your foot hits the last plank of the dock is when he peeks an eye open at you, smile languid as he shifts to float upright. 

"You're up early, Star. Shouldn't you still be asleep, curled up in your nest?" He yawns, resting his arms on the end of the dock. 

You sit down in front of him, careful to keep yourself out of snatching distance, knowing full well you'd end up in the water for a 'mid-morning swim'. "It's called a bed, Moon, and it's not... that early."

"You're worried about something."

You flinch at the accuracy. "It's Sun, it's been what, three days now? I can't help but be concerned about whether he's okay or not."

"We're not fragile by any means, you know." Moon chuckles, head resting on his webbed hands. "Three days could mean anything."

You groan, laying back against the weathered planks of the dock. "Exactly! He could be hurt, or, or maybe he's off somewhere and forgot to say something, or maybe he just doesn't want to see me, or—" You stop yourself, sighing.

Moon doesn't respond for a moment, then you hear him sigh as well. 

"If you're that concerned then I suppose I have no choice but to inform you of his whereabouts. Lest you wither away in your sorrows." He drawls, teasing lithe at the end of his words. 

You sit upright, looking down at him. "You mean you've known this entire time?"

"Pearl, we share a cove." The bluntness of the statement is followed by a snicker. 

Your face heats up, you attempt to defend yourself. "I didn't know! I've never been there so how would I?"

"Calm down, I'm merely trying to ruffle your scales. I can take you to see for yourself if you'd like. Though it won't be a very dry journey."

You're already taking your hat off and slipping off your sandals. "Kind of you to offer a warning this time, but I'll be fine."

"If you say so—" He offers his hand to you and you take it, only for him to suddenly yank you down into the water. As you remerge, spitting water out of your mouth, he continues. "—Then I'll happily lead the way."

You glare at the mer, but comply as he cues you to hold on to him, and to hold your breath. 

The journey is fast-paced and slightly terrifying. You can hardly see, having to close your eyes to avoid the sting of the salty sea. The noise of rushing water is deafening, if Moon is saying anything or trying to, you can't make it out. 

Luckily, it's over soon after it's begun. You find yourself dazed as Moon slows his pace, drifting along as you arrive in the cove. Though scanning briefly, you see no sign of the other supposed resident. 

Moon points to a rock that's obscuring a section further inside. "You'll find him there. I think you can swim the rest of the way yourself, considering I did all the strenuous work."

"W-where are you going to go?" You ask, baffled as he removes you from his shoulders.

He grins. "It's lunch time. Best of luck, Star."

With a whip of his tail—and a splash directly to your face—he disappears beneath the water. 

"It's not even 10 am yet!" You call, knowing full well he can't hear you. 

With a sigh, you swim over to the rock and then look around it. Sure enough, sitting in a sulking heap in a tide pool, is Sun. 

He perks up upon initially seeing you, frown twisting up into a smile, then seems to realize something and his face sours once more. 

He twists himself further and looks away from you, visibly huffing. 

"Go away, Sunshine,” he calls out to you. 

You scoff, and make the final stretch of swimming to end up beside him, feet landing on the sandy bottom of the tide pool giving you a bit of rest. It's deep enough that you're still in up to your waist in water, but it's a bit of relief at least. Though it certainly can't be for Sun, considering he's mostly out of the water where he's laying. 

When he turns even further away from you is when you get irritated. "Sun, that can't be comfortable. You can't even look at me? After I tried so hard to get here and find you?"

"I would rather not." Blunt. Then, "I'm sorry."

You pause, then huff. "Could you at least tell me what's wrong, please? I-I've been worried for days!"

"Really?" Sun asks, turning to look at you.

You see the surprise on his face and your anger softens. "Of course." You wade closer, and with how shallow it is are able to sit in the water now beside him. "You're my... friend, Sun. If something happened to you I'd feel awful."

"I—" He shakes his head, then shifts, sitting upright beside you. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hid from you. I guess I was just... embarrassed." He avoids your gaze, the fins around his head twitching. 

You feel a bit of relief, chuckling. "Embarrassed of what?"

Sun stares at you a moment, then sighs, incredibly dramatically you'll add. Then, he twists and raises his tail in your general direction. 

In it, right on the edge, is a hook. A small one, relative to his size, as big as your palm but not your entire hand. 

You blink once, then twice. He speaks for you. 

"It's horrible isn't it!? It's been there for days and I'm at a complete loss as to what to do." He's practically wailing out his dismay, hand to his forehead and all. 

You frown a tinge. "I– you're serious?"

"Of course I am! This is a serious situation, Starshine!"

You shake your head. "I, Sun, this isn't-why didn't you just remove it?!"

"Think of the effort that would take, Pearl." Sun groans. "Ugh and the sensation,"—He shivers, even going so far to stick his tongue out—"Absolutely not." 

You just stare at him, he stares back. 

"Would you like me to get it for you?"

A strained smile. "Please."

What happens next is an uphill battle of just even trying to grip his tail. Not only is it slimy and thus difficult to get a good grip, but it didn't help he was thrashing about every which way anytime you got close. 

"Hold still, hold still!"

Still thrashing, protesting. "I'm trying but you need to be delicate, Star. Delicate!"

"I can't be anything if you don't settle down!" Finally you snatch it and hold it tight. Thankfully it's not too thin or you'd be afraid of harming him. "Now, sit there, behave, and maybe you'll be rewarded for it. Understood?"

You glance up, and he nods. Slowly. "Mhm." 

You look back down to the hook and take a deep breath. With your free hand, you grip it... 

And it slides out with a small tug. 

"Oh."

Before you can even make a protest, you're suddenly in the air, then landing in his lap. 

"Well, now that that's taken care of, what was that about a reward?" Sun grins, holding you by your hips in his lap. 

You sputter. "You… are you actually— after all that?!"

"A promise is a promise, Love." He plucks the hook from your fingers and flicks it away onto the shore, are you kidding—"You wouldn't want to disappoint, would you?"

You feel your face heat up, but still relent. "I said maybe!"

"That's close enough." Sun grins. 

You swallow, noticing just how much he's leaned in now, practically a breath apart. Though, you're not opposed to that. 

Close enough indeed.

🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊🎣🌊

Thank you @dangerva for the prompt! Starting us off strong with this silly little one, very much enjoyed despite the horrors it took to get here (work is awful rn but classes are over so we thrive)

Brief reminder while I'm here, requests will be posted every other day, butttt i will be doing the dca pickup prompts mixed with this and will have short things on the off days ^^ that's all for now, bye!

Masterlist Post is here

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzy-bee @hazelthebat @nightriverart

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 8: Magma and Sky]

A/N: Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), grief and torment, a fun field trip to a volcanic rock, Red and Aemond have a very honest conversation, enjoy our special guest stars!!! 😉🔮🐍

Word count: 5.1k

❤️ All my writing can be found HERE! 💙

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

“I was with somebody else.”

You startle and look up to see Aemond standing under the arch of the arbor grown over with a quilt of red roses, twisted and thorny and thick enough to drape you in shadows. You are sitting cross-legged on the stone bench and reading a book about all the known varieties of bats; Helaena found it for you in some dusty, ill-lit corner of the library when she was searching for texts concerning insects. It is still the waning days of summer in King’s Landing, and Viserys is the king, and thin threads of sunlight like golden strands of a spider’s web fall down through gaps in the arbor. Last night was the first time Aemond touched you like more than a brother, claimed you, transfixed you, and you are already alight with the lust-red craving to do it again.

Here, now, in the garden of the Red Keep, Aemond won’t meet your eyes. Instead, he stares fixedly into the contorted nest of roses, wild green punctuated with blooms of crimson like blood or rubies or glowing embers. You have no idea what he means. You reply after a moment, closing your book: “With somebody…?”

“Before,” Aemond says, like it takes great effort. He is still not looking at you. “Years ago. It wasn’t my intention for that to happen, I didn’t plan it, I didn’t ask for it…but I didn’t stop it either.” His reticent blue gaze drops to the cobblestones. His voice is very soft, barely audible. “In a brothel…there was…”

Now you understand. “I know, Aemond.”

His attention jolts back to you, a fracture set, a lightning strike. “You do?”

“Aegon told me. He felt badly about it afterwards, he thought he shouldn’t have done it, but he…” You gesture as if you holding a goblet of wine, and Aemond nods. He was drunk, he was reckless, he mistook it for a favor. But he was wrong.

“You will benefit from what I’ve learned,” Aemond says, as if still trying to convince you not to be appalled or angry. In truth, you are neither. “I hope that is some comfort to you.”

“I don’t find comfort in anything that causes you pain,” you reply honestly, tenderly. A warm breeze blows in off the sea, tasting like salt and rustling the roses and the leaves. This morning you tucked a single flower into your braid, a blue forget-me-not. Now you touch it self-consciously. “Do you mind that I’m so unpracticed?”

Aemond seems to find the notion ludicrous. “No. No, of course not.”

“But you’ll have to teach me everything.”

“That’s how I want it to be. I’m of the belief that if two people wish to be together, there should be no other parties involved. I had meant to be pure for you. I’m sorry I’m not. It is a regret of mine that I carry always. It is a failing.”

You shake your head, sensing his distress as if it is your own: a gnawing anxiety, a sickening drop in your belly. “It wasn’t your fault, Aemond.”

“So I am forgiven?”

“I never considered it to be a transgression.”

“Oh. Good.” His mood lifts; there is a phantom of a smile on his lips and a lightness in his stride as he takes a taunting step towards the stone bench where you sit. “And how do you feel? After what happened last night before dinner?”

And you grin with glinting eyes as you answer, setting your book aside: “Still hungry.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Seven days on a ship, and you don’t speak to Aemond once.

The weather is bad, grey and windy, sometimes snow, sometimes sleet, sometimes hail that pelts the wooden deck, and the vessel rocks in bleak violent waves. Aemond had arranged for the ship to meet him near Heart’s Home, where the glacial mountain river flows into the Narrow Sea, where you used to collect seashells to shatter and rearrange into the faces of the people you left in your old life. He had known you would not be able to travel by dragon. And so now Vhagar flies somewhere out there in the cold iron-colored sky and Aemond stalks below deck, haunting your doorway, painting the walls with his shadow.

A maester prods your ribs and says some are fractured but they will heal with rest and time. He gives you tastes of milk of the poppy—just enough to sand the edges off the pain so you can sleep—and compliments the cleanness of your scar. Two maids bring you meals and help you dress, wash the soot and blood from your skin, comb your hair. But Aemond does not touch you. He tries once as the maester is examining you, and you look at him with hatred that is primal and infernal and black like volcanic glass, and he snatches his hands away and makes no further attempts. But he watches you, and he waits, and he tries to piece the truth together. You can feel the bewildered turmoil in him. The ricochets of it echo in the mausoleum of your skull.

When you are awake, you stare at the ceiling or at the floor. When you are asleep, you dream of Jace and Luca. They turn to torrents of blood in your arms, or crumble into ash, or are buried in the earth and you are digging for them with your bare hands. You dream that you are locked in a closet or a trunk and no one ever comes to let you out. You dream that you are at the bottom of the ocean in cages of leviathan skeletons, dragons that lived and died before Vermax or Dreamfyre, before Meraxes, before Balerion the Black Dread, before any of the beasts that perished in the Doom of Valyria. You dream that Helaena is falling from the sky and you cannot catch her, cannot save her. You dream that Mother is telling you that you’ve failed.

