#he was so impressed that he offered to change her and thinking that it would help w the war effort she accepted

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Falling Into Place

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

Word count: 768

Pairning: Aaron Hotchner x Agent!reader

Summary: Y/n, a successful FBI agent and niece of Erin Strauss, seeks a fresh start at the BAU 

______________________________________________________________

As you step into the BAU offices, everything feels different from the fieldwork you're used to. The air hums with intensity, every agent here focused on the darker side of human behavior. Yet, this was what you needed—a change, a new start after your messy divorce. You wanted to dive deep into work, lose yourself in cases, and focus on the life you were building for your daughter.

Your Aunt Erin Strauss had made the transfer smooth, though you insisted on earning your place without her influence. The team was impressive, the dynamic was tight, and you had to admit that working under Agent Aaron Hotchner had you on edge from the start. He had barely spoken to you during introductions, and his piercing gaze seemed to size you up with judgment. Not that it was your first time facing that. People had always underestimated you—maybe it was your chic, model-like appearance, the way you carried yourself, or how people assumed you couldn't possibly be both intelligent and beautiful. But you’d proven them wrong time and time again.

Still, Hotch’s cold demeanor unsettled you. He didn’t know yet that Strauss was your aunt, and you wondered if that would make things better or worse. Either way, you weren’t here to win him over—you were here to do your job.

Just as you were diving into your latest case notes, your phone rang. It was the kindergarten.

"Y/n," the voice on the other end said, "your daughter isn’t feeling well. We think you should come pick her up."

Worry filled your chest instantly. Without hesitation, you gathered your things and headed for Hotch’s office. Knocking on the door, you opened it slightly, peeking in.

"Agent Hotchner, I need to step out briefly," you said, trying to sound calm despite the rush of concern for your little girl. "My daughter is sick, and I need to bring her home."

Hotch barely looked up from his desk. "We have a case. Be back as soon as possible."

His voice was clipped, almost dismissive. You nodded, already halfway out the door.

It didn’t take long to pick up your daughter, her small, feverish body curled up in your arms as you returned to the office. She was too sick for you to leave her at home alone, and with no one nearby to watch her, you had no choice but to bring her back to work. The team would have to understand, and if they didn’t...well, they’d deal with it.

As you carried her into the BAU, the team’s eyes fell on you—specifically on the little girl with the large, tired brown eyes, nestled against your shoulder.

You felt Hotch’s gaze from across the room. He seemed to freeze for a moment, his stern expression flickering as he noticed the child in your arms.

“This is my daughter,” you explained, as you approached the bullpen. “She’s a little under the weather, so she’ll have to stay with me for the day.”

Hotch stood, stepping toward you. His eyes softened slightly as he looked at your daughter, something unexpected crossing his face. For a moment, the usual hardness in his demeanor eased.

"How old is she?" Hotch asked, his voice lower, gentler than you’d ever heard it.

“Four,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair from your daughter’s forehead. “Her name’s Ava.”

He nodded, his eyes lingering on Ava for a beat longer. Then, with a slight hesitation, he said, "You can set her up in my office. She’ll be more comfortable there."

You blinked in surprise. That was...unexpected. Hotch, the man who barely tolerated your presence, offering you his office?

“Thank you,” you managed, feeling warmth in your chest.

The day went on, with Ava lying on the couch in Hotch’s office, occasionally waking up to see you or call out for you. You kept checking in between tasks, and every time you did, Hotch would be close by, watching with a quiet, almost protective stance.

Later, as you sat at your desk, you overheard Rossi muttering to Morgan, “Maybe Hotch isn’t as immune to charm as he likes to think.”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe Hotch wasn’t the cold, stoic man he portrayed himself as. Maybe, just maybe, there was a side to him that could change how he saw you—not just as an agent, but as a mother, and maybe more.

For now, though, you focused on what mattered most—getting your daughter healthy and proving your worth to the team. You were smart, determined, and had come too far to let anyone think otherwise. Even Aaron Hotchner.

[a-shadowedvales]

so… in the additional media of stranger things (specifically the comics i’m mentioning), it was initially brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as eleven was. it was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. and i just…. sure henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but i think i am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

i genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and brenner is far more intriguing than the show. everything with 9/9.5, ricky, and francine. eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. and they all had such a range of interesting powers. i firmly stand with the idea that jane is the only one who can contact the void.

brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out terry was pregnant. he discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. there would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. because of this, i would not put it past a man like brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” in this case, eleven.

eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because jane was 011. so there were at least ten kids before her. but i always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. that they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. with flying colours.

i just think the whole rainbow room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. boring and predictable. i think at this point my portrayal of her time in hawkins lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. where having the rainbow room, although eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. albeit extremely warped and toxic. knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. doesn’t sit well with me. i think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. which is why kali is also so important to her growth. i thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. although peter becoming vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, peter ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. but before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. peter is shot on the spot, and eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. in this timeline, henry would be vecna, but henry would not be peter ballad.

when eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, brenner had the eight children killed. kali had already escaped. this was the main cause for peter to gain eleven’s trust and try to get her out. because if brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

when eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with peter. brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a peter, that she must have been dreaming. eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given peter told her of the day terry broke in the lab, but brenner is convincing enough to make eleven believe it was all in her head. say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

i still do wanna keep the henry creel canon, and keep him as 001. brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. brenner definitely wants to be able to control henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. killing him would be too big of a loss.

when eleven is ten years old, henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto hawkins lab. he almost kills brenner by snapping his bones, but eleven manages to stop him. her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends henry to the upside down. she does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. eleven is rewarded for her efforts. although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. also loved the idea of brenner sending her into the void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

by the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the upside down is basically what we see in canon. because she passed out the moment after she sent henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. for two years she believed this, until making contact with the demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

due to her saving brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. she happened to be there. saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) brenner constantly thanks her. but in a very condescending way. tells her: “you saved me so i can continue saving you.” aka, harness your abilities and see what else i can achieve from you. despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. that she owes him something further.

i don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. it makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

it also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. they would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. as far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with benny, i'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. where she followed the boys home without thought.

also it's important to note that after time, jane does understand that peter ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from terry) who wanted the best for her. when she remembers him, knows that brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. he was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. this is another catalyst as to why after season two, jane never refers to brenner as papa. she does not give him that sort of credit.

[reidsworld]

Patience Wears Thin

Summary: Logan’s flirty behaviour has you thinking he’s just being sarcastic. But when his attitude changes and his grumpiness intensifies, leading to him avoiding you, you confront him, only for him to finally snap. Based on this request.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Reader’s oblivious, mild language, sexual tension, slight jealous!logan, making out, hickeys, oral sex(m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, (semi) public sex (you’ll see what I mean), no use of Y/N, pet names (darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.9k

Mars speaks… It's been a while since I’ve posted but here we are!! Thank you for the request, this was kinda tough for me to write and didn’t really turn out how I wanted it but I hope it meets your expectations! The reader is a mutant but her powers aren’t specified. Any and all feedback is always appreciated!

Masterlist

You were used to Logan’s gruffness, but lately, something had changed. At first, it was little things—him hanging around more often, offering to help with tasks that didn’t need his strength, or staying close by even when you were just making coffee. You noticed the way his hand would brush against yours when passing you something or how he’d rest his hand on your shoulder a little longer than necessary. Despite all of his actions, he was still cold around you, seemingly never able to escape his own grumpiness.

One evening, as you were getting ready for a date, Logan wandered by your room. His mood was clearly off as he knocked leaned against your door frame, his eyes closed and head tilted down. When you greeted him, he slowly looked you up and down. His expression shifted from frustration to shock as he took in how stunning you looked.

“Damn,” Logan said, his voice cold and deep, if you didn’t know him, you would’ve sworn he hated you. “You look incredible. Got a big night planned?”

You glanced up from the mirror, surprised by his comments. “Oh, I have a date tonight,” you replied with a smile, still adjusting your dress.

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly as he processed your words. “A date, huh?”

“Yep,” you said, focusing on your reflection. “I’m just trying to pick the right outfit.”

He pushed himself off the door frame, his gaze still fixed on you. “You don’t need to be worried about impressing anyone tonight, darlin’. Trust me, you look incredible.”

You laughed, thinking he was just being his usual flirtatious self. “Thanks, Logan. But it’s just dinner. Nothing too serious.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he took a step back, his demeanour now distant. “Right. Well, have fun.”

You smiled at him, not noticing the shift in his attitude. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

As you left for your date, Logan watched you go, his face a mask of frustration and disappointment. The knowledge that you were going out with someone else hit him hard, and his mood darkened.

You were left puzzled by his sudden change in behaviour. However, in Logan’s mind, if you were going out with someone else, you clearly didn’t want him, so why should he put effort into a losing game?

But you didn’t think much of his compliments, chalking it up to Logan trying to be supportive. Until one day, you noticed something different—he started avoiding you.