Then you wake one dreary morning and hear the sailors shouting that land is in sight, and you climb up out of the depths of the ship and stagger to the bow, hooking your fingers into the rigging to steady yourself as the ship pitches and reels in rough surf. Aemond is standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, his black coat drenched with rain and sea spray, his scarred face far away, miles away, years away. Out of the mist rise the dark jagged walls of the castle that sits atop the island of Dragonstone, where Aegon the Conqueror once plotted his invasion of Westeros.

You ask: “What did you do with him?”

Aemond whirls, stunned that you have spoken at last. His silver hair, half-tied back, hangs in long dripping waves. Your own blows wildly around you. “What did you say?”

“The baby. His body. You took him away from me. What did you do with him?”

“He was burned as a Targaryen.” Aemond’s voice goes quiet, gentle. “Not because Jace was one, but because you are. His ashes were cast into the sea.”

Aemond waits for you to respond. You don’t, you can’t. You close your eyes and see Luca swaddled in one of his blankets; you feel Jace’s dark curls threading through your fingers.

Aemond reaches tentatively for your arm. “Red, I…I didn’t…I never would have…”

You turn away from him and walk from the bow to the stern—your cracked ribs aching, the maids fluttering around you and chastising your sodden ink-colored dress, saying you will catch a chill and die, and if you did you wouldn’t care—and you wait there for the ship to dock.

When you step onto Dragonstone, it’s the first time you’ve returned to the island since you were a child and you tried to claim Vermithor. You don’t understand why Aemond has brought you here, and you don’t ask. You follow the pathway up towards the castle as Aemond trails silently after you like a shadow. Behind him, the maester and your new maids trudge begrudgingly up the countless stone steps and shudder when they hear the distant snarls of the beasts that have lairs here. Cold frothing waves thrash against the shoreline. Gulls circle high overhead, squawking mournfully. Magma flows beneath the black-glass rock; you can feel the radiating heat of it, scorching blood in the arteries of the earth.

Just inside the castle, someone is waiting for you. And it is the first time you’ve truly been roused since Aemond and Vhagar descended upon Heart’s Home.

“Aegon!” you shout, and he rushes to you as swiftly as he can, his walking stick tapping against the floor, his muscles straining beneath knots of scar tissue, his chipped teeth flashing white when he beams. He embraces you like a drowning man grappling for a piece of driftwood in the currents, almost knocking you off-balance. He is laughing, he is smacking graceless kisses onto your cheeks, he is marveling at your face to make sure you’re real.

“You’re alive!” he says, cackling triumphantly. “All this time we had no idea where they’d hidden you, we thought we’d never see you again, but here you are and you’re alive—”

“She’s hurt,” Aemond tells him severely. “Stop yanking her around.”

Aegon furrows his scarred forehead as he checks you for injuries. “Are you really?”

“A few broken ribs. They’ll heal.” Your fingertips go to his mangled cheeks and scalp, to what you can see of his chest. You’ve never witnessed wounds this bad on someone who lived. “Your burns…”

“They felt even worse than they look, if you can believe it. But I’m still here.”

Not all of us are. “Helaena…”

“We heard,” he says, tears glistening in his large ocean-blue eyes. He holds you one more time, more gingerly now. “And those butchers will die for it. All of them. The Bitch Queen and her aged uncle-husband and her idiot children too.” He steps back from you and looks to Aemond. “Our spies have brought word from the mainland. The people of King’s Landing are in open rebellion, they blame Rhaenyra for Helaena’s death. If they can get into the Red Keep, they’ll murder her and free Mother. The Hightower army will soon cross the Blackwater Rush.”

“Daeron knows to wait?” Aemond replies.

“A raven has been sent. I can’t say if he’ll listen.”

“He’d better. Tessarion may have proven herself quick and ferocious, but she is small. She must not fly against Silverwing and Syrax alone.”

“I told him!” Aegon says, exasperated. He means: What else can I do about it? He is still clutching his stick and leaning heavily upon it. He can’t fight as a soldier; he can barely even walk. “So what happened at Heart’s Home? Were the bastard and Vermax there? Did you kill him? Did he beg for you to spare his life, did he weep for the memory of poor pathetic little Luke Strong?”

Aemond doesn’t respond. He winces instead, then shakes his head like he’s telling Aegon to stop talking. You look down at the stone floor, and in the relentless grey gloom of the castle, the island, you feel the white-hot searing of grief and fury in your throat, and if you were a dragon it would not be invisible but a fire that consumes flesh all the way down to its bones.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon asks Aemond, alarmed. “What did you do?”

There are echoing footsteps on the stone staircase, and you are startled to see a woman descending. You’ve never met her before, and you would know if you had; her skin is like moonlight and her pale eyes wide and staring. Black hair hangs to her waist, and it makes you think of swaying branches of a willow tree, or strands of seaweed washing up on the beach outside the Red Keep, or feathers of ravens. She wears a velvet gown the color of moss. Her belly is rounded, just beginning to show. She rests a little white paw of a hand on it and studies you curiously, tilting her head. She is four or five months pregnant.

You gape at her, then turn to Aemond and Aegon, both of whom have averted their eyes. “Whose child is that?”

No one answers you. Instead, Aemond says to the woman briskly: “Your insights were accurate. You will be rewarded accordingly. At the conclusion of the war, you will take up residence at Harrenhal. Until then, you will make yourself scarce here.”

She curtseys; it is a strange, awkward motion, angles in all the wrong places. “Yes, my prince.” But she hesitates before leaving, still watching you. As she strokes the arc of her belly, things kindle in her coin-silver eyes like embers exposed to air: fascination, envy, a vague vicarious fondness. You stare back, thunderstruck. Her long fingernails are filthy with soil or ash.

Whose child? Aemond’s?

You cannot ignore a sharp, nauseous lurch in your own belly, a place where no life grows. Beside you, Aemond is palpably uneasy. You can feel it sweating out of his pores, you can hear it in the sick thudding pulse of his bloodstream. You are reminded of a confession he once brought to you in the garden of the Red Keep as you sat under the shadow of an arbor of scarlet roses.

“Back to the kitchen, witch,” Aegon flings at the woman. “Or the garden, or the cliffsides, or wherever you were haunting before your intrusion.”

She points a talon-like fingernail at you as she begins to ascend the steps. “She is here, but is she yours again?”

“Out!” Aegon barks, and when she has vanished he sighs wearily, as if this is a recurring inconvenience.

You look at Aemond, repulsed, bewildered, betrayed. He says: “Come with me and I’ll explain.”

For a moment, you do not acquiesce. You only glare savagely at him, and if this was before he left King’s Landing a year ago—before Rook’s Rest, before Rhaenyra seized the city and imprisoned you, before Heart’s Home, before your marriage to Jace, before Luca—Aemond would grab you and drag you to wherever he wanted you to be, and he would know that when you fought him you didn’t mean it. But he doesn’t touch you now.

Instead he implores you in a hushed voice: “Please.” And you follow him out of the grey and into the flickering amber light of the Chamber of the Painted Table, where a sweltering hearth crackles and candles burn down into pools of white wax. Westeros is illuminated by fire, like all the places Aemond has burned over the past year. There are chairs positioned around the table. You sit by the Vale; Aemond takes his place across from you near the Reach, where the Hightowers hail from, where your youngest brother Daeron has spent the war waging his battles and torching his enemies. A maid brings two goblets of red wine. You can’t drink it, just like Helaena couldn’t eat blackberry jam after Jaehaerys was beheaded in front of her. Aemond watches you push the cup away and then tells the maid to bring cider instead. You wait without speaking, the only sounds the splitting of wood in the fire and the rumble of the ocean outside and the distant growls of dragons. When the maid reappears with cider, it is a cloudy goldish color and hot and tastes of fermented apples. You sip it listlessly. The maid departs and closes the door behind her.

“It was an exchange,” Aemond says.

“An exchange?”

“Her name is Alys Rivers, she is a bastard of House Strong. I found her working in the kitchen when I took Harrenhal. She is an enchantress, she has some magic to her, just like we do. She said she might be able to help me find you. But she needed something in return. A son, a child built of our ancient Valyrian blood. An heir, a castle, a future. And since Aegon has been rendered impotent by his injuries, and Daeron is far away in the Reach and still a boy himself…”

“You lied with her?”

“Well, I’ve done it before,” Aemond says. And then, when you don’t immediately grasp what he means: “Been with a woman who wasn’t of my choosing.” He draws invisible paths on the Painted Table with his fingerprints. Firelight ripples across his face: a downcast eye, a scar to match the one that cuts down from your left collarbone. “She scoured the woods surrounding the Gods Eye for herbs, and feathers and bones, and all manner of strange talismans. She tried for months to conjure a vision. Then one day she saw it in the flames of the hearth: three black ravens, three red hearts. The sigil of House Corbray of Heart’s Home.”

“And for her services you promised her Harrenhal.”

Aemond nods. “She and her descendants will rule it as House Whent.”

“A new noble house?” you mock bitterly. “And what will its banners be? A burning castle? The charred skeletons of its murdered inhabitants?”

“No,” Aemond says quietly. “Bats.”

You look at him. His blue eye flicks up to your face again, to your black mourning gown—you will wear no other colors—and your unbraided silver hair that drips with rain and seawater.

Aemond asks after a while: “Do you like wearing your hair that way now?”

Distractedly, you touch the damp silver tresses that are unbound, soft and feminine and weak. “Jace told me I wasn’t a warrior. He wanted me to look like a lady.”

“You were wed to him,” Aemond says as if he still cannot comprehend it.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon after Rhaenyra took King’s Landing. It was Mother’s proposal. She convinced Rhaenyra to agree to it.”

Aemond is lost. “Why? He was a bastard, a traitor.”

You flinch. “Mother thought it would encourage the Blacks to spare us if they won the war. Rhaenyra thought it would give her heir legitimacy. Neither Jace nor I wanted the match.”

“But now you…you miss him? You mourn for him?”

“We grew accustomed to each other. There was true affection, there was warmth.”

“Did he…were you…?” Aemond cannot decide how to say it, or perhaps he just can’t bring himself to. You can tell—from the way his gaze drops from your face to your body, a mystery cloaked in soaked black velvet—that he is thinking of your wedding night, something you were supposed to share, something you spoke of often with desperate, willful, blazing yearning. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not purposefully.”

There is a flare of wrath. “It needn’t have hurt at all.”

“Why did you come after me?” you ask, and your voice breaks and tears spill down your cheeks, and your ribs throb and your throat is full of fire like a dragon’s. “Why did you kill all those people in the Riverlands, why did you burn Heart’s Home, why couldn’t you just…just…just leave me there?” Luca and Jace would still be alive. Lady Caro would still be alive. Tens of thousands of people wouldn’t have burned or starved.

Aemond is incredulous. His voice grows louder; firelight engulfs him like he is drowning in a lake of it. “I swore I would find you if you were ever taken away.”

“I waited for you. I wondered where you were. I stood in the rookery and stared out into the Mountains of the Moon and agonized over why you couldn’t hear me or see me, why you didn’t arrive on Vhagar to save me, but you never came, and so I tried to forget the promises we made to each other because I believed you’d forgotten me—”

“I never forgot you.”

“But I was different!” you sob, bolting to your feet, pressing a palm to the glow of the Painted Table. “With Jace, I was different! I learned to be his wife, I learned to be a mother, and I was fine there, I was safe and I was happy and you destroyed my life!”

“I could feel that you were in pain,” Aemond is saying as he stands and rounds the table to meet you. “It was months ago, it must have been when you…when you were in labor…physically, I could feel it, I thought they were torturing you, I thought you were dying, and how would I know anything else if all I’d been told was that you were stolen by the enemy? You think Daemon is above depravity? You think it’s so unreasonable that I believed you to be in peril?!”

“You were reckless and cruel,” you seethe, shoving him away. “You always are. You’re always killing people.”

“When I flew over Heart’s Home, I knew you were in the forest. I saw the trees through your eyes. I thought I was freeing you, I never anticipated that you would return to the castle. I didn’t know you cared for the lives of anyone inside.”

“You should have left me there,” you choke out through tears.

Aemond tries to take your hands, and again you strike him hard, meaning it, hating him. “I would never have abandoned you,” he says.

“Why not?!” you scream at him. “Because you believe you possess me like a sword or a jewel, because it is sacrilege to let another man touch me?!”

Aemond is shaking his head. “It’s more than that. You know it is.”

You scoff at him, vengeful cynical disbelief. “In eighteen years, you never once told me you loved me—”

He seizes your wrist, drags you to him, cradles your face with his left hand and skates his thumbprint over the crest of your cheekbone. “I have loved you forever,” he says. “And if I didn’t express that in a way you understood then it was my mistake, and I’m sorry, and I’d do anything to change it. I thought you knew. I thought we both knew that…that…” Aemond’s lone eye gleams desperately; he is pleading for you to hear him. “Do you have any idea what this past year has been like for me? It was hell. Aegon almost died at Rook’s Rest and I brought him back but I was alone, I had Criston and maesters and soldiers but I was still alone because Aegon was unconscious and you weren’t there, and neither were Helaena or Daeron. Then King’s Landing fell to Rhaenyra and there was nothing I could do about it until I was sure Aegon would live, and when I learned you’d been taken away…I set the realm ablaze, I waded through an ocean of blood, and I did it because I swore that I would find you and bring you home. And now I have but you…you…you don’t even recognize me. It’s like you don’t remember what we were. Only I carry it now, I’m cursed by it, I’m consumed by it.”

You break away from him and Aemond lets you go, but he follows you around the Painted Table, shadowing you, chasing you. You pitch at him: “You were always so rough with me.”

“Because you wanted it that way and I did too, we craved it, we needed it, we’re the same.”

“You liked that I didn’t have a dragon of my own, you aspired for me to be helpless—”

“No I didn’t,” Aemond insists. “I tried to help you claim Vermithor, right here on this fucking island I risked my life when we were children to pursue him with you. And he did not yield but I wasn’t to blame for it. I cannot give you a dragon. You have to bond with one yourself.”

You glower at him, swiping tears from your streaming eyes. “You hardly ever spoke of dragons to me.”

“Because I knew it pained you! Because I have felt the agony of being a Targaryen without a dragon and I didn’t want to remind you of it!”

“You should have left me with Jace at Heart’s Home,” you moan, collapsing into a chair and weeping into your open palms. “I would still have my son. I would still have my family.”

Across the table, Aemond slams his fists against the wood. “Jace could never fathom who you really are. It’s impossible. He wasn’t like us, he’s wasn’t one of us. We are Aegon and Visenya, we are Baelon and Alyssa. Jace wasn’t a Valyrian. He was a Strong, and part of you would have needed to die to live with him.”

You stare desolately down at the Painted Table, glowing golden lines in the shape of the Vale. “Jace hated that I loved you. You hate that I loved him. I’m always at fault, and yet my crimes are so harmless.”

Aemond is staggered; he is heartbroken. “You loved him?”

I told him I did. “I felt something for him. I grew to miss him in his absence. I desired him when he returned.”

Aemond goes to the hearth, rests one hand on the stone mantle, and gazes into the flames. You can feel it like an echo, like a reverberating tremor in the earth: he is broken. You cannot summon compassion for him. Each time you begin to, you feel the still lifeless weight of Luca in your arms. After a long time, Aemond speaks. “I have to return to the Riverlands. I can’t leave Criston unprotected. Daemon and the Northmen will meet our armies in battle soon. Vhagar and I have to be there. If I can kill Caraxes, I think this will be over.”

You turn to him, dimly startled. “You’re going now?”

“I have to make the world safe for us and our family. Even if I’m not here anymore.” Aemond studies you, afraid to ask the question that burns in his throat. “Do you…” He breathes deeply, salt and misery and smoke from the fire. “Do you still want our side to win?”

“I hate what we’ve done to each other. All of us.” The dead innocents, the destruction of our house, the extinction of our dragons. “And you murdering Luke started it.”

“Yes,” Aemond agrees softly. He crosses the room and stalls in the doorway, looking back at you. He waits for you to say that you will miss him, or that if he returns there might yet be a future for the two of you, or that you will be distraught if he is killed in combat, or that you love him.

As the fire pops and crackles, you shrink into your wet black mourning clothes and say nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sprawled across the volcanic-rock throne in the nightscape gloom of the Great Hall of Dragonstone, Aegon gulps cider until his pain vanishes and his mind is a dull sloshing sea. You are slumped on the steps beside the throne and drinking with him. Neither of you speak it aloud, but it stands in the room like a ghost: you have both held a dead son in your arms, you have both lost a husband or a wife to this war. Torches burn along the walls. Outside, rain pours and the dragons creep and snarl. Sunfyre is here too, Aegon has told you. He can’t fly yet—perhaps he never will again—but he is alive and hostilely defends the cave where he dwells from the other creatures of the island: Grey Ghost, Vermithor, the Cannibal.

The Blacks believe Dragonstone to be abandoned, and in any event they are too preoccupied with their myriad of troubles in the Riverlands and King’s Landing to take it upon themselves to investigate, and so you are safe for the time being. You get drunk in the home of your ancestors, the Valyrians who carved out a stark, grim existence here, who dreamed of greatness, who despite all their magic failed to foretell their ruin.

“Do you know what he asked Sylvi?” Aegon slurs. “The woman from the brothel. Not the very first time, the first time…” Aegon smiles nostalgically. “Well, it’s like your first time riding a dragon. It takes you away and you’re just…” His hand flows in the shape of a wave. “Holding on. Mesmerized by it.”

“Sure,” you say, remembering not your wedding night with Jace but the evening when Aemond dragged you halfway out of the chair by your vanity and licked you, swallowed you, devoured you until you could not help but cry out, and you sank to the floor with your heartbeat thudding in your ears and Aemond lying beside you, smoothing back your hair from your burning face.

“Aemond only went to Sylvi a few more times after that. But she told me what his requests were when I inquired.” Aegon looks at you meaningfully. “He wanted to know how to make it good for a maiden. And who do you imagine he was thinking of?”

You don’t reply. You guzzle your cider instead. You want all of your bones to stop aching: your ribs, your skull, every place that Aemond ever touched you. You feel a strange smoldering inside, like all your bone marrow has been quarried and replaced with embers, pulsing, glowing. You feel something dangerous and primordial drawing closer.

“He never would have hurt you intentionally,” Aegon says gently, clumsily petting your loose silver hair as if you are one of the hundred cats Grandsire brought to the Red Keep after Jaehaerys was slain. “He worships you. He always has.”

“I can’t forget what he did.”

“Can you forgive yourself for letting him leave that way? If he dies thinking that you hate him?”

You swallow a mouthful of cider, hot and intoxicating. The room spins. Lightning flashes outside. “Maybe I do.”

“No, you don’t hate him,” Aegon says rather wistfully, with the solemn surety of drunks.

Alys Rivers wanders into the Great Hall, the train of her dark green gown whispering over the stone floor. Aegon scowls at her. She stops at one of the misted glass windows and gazes out into the storm.

“He flies to his death,” Alys murmurs sorrowfully, as if she wishes she could change it.

Aegon groans. “Shut up, witch.”

“Above the Gods Eye, the red and the blue, tangled threads cut by fate—”

“Be gone!” Aegon shouts and hurls his goblet of cider at her. It misses, strikes the wall, clatters to the floor and spills its contents in a puddle. Alys does not seem to notice. You sit upright on the steps by Aegon’s throne, watching her.

“He flies to his death,” she repeats, melodically like a chant or a spell. “Unless, unless…”

Alys looks at you, then turns to peer through the window again. Outside in the darkness, a monstrous beast growls, not Sunfyre or Grey Ghost or Vermithor.

[lokis-army-77]

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist  Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 

“You wound me, Sugar.  Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

[howisthepope]

I’m sorry, someone sold the papacy?? Was it a pope? Or someone near to the pope or??? (Catholic history is FASCINATING)

Oh yes it was the Pope!

Imagine this, the year is 1032... you've already had 5 popes in the family including the last two, who were your uncles. You're 20 years old and your dad bribes some guys so you get elected.

Great. You're now a 20 year old pope. You used to be named Theophylactus of Tusculum but now you're Pope Benedict IX.

People were not happy with him. Ferdinand Gregorovius wrote: It seemed as if a demon from hell, in the disguise of a priest, occupied the chair of Peter and profaned the sacred mysteries of religion by his insolent courses.

Colourful. Apparently he raped, murdered and did 'other unspeakable acts of violence and sodomy'. There was political unrest so we need to take these accusations with a grain of salt but it's clear that they were not happy with him.

So he was removed from Rome in 1036. 24 years old. Thankfully the Emperor (Conrad II) brought him back.

Rumours get worse. Worse you said? Yes. By 1044 they've added accusations of bestiality and sponsoring orgies. He is removed from Rome once again and Sylvester III becomes Pope

He comes back in 1045. He expells his rival and resumes being pope. Buuut then he changes his mind because it's kind of tough to keep his position and he wants to marry his cousin. So, a month after he returned (a month!) he fucking resigns.

So he consults with his godfther the 'pious' priest John Gratian about resigning and says he can be pope buuut I am going to need to be reimbursed for my expenses. By John Gratian paying him, Benedict effectively sells the papacy. John Gratian becomes Pope Gregory VI

You think that would be the end of it, right? Wrong!

He changes his mind again and comes back, taking the throne but Gregory VI is still considered the true pope and Sylvester III also still claims he is pope. That's 3 popes!!!

In December of 1046, they asked the Emperor Henry III to cross the Alps to come deal with this mess. Henry deposed of Benedict IX and Sylvester III and then told Gregory VI to resign because he bought the papacy and that's not quite right. No popes! So they choose this German guy Clement II. Unproblematic, wants to reform.

Good, right? No! Clement II dies in October 1047, less than a year after he became pope. Well... Benedict thought what a good opportunity to become pope AGAIN. I've certainly lost count.

He was removed by the Germans in July 1048. They elected Damasus II as pope, who died in August of the same year but Benedict did not make another return. Leo IX became pope.

Benedict was excommunicated in 1049. We don't know much about his further life but it is said he felt remorse. He was buried in 1056.