It began with him skipping out on the usual training sessions you shared. Then, he stopped joining you for movie nights in the common room, always coming up with a vague excuse that didn’t make sense. He’d disappear for hours, not even leaving a trace of his familiar scent behind. The final straw was when he didn’t show up for your breakfast dates (well… that’s what they were to him), a ritual he never missed. It was confusing, and you couldn’t figure out what had changed.

You asked him once, in passing, if something was wrong. His answer was clipped, dismissive. “Nothin’ for you to worry about, darlin’.”

But you were worried. His behaviour was off, and no matter how much you replayed your interactions in your mind, you couldn’t pinpoint what had triggered this sudden shift.

A few days later, you walked into the kitchen to find Logan grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Relief washed over you—this was the first time you’d seen him in days without him immediately bolting. But when you greeted him, he barely grunted in response, not meeting your eyes.

“Logan, seriously,” you said, trying to sound casual but unable to keep the concern out of your voice. “What’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me.”

His jaw clenched, and he didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hand. “Just been busy.”

“Busy?” You frowned, crossing your arms. “Too busy to even say hello?”

He looked up at you then, his eyes hard. “Yeah, busy. I don’t have time for games, alright?”

“Games?” you echoed, thrown off by the accusation. “What are you talking about? I’m not playing any games, Logan.”

He let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head as he pushed past you, brushing your shoulder as he went. “Forget it.”

That was it? He was clearly upset, but he wouldn’t talk to you about it. It didn’t make sense. You stood there, staring at the spot where he’d just been, confusion and hurt swirling inside you. Logan was the last person you expected to act like this—especially toward you.

A few more days passed, and the tension between you only grew. Logan’s avoidance became more blatant, and every time you tried to approach him, he’d find a way to leave before you could say anything. You started to wonder if you’d done something to upset him, but every time you asked, he brushed you off with a noncommittal grunt or a sarcastic remark.

It was driving you crazy.

Now you were sitting alone in the common room, you and Logan somehow being the only two in the mansion with everyone else out on various missions and overnight school trips. As you attempted to watch a movie to take your mind off things, Logan’s absence gnawed at you. He was always here for movie nights, even if he’d just sit silently in the corner. The emptiness of his usual spot was glaring, a constant reminder that something had shifted between you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to confront him, to find out what the hell was going on.

When you walked into the gym, your eyes immediately found Logan, his muscular form sitting on a raised bench, sweat glistening on his skin. He didn’t acknowledge your presence, focusing on his workout with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

“Logan,” you called out, your voice firmer than you felt.

He paused, setting the dumbbells down with a heavy thud before finally looking at you. “What?”

“What is your problem?” you demanded, stepping closer, not giving him a chance to escape this time. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague, and I want to know why.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off his face. “Maybe I’m just tired of tryin’,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Trying what?” You crossed your arms, frustration boiling over. “Logan, you’re not making any sense. You’ve been acting like I did something wrong, but I don’t even know what that is!”

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite place—anger, maybe? But there was something else too, something deeper that made your heart race.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he growled, stepping closer to you, his presence overwhelming.

“Get what?” you shot back, refusing to back down even though his proximity was making it hard to think straight.

Logan huffed, his hand running through his hair in a rare display of frustration. “I’ve been tryin’ to show you, but you’re too damn blind to see it.”

“Show me what?” You were at your wit’s end, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes bore into yours, intense and unyielding. “That I want you, darlin’. I’ve wanted you for a long damn time, and I’m sick of you not seein’ it.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence. This was the last thing you expected him to say. Logan—gruff, no-nonsense Logan—wanted you? The thought was so far from anything you’d ever imagined that you couldn’t even process it.

“You…you want me?” you finally managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the frustration in his eyes palpable. “I’ve been tryin’ to show ya, but you keep thinkin’ I’m just bein’ a grumpy bastard.”

You blinked, completely floored by his confession. “Logan, I…I didn’t know. I thought…”

“Thought I was messin’ with ya?” he finished for you, his voice rough, almost bitter. “That’s why I’ve been avoidin’ ya—figured if you couldn’t see it by now, I was just wastin’ my time.”

The weight of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t seen it, not because you didn’t want to, but because the idea that Logan could feel that way about you seemed impossible. And now, standing here, with him staring at you like you were the only person in the world, you realised how wrong you’d been.

“Logan, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. “I didn’t know. I never thought…”

“Don’t apologise,” he cut you off, his voice softer now, but still edged with frustration. “I’m just done waitin’, darlin’. I can’t keep doin’ this—dancin’ around it, hopin’ you’ll figure it out.”

You took a shaky breath, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to think. “What do you want, Logan?”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a way that made your knees weak. “You, darlin’. I’ve always wanted you.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and demanding, as if he was trying to make up for all the time lost in that one kiss. The force of it stole your breath, your hands automatically reaching up to clutch his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

Logan’s grip on you tightened, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing your lips until you parted them, letting him in. The taste of him—smoke, whiskey, and something unmistakably Logan—filled your senses, making your head spin.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breathing ragged, his pupils blown wide with desire. “Still think I’m jokin’?”

You shook your head, your heart racing, your thoughts scattered. “No,” you breathed out.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours before he started kissing his way down your jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “’Cause I’m gonna show you exactly how much I want you.”

His mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin before he bit down gently, making you gasp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, needing something to hold on to as his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you and moving to sit on the bench. Your legs desperately straddled him, pulling him closer.

Logan’s hands were everywhere—sliding under your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist, skimming up your ribs, his touch igniting a fire in you that you hadn’t realised was there. He was careful, almost reverent, despite the rough edge to his movements, as if he was holding himself back from completely losing control.

When his hands found your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your bra, you arched into him, a whimper escaping your lips. He growled, the sound low and primal, as his mouth found yours again, his kiss fierce and demanding.

You could feel the hardness of him pressing against your core, the friction sending waves of pleasure through you, and you couldn’t help but rock your hips against him, seeking more.

Logan’s response was immediate, his hands gripping your hips as you ground against him, his mouth devouring yours as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You were lost in the sensation, in the heat and the intensity of him, and it was all you could do to hold on.

Just when you thought you might lose yourself completely, Logan pulled back, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild as he looked up at you. “Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his voice strained, as if it was taking everything in him to hold back. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But the last thing you wanted was for him to stop. You shook your head, your voice breathless as you whispered, “Don’t stop.”

Logan let out a low, feral sound, his lips crashing against yours again as he ripped off your shirt. His patience had worn thin, and now there was no turning back. As your lips roughly moulded together, tongues battling for dominance, your hands slid under his tank-top, brushing over his abs. You pulled away, taking off his shirt, jaw dropping at the sight of his glistening body from the sweat of his workout.

“Holy shit, you should be shirtless more often…”

He didn’t respond, his hand grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss. Your hands trailed down his chest, fingers sliding down his happy trail. Climbing off him, you dropped down to your knees in front of him. He raised his hips as you pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, his dick springing out and slapping against his stomach.

You didn’t give him time to process what was happening as you immediately licked a stripe up his dick before taking the head into your mouth, tongue brushing against the tip, making him throw his head back against the bench and groan.

Your hands gently massaged his balls as your mouth focused on the head of his cock, gently sucking as his hand moved to gather your hair into a make-shift ponytail. You lowered your head, taking more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks.

Looking up through your lashes, your eyes met with his while you began to move your head up and down faster, your hands touching whatever couldn’t fit into your mouth. You continued this until your jaw was aching and his dick was twitching in your mouth.

He began to gently thrust into your mouth, making you gag as he hit the back of your throat. One of your hands slid down into your shorts, rubbing your clit before pushing a finger into your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, so good darlin’,” he grunted as you moaned around him, slipping another finger into yourself.

“If you don’t stop now, m’gonna cum, wanna feel you ‘round me.”

He pulled you off of him, revelling in your dishevelled appearance. You stood up, and pulled off your shorts and panties. You reached behind you, unclipping your bra, letting it slide off your body. His eyes trailed up and down your body admiring you. You bit your lip at the way his eyes shined with something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you never wanted him to stop looking at you like that.

You silently moved to straddle him, pulling him into a slow kiss as your bare core grinded against his cock. One of his hands wrapped around you, trailing up and down your back as you both sat there, grinding against each other. His other hand reached down and grabbed your hip.

You raised your hips as you reached for his cock, positioning at your entrance before slowly sinking down onto him. You leaned forward and he fell back against the bench and buried your face in his neck, letting out a simultaneous moan as you stretched around him. You stayed still, adjusting to his size, panting into his neck, making him harder than he thought possible.

Once you were ready, you slowly raised your hips before sinking back down onto him. His hands moved to grip your hips as you began to ride him, gently helping you. You kissed him roughly, moaning into his mouth as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin and the loud moans and groans coming out of your mouths. In that moment, neither of you cared where you were— that there was a chance someone could easily walk in on you even though it was just the two of you in the mansion. All you two cared about was the feeling of him inside of you and how you wrapped so tightly around him.

He let out a rough groan as your lips met his neck, biting into it when his hips met yours. Bouncing on his dick, you clenched around him, making him let out an almost feral sound.

“Oh fuck don’t stop, wrapped so tightly ‘round me, s’like you were made for me.”

“‘M all yours, Lo.”

“Shoulda never avoided you, shoulda just manned up and kissed you, ‘stead of waiting ‘round for you to realise that I want you.”

If you weren’t so desperate for him, you would’ve laughed but all you could do was moan and nod into his neck.

“‘M gonna cum, Lo.”

“Give it to me, darlin’.”

His hand reached to roughly circle your clit, sending you over the edge. You moaned out as a feeling of ecstasy overcame you and your vision went white. Your body slumped against his but his thrusts were relentless. As they got sloppier, you could feel his dick twitch inside of you, making you moan.

“I’m so close, need to cum inside you.”

His mouth pressed against your neck, marking you like a blank canvas for everyone to see later. He pounded up into you, his hand still rubbing your clit causing you to cum for a second time. You tightened around him, making him shoot his cum deep inside you.

His thrusts slowed, fucking you through it as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. His movements came to a stop and he titled his head back, letting out a deep breath.

You raised your head, looking into his eyes and laughing,

“I can’t believe I could’ve had this so much sooner if I wasn’t so obvious.”

Mars speaks… (again) woah that got… 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

Tags… @pastelpinkflowerlife

[sabertoothwalrus]

here are some preliminary sketches I had done in my sketchbook for the peepaw chilchuck comic.

I wanted to follow it up with some worldbuilding thoughts I had while working on it, if that sort of thing is interesting to anyone:

- it’d take place 5ish years post-canon

- I changed almost everyone’s hair to show time had passed. Chilchuck and Kabru were the most drastic (I COULDNT STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT LONG HAIR KABRU THAT KUI DREW), Marcille grew out her bangs, Senshi’s beard is slightly shorter, and Izutsumi’s hair is mildly longer. Laios and Falin give me the impression that they’re the brand of neurodivergent that’d pick one haircut and stick to it for the rest of their lives. I almost gave Laios facial hair but idk he’s gotten over his daddy issue enough for that.

- Emertim Chils: I tried to follow both the half-foot and dwarven naming conventions for the baby, so Emer- comes from “emerald” (dwarven names are often gemstones or ore) and -tim because Chilchuck’s father’s first name was Tim :) Dwarves don’t have family names, so Emertim would take Chils, same as Flertom. Usually they’re named after their father but I didn’t wanna name a random dwarf man. thank you Chel for helping name him 🫶💕

- Initially the idea that Chilchuck would keep an entire grandchild a secret was just a joke, but it made sense when I thought about it. I wonder,, would dwarf/half-foot couples have trouble conceiving? Because if so, I’d imagine Flertom may have lost a couple pregnancies. Chilchuck is already such a private person, and I don’t think he’d feel comfortable airing his daughter’s grief like that. They wouldn’t wanna tell anyone until they were sure this baby was gonna make it.

- For the above reason, Chilchuck would absolutely spoil this kid. Not that he wouldn’t have spoiled his grandkids anyway, but I think after all that stress, he’d be extra extra doting. He’d be letting him do things he’d never DREAM of letting his own daughters do. Completely different parenting style.

- I think he’s still too prideful to take advantage of Laios being King (sidenote: is Laios even wealthy??? does a kingdom that sprung up from a previously-sunken continent even have money?? what the fuck is their economy), but like,,, if Laios offered any gifts he wouldn’t exactly say no.

- Izutsumi surprisingly really likes the baby :3 she’d like to take naps with him and he’d like her purrs and she’d have a lot of fun playing with him.

- SENSHI. meemaw mode. That kid would grow up not realizing Senshi isn’t technically one of his grandads. He is FEEEEEDING this kid.

- LAIOS DOES GET TO HOLD THE BABY!!!!!! just. eventually. They don’t actually expect a Tarrare situation LMAO they just wait until the kid is a little less fragile and a little more mobile. I think Laios would be really good with toddlers.

- Chilchuck is very thankful Emertim’s half-foot genes kick in sooner than later because he was getting too big for him to carry.

- Emertim would probably get the extended lifespan. He and Marcille would get to stay friends for a very very long time :’)

- my personal headcanon is that Chilchuck and his wife decide to split. He still loves her and it’s probably still a bit mutual, but after four years of almost no-contact, they decide their communication issues aren’t working well for their relationship. Plus, the Adventurer’s Bible says Chilchuck is renting their old house out to family, and he’d feel bad kicking them out so he and wife could move back in. They’d still be on good terms, and would be good at coordinating when to babysit.

[deerlino]

Hey hey hey

Can i please request producer!grumpy! Chan x producer! Sunshine! Reader? Enemies-to-lovers?? Like chan has a bad first impression on reader and doesn't like her but like they get put together for work and he falls in love?? Can you make it really fluffy and domestic at the end (like they're in a r/s and like they kiss and cuddle alot????)

thawing the ice.

bang chan x fem!reader / at first, chan really didn’t like you and had a bad first impression of you. but then, you got teamed up for a project. spending time together changed everything, and he found himself falling for you.

additional tags / grumpy producer chan x sunshine producer reader (i mean… i tried. 😭), fluff, domestic fluff, forced proximity, mutual pining, workplace romance, love confessions, love-hate relationship, dislike to lovers — 1.5k words in total.

content warnings / kisses, smooches, and cuddles

authors notes @ anon / hey heyo anon <3, thanks for the awesome request! loved writing this. you asked for enemies to lovers, but the enemies part kinda fizzled out while i was writing—not my strongest trope, lol 😭 still, hope you enjoy it !! <3

You glance at your watch, groaning internally. It’s barely eight in the morning and you’re already heading to the studio for another day of work. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the fact that you were going to be working closely with Chan. Again.

It’s not that you dislike Chan. Honestly, how could you? He’s talented, driven, and ridiculously handsome. But from the moment you met him, he’s been nothing but cold and dismissive. It’s like he’s made it his mission to make your life difficult.

As you walk into the studio, you see him already there, his back to you as he fiddles with some equipment. You take a deep breath, plastering a smile on your face. “Morning, Chan!”

He doesn’t turn around. “Morning.”

You suppress a sigh. Another day, another brush-off.

You set your bag down and get to work, trying to ignore the icy atmosphere. The day drags on, the silence between you both filled with nothing but the hum of electronics and the occasional muttered curse from Chan.

Finally, after what feels like hours, you manage to get him to talk. “Hey, Chan, can you listen to this track? I think it needs something, but I can’t figure out what.”

He looks up, eyebrows raised. “You want my opinion?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re one of the best producers here,” you say, trying not to sound too sarcastic. He might be a jerk, but you still need his input.

He listens to the track, his expression unreadable. “It needs more bass. And the vocals are too soft. They need to be more upfront.”

You nod, making notes. “Got it. Thanks.”

The rest of the day goes by in much the same way, but you notice something strange. Every time you ask for his help, he gives it without complaint. And every now and then, you catch him watching you, a strange look in his eyes.

***

As the weeks go by, things start to change. It’s subtle at first. He starts offering his help without being asked. He brings you coffee in the mornings, saying it’s just because he’s getting one for himself anyway. He even starts making small talk.

One day, as you’re both working late, he surprises you. “Hey, do you want to grab some dinner after this?”

You blink, taken aback. “Uh, sure. That sounds great!”

You end up at a little diner, talking and laughing like old friends. It’s the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile, and it takes your breath away.

“You know,” he says, looking down at his plate, “I don’t actually hate you.”

You laugh, but it’s a little shaky. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He looks up, his eyes serious. “I’m... I’m not good at this. At feelings. I’ve liked you since the day we met, but I didn’t know how to act around you. I thought being distant would make it easier.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You like me?”

He nods, looking almost shy. “Yeah. A lot.”

You reach across the table, taking his hand. “I like you too, Chan. A lot.”

***

From that night on, things change even more. You’re not just coworkers anymore. You’re friends. And, slowly, you become something more.

There are late nights at the studio where he pulls you into his lap, kissing you softly as you work.

It’s nearly midnight, and you and Chan are the only ones left in the studio. The room is dimly lit, the glow from the computer screens casting a soft light over everything. You’re both exhausted, but there’s still work to be done. You’re hunched over your laptop, tweaking some last-minute details on a track, when you feel his presence behind you.

“Hey, take a break,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky from hours of talking and singing.

“I just need to finish this part,” you reply, not looking up. “Almost done.”

He sighs, but there’s a smile in his voice. “Alright, Miss Perfectionist.”

You hear him move around, and then suddenly, you’re being lifted out of your chair. “Chan!” you yelp, but he just laughs, pulling you into his lap as he sits back down.

“Relax,” he says, his arms wrapping around you. “You’ve been working too hard.”

You lean back against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

“I know,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear. “But you need to take care of yourself too.”

You tilt your head, looking up at him. “And what about you? You’ve been working just as hard.”

He grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m taking care of myself right now.”

You smile, your heart fluttering. “Okay, fine. Five-minute break.”

“Good,” he says, his lips trailing down your neck. “Because I need more of this.”

You close your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of his lips on your skin, the warmth of his arms around you. In that moment, all the stress and exhaustion melts away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Then, there are lazy Sundays spent cuddling on the couch, watching movies and stealing kisses.