[outoftheseine]

- SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY FIC RECS -

a lot of dad!simon fics here. i am not sorry. i want to bear this man's child(ren) | note: this is COD so there are some trigger warnings like: blood, guns, injuries, military stuff, death so please beware of them. there also also 18+ content so minors DNI. don't forget to read the authors' warnings | more will be added!

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

haunted | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (heavy angst, tw: depression, drugs, addiction suicide, toxic relationship, please read the warnings!)

too old for you | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x medic!fem!reader

↳ by @lunarw0rks (smut, hurt/comfort, age-gap)

soft spot • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @cordeliawhohung

the red means, i love you • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader x john 'soap' mactavish

↳ by @thewriterg

smashing pumpkins • simon 'ghost' riley x civilian!fem!reader

↳ by @qwimchii

last kiss | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @milf-murdock (angst, unestablished relationship, smut, fluff)

secret lovers | part 2 • husband!simon 'ghost' riley x wife!reader

↳ by @savemefromanepicoftimewasted

my baby swingin' • biker!simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @tojisun (very sexy biker!simon, smut, fluff)

happiness • simon 'ghost' riley x wife!fem!reader

↳ by @lethalchiralium (i feel so fuzzy when i read this series, fluff, sometimes angst, some tw be aware)

i'm with you | keep you close • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @undercoverpena (angst, feelings, explicit)

being yelled at by ghost | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @hxltic (angst! simon is an asshole)

northern attitude | part 2 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @bubbles-for-all-of-us (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst)

lights on • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @peachesofteal (single mom!reader, fluff, slight angst, protective!simon)

one night stand | part 2 | part 3 • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @cmncisspnandmore

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC'S

break in, break down • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @hyperactively-me (home invasion, comfort, fluff)

his girls • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @babygirl-riley (so so so fluffy, dad!simon)

one fucking mistake • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @codfanficedits (very angsty, hurt but no comfort for a whilez grieving, tw:depression)

book boyfriend • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @stargirlrchive (fluff)

lime-sized • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @imperihoe-writes (pregnant!reader, very fluffy)

bloodied bullets, soft confessions • simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

↳ by @ghosts-cyphera (a little mean!simon, hurt/comfort, injuries, fluffy end)

monster • neighbor!simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader

↳ by @rowarn (smut, protective!simon, zombie au)

unmasked love • simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader

↳ by @springtyme (so so so cute! dad!simon)

adoration • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @yawnderu (dad!simon, fluff)

simon 'ghost' riley x sensitive!gn!reader

↳ by @cherryredstars (fluff and nswf content)

this chapter is over • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @colonelarr0w (character death, angst, injuries, some fluff)

simon says • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @unreliablesnake (smut)

salt in an old wound • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!oc!reader

↳ by @ghouljams (hurt/comfort, explicit content, fae au)

blood on my shirt, rose in my hand • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @alwaysshallow (friends to lovers, the continuation is on ao3!)

antique soldiers • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @mangowafflesss

why? • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @riverbutghost (asshole!simon, injuries, slightly explicit at the end)

cold but warm • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @riverbutghost (asshole!simon, injuries, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff)

pretty pink flowers and bloody cherry blossom tree • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @underscorewriting (really really angsty, ugly cried)

for the last time • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @wttcsms (pregnant!reader, mentions of death, angst but fluff)

welcome home • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @nastybuckybarnes (home invasion, arguing, fluff)

medical leave • simon 'ghost' riley x gn!reader

↳ by @kib-ble (mentions of injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff)

no more stars left to count • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @lvlyghost (angst, hurt/comfort)

protective • simon 'ghost' riley x reader

↳ by @ponyosmom35 (medic!reader, protective!simon, tw: sexual harassement)

return • simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

↳ by @bruhrobs (fluff, colleagues to lovers, single mom!reader)

[sir3nsfi1m]

01 / A WHOLE LOT COLDER

“THE ANTICIPATED ARRIVAL OF THE NATION’S TOP RECRUIT SPARKS FIRE THROUGHOUT CONNECTICUT, WE’RE LOOKING OUT FOR YOU, ALESSA!”

btf masterlist

She knows she should be happy. Ecstatic. Over the moon. Whatever other phrase you could use to describe excitement. But for some reason, Alessa just couldn’t find it in her.

She knows why. Of course she does. She just doesn’t want to admit it. Why would she? Who wants to admit that the very place she was dreaming of, the school she fantasized about and prayed for almost every night would be the school she dreaded to ever even step foot on. All because of one girl. A face that haunts her.

UConn isn’t terrible, that’s what she tells herself. She finds the good through the bad. The roster of incredibly talented players she’s going to have the pleasure shooting with. The WNBA superstars born through the program. The infamous coach she’s heard so many stories about.

“I don’t know, baby,” her mother’s soothing voice echoes through her ears from the edge of her bed. Alessa busied herself with her luggage, stuffing pair after pair of clothes into her suitcase, purposely missing that worn out hoodie still emitting that nose-tingling smell. “Are you sure about this?”

Alessa can’t be angry at her mom. She had good intentions. She was just opening a fresh wound and practically pouring the salt by hand.

The girl sighed, standing up and feeling her bones ache from the stress of packing. It was never her forte. “Yes, I’m sure.” Her voice held hesitance, a hint of frustration, something she didn’t want to unpack.

Her mother frowns, picking at the edge of her daughter’s silk bedsheets. “You just seemed so hellbent on USC, for years, baby. This is just so sudden.”

Alessa knows this is sudden. Everyone knows this is sudden. She just doesn’t want to talk about it. She doesn’t want to disclose exactly why her dream school was now her enemy.

“You and Ju—”

Alessa flinched, “Momma, please.”

Her mom exhaled, pursing her lips. Alessa stared at the floor as she let her hands rest on her hips, the silence cutting through her soul like a sharp dagger. “I’m sorry, baby.” Her mom finally stood from her position on the bed and walked over to her daughter, bringing her into a hug that Alessa couldn’t help but melt into.

Her mother’s voice whispered in her ear, reminding her of those restless nights when all the stress took control of her emotions and had her focusing on nothing other than all of those missed shots, those failed layups, the way her mom would just lay there with her and whisper sweet nothings, all the right things. “I believe in you, love. You’ve got this, no matter what you end up doing. Go out there and show them what you’ve got and don’t you dare let anyone tell you what you can’t be, got it?”

Alessa lets herself feel, for just a moment. Let’s her sorrows drown in her mother’s arms just one more time before she took on her new life and created a new name for herself.

All Alessa knew was basketball, really.

The passion, the energy, the love.

Juju Watkins was not going to mess that up for her.

Connecticut is cold.

That’s the first thing Alessa could think of as she stepped off of her plane. The weather slapping her in the face as she squints to take in the new scenery, halfway across the globe.

She hated being so pessimistic, but Alessa was expecting to enjoy her warm-filled nights alone, walking the streets of her campus without a worry in the world. Instead, she was regretting the decision of only wearing one jacket, her thin grey one that barely covered any of her skin.

The uber to campus was filled with the soft noise of whatever remixed hip-hop song was currently trending on the radio mixed with the internal fight Alessa was having with herself.

Her mind felt overwhelmed, thought after thought popping up as if she was a Google browser and those stupid pop-up ads wouldn’t stop invading her screen. Thoughts of regret. Thoughts of the tiniest shred of guilt. Thoughts of anger.

She couldn’t fully comprehend or even begin to try and understand those thoughts. For now, she just needed to settle into what is going to become the next stage of her life. Without her.

UConn is pretty. Alessa will admit it. A quiet, peaceful campus with a couple students here and there buzzing about the latest news, setting up night outing to the local bars, gossiping about the athletic propaganda.

Her headphones blasted Daniel Caesar as a way to ground herself as she walked through the campus, taking in the scenery, breathing in the cold air. Alessa couldn’t help but feel strange, like something was missing. She forced herself to push those feelings away and focus on the present, something she’s been trying to teach herself for the past year.

Once she finally reached the dorms, the place she’s going to be staying for the next 4 years, her heart starts to race. She knows it’s wrong. She knows she shouldn’t be here. She knows she made the wrong decision, but she’s here, and now she’s gotta stick with it.

Settling into the dorms was the hardest part. Despite the warm welcoming from her roommate, the infamously loud KK Arnold, Alessa felt alone as she unzipped her previously neatly packed suitcase and started to fill the empty dresser. She felt a strange sensation take over her body as she lifted that Sierra Canyon hoodie out of her bag and just held it in her hands, running her fingers over the soft fabric, every memory replaying in her mind like a movie screen.

Eventually, she decided to stop staring at the worn piece of clothing and painfully slowly pull it over her head, breathing in the familiar scent of the girl that invades her mind and senses. The sleeves fell down a little farther than her fingertips, like a warm hug.

It was probably depressing, seeing Alessa sitting there with her eyes fogged over in a hoodie a size too big for her, just reminiscing in what used to be. But if KK was thinking anything, she wouldn’t admit it. Alessa was thankful for that, especially knowing the reputation that the girl has for saying whatever is on her mind.

“So, I know you just had like the longest flight of your life but the team was gonna have a night-in down at Paige’s dorm if you wanted to come?” KK was concerningly soft, too soft for Alessa’s liking. Cute. But too concerned. Out of character.

Alessa swallowed, shaking her head softly with a guilty smile resting on her lips. “No, no, I’m okay. I’ll meet everyone at practice tomorrow. Don’t wanna… pass out on everyone, right?” The awkward half-laugh she let out didn’t prove anything more than the obvious internal battle she was struggling with. Alessa knew she probably should have taken KK’s offer instead of spending her first night in Connecticut rotting away in her bed, but she didn’t want to chance anything. She had just had the longest flight of her life, after all.

KK slowly nodded her head and pursed her lips with a smile. “Yeah, yeah.” She laughed under her breath. “Well, don’t let yourself be a stranger, girlie pop.” Alessa couldn’t help but laugh softly as KK had don’t a full 360 on her emotions and practically skipped out the door, leaving her to her own devices.

Alessa sighed deeply as she took in her surroundings. KK’s side of the room, basically screaming with her personality. Completely opposite from the blank white walls that blink at you from the other side of the room. Picture after picture of her with the team, pictures of her with her family. A half-empty tru-fru bag sitting on her bed.

Alessa knew she didn’t have enough energy to explore any of the outside world, especially not when the soft bedsheets of her defaulted bed sat right under her. Especially not when the warm wool sweater sitting on her shoulders practically pushed her back.

So, she resorted to scrolling through social media until she would, at some point, become too bored to do anything and just stare at the popcorn ceiling in silence until she would eventually pass out.

Some of her friends texted her, asking how Connecticut was, if she had met the Paige Bueckers, if she could slide them her number. Some people dm’d her through instagram and complained about her choice, how she only picked UConn because it was popular. Her mother had wished her a safe journey to college, and praised her with words of encouragement that Alessa was grateful for.

Instagram captions with corny photos, people wishing her farewell, a couple distant family members asking how she was.

But one notification she had missed hit her like a bus. Her heart had stopped like it always did when she saw that name, that contact she regretted not blocking. 

• Unknown:

los angeles a lot colder without you.

[translatingpostsintoitalian]

What free or paid apps would you recommend to learning Italian?

Disclaimer: the following are just general app recommendations, they're not specific to Italian because I have never had to learn Italian (bc I'm native) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So take them with a grain of salt

First and foremost. My most beloved, the light of my life, the apple of my eye, the diamond in the rough, the one and only, the I've run out of flattering phrases... WordReference. No ads, completely free, extremely high quality content, lists all meanings of a word with at least one example for each meaning, also has phrases, AND has a forum.

I really liked using the free version of Clozemaster a couple years back (IM PRAYING that it stood the same and that they didn't add 728237 AI features. PRAYING). I *think* it was ad-free. I fell in love with the learning method and the UI stripped down to its bare essentials. It had no extra stuff that distracts you, no gems, no streaks that I recall, nothing of the sort. Just vocabulary, vocabulary, vocabulary. I think it's worth it to pay for the VIP version, but *only* when it's 90% (IIRC) discounted which happens for sure on Black Friday, and maybe some other times of the year; otherwise I find it expensive. Or you could just get the cracked APK for free hehehe

The biggest disadvantage for me was that in the free version you couldn't skip to a certain knowledge level, you could only start from the basics. For me it ended up being tiresome because my level was already intermediate and I really didn't want to "learn" basic words again. But if you're a beginner then it sounds good to me.

As I said, it's only for vocabulary, not for grammar or pronunciation. Italian grammar is very complex and I'm not sure if there exists an app that tackles grammar out there. Maybe one of the people reading this can help me on this one!

Polygloss is a nifty little app that I would recommend as halfway between beginner and intermediate. Basically you match with a totally random person, and you take turns doing a little game. The game is: you pick a stylized picture, describe it (with as little or as many words as you want, though you're encouraged to use many). Then the opponent sees 4 pictures and your description, and must guess which picture you were talking about. That's it. That's the whole app. But it's very fun and the comment/correct function is very fun to use. You can correct a sentence the opponent has said, and/or you can give them a little award for being creative, funny, and stuff.

Beelinguapp is one step higher in that it presents you with full texts. The main thing about Beelinguapp is all the texts are bilingual, so in two languages. So you're being shown the same text in Italian and English (I don't know if there are other options for the "home" language other than English), and also the texts are read aloud and the sentences light up as the speaker reads them (so you're practicing listening as well as reading!!!). You can stop the speaker at any time and, in the paid (or *cough cough* cracked) version, quickly highlight and annotate a new word that you don't know, before resuming. I find it terrific.

Tandem is a great app in general, it's basically a chatting app but tailored to match people who are learning each other's native language. I didn't like the pressure it gave me though, and I wouldn't recommend it to girls and femmes because some people treat it as a dating app... Ugh. But it's still fun and worth trying in my opinion.

Sorry for getting so verbose lol

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 14

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 14 - Hold Space

Tags: Swearing, panic attack, drinking, mentions of past sexual abuse and alcoholic parent. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 7.2k

AO3

The team landed back in D.C. early Sunday night and you all scattered back to the comforts of your own homes. It was an exhausting time in New Mexico, but the team was thankful for a positive outcome before the unsub, Gabriel Arellano, targeted another victim. Of course, JJ, Lewis, and Alvez were not tired enough to interrogate you all about chasing the unsub down for an arrest. They were riveted to your animated tale with Rossi chiming in about how he was quite alive and healthy despite Garcia’s concerns. Prentiss occasionally added in details when appropriate and without the chip on her shoulder she’s been carrying around for over a week. No one is entirely sure how things were patched up between the two of you, only Rossi sharing with the others that the talk you and Prentiss had at the crime scene went well.

No one knows just how well and the two of you are planning on keeping it that way. You both have people that care about you a lot that have pushed you in this direction, but taking this next step together would remain between the two of you until you were both comfortable informing the team, your brothers and sister, and Brian. Most importantly, you both wanted to see how this went without extra drama. The two of you were perfectly capable of doing that together without any help.

For now, Sunday night was enjoying a bottle of Stella as you pulled out ingredients to make dinner grabbing, salt, pepper, oil, butter, and some thyme to go with the steak you picked up at the Safeway Grocery store that was within walking distance. Once Prentiss approved of you being out in the field, you learned quickly to keep essentials at home and fill in perishable items as needed or pack them in the freezer.

Everything was neatly lined up on the counter with the ribeye resting in the package while you were trimming the green beans with the chef’s knife. You set it aside to use your hand to sweep the ends into the other when a chime went off on your phone.

You dump the remains into the compost bin, wash your hands and dry them off with the kitchen towel you throw over your shoulder and see who it is.

Overlord sent 2034: You free Friday night after work?

You laugh, realizing you’re going to have to change Emily’s name again. For now, you keep it because it’s too funny to see her name like this.

Whitlock sent 2036: I guess it depends if the bad guys do not make plans for me?

Whitlock sent 2036: And if my boss isn’t going to be a bitch again.

Whitlock sent 2036: 😉

Overlord sent 2036: I said I was sorry!

Overlord sent 2039: Oh. You were joking.

Whitlock sent 2041: I suppose my brilliance does not translate well over text for you yet. Your profiling skills are limited now. Oh darn. 🤔

Overlord sent 2042: You’re a lot more confident over text then you were in NM. Memory serves, you could barely look at me.

“Ugh,” you half groan and laugh at that before leaning against the counter. She had you there. Text was easier to be silly and flirty since you didn’t have to stare into intense brown orbs that radiate confidence that actually made you feel giddy - not pretend play with a mark who looked similarly at you.

That made you look up curiously at admitting that to yourself.

You didn’t have to pretend.

You acknowledge Prentiss was attractive early on with her natural silver-grey hair and facial lines that held emotional history as much as linear. She cut a gorgeous figure in her work clothes and she’s a handful of people that weren’t placating you that she understood where you were coming from. Because she did, to an extent, and would know where to end it and be empathetic. It was naturally easy for you to be open with her because she was a CIA spy, your current role until you joined the BAU. The gritty reality of what that means instead of the glorified action and adventure movies and shows make it out to be, or even the ones that try to emulate the truth still never nail it down. You really have to be staring at life and death at all times while being in character or you’re dead. All of characters you play at forces you to kill a part of yourself and hide it.

But there were also the parts that weren’t so grim that made you adore her. You always loved how Emily’s face lit up when she laughed and how her nose scrunched when she was cheeky. Or how she licks her lips in thought, a seemingly subconscious habit that didn’t have a pattern that you noticed. And yes, you tried figuring it out. You only surmised it wasn’t due to dry lips because Emily’s lips never looked that way. And yes, you looked at her lips a lot and wondered what it would feel like to kiss them.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a chime, and you look down at your phone.

Overlord sent 2048: Did I scare you off already? 😉

You brightly grin reading that. This was the Emily that you slowly allowed into your life and its numerous secrets that you barely scratched the surface with her. Your mind starts wandering down a scary road of what ifs again, but you swallow down your fears for now. You can worry about logistics after figuring out if you and Emily actually worked.

Whitlock sent 2050: Nope.

Overlord sent 2050: All I get is a nope?

Whitlock sent 2051: Yep! Hah.

Overlord sent 2051: Ha ha. Then how about an answer to my question. You like avoiding them.

Whitlock sent 2054: Yes, I’m free Friday. Unless Brian calls me for something. Which is not likely.

Whitlock sent 2054: And this is a for real CIA call in and not made up before you say ANYTHING

Overlord sent 2055: Wouldn’t dream of it. See you tomorrow?

This baffles you because of course you’re seeing her tomorrow. Why would Emily say something so pedestrian?

Then you smack your forehead. “Fucking idiot,” you mutter to yourself. She was ending the communication politely because it was getting late.

Whitlock sent 2057: You know it. Now off to my date with a steak.

You look at your text and decide to add a little more, realizing you didn’t want to end the conversation so soon.

Whitlock sent 2058: What’s for dinner on your end?

And then your phone rings. It’s Overlord’s name staring back at you. You pick it up and answer perplexedly. “Uh … hi?”

“Hello to you, too. And to answer your questions.”

Your eyes narrow because you only had one question, not multiple to warrant a plural.

“Based on the menus currently on my table, Chinese or pizza. And I called because I felt it was not only quicker to talk this way, I wanted to hear your voice instead.”

If you could melt, you’d be a puddle on the floor with how sweet that is. “Maybe your profiling skills are better over text than I thought.”

“Hm. And why’s that?” she asks with her voice dropping an octave lower, making your shiver.

“Uh … cuz I kinda didn’t want our conversation to end just yet,” you admit with such ease that surprises you.

“Mm. Me too. I just wanted to be polite since it’s late after a long case.”

You can hear her smiling into the phone as her voice goes back to its usual cadence. And fuck it all, you’re smiling like a fool too knowing you both felt the same. “Yeah?”

That’s all you have to say because you are dumbstruck with her honesty. You hear her chuckle softly and say your name. “Yes.”

“Well, to be fair. You need to eat and take out’s gonna be at least an hour if you don’t get on that soon. I don’t want you starving.” You pull the phone back and put her on speaker to free up your hands to work on dinner. You grab the green beans you trimmed and bring them over to the sink where the strainer is waiting for them. You turn on the water and start rinsing. Normally you’d soak them overnight, but you weren’t waking your ass up that early to cook. “You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“What’re you doing?” she asks and then a sense of concern bubbles forth that you can’t control.

“Wait. Are you at the office?” you say, partly accusing.

“No. I’m actually home.”

“I’m glad to hear that despite Armageddon coming.”

“Funny.” Her tone is sarcastic and amused. “But what’re you doing? I hear the water going.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve deduced you’re on speaker.”

“Indeed.”

“Kinda need both hands to cook.”

“Wait. You’re cooking?” she can’t hide her shock, and it makes you frown.

“Why is that so surprising?” you ask, taking the green beans from the strainer to the pan waiting for them. It wasn’t hot yet, unlike the steak pan that you wanted smoking hot.

“Well, I suppose it isn’t. I just didn’t know you can cook.”

You hum thoughtfully and take the ribeye out of the wrappings and place it on the cutting board to trim. It was a lot for one person, but you were making a few meals out of this for work, too. “We don’t know a lot about each other yet so everything's going to be new, and maybe a surprise because of preconceived notions. For instance, can you cook?”

She laughs. “A little ... well, no. Not really. I know some basics and a couple of dishes Dave’s taught me. But left to my own devices? I’ll just burn everything.”

You chuckle. “And now I know why you live on takeout.”

“Unfortunately.” She pauses there as you set aside your knife once satisfied with how the steak looks. You then season with salt and pepper and flip the steak over with a soft thunk to generously prepare the other side, too. The silence was quite comfortable, and you imagine that Emily was picturing what you were doing based on sounds alone.

“Well, maybe if things go well, I can not only feed you properly, but I can also teach you how to cook,” you say offhandedly.

“Or you could feed me properly now.”

Emily boldness stops you in mid salting. “Uh …”

You can hear how smug she is at making you lose your words. “It’s merely a suggestion, honey.”

Now your eyes widen with the pet name that had only been used playfully as co-workers. This was definitely an escalation of its use here as Emily’s voice held a soft purr at the end of the word. Would this be a good idea right now to entertain Emily at your apartment, or should you both wait for a proper date? Though was anything about your life proper? That is a resounding no. Your life became a fucked up story since your dad first put his hands on you and your mother ignored it all with booze.