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you’re both sprawled on the couch, watching a movie. Chan’s arm is draped over your shoulders, and your head rests against his chest. The movie is some cheesy rom-com, but neither of you are really paying attention. You’re too busy stealing kisses and laughing at each other’s jokes.

“Hey, pay attention,” you say, swatting his hand away as he tries to tickle you. “This is the best part.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, his fingers brushing against your side again. “What happens?”

You laugh, trying to squirm away. “Stop! You’ll see.”

He grins, finally relenting. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

You settle back against him, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. It’s moments like this that make everything worth it. The late nights, the long hours, all of it. Because at the end of the day, you have this. You have him.

“You know,” he says suddenly, his voice soft, “I could get used to this.”

You look up at him, surprised. “What, lazy Sundays?”

He shakes his head, his eyes serious. “No. Us. Being together like this.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Me too.”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss you. It’s slow and sweet, full of all the things he can’t put into words. And you know, without a doubt, that you feel the same way.

Then, there are also mornings where you wake up tangled together, his arms around you and his breath warm against your neck.

The first rays of sunlight are just starting to filter through the curtains when you wake up. You’re tangled in the sheets, Chan’s arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. You can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, his body a comforting weight against yours.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to see his face. He looks so peaceful, so different from the grumpy, guarded man you met months ago. You reach up, brushing a strand of hair away from his face, and he stirs, his eyes slowly opening.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, smiling. “Sleep well?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Always do when you’re here.”

You feel your heart swell at his words. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

He chuckles, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “Only for you.”

You laugh, rolling over to face him. “Lucky me.”

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes soft as they meet yours. “Lucky me.”

You lean in, kissing him softly. It’s a slow, lingering kiss, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You smile, your heart feeling like it might burst. “I love you too.”

And as you lie there, wrapped up in each other, you know that this is where you’re meant to be. With him. Always.

***

One evening, as you’re sitting on a bench at the park together, he turns to you, his expression serious. “You know, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You make me want to be better. For you.”

You smile, your heart swelling. “You already are, Chan. You always have been.”

He kisses you, and it’s slow and sweet, full of all the things he’s never been able to say. And you know, without a doubt, that he loves you.

As the months go by, you can see the change in him. He’s still grumpy and a little rough around the edges, but there’s a softness to him now, a warmth that wasn’t there before. And you know that, no matter what, you’ll always have each other.

One night, as you’re both lying in bed, you turn to him, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Hey, Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad we ended up working together. Even if you were a jerk at first.”

He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Me too. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For being a jerk.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “You’re forgiven. Just... keep being you. That’s all I need.”

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you know that you’ve found something special. Something real. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

© deerlino (est. 090624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

[quimichi]

₊❏❜ ⋮ MEETING THEIR FAMILIES -HEARTSLABYUL VER.

warnings: bad treatment towards reader (Riddles part), bad writing :3

summary: You meet their families

characters: Heartslabyul x F!Reader

word count:

a/n: I originally planned to do all in one part but I decided not to since it's so so much and I'm currently having a writers block but I wanna make you guys happy so-its in parts :(

Riddle

Riddle's mother is a strict woman, and she does not hide her dislike for you. She frowns the moment she sees you and crosses her arms. The situation is tense as she watches you, her gaze sharp and unblinking. She seems to be considering your motives with her son, but it is clear that she has a low opinion of you for some reason.

Riddle is nothing compared to her; he has no power, he's weak standing beside you. Yet, he stands proud, he loves you and no matter what his mother will say, his mind won't change. "Mother," he begins. She shoots a hard look at him. With that stare, she seems to say 'do. not. talk."

Riddle goes silent. He knows that if he does talk, it might ruin her approval...if that will ever happen. But you decided to speak up, nervously, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Riddle has told me so many lovely things of you!" you bow down, showcasing your respect. His mother's expression does not change. She seems to consider you for a while before speaking:

"Do you think yourself worthy of my son? Do you think you are a good match for him?"

It's clear that she is sizing you up, and her gaze is piercing.

"Yes." Riddle grabs your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Showing you his support, no matter what he won't back out either, cause he knows whats coming. Your words only draw a frown from his mother. Her expression turns sour.

"I do not think you can give my son the life he deserves. You are too low class for a nobleman. It is clear why you would date him, but what do you have to offer us? It would disgrace his name and our family to wed a commoner. A magicless commoner!" She continues to size you up. She is relentless. Her frown only hardens with every passing moment.

"My son is a nobleman. He deserves a woman of nobility. Riddle dear, I know the perfect girl for you she-" "No!" His voice rings through the halls with booming thunder.

"How dare you," he shouts, his eyes like daggers. He looks as though every muscle is about to tense up so hard it'll burst. "She is good enough. She is worthy of my love. There is no one in this world who I will ever love and admire more! If you don't agree with this relationship then-!...Then I might just leave.

Riddle is standing protectively in front of you now. His heart is thrumming so hard he can feel each pulse. His last words were spoken unsure, timidly, but it's the truth.

"...Then do."

Trey

Trey's parents are thrilled to meet you. The moment they saw you at their doorstep, they took you into their family. They are gracious hosts, offering you food and drinks as soon as you step into the house. Everything is warm and welcoming. Not to mention the cake they baked for you!

The afternoon tea goes smoothly, with conversation flowing as easily as a river. "Again, thank you so much for the tea and cake! It was absolutely delicious!" "It was nothing," Trey's mother says as she refills your mug. She smiles warmly, keeping herself composed with effort. She has heard a lot about you, after all, and the impression she has received so far has been wonderful. Its hard for her to contain her pure excitement, she might explode. All her husband can do is calm her down with a hand on her shoulder, smiling both at you and his wife.

Trey doesn't dare say anything, his lips pressed shut in a smile as he watches from his place. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, content to watch you and his parents interact.

"BROTHER!" You hear two voices yell from the hallway...seems his siblings arrived from school. Trey's young siblings finally make their grand entrance, their voices filling the room with an unexpected cacophony of excitement and joy. The scene is a chaotic one, but in a good way.

His younger brother runs up to you immediately, "Oh-Oh-! You're the pretty girl-!" Before you can question anything his sister also tunes in, "Ohhh-! She really does look as sweet as gum drops-!" "You two, shush immediately-! I'm so sorry-!" Trey's mother apologizes for the behavior of her youngest children, but you shake it off. How could you ever be upset about the honesty of those sweethearts. You definitely will have a word with Trey once you get back...

Cater

Cater never kept it a secret, how much he despises his sisters and mother sometimes. More than once he told you stories. But he has also told you that slowly, the relationship gets better...slowly.

Cater's mother is especially overbearing. She tries her best, but she seems almost incapable of not adding only their favorite sweets to the tablem. She is a bundle of nerves, and she often dotes on Cater. It's as if she finds comfort in treating him like a child, because he is so quiet and calm. Yeah, quite and calm, if only they knew who he truly was.

"Thank you so much for having me." a genuine smile sets on your lips as she pours tea into your cup. "We are so glad to have you," Cater's mother says with genuine warmth.

His sisters continue to prod you in both questions and comments, being too forceful and tactless at times. They think they're being endearing and curious, but don't quite realize that they're over stepping. Cater sits beside you, his eyes darting back and forth as the questions keep flowing. Hes annoyed, of course they will ask inappropriate questions and take the attention.

"Where was the first kiss?" "Ohhh my god did he use his tounge?" "Cater, your hair today looks frizzy." "You look cute but...that top with those jeans...i don't know. Cater you should really watch what your girlfriend wears!" "Yeah! Spend some money on her, damn." "Bad boyfriend."

The constant barrage of questions and comments from his sisters would make even the most stoic people wither. You are not one of those people - you are more patient than you ever realized. You smile through the barrage of words, answering most that you can, ignoring the rest. It hurts, some hurt. You get Cater now to 100%. Your calm demeanor and soft eyes would calm anyone's heart, but his sisters are a bit too persistent, their endless questioning seeming to have no end.

This goes on for some time, until Cater is visibly agitated. "Stop," he says under his breath. He is usually calm and collected, so it draws everyone's attention, even his mother's. "What?" One of his sisters finally asks, feigning innocence.

"Enough," he says simply, but his tone is enough to get them to back off.

He takes a few breaths before giving his mother and sisters a smile. The situation diffuses, but you can sense that he is annoyed. "I just wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend, we didnt came here for an interview. Her outfit is perfect, and I'm NOT a bad boyfriend! I know I'm not..."

Ace

Ace's older brother is charming, witty, and well-liked by everyone. He teases his little brother without any cruelty, making lighthearted jokes at his expense. He is very protective of Ace, he just wants his little brother to be happy. And obviously he wants him to behave in this relationship too.

"He has spoken of you a lot," the older brother comments, his tone teasing. His brother wiggles his eyebrows towards him,  "A bit too much, it seems," Ace says, keeping his voice low, but you hear the annoyance.