Fuck it. You return back to seasoning the steak and go digging for more information. “And why are you offering said suggestion besides you being hungry.”

“Truthfully?”

“The only kind I like right now when it comes to us,” you declare with raw honesty.

“Well, we can wait until Friday if you’re more comfortable with that, but I’d like to try and spend more quality time with you to make up for all the bullshit that I put you through this past week. I can’t change what I did, but if you’re open for it, I’d just really like to see you again that isn’t involving work.”

Warmth spreads through your heart and you can’t stop your mouth from answering positively. “Then come over.”

You surmise it takes Emily by surprise how quickly you agree as she has to take a few seconds to respond. Her voice is tentative. “Are you sure?”

You lean over the counter and nod to yourself, physically making sure you truly are okay with this. “I am. I’ve got enough food for two, and then some. Just won’t have as much leftovers for work now, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for you.”

She chuckles. “Only if you’re sure …”

You smile. “I am.”

“Then I’ll be over shortly. Say twenty minutes?”

You open your eyes and remember how close Emily lives to you. “Uh …” You wince, utterly annoyed that this woman can render you stupid with an inability to speak properly.

“Is that too soon?” she asks cautiously. Perhaps Emily was reconsidering based on your reaction.

“No!” You slam your eyes shut with how desperate you sound. “I mean. That’s fine. Dinner should be ready then.”

“Are you sure this okay with you? If it isn’t, I’m fine with delaying this until the weekend.”

Emily is very thoughtful and the affection that you have for her overtakes the nervousness you feel. “Yes, it is. Really. Just, can we … uh … just, ya know? Keep this chill? Don’t go crazy with it being a date. Though I guess it kinda is. I mean, maybe a … pre-date.”

What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

“I’ll come as is.”

Thankfully Emily doesn’t think anything is wrong with you. “Well, don’t come barefoot. You need shoes or something.”

She chuckles. “See you soon.”

After you hang up with Emily, you focus on making dinner. You’ve done this dish countless times, but this is the first time making it for someone you want to impress, not needing to. You cover the beans and set it to simmer and put the steak in the over to finish off before setting the table. You keep it simple and set it like you would eat but for two with the added salt and pepper shakers in case Emily needs them. You do opt for wine glasses and wait for her to arrive so she can pick out what you have on hand, which is limited since you weren’t the big wine drinker like Emily.

And then you realize you should have asked Emily to bring a bottle she liked. “Dumbass,” you mutter, while staring down at the square table set for two just as there was a knock at the door.

Your head snaps up in that direction and you close your eyes to take a deep breath. When you open your eyes, you take one last look at yourself, still wearing your CIA shirt, black sweats and bare feet. You wiggle your toes nervously and consider putting on socks, but you asked Emily to come casual and you should, too.

Walking to the door, you’re telling yourself not to be nervous and when you confirm through the peephole that it’s Emily, that plan goes out the window. She completed the assignment as coming as is and ended up way over dressed than you since she was still in her work clothes. They were wrinkled from wear, so there’s that, and she had her hair pulled back in a messy bun with a few strands left flowing around her face. You smile and laugh wordlessly seeing that she wore a pair of sneakers and carries a bottle of wine.

Knowing you can work with this; your nerves calm some as you open the door. “Right on time,” you announce with a smile that she immediately matches.

Her eyes absorb every detail of yours and you feel naked under her penetrating gaze. With a small purse of her lips, she holds up a bottle of cabernet. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I was feeling really dumb for not telling you to bring something,” you admit while stepping aside. “Come on in.” When you close the door, you point to the kitchen counter. “You can put it there.”

“It smells amazing in here,” Emily says while scanning the kitchen for the source of the delicious smells. She does see a covered pan on the stove and a breadbasket next to the bottle she set down. She could feel the warmth coming from the sliced-up baguette and smiles at the added touch.

“Let me get your coat.” You approach Emily from behind and take the long black coat by the collar as she adjusts her arms to assist you.

“Thanks.” She tucks her hands into pants pockets and watches you hang up her coat in the hallway closet. You’re hiding it well, but she can tell you’re nervous by how thoughtfully precise you were in smoothing out her coat and making extra space for it when you hung it up. You purposefully left gaps on either side of it so nothing would touch it.

“Want me to pour the wine?” She’s hoping the light conversation will make this more familiar and comfortable.

“Uh, sure. Corkscrew’s in the drawer on the right next to the sink.”

She works taking off the foil as you come padding back into the kitchen like you owned it. Your moves were comfortable, dare say adept, at opening the oven and taking out the pan that was heating in there with a plain oven mitt. She couldn’t help an adoring smile that graces her lips as you kick the oven close with a bare foot.

You’re ignorant of Emily’s gaze but hear her rummaging through the drawer for the corkscrew as you test the steak. You nod, liking the feel for a medium rare, toss the kitchen towel over your shoulder and let it rest. Your focus was putting the green beans in a serving bowl you have never used but this is the first time entertaining someone at this location.

When you turn around, Emily’s pouring the wine, and you take that moment for a silent breath. You grab the breadbasket along the way to the table. You didn’t get a good look at the bottle, but it looks fancy. “What did you bring?”

“A Chateau Palmer Bordeaux.” She rattles it off so casually like the bottle doesn’t go for several hundred dollars.

“There was a memo about keeping this chill.”

“And why isn’t this chill?” There is confusion in her voice as Emily sets the bottle down. “This goes well with steak.”

Your fingers rub at your forehead, eyes squinting in bewilderment. “Because that company only makes bottles that are the cheapest at a hundred bucks.”

Her eyebrows raise with puzzlement. “And?”

“That’s way too much on a chill dinner …” You bring your hand down and gesture wildly at the space between the two of you. “…thing. This dinner thing we’re having.”

With a silent oh, she approaches you and takes your hands in hers. Her thumbs press firmly against the top of your hands and start to rub circles once you don’t back away from the closeness. “I wanted to bring it. Consider it a gift since you’re gifting me with an actual home cooked meal.”

She tests the waters further and takes a step forward, causing your joined hands to rise upwards between the two of you. You bring your eyes up and gaze into serene ones. Emily’s posture was calm and inviting, her lips parting in a slight smile. There was nothing for you to fear and you feel your body lose some of its tension and squeeze her hands back. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Her voice is soft and gently wants to confirm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod and her eyes sparkle with affection.

“Good.” Emily takes it a step further and leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. Your body experiences warmth throughout from the gentle display that felt natural between the two of you. You feel the brush of her nose graze along your cheek for just a moment before she was back searching your eyes for any discomfort. Seeing none, she coyly drops her head towards the table. “Shall we eat then?”

You eagerly nod. “Yeah. Take a seat and I’ll be right there.”

The two of you share a smile and a lingering touch of fingers taking their time to unwind from one another so you could get back to the kitchen. With renewed purpose, you take the butter near the stove that you placed there to help soften it up and put it on the island counter so it wouldn’t start to melt. Then you focus on slicing the meat and grin proudly that the juices remain intact from resting. You slide the knife under the strips to plate and bring everything over to Emily, who was sitting and enjoying a sip of the wine.

Her eyes light up, impressed with your skills, and compliments. “Are you sure I’m not at a Michelin Star restaurant? This looks steak house quality.”

You blush as you put everything down on the table. “Thanks. I got bored a lot on assignments. And when I could,” you then take the seat across from Emily and shrug, “I learned how to cook.”

“A worthwhile skill to master.” She eagerly brings her hands up but then slowly curls them closed. “Ah …”

Her eyes are questioning, and you chuckle, making your nervously bouncing leg stop so you can gesture over the food. “Please!’

As Emily fills her plate, you follow soon after, until you have both forks and steak knives ready in hand. You wait on digging in as you want to see Emily’s response to your cooking firsthand and closely observe her cutting off a piece of steak and begin to bring it to her mouth.

You’re feeling confident and wanting to tease her, so you bring up your steak knife and point it at her with an impish grin and teasing eyes before she could get the morsel into her mouth. “You dare ask for steak sauce; I’m kicking you outta here.”

Her mouth clamps shut before nodding once quickly. “Noted.”

You observed one another – Emily noticing how your lips were trying to remain even, though the edges were twitching in anticipation, and you seeing how delighted she was by this with the softest hint of her eyes narrowing. And damn it, you couldn’t help slowly leaning over the table in time with her fork.

Her eyes widened with approval as the first taste of flavor hits her senses. “Oh my god” She blinks several times in awe while moaning appreciatively. “This is so fucking good.”

You are overwhelmingly happy by Emily’s response and your face lights up with a radiant smile. Did you ever feel genuinely happy like this in your life? You’re having trouble matching this emotion to anything else that was considered good in your experience but come up short. To add to the moment, Emily winks at you and adds. “Putting steak sauce on this would be an atrocity. So, I guess I can stay, huh?”

You look away and lightly rub your tongue behind your lower lip modestly. When you look up, Emily was still enjoying the first bite and cutting the next while looking at you coyly. “Yeah,” you chuckle. “I guess you can stay.”

The two of you share a warm smile and as you start cutting your steak, you begin to realize that this wasn’t so difficult. It was just like sharing a meal in Emily’s office, the two of you being playful and chatting it up as usual, minus the pretense that the two of you actually felt something more heightened than friendship.

You’re starving from a long flight and barely eaten anything besides jet food and an apple that you munched on while walking home from the store. With the gusto that Emily is attacking her plate, you figure she was equally as hungry. The first strips of steak and handful of beans disappeared without a word spoken and finally Emily considers you while sipping her wine. The hairs on the back of your neck rise with dread.

The time for small talk during a date has arrived.

In your panic, you remind yourself that this is just you and Emily talking. You’ve done this many a time before. Be cool.

Emily swirls the wine in her glass as she regards you. “Is it possible to revisit a question I once had but you couldn’t answer?”

“Uh, which one? You got quite a few of those,” you laugh, that simple act helping your body to relax against the chair with bread in hand.

You take a bite of it when Emily chuckles too. “Well, I was thinking since I’m sitting here with you now when few know where you are … if you can now tell me how you joined the CIA?” She asked her question quite thoughtfully by how slowly she asked it. This had been a source of contention between you and Emily wanted to avoid yet another misunderstanding.

“Hm.” Your brows furrow as you finish chewing your food. Can you? Should you? Will you even be able to verbalize all the shit you’ve been through without scaring her off?

Charlie said Emily wouldn’t be so easily frightened but there’s no way of knowing how she’d react. Not until you take that dive. Take that chance.

“Hm is more of an answer than I got last time,” Emily teases gently.

That makes you laugh. “True. It’s more logistics now. You do have some sense of clearance now. How much tho?”

Her brows raise up in wonder. “I’m not entirely sure. It was only on a verbal okay versus anything on paper.”

“Ah. Fair enough.” You sit up to angle your hand into your pocket to pull out your phone.

“What’re you doing?”

“Texting Brian.”

“… for?” She’s on alert and sets her glass down.

Whitlock sent 2147: Hey, how much clearance did you give Emily?

You place the phone down on the table face up. ”To see how much I can tell ya.”

“Oh, shit. That’s unnecessary, really.” She taps a fingernail on the side of the wine glass. “You’re under no obligation to share. I’m sure Korogoth’s got better things to do anyway.”