"I can't help but hear all about you whenever he's calling me... how much he cares for you, how he's so lucky to have you..." his brother's tone is good-natured. He's just having fun, and hes so glad his brother found true happiness. "Ohh, what else did you say?" Ace can hear the teasing in your voice, no way you're going into this too. "Shut up-!" "Oh, you know," the older brother laughs. "He says you are the sweetest, most beautiful being in the whole wide world. You're an angle with the patience you have for him. He would do anything for you without a second thought. He swears he has never loved another as he has you."

"What a mushy little guy my brother can be," his older brother says, sounding amused.

Ace is turning red. His voice comes out slightly strained, cracking. "I-! I NEVER-! Shut up I never said anything like that, that's way to sappy!" "Mhmmmm, sure bro, sure" His older brother smiles, genuinely.

"I've never seen him so happy," he says, "He's truly a good guy, he just has some rough edges. I'm glad someone like you took their time to get to know him...Take care of him for me."

Deuce

His mother beams. "Oh! This is the one you've been telling me about? You've done well. She is a beauty!"

Deuce's face is tomato red. He is the picture of nervousness, his eyes darting about the room with his mouth clamped shut for fear that he will say too much or too little. His mother's enthusiastic and effusive approach is overwhelming him. He wants to sink into the floor, damning himself for telling his mother and grandmother about you so much. "We are so delighted to have you here. Please," his mother continues, offering you her seat. "Sit, sit! No need to stand around!"

She smiles widely at you as she gestures to a plush chair across from them. A low table separates you, and the three of you are arranged across from one another. Deuce's grandmother walks slowly behind his mother, bearing a tray of tea and pastries in her hands. Without a word, she sits down and quietly offers one of the small cakes to you.

She doesn't take her eyes away from you, smiling wide. You can't help but smile back at her, but before you can thank her she leans closer to Deuce mother. "Perfect aren't they? I knew someone wil eventually see that our Deuce is a catch." She wasn't as discreet as she thought she was, but you can only agree with her, Deuce is a catch.

"Thank you so much-!" "It's nothing, dear," she says, her voice soft as velvet. His mother breaks the silence, leaning forward in her seat. "Now then, tell us all about yourselves. We have heard plenty from our son, but we want to hear from you."

Deuce is paralyzed. He has nothing ready to say. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding in his chest. Although he is more than happy both his most loved family members love you, he is still nervous. It's embarrassing! "Wait-!" His grandmother immediately stands up from her seat. She disappears and reappears with a thick photo album. She settles back down and opens it.

"Now, let me show you my handsome boy when he was young. I think this is a much better idea!"

Deuce's head falls back, someone kill him. His heart stops at the pictures of himself....fuck...he's naked....

[drluvsick]

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞? — 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚

sanemi wants to impress you, so he turns to his cooking skills. NOT PROOFREAD.

word count : 684

“make her a flamboyant meal, she’ll love it,” tengen confidently said, “take it from me!”

“why should i be taking advice from you?” sanemi growled, “i can deal with my own problems.”

“clearly not, if you haven’t asked her out yet.”

“it’s none of your business. get your drama addict ass out of my face.”

“well, she’ll never like you with that attitude.”

sanemi grumbled under his breath, cursing him for making sense.

he left the conversation after that, taking a walk for some much needed alone time. 

his words echoed from earlier, “make her a flamboyant meal, she’ll love it.”

“…she’ll love it.”

would you? from him? now that he thought about it, his cooking skills weren’t too shabby. if he tried hard enough…

he set his plan into motion. 

knock. offer breakfast with him under a disguise of “making too much food”. hopefully make you happy. that was the plan. 

he was regretting this immediately as soon as his fist made contact with the entrance. as he got ready to dash out, you slid open the door—newly dressed in your hashira outfit. 

“so pretty.” he thought to himself before snapping quickly into his usual resting face. 

“oh, sanemi, what a nice surprise! i was about to have breakfast if you’d—”

“actually, i’m here to invite you to breakfast,” he cut you off out of nervousness, “i made too much this morning, so i was wondering if you’d like to join me.” sanemi’s gaze turned elsewhere as he felt his face heat up. he couldn’t believe that his words came out that smoothly. 

your eyes turned mischievous. everyone knew that you and sanemi liked to mess with each other on the pettiest things, and this would be no exception. 

“oh? are you sure you just made too much, or did you do this on purpose just to spend some quality time with lil ol’ me?” you suppressed a giggle at his involuntary flustered expression. 

“yes, dumbass. i wouldn’t just go and make extras for you willingly.” he spat out in defense. a big fat lie. 

“you know, too much lying’s not a good thing to practice. glad to know you care,” you replied casually, closing the door before taking your place next to him.

“wha—?!” his face was tinted red, a shade that suited him nicely. “oi, whoever said that i cared about you?” 

“love, you can’t hide shit from me.” you knowingly smiled before taking a bento box from him. “so, where are we eating?” 

you were going to be the death of him. 

romantic places always set a romantic mood, or at least as romantic as you could get with your back to back banter with sanemi. i guess you could think of it as your very own love language to him. 

sanemi would never admit it out loud, but he loved these moments with you. moments where you’d be yourself with him instead of that prim and proper attitude at hashira meetings and such. 

he loved your voice. your laugh. your presence. your personality. he loved you. 

“you’re not half bad at cooking, but i bet i could do better.” 

“be thankful you’re getting free food from me,” he growled back, although softer than what he’d usually sound to others. 

after a few seconds, a soft smile graced your features. “thank you, sanemi.” 

his face changed from surprised to a smile matching yours. “you’re welcome.” 

a stray cherry blossom fell on his head, a soft delicate thing contrasting to the roughness it landed on. you gently brushed it off before tucking some hair behind his ear. how cheesy. 

you immediately stood up after, picking up your empty box as sanemi mirrored your acts, albeit lethargic after what had happened. 

you glanced at him, stacking yours on top of his to reuse. “thanks again! it was delicious.” 

he had only a moment to process your words before you tiptoed forward and kissed him on the cheek. then you rushed away as sanemi brought a hand to his rough cheek and malfunctioned. 

you were squeezing his heart in the best ways possible.

overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

In Sunday's chapter the madame mentioned that Aemond brought girls from the brothel to the fortress for his pleasure, you could make the reader one of those girls but she is a virgin and it is her first job

This took so long to write, but I was so invested in the story that it almost got to 3k...oops. I hope you enjoy this Aemond smut <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, virgin!reader, (brief) mention of child prostitution, prostitution, oral (m receiving), p + v

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

As soon as you stepped into the pleasure house for the night, Madam Sylvi collected you. She had been waiting for you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you followed her to the back saloon, fearing the worst. You wondered if there had been a complaint from a customer and if you were about to be fired.

‘’Scrub your body with a sponge and change into this,’’  she said, handing you a muted blue dress that tied at your neck. ‘’You will be working outside the house tonight.’’ 

You frowned, confusion washing over you. ‘’Outside the house?’’ you repeated. 

Whoever this customer was, he must be paying the Madam a lot of gold pieces to have girls brought to him because when you got hired, the Madam was clear about not going home with the customers. It was strictly forbidden. 

She nodded. ‘’A special customer. He used to come here regularly, but after a recent event, he now requests to have girls brought to him. It minimizes the risks of indiscretion.’’

You swallowed hard. You had been working at the pleasure house for a week and were only doing smaller services. A nervous feeling bubbled in your stomach. You knew that one day you would be required to expand your services, but you didn’t think it would be outside the safety of the house. What if this customer was violent with you? 

Madam Sylvi gave you a soft, reassuring smile. ‘’Worry not, child. I trust this customer to take good care of my girls. You will be well-paid and well-fed.’’

Once you were ready, you and two other girls were escorted to the gates of the Red Keep. A guard in armor was waiting for you, and walked you in silence through the winding corridors of the castle that you had never seen before. You kept your gaze low and walked quickly, intimidated by the impressive beauty of the keep and the royal quarters.

The guard stopped in front of two large doors. He knocked, and waited for a moment. One of the doors opened and a man ushered the three of you into the room. His hair was dark, not white. He must be at the service of a figure of the crown.

‘’Stand in line for the Prince Regent,’’ the man said.

The Prince Regent? The name sent a shiver down your spine. You had heard whispers about him, but never saw him in person. Like all Targaryen men, he must be of an alluring beauty. 

The door opened again and you all straightened your posture as Prince Aemond walked in. He was tall and dressed head to toe in black leather. An impressive sword was sheathed on one hip, a dagger on the other. He looked imposing, fierce, and insanely beautiful. 

‘’The girls have arrived, Your Grace. The Madam has sent her finest ones.’’ 

Aemond glanced at the three of you, standing in the middle of the room in your light dresses. ‘’Thank you, Ser Phillip. I will see for myself.’’ 

He moved past the first one, too plain faced for his liking. The girl was hurt by Prince Aemond’s rejection, but she tried to conceal it. You wanted to tell her that she looked good regardless of what the prince thought, but decided against it. You’ll offer her comfort later. Maybe you’ll both need it. 

The second one had large green eyes and nipples so dark you could see them through the thin fabric of her dress. Aemond glanced up and down, and then spoke in a monotone voice. ‘’Turn around.’’

The girl complied, and turned around on the spot. Aemond circled her, like a shark circling its prey. He was cold. Completely emotionless. He reached out to touch her, feeling the smoothness of her skin, looking for imperfections. 

‘’How lovely is she?’’ he said to Ser Phillip. 

‘’Very lovely, Your Grace.’’ 

Aemond pulled the tie of her dress behind her neck, causing the blue fabric to fall and pool down at her feet. The girl gasped softly, not expecting the prince to disrobe her. He reached to grab one of her breasts, her tan skin contrasting with his. 

‘’Do you like my breasts, my Prince?’’ the girl asked, a little too confident that he would pick her.  

‘’Not really.’’ Aemond retracted his hand. 

The girl’s face fell, but he didn’t care. 

He slowly walked towards you. You were terrified. Aemond had been quick to dismiss the two other girls. You didn’t notice any major flaws on either of them. He was extremely picky, or he was looking for something specific.

You tensed under his gaze, his single eye watching you like a cat with his prey. He studied your curves, your face. He took you in slowly. He seemed to like what he saw, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up like the last girl. 

‘’Turn around,’’ he commanded.

You obeyed, turning around slowly. He took in your backside, the shape of your hips. Unlike other girls at the pleasure house, you weren't gifted in the hips area, but Aemond didn't seem to dislike it. He reached out to touch the skin on your lower back. His fingers were long and elegant, and surprisingly gentle. He caressed up your back, pulling your hair to the side with his other hand so he could carry on to your neck. His touch sent shivers through your body. You felt like prey in a cage, and he was the hunter.

Your shoulders trembled slightly, and Aemond noticed. ‘’You look scared, little one,’’ he whispered.

‘’I’m sorry, my Prince— I mean, Your Grace.’’ You bit your cheek, cursing yourself. 

Technically, your title was not wrong, Aemond was still a prince. However, as he was acting as the regent in the stead of King Aegon, ‘Your Grace’ was more appropriate.

Behind you, Aemond smirked. He enjoyed the effect he had on you. ‘’Take the others and leave us,’’ he ordered Ser Phillip. ‘’Use them for yourself if you wish. I care not.’’ 

The man bowed his head and took the two other girls out of the room, leaving you alone with the prince. 

 Once the door closed behind Ser Phillip, Aemond stepped closer to you and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. ‘’You are a sight for sore eyes,'' he whispered, his one eye looking at yours.

His words left you flushed and stunned. You have been called beautiful in many degrading ways since working at the pleasure house. It was nice to hear true compliments. 

‘’I was disappointed with the Madam's girls tonight. All plain faced and overused. I remember my brother wetting his cock in the first one when I was a lad.’’

She didn't seem older than eight and ten, she must have been very young when she started working at Madam Sylvi's. 

''But you,'' Aemond said, letting go of your hand to lift your chin and gently force you to look up, still holding his gaze. 

You were so captivated by the prince's piercing eye that you didn't notice Aemond moving closer. His hand, firm and deliberate, slipped behind your neck, deftly tugging at the tie that held your dress in place. Before you realized what was happening, your dress slipped down your body, pooling silently at your feet, just as it had with the second girl moments before. 

The sudden chill of the room made you shiver, a cool breeze from the large windows brushing against your now-exposed skin.

Aemond ghosted a hand down your neck and over the goosebumps of your chest, watching your nipples turning into peaks invitingly. ‘’You must be a delight to fuck.’’ His palms covered your breasts, weighing them in his hand, kneading them.

‘’I…I would not know. I’ve never laid with a man.’’

Aemond raised a brow at your admission. ‘’Never?’’

‘’Never.’’

‘’How is it possible?’’ he asked. ‘’You work at Madam Sylvi’s pleasure house.’’

‘’I’ve only worked there as of recently. I used to be a baker, but with the False Queen’s blockade, we no longer get food in the city. The place was forced to shut down.’’

You were brief in your explanation, not wanting to bother him with smallfolk problems. It’s not what you were here for. The Madam warned all her girls about speaking of your private life to customers. 

‘’I apologize on the behalf of the crown, although my half-sister is to blame.’’ 

You gave him a nod, accepting his insincere apologies. He was probably taught to speak courtly and politically. ‘’That is kind of you, Your Grace, but I am not here to lament about the smallfolk’s misery.’’ You batted your best innocent eyes. ‘’What does the Prince wishes me to do?’’

Aemond brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. ''Get on your knees and that sweet mouth open wide.'' 

You knelt down and looked back up at him, waiting for another command. He took his time removing his sword belt and unbuckling his leather doublet. You pleasantly took awareness of the absence of a tunic under. 

He reached to unlace his breeches, pulling them down to his thighs and revealing his heavy, half-stiff cock. It was long and thick enough to make a tear drop between your legs. 

''Open wide, little bird,'' Aemond commanded, jerking himself to full hardness before feeding his cock to your awaiting mouth.

You wrapped your lips around him, bobbing down a few times to get him wet and slippery before grasping the bottom of his shaft and swiping your tongue over the slit at the head. Everytime you did this, the customers would moan loudly. 

But it didn't have the same effect on the prince. He stiffened, his jaw clenching, and pushed you down his cock by the back of your head. You were under his command tonight. You'll do what he wants. 

You continued bobbing your head up and down his length slowly as drool slipped past your lips and down his throbbing cock. The image was filthy and beautiful at the same time. You took him deeper, causing him to twitch in your mouth, and stopped before it hit the back of your throat. A quiet moan escaped your lips, his grip in your hair tightening. 

He released into your mouth with long spurts and quiet groans. You tried to swallow all he was giving you, but some ended up dripping down your chin and to your chest, painting your breasts with drops of thick white royal seeds. 

When he was finished, you pulled back and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.  ‘’What does His Grace wishes now?’’ you asked, looking up at him, waiting for his next instruction. 

He motioned for you to stand, a smirk tugging at his lips when he saw his seed on your body. He reached out and smeared it over your nipples. ''Go to my bed and wait for me.''

You nodded and walked across the large room, perceiving the bed in the distance. The sigils of House Targaryen were embroidered on the tapestries behind the headboard. You stared at it for a moment, then heard some shuffling, letting you know Aemond was approaching. 

Quickly, you hopped on the large bed and sat in the middle. 

Your jaw almost dropped when you saw him coming at you, fully naked. He was lean, but not too skinny, his muscles rippling over his body with every move. His chest was pale, and completely bare. 

Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men. You've never been a believer, but, with a body like his, Aemond Targaryen must have been crafted by the gods.

You tore your gaze away, looking down at your lap. ‘’I did not know how you wanted me…’’ you said, fiddling with your fingers.

Aemond lifted your chin. ‘’That’s alright. I’ll guide you.’’

He pushed you back against the sheets and settled between your legs. His hands felt along your skin, leaving more goosebumps behind. Except this time it wasn't because of the cool wind, but Aemond's simple touch. 

The prince looked down at you; rosy cheeks, bouncy breasts and soft thighs with enough meat to grab. He kissed between your breasts, and continued down your stomach and hips, pulling soft sighs from you as he got closer to your cunt. 

Was he like this with every girl that came to the Red Keep? 

Your question died on your tongue as his thumb pressed delicately against your clit. No customers had ever succeeded in finding it, forcing you to fake pleasure when they fumbled around. You pushed back against his thumb, wanting him to do it again. Aemond obliged, moving in motions you had never tried in the privacy of your bed before.

It was not allowed to kiss, but you didn't protest when his mouth crashed on yours. Your hand found way to his jaw, pulling him closer as he kissed you slowly. You were so enthralled by his lips that you barely noticed the two fingers that ran through your folds, prodding at your tight entrance.

You felt a slight uncomfortableness when his fingers slipped inside, your walls clenching around his digits. With how tight you felt, Aemond was looking forward to sinking his cock and pound into you. 

After a moment, he pulled you knees up, and a loud gasp escaped your mouth, your eyes squeezed shut suddenly as you felt him slowly pushing his cock deep into your walls. Your hands clenched in his hair and clawed at his hard chest, feeling like you were being teared open from the inside. 

You whimpered from the pain and scrunched your face, but Aemond didn't withdraw or pause. He continued pushing into you until he was buried to the hilt, causing you to gasp with wide eyes when you felt him hit something deep within you. 

He looked down at you, softly grazing your cheek with his thumb, then pulled out, watching your expression when he thrusted back in. His movements were steady and slow, getting you used to all the new sensations going through your body. He remembered when he was a young boy, his first time laying with a woman was a lot.

Aemond leaned down to kiss your neck, one hand still holding your knee up while his other grabbed one of your breasts, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moaned under him, praising his name and clenching around him as you snaked your arms around his shoulders, needing to anchor yourself. 

It was a pleasant change from what he did with the other girls, but slow sex was a dangerous zone. 

When it became too emotional for him, the prince moved you on your side and took you from behind. He did not let you time to speak before he hammered his hips into you, his heavy balls loudly smacking against your ass every time. The new position had you gripping the sheets, feeling something burning in your lower stomach as he picked up speed with his hips, going faster and deeper until you both reached the edge and your orgasm erupted. 