Your phone buzzes but you don’t look at it yet. You’re focusing on Emily. “You’ll see that Brian makes time for me or as soon as he can if he’s busy. But really, Emily?” You wait it out until she looks at you and you give her a promising smile with the next words you declare to her. “I also want to tell you.”

You hear her softly gasp as you pick up the phone to read Brian’s message.

Dad sent 2150: Oh, it’s Emily now?

You roll your eyes as you respond back, which piques Emily’s curiosity. “What did he say?’

Whitlock sent 2155: You going to answer the question or not?

“Nothing. Just being an ass,” you grunt in response.

She shakes her head, tongue in cheek. “Wow. Never thought I’d be around someone who casually calls the director of the CIA an ass.”

Your mischievous eyes catch mirthful brown ones. “Be around me long enough and you’ll be hearing a lot more colorful adjectives describing him.”

Emily throws her head back with laughter and it makes your heart sing with joy. Then you scowl at seeing the message from Brian.

Dad sent 2156: What’s her question.

Whitlock sent 2156: How I joined the CIA.

Emily silently studies your face as she sips. She can tell you are taking this very seriously with your focus being on the conversation you’re having with Korogoth.

Dad sent 2158: She doesn’t need to know.

Fuck, that’s the usual answer given but he won’t be expecting your next response.

Whitlock sent 2159: I want her to know.

You stare at the screen for a minute, but nothing comes. Your teeth clench together in disappointment at the lack of response and pick up your fork. Sensing the answer to her own question, Emily offers a sympathetic smile. “It’s alright. There’s other things we can talk about.”

But your phone goes off again and you use your left hand to get the message. Emily takes the moment to pick up a green bean by hand to nibble on.

Dad sent 2204: And now I know why she is Emily now. Go for it.

“Huh.” You can’t help but slip out your surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Emily tentatively asks while rolling another green bean in hand.

“Uh, yeah.”

Whitlock sent 2205: Thanks Brian. Really.

“Said I could talk to you about it.” You take a moment to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation. It’s one you haven’t had to speak of in a couple decades.

Dad sent 2205: Stop talking to me and go talk to her! I want no more communication from you until then!

“Oh my god!” You start giggling and without thinking, show Emily the last text from Brian. “I think he approves.”

“What?” She squints to read it and then blanches. “You … you didn’t tell him we were seeing each other, did you?”

“No!” You’re still laughing. “He figured it out just now.”

“And you have him in as dad?!” She can’t hide the astonishment from her voice as she points to the contact name.

Do you, or don’t you reveal another special name?

You nod, because you do, though Emily took the nod as a reaction to her own response at you calling the CIA director dad in your phone.

You waggle your brows. “Wanna see my favorite contact name?”

She shrewdly assesses your roguish grin and eyes that sparkle with a hidden agenda. “I’m gonna regret this aren’t I?”

You bring the phone back and close the text with Brian and bring up Emily’s details. “Maybe. But to be fair, I do need to update it again.”

Emily cants her head to the side with concern. “Again?”

“Yeah. I had to change it back to this,” you hold the phone up facing her once again and right there in bold letters shows the name Overlord Prentiss, “but you know, my boss was kinda being a dick to me.”

Emily humbles with soft, widening eyes, and a long face as she digests this information. “Um …” Her head dips forward as if she swallowed something bad and licks her lips. “… how long have you had this nickname for me?”

“After the first frosty encounter.”

“So, day one.”

“Yep.” You bring the phone back to edit her name. “After drinks at Buddy’s, I did change it.”

Emily opens her mouth with understanding. “Then the fight after Hayden happened.”

“Aye.” You show her the updated name with a smile. “Better?”

It now said Silver Fox.

Her eyes narrow with approval, a slight smirk starting to form as she catches your gaze and when she speaks, her voice drops lower and becomes slightly raspy. “Well, I certainly like that one better. A lot better …”

Your cheeks flush, cursing your body’s response, but soon you’re craning your neck to see why Prentiss was taking out her phone. She only offers a flirtatious smirk as she scrolls and types out something before presenting the screen to you.

Your name has become Hot Rod in her contacts, and you immediately laugh with delight. “Oh my god, I love it!”

And you truly do as the shyness that had overtaken you is replaced with that familiar affection that had been growing for some time. Your eyes soften and you start to reach over the table to take her hand without thinking but force it to stop as this was all new to you. Are you supposed to do this when you have true feelings for someone and not seducing someone to your will? What is normal in these situations?

Emily sees your hesitation and closes the distance with her free hand and immediately your fingers lace together. Her flirtatious demeanor has tempered into a shared moment of understanding that this was more than a casual dinner after all. It had become another apology from Emily and confirmation that the feelings you have burgeoning between the two of you are more than just physical.

Your heart races as you see Emily’s brown eyes grow intensely warm with soft brows arching upwards. You squeeze her hand, clinging to the moment and then your phone goes off again. You feel your eyes brimming with wetness from the emotions that were foreign to the chemical makeup inside your brain.

You force a swallow, and your mouth opens with an apology. “Sorry. I … uh, I need, to uh, need to get that.”

Emily holds onto your hand. “Can’t it wait?”

She was distracted by the intimacy that it didn’t register that the notification was from a different phone. You shake your head sadly. “It’s the burner phone.”

“Fucking Sicarius.” She hisses and reluctantly releases your hand before smoothing out her features in order to focus.

You rise with purpose and are all business as you approach the living room table to pick up the burner phone. It’s the number you gave Sicarius to contact you. If he tried to run a search on the number, he would learn nothing except you cover your tracks like he does. You unlock the phone and read the message.

+18042876389 sent 2241: Tomorrow 12pm EST

“We’re on for tomorrow at noon.” You explain and type a simple response back.

+18318269346 sent 2245: Confirmed

“I’m letting Garcia know.” You look up and see Emily on her phone and note the warmth of her voice had become clipped and informal.

“Should we have the whole team present?”

She looks up thoughtfully. “Are you comfortable with the audience?”

“Doesn’t bother me in the least,” you answer truthfully. You had far bigger groups witnessing you pretend play on a call. “Garcia’s gonna run the call so everyone hears, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then more profiling ears the better.” You look down at the phone and know there will be no further communication tonight, so you lock it down and place it back on the table.

Agreeing with your assessment, Emily brings up her calendar and schedules a meeting first thing in the morning with the entire team to brief everyone on this project you, her, and Penelope have been working on. She attaches a file that goes over the synopsis of this undercover operation, including the backstory that was created for you. Garcia has already responded back that she’ll have everything ready for the 12pm call and for the briefing.

You slide back onto the chair at the dinner table and notice you have a notification of a new event at work. You look up at Emily, who was still busy organizing the logistics of what that simple text meant for the BAU. It was a tremendous lead. It also meant you were now in serious danger if things went sideways like it did for Green. But unlike him, you were driven by the mission, not a vendetta. You know how to remain cautious like with any shift into undercover work and will remain true to character. It got you this far in life and in your career. Now it would assist the BAU in apprehending a serial killer.

“Decided it should be a viewing party for the whole crew?” You mention casually while grabbing another piece of bread.

She hums in agreement. “Makes sense having everyone there.” Emily sets her phone down with a sigh before running the palms of her hands over her face, the loose strands of her bun following with her. She was visibly irritated by how the mood was interrupted, not necessarily that it was.

“Sucks.” Your voice is gruff as you speak which makes Emily look over at you with confusion. “First date ever and a fucking psycho had to ruin it.” You end it with a humorless smirk.

She ended up laughing which parted the gloomy cloud that had overtaken the mood. “Gotta love the timing of these things in our line of work.” She sighs in resignation over at you. “It’s close to midnight and there’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

In other words, Emily was politely excusing herself for home.

“Counter point to what you’re gonna say.” Your body is taking over your mouth despite your mind telling you to shut the fuck up, but Emily doesn’t dispute what you mean and gazes at you inquisitively as the silent invitation to continue this proposal. “Well,” you start and then jut your jaw out nervously. “You could just stay …”

Your uncertainty makes her eyes widen. “Stay?”

“Yeah. Cuz uh, you, uh, don’t live far and if you stay, we can kinda pick up talking and stuff.” You visibly wince. God you suck at this. How did you do this convincingly with marks?

“Stuff?” Emily teases with a brow smoothing out as the other turns coy.

And now your cheeks are burning with the nebulous definition of stuff. Your words come quickly, riddled with anxiety. “You know.”

She shakes her head no with that smug flirtatious smirk never leaving Emily’s face.

“You, you brought the wine. Expensive wine that we, uh, you know, didn’t drink much of. And I’m willing to bet Brian gave you a parking pass so you didn’t have to drive around all over the fucking place to find one.”

Now Emily was holding her head up by the chin with a resting elbow, finding your ramblings attractively adorable. “Indeed, he did.”

“So, yeah.” You hand finds purchase on the wine stem, so you have something to hold onto as a way to ground your thoughts. It really doesn’t help. “You live close. Can just go back to your place in the morning to change. Since, driving after that much wine isn’t a good idea.”

She shakes her head in agreement. “No, it is not.”

“But … to be … clear.” Your eyes catch her playful ones but yours reflect a hint of fear. “Guest room for now. I mean, it’s just our first time doing this and I haven’t done this ...ever. And I’m starting to wonder what the ever-loving fuck I’m doing and why aren’t you fucking saying anything because I’m rambling …. Which is why you’re not saying anything. Fuck.”

Your breathing is quick and shallow and now you’re on the verge of a full-on panic attack. The grip on the wine glass becomes forceful and you wonder if it’ll snap because you probably just ruined whatever was happening between the two of you. Why did you listen to fucking Charlie?

However, it is not with pity or ridicule or even disgust that Emily looks at you.

It was sympathy and care. Emily wasn’t judging you at all and she surprises you further when she rises and comes to your side of the table with an open hand. She gestures for you to take it, not forcing anything and simply gazes down at you and gently speaks. “Come here.”

You look dubiously from Emily’s face to her hand and then back up again, not moving from your spot. Emily’s smile is tender as she tries again. “Please.”

Well fuck it. How can you say no to that. Well, you can and if you did, you just know Emily would respect that, but the part of you craving the simplest of intimacies with her that only blossomed from the chaste kiss against your cheek, wanted to reach out and take a chance. It was why you said yes to going out with her after stopping Emily from running off with the misinterpretation of your words. You have a feeling Emily was beginning to understand how difficult this was for you to be clear with intent. So now, she offers a chance to calm your spiraling thoughts.

You take her hand, and with it, you place trust in this woman not to hurt you. Because you know that this meant you were all in if she was, which is why you desperately need to talk. Why you want Emily to stay because if she leaves now, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to talk about the simplest, yet complicated, manner in how you joined the CIA.

Sensing you weren’t going to move; Emily gently tugs your hand to motivate you into standing up. You were expecting Emily to say something at first, but you are surprised that she pulls you into a hug instead. You are stiff, unaccustomed to this level of intimacy in a long time that was not initiated by you. Her free hand slips around your waist as she steps into your personal space while letting go of your hand so she can slide her fingers along your shoulder and then neck. In the next breath that was taken by you, you’re fully pressed against one another and Emily’s cheek glides against your own as she leans in further.

Your eyes are blinking back tears, your body overwhelmed with connection that you honestly can’t remember the last time you had it felt this visceral. You begin trembling and Emily reassures you with a gentle promise. “I’ve got you.”