You made a sound as Aemond pulled out of you, but didn't move. You couldn’t. Your thighs were still shaking from your orgasm and your head was dizzy. So you looked up at the ceiling until your body recovered. 

You didn’t know how many hours had passed since you arrived at the castle, but you were completely exhausted. You will have to walk back to the city soon…unless the prince wanted to fuck you again. A smile curled on your face. You had sex with a Targaryen prince. Better. The Prince Regent had taken your maidenhood.  

Your thoughts got interrupted when Aemond rolled off the bed and stood. He grabbed a black silk robe with dark blue embroideries, and covered his naked body. 

‘’Come,’’ he said without looking back at you.

You followed him through the room, feeling his seed dripping down your inner thigh and leg. You should be embarrassed, but you secretly liked it. 

You stopped in your tracks when you saw a table with a whole feast set up. It was not there when you arrived in the room, meaning someone must have come in while you and the prince were— Red crept to your cheeks, mortified. 

You had not heard the door being opened nor the servants coming in with the food. There was lamb, mince pies, and even honey cakes. Madam Sylvi had not lied when she said you would be well taken care of. 

‘’Help yourself,’’ Aemond said, holding a small honey cake between his fingers. ‘’I assume you have not dined.’’ 

Your stomach was famished. You had been surviving on thinned soup and fish for weeks. The meat and the honey cakes made your mouth water. You missed the sweetness of pastries. 

You took a plate, but before you could start filling it with food, Aemond spoke. 

‘’The tea in the cup is obligatory. To…avoid unwanted bastards,’’ he explained, his eye pointing to a dark cup containing moontea brewed by the maester.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron  @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios  @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist:  @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

[vampirestookmydoubts]

Hi, I loved loved loved your Bridgerton sis imagine, I love the bond she has with Benedict!! Could you write something about her falling in love with Prince Friedrich and some sisterly rivalry because Daphne is trying to make Simon jealous with him? Thank you!!

A Prince's Heart

A/N: thank you for the request, absolutely loved it! Hoping to write more like this in the future. Hope you enjoy! <3

Characters: bridgerton!sister x Prince Friedrich, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton

Word count: 2184

Warnings: non

The ballroom in front of you was a shimmering sea of silks and satins, the opulence of the evening mirrored in every glittering crystal chandelier. The scent of roses and delicate perfumes filled the air, merged with the sound of laughter and the orchestra playing an upbeat song. Your heart fluttered as you stood near the entrance, trying to steady your nervous breath. This was a grand occasion for many, one that could change the course of many young women’s lives, including your own.

Your eyes scanned the room, catching sight of your siblings scattered about. Anthony was deep in conversation with Lady Danbury, while Colin and Eloise appeared to be in the midst of a lively debate. But it was Benedict who caught your eye, his warm smile offering a sense of calm in the bustling room. Your elder brother had always been your confidant, your anchor in the unpredictable sea of social expectations thrown at the both of you.

"Y/N," Benedict called, making his way toward you, linking your arm with his and starting to parade you around the room. "Are you enjoying the evening, dear sister?"

"As much as one can in these circumstances," you replied, a hint of mischief in your tone. He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Well, if anyone can find joy in such an event, it would be you."

Before you could respond, the room suddenly fell silent except for a few whispers and murmurs, and your attention was drawn to the grand staircase. There he was, the grand guest of the evening, Prince Friedrich, descending the stairs with an air of regal grace. Your breath caught in your throat.

The prince was a vision to see, his presence inevitably commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Your eyes met as he gazed upon the ton, and for a moment, it felt as though the world around you had disappeared.

The first time you had met the prince he was introduced to your sister Daphne, as she was the diamond of the season and you just happened to be with her and your mother, so you were greeted, too.

Despite what a lot of the Mama’s and their daughters thought, the prince wasn’t just all looks and riches. He was witty and intelligent and had the ability to make the people around him laugh sincerely and with ease. The way he included you into the conversation and not only asked about Daphne’s interests, but also about yours, never felt forced or just him being polite.

It felt like he had a sincere interest in getting to know you.

"Y/N, isn't he magnificent?” You were violently jolted back to reality by the excited voice of Daphne.

"Indeed," you replied cautiously, fixing your posture. "He is quite remarkable."

Daphne’s eyes sparkled with a hint of something more—determination, perhaps. “He certainly is. It’s no wonder the Queen is so fond of him. He would make a wonderful match for any young lady this season.”

You nodded, sensing the underlying tension in her words. “Indeed. He is quite the catch.”

Daphne’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You know, he is interested in finding a suitable match, and as we were just presented this season and introduced to him, it is only natural for us to be among his considerations.”

You met her gaze, recognizing the competitive edge in her tone. “Of course, Daphne. But I think he is looking for more than just suitability. He seeks a genuine connection.”

“Which is why it is important to make a strong impression,” Daphne replied, her tone sharpening slightly at your underlying accusation. “He must see who is the best match for him.”

You felt a pang of frustration, not just at her words, but at the realization that she would use the prince to make Simon jealous. “Daphne, I understand your desire to capture his attention, but is it truly fair towards him… and Simon?”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression cool and composed. “Maybe I do care for the prince sincerely. I intend to make him mine, you know.” She straightened her posture. “Also, Simon has been most infuriating lately, and I believe a bit of jealousy might do him some good." Your heart sank. Of course, Daphne would use the prince to make the Duke of Hastings jealous. It was a clever plan, one that would undoubtedly succeed.

You sighed, trying to keep your voice steady. “I know you, Daphne. I know how much you care for Simon. But Friedrich deserves honesty, not to be a pawn in your game.”

Daphne’s eyes softened, but her resolve remained. “So what about you, Y/N? What are your intentions with the prince?”

You took a deep breath, meeting her gaze with determination. “I think I feel a connection with him that I cannot ignore, Daphne.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, the weight of unspoken words and sisterly rivalry heavy in the air. Then, Daphne’s expression softened slightly, a hint of understanding in her eyes. “I see. Perhaps we both have more at stake than we realize.”

As you watched your sister move toward the prince, clasping her giant feathery fan, a pang of something you couldn't quite identify surged within you. Was it envy? Regret? Or something deeper?

"Are you all right?" Benedict's concerned voice broke through your thoughts. You nodded, though your heart felt heavy. "Just thinking."

"About Prince Friedrich, perhaps?" he teased gently, nudging you softly. You met his gaze, your eyes betraying the turmoil within. "Perhaps."

Benedict's expression softened. "You have always been honest with yourself, Y/N. If you think you like him, you must not let Daphne's games deter you."

You sighed slightly, your eyes following Daphne as she easily engaged the prince in conversation, fanning her feather fan lowly to draw his attention to her cleavage.

"It's not that simple, Ben. Daphne has always been the one to capture attention. And now, with her being the diamond of the season and her mind set on Prince Friedrich..."

"I don’t know about Daphne’s motives, but I can sense you have genuine feelings for the prince. You should listen to your heart and not be content with living in your sisters shadow." Benedict interrupted your self-pity. “You deserve happiness, too.”

His words resonated with you, filling you with a resolve you hadn't realized you possessed. Perhaps Benedict was right. Perhaps you owed it to yourself to not let Daphne use him for her scheme and to see if this connection with Prince Friedrich was more than just your imagination and if there was something, where it might lead.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself following the prince with your eyes, waiting for a moment where he wasn’t engaged in some conversation. Just as you were about to give up your mission, Fortuna settled the matter and your paths crossed near the refreshment table.

"Miss Bridgerton," he greeted, his soft voice sending shivers down your spine, making you spin around.

"Your Highness," you replied quickly, offering a curtsy. "I trust you are enjoying the evening?"

"I am now," he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "Might I have the pleasure of engaging you in a dance?"

You hesitated suddenly, glancing over to see Daphne watching you both with a keen interest. But then your gaze shifted to Benedict, silently rooting for you, and you knew what you had to do, despite your anxiety and racing thoughts.

"It would be my honor, Your Highness," you said, placing your hand in the one he held out for you.

The ballroom's splendid grandeur faded as Prince Friedrich escorted you to the dance floor. His hold on your hand and waist was warm and steady, his presence both calming and exhilarating at the same time. The small orchestra began a waltz, and you started to move in unison, the world around you narrowing to just the two of you.

"Miss Bridgerton," he began, his voice soft yet clear over the music, "I must confess, I have been eager to speak with you all evening."

You looked up into his eyes, surprised by the sincerity in his gaze. "And I, Your Highness, have been equally curious about you."

"Please," he said with a charming smile, "call me Friedrich."

"Friedrich," you repeated in a whisper, the name feeling both foreign and wonderfully familiar on your lips. "It's a beautiful name."

"Thank you, Y/N," he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. "Tell me, do you enjoy these grand events?" You hesitated, considering your answer. "I do, to an extent. They are lovely, but I sometimes feel lost among the crowds and the expectations the ton has."