Immediately your hands curl under Emily’s arms and fiercely grip her shoulders while burying your face against the crook of her neck. You inhale the lingering scent of cigarettes and citrus. You couldn’t distinguish if it was the perfume or hair products she wore, but it was a heady sensation that made you grip Emily tighter for continued comfort. Her nails gently scratch at the back of your neck and graze upwards, tangling into your hair. You have no idea how long you held each other, and it was no surprise that Emily stirred first. Her nose nuzzles into your hair before her lips replace it. The pattern continues – nuzzles and soft kisses that coax you from your hiding spot against her neck until your eyes met.

Your chest clenches under Emily’s warm gaze, her dilating eyes searching yours intently. Whatever she was looking for must have been confirmed because she was soon closing the distance between you further, allowing enough time for you to pull away if you were unsure. But you didn’t pull away. No. You wait until you felt the brush of Emily’s soft lips against your own before closing your eyes. You felt unmoored from reality but what was different than all the other times you found yourself in this unwanted position with others, is that your mind didn’t dissociate on instinct to protect itself. You stay in the moment, tasting the wine on her lips and how they’re firm against yours, not forceful, and feel a gentle sigh escaping Emily’s nose as the air brushes against your face.

This was your first real kiss, and it was perfection.

You respond just as gently and after a moment, Emily pulls back leaving the kiss soft and brief but not letting you go just yet. She brings your forehead to hers, keeping you both connected, and you know her eyes are closed just like yours, not ready to relinquish the intimacy.

“I’d love to stay. Like you asked.” She acknowledges not only your wish but your boundaries as well.

“Yeah?” you ask again but it was with breathless excitement.

You can feel her smiling by how her forehead pinches against yours. “Yeah.”

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :)

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven @maybe-a-humanbean @unoreverselu @fluffypalmtree @willow-nox @simplylove-c @piiinco @daffodil-heart @unexpected-character @reneerappismywife @silenceeeont

[celestelunia]

Hiii, could I get a fic with Riddle x Reader, where he rejects the reader really rudely and she kinda distances herself from him for a long time, anytime she sees him she runs away or pretends like she doesn’t see him. Riddle starts to regret his rejection because he realizes he loves her and tries really hard to get her back because he thought she was going on a date with someone. Sorry if it’s really long, have a good day🫶

Ooo! Some angst!

This wasn't long at all, and thank you for the request!

Hope you like it. 🫶

Since you didn't specify if the reader got together with Riddle in the end, I wrote 2 different ends lol

Warnings: angst

"My apologies. What was that?" Riddle asked with a look of disbelief and confusion on his face. When you had asked him to talk, this was the last thing he was expecting.

"I said...." You said sounding a bit timid as the courage you had a moment ago disappeared. "...I like you. More than just friends."

Riddle just stared at you as silence surrounded the both of you. Why would you say that? Why would you ruin the relationship that both of you already had? Weren't things good enough between you both without adding romance into the mix?

"I can't believe this." Riddle whispered as he closed his eyes. He was busy with school and clubs. Dating wasn't something in his list of things to deal with during his school life. "Surely, you must be confused about your feelings for me? The line between friends and lovers can be thin with this kind of thing." He explained with a sigh. "We have other things we should be putting our energies into. Last time I checked, you could spend some more time studying for some of your classes. Rule number-"

You stood there in shock and surprised as you listened to Riddle ratter on about your feelings towards him. You honestly couldn't believe what you were hearing. Was he really questioning YOUR own feelings like they were his own? He even had the nerve to bring up your grades!

"O-okay." Was all you managed to get out as you felt your heart breaking.

Riddle paused in his rant when he heard you speak up. He watched as you turned around and left his room without another word or a glance in his direction.

"I'm sure things will go back to normal once she rests on it." He muttered before walking towards his desk to study.

You had spent that night crawled up in your bed as you cried yourself to sleep. Riddle had always been there to help you when you needed it. While he had a temper, you knew he wasn't a bad person. You knew his mother was the main cause of why Riddle was so tightly wound, but you took it with a gain of salt since you liked him.

To think he would shoot you down so hard without even considering your feelings. Did the time you two spend together mean nothing? Was this really a one-sided thing?

"I'm such an idiot...." You whimpered out as you cried until you passed out from the exhaustion.

It had been a month since Riddle last had a conversation with you. While he saw you around school, he couldn't get you alone to talk. You stopped coming by Heartslabyul after that day, and anytime he called out to get your attention, he would watch you rush away from him like he was some kind of overblotted monster.

He knew you could be sensitive, so the house warden decided that you just needed more space.

Three more months went by, and Riddle was starting to miss you. You still wouldn't give him the time of day and he couldn't understand why. Things were fine before, so why couldn't you just go back to how things were? To when things weren't...like this.

"Hey, Goldfish!" Floyd grinned as he spotted his favorite toy as he made his way towards Riddle.

"Leave me alone, Floyd." Riddle said as he wasn't in the mood to deal with the annoying eel.

"Oh, come on!" The teal haired eel grinned as he leaned down and threw his arm over Riddles' shoulder. "I have some news that might catch your attention.~"

Riddle groaned as he tried to free himself from Floyd's hold.

"There is a rumor going around that little Y/N is seeing someone from Pomefiore." Floyd said as he watched Riddle freeze up. "Just thought you might find this bit of information interesting." He grinned playfully as Floyd noticed a new look on the red heads face.

Pomefiore? Seeing someone? Like... romantically? Riddle's mind raced as a sinking feeling settled into the pit of his stomach. Nothing had been right since that day. He thought things would go back to normal, but they never did.

The image of you happily chatting with a Pomefiore student crossed his mind as he pictured you out on a date with someone who wasn't him.

At that thought, Riddle's eyes went wide. What? He didn't like you like that, did he?

Floyd grinned as he released Riddle from his hold and spun around. "Catch you later, Goldfish." He said before walking down the hall. With the look on Riddle's face, he got the feeling that change was on the horizon.

"I..." Riddle whispered as he paid no attention to Floyd as he left. Was he really this blind? He had been caught up in his own stress and worries that he didn't even realize what he had right in front of him.

Over the next couple of weeks, the members in Heartslabyul noticed a change in their house warden. He seemed distracted and distant. Trey and Cater tried to talk with him, but no matter what they tried, they couldn't get Riddle to open up. It wasn't like they didn't notice the sudden disappearance of Y/N, and they both knew that his sudden change had something to do with her. All they could do was wait till their friend was ready to talk about it.

Riddle walked down the hallway as his gaze looked around for his target. He was tired of moping and feeling guilty. The constant need to see you, hear your laugh, and to just be NEAR you again was all he craved. All he wanted. He was a fool. An idiot. He loved Y/N. That was the only explanation for these feelings inside of him. Riddle wanted nothing more than to go back in time and fix his mistake! To tell you he felt the same..

As he rushed down the hallways, his bluish-gray eyes landed on your form in the school yard. "Y/N." He whispered as he turned to make his way out into the yard.

Once he was outside, Riddle jogged as he tried to find you. Spotting your figure sitting on a bench with a book in your hand, he rushed over. He thought about calling out to you, but he didn't want you to run from him.

As you read your book, a sudden shadow fell over the words, causing you to look up and notice the one person you had been avoiding. As you closed your book, you went to stand but stopped when Riddle called your name.

"Y/N." Riddle whispered as he looked torn on what he wanted to say. He had everything planned out on what he wanted to say, but now that you were in front of him, he had nothing. It was all gone. "I-"

"Why are you here?" You asked coldly, which caused Riddle to flinch.

"I..." Riddle said as he clinched his fists. Why was this so hard!? "I'm sorry." He said before looking at you. "I made a...mistake."

When you said nothing, Riddle decided to continue.

"I was confused and overwhelmed that day. That's not an excuse for what I said and did, but I..." Riddle whispered as he trailed off. "...I've realized I made a mistake. I miss you. I miss...us. When I heard you were seeing someone from Pomefiore, it hit me. My feelings and why I've been so frustrated over these last few months. I don't want you to be with someone else. I don't want to lose you! I like you, and I was a fool to even question you that day." Riddle said as he confessed all of his pent-up feelings.

--Angst ending--

"It's too late, Riddle." You said as you stood up from the bench. "I loved you, but you didn't feel the same. I'm guessing you only came to his realization because you heard about me moving on, and I have."

Riddle frowned as he looked down at the ground. He knew there was a chance this wouldn't work, but he wanted to believe he could still make things right.

"You hurt me. I cried, and I've moved on. I've found someone who puts me first and is happy to explore these feelings with me." You said, trying to keep your voice even. "I can't go back to how things used to be. I just can't Riddle. I'm sorry." You said before walking past him as you did your best to stay strong and not cry. You made a promise to yourself that you wouldn't cry over him anymore.

Riddle stood alone in the school yard as he noticed a couple of drops of water fall to the ground near his feet. What was this?

Realizing he was crying, the house warden placed his arm over his eyes as he cried. This was a mistake he could never fix, and now he had to live with it. Without Y/N.

--Happy End--

When you didn't respond, Riddle felt himself start to panic. Were you going to reject him like he did to you that day? Was this what he made you go through? It was horrible!

"You hurt me, Riddle." You said after a moment as you looked down at the book on your lap. You had to admit you really missed him, but you couldn't bring yourself to come crawling back to him after what he did. You were better than that.

"I know, and I'm really sorry." Riddle said as he knelt down to be eye level with you. "I was an idiot and I wish I could take it back. All of it. I only realized what I had after I lost it. After I lost you..." he said before he slowly reached out and placed his hand on top of yours that was resting against your book. "I want to be with you. I don't want to continue my life without you. I know you are seeing someone in Pomefiore, but I can't - "

"I'm not seeing anyone." You whispered as you cut Riddle off. Was there something going around about you seeing someone?

"Y-your not?" Riddle asked as you could almost hear the relief in his voice.

He watched as you shook your head no. Letting out a sigh of relief, the red head reached up and placed both of his hands against your cheeks to make you look at him.

"I know I don't deserve it, but please give me another chance." Riddle asked. "Let me make this up to you. I want to make things right."

"You...mean it?" You asked as you felt your eyes burn with fresh tears. You missed him, and no matter how much you tried to forget Riddle, you just couldn't. He was so deep in your heart that you just couldn't. You loved him. Faults and all.

"Yes!" Riddle said as he gently ran his thumb over your cheeks as he wiped away your tears. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I must."

At his words, you let out a soft laugh as you tried to stop crying. To think this was really happening.

"How about we go out this weekend?" Riddle asked.

"M-mm." You nodded as you felt Riddle pull you into a hug.

"I love you, Y/N. Thank you for giving me another chance." Riddle whispered against your ear.

The darkness you felt over the last few months started to disappear as you felt a warmth replace it. "I love you too." You replied as you tightened your hold on him. He had a lot to make up to you, but this was a really good start.

Standing behind a pillar not far from Y/N and Riddle stood the twins from Octavinelle.

"How very unlike you to get involved in such a thing." Jade said with his signature smile.

"Eh. Goldfish is no fun to play with when he is all down and junk." Floyd said as he turned to leave the school yard. "But now I have something else to tease him on!" He said with a grin as he looked forward to tomorrow.

Jade just let out a soft chuckle as he followed after his brother.