He nodded, understanding evident in his expression. "I understand. These gatherings can be quite overwhelming. It is rare to find genuine connection amidst all the pomp and circumstance."

"Indeed," you agreed, feeling a growing ease in his company. "But I find solace in the familiar faces of my family. My brother Benedict, in particular, always knows how to bring a smile to my face."

"Family is a great comfort," Friedrich said thoughtfully. "I admire the close bond your family shares. It is something I have longed for."

Your heart softened at his words, seeing a vulnerability in him that was surely hidden behind his princely façade most of the time. "You are always welcome among us, Friedrich. We Bridgertons have a habit of adopting those we care about."

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "That is a generous offer, Y/N. I may take you up on that."

As the music swirled around you, the conversation grew more personal, the connection between you deepening with each passing moment. But you also became acutely aware of Daphne watching from the sidelines, her expression unreadable. You knew she had her own motives, her own desires, but in this moment, they seemed distant, overshadowed by the prince's presence.

"May I ask, Friedrich, how do you like London?" you inquired.

"It feels like a mix of duty and desire," he admitted. "I didn’t time to see much of London, to be honest. As you know, my aunt, the Queen, believes it is time I find a suitable match. But I was hoping to find someone with whom I can share more than just royal obligations."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words and mustered up your strength to ask further. "And have you had any luck in the search so far?"

His eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made you catch your breath. "Perhaps," he said softly. "There is indeed someone who has captured my attention."

Your cheeks flushed under his gaze, hope blossoming in your heart. "And, if I may ask, what is it that you seek in a potential partner, Friedrich?"

"Someone genuine, kind, and unafraid to be themselves," he said, his voice earnest. "Someone like you, Y/N." The admission left you momentarily speechless, your heart racing and head spinning.

"I have to admit you seem different from the others," Friedrich said, his tone contemplative. "There is a sincerity about you that is rare to find these days."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I could say the same about you, Friedrich. You are not what I expected."

He cocked his head in confusion. "And what did you expect?"

You paused, searching for the right words. "Someone distant, untouchable. But you... you are kind, genuine."

Friedrich's gaze softened, and he took a step closer. "It takes courage to be yourself in a world that often demands otherwise."

Your breath hitched as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. "To be honest I find myself drawn to you in ways I cannot explain," he confessed.

Your heart soared at his words, the honesty in his eyes mirroring your own feelings. "I… feel the same, Friedrich."

The moment was charged with unspoken emotion, a promise of something deeper, something real. The music swelled, and as the final notes played, Friedrich led you to the edge of the dance floor. He didn't release your hand immediately, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles.

"I would very much like to see you again, Y/N," he said, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled, feeling a sense of hope and excitement you hadn't felt in a long time. "I would like that too, Friedrich." The prince smiled contently, offering you a polite bow as he handed you over to Benedict, who nodded at Friedrich in response.

You curtsied as a goodbye and when you came up again, you were greeted by Benedict’s raised eyebrow and a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Friedrich, hm.”, Benedict mocked you in a loving way. You felt your cheeks flush, but returned his smile, feeling a newfound sense of confidence and purpose.

The night had brought unexpected revelations and the promise of new beginnings. As you watched Prince Friedrich mingle with the guests, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you were ready to face them. For now, you had hope, and perhaps something more—a chance at love.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! Can you please write something abt Eddie x Cheerleader! Reader? Like they met at detention and Eddie was surprised bc “Hawkins High Princess” was at detention, maybe they started to sneak out and went to the bench at the woods, and after some time, they fell in love?

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Hawkins princess

Eddie knew the route to detention like the back of his hand. It was a routine he did almost daily. Walking down the hallway to the small classroom filled with the other delinquents.

He took the chair in the back corner, as always, and propped his dirty sneakers on the table. He crossed his arms and slanted his head down, preparing for an afternoon nap.

He looked up when people gasped as the doors opened. He was shocked to see Y/N shuffling inside.

She sat near the front, and Eddie was already picking up his stuff. He slammed his body right next to her spot, a dazzling smirk on his face.

She eyed him but didn't say the first word.

"What the hell did the Hawkins princess do to land in here?" He asked, his voice was loud. She sat in her cheerleading uniform, growing uncomfortable from the eyes on her.

"Punched Jason in the jaw," she said as she rolled her eyes. She'd do it again with no regrets.

Eddie's smirk grew as he looked impressed

"Well damn, I think you deserve an award for that." Eddie joked

"Yeah well, no one else thought so." She shrugged. She was a bit annoyed she got called into dentition for it. He practically asked for it.

"Eddie Munson right?" She asked, turning her body to face him. A look in her eyes.

"The one and only" he smiled

"You know how to get out of here?" She whispered, leaning closer

"Oh baby, I do." He said, grabbing her hand and racing out the doors.

She laughed as they ran to his van, she could hear teachers yelling but she loved that Eddie kept going.

He peeled off on two tires as she held on to the door. She didn't ask where they were going to go, she weirdly trusted him.

And that's where their adventure began.

~~~

She didn't get a dentition after that, but that didn't mean she stopped seeing him. She'd skip out of practice and knock on the door, once he saw her he was taking off. Then they'd run and run.

Their destination changed how they felt. Sometimes they cruised on the roads until they found a beach, or they went down the street for burgers and fries. Sometimes they went to Eddie's or she snuck him in her bedroom.

She loved how fun he was and how spontaneous he could be.

"Wanna go smoke?" He asked, they reached his van but he didn't open the doors.

"I don't smoke but I'll sit with you." She offered. She would sit and do nothing with him, his presence was enough to entertain her.

"Sweet. I got a place" he winked and took her hand again.

She felt her heart racing as they walked through the woods, his hand tight as it held hers.

She never thought she'd find herself crushing on Eddie, but boy was she fucked. It was weeks of sneaking out to be alone with him, and she was captivated by his persona. He was just as crazy, loud, and obnoxious as he was in school, and she found herself loving it.

"Here she is!" He said, letting go of her hand to proudly show off the tiny wooden bunch. "My second favorite girl," he said as he knocked on the wood and took a seat.

"Who's number one?" Y/N asked as she sat on the bench across from him, secretly hoping he'd grab her and place her right next to him.

"You," he said with another wink, making her body heat up as she tried to play it off

He got busy working on his joint as she watched. She squirmed at the way his fingers perfectly rolled the paper. And she held back a moan as his tongue swiped across the paper to seal it. She never knew how attractive Eddie could be.

He lit the end and the smoke filled the air. She silently watched as he puffed on the joint, the way his lips wrapped around the end. The way he inhaled and his neck stretched.

The smell filled her nose and knocked her into reality.

"Wanna try?" He asked

"No, thanks. Chrissy would kill me." Y/N laughed

"Didn't you punch her boyfriend then skip out on multiple practices?" Eddie laughed

"Eh all worth it." She laughed with him.

Eddie held the joint with his mouth as he reached for her hand. "Healed nice." He said, muffled by the joint but she knew what he said.

She felt her face blush as he softly traced her skin.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked

He nodded and returned his hand to smoke the joint the correct way.

"Wanna go to my place? My parents are out for the weekend." She asked, and she asked in a way that Eddie knew what she meant.

He coughed the smoke out of his lungs. He tried to keep his cool but inside his brain was cheering and patting himself on the back.

"Oh hell yes"

That night they went further than ever before. They kissed, made out, and had sex. All weekend long. They barely left the sheets, just soaking in each other from sunrise to sunset.

That weekend she realized she was falling for him.

~~~

"I can't keep covering your ass for the coach. She's pissed you ditched out on weekend practice." Chrissy said, sitting next to Y/N as the cafeteria filled.

"It's the weekend. I'm not spending it with her." Y/N scoffed

"Well, I have an idea who you spent it with" Chrissy smirked, flicking the dark spot on Y/N's neck.

"Ow!" Y/N flinched

"Spill," Chrissy said, somehow getting closer to Y/N.

Y/N sighed and looked over at Eddie, Chrissy followed her eyes and gasped. Causing the table to look at her.

"What?" Jason asked, his black eye now returning to a normal color.

"Nothing. Mind your business." Y/N snapped. Once the table went back to their conversations, Chrissy silently squealed.

"Bad boy of Hawkins? Oh I know he's dirty." Chrissy teased, she looked back at Eddie and then back to her.

"Oh you are gross" Y/N laughed as she shoved Chrissy's shoulder.

"Oh come on! Give me some details. I tell you mine!" Chrissy begged

"Yeah and it makes me sick," Y/N said with a mocking smile. But she knew she'd give in.

"It is dirty but that's all I'm gonna say!" Y/N laughed, Chrissy fanned herself as she acted out.

"Next sleepover you are telling me everything!"

"One problem though," Y/N sighed, "I really like him"

"So? Ask him out" Chrissy shrugged, like it was the easiest thing to do.

"Ask who out?" Jason but in

Y/N rolled her eyes and kept her attention on Chrissy

"Trust me, I've thought about it. But what if he isn't interested? He doesn't look like the relationship type." She sighed and her eyes trailed over to Eddie once more. He laughed with Dustin, shaking the boy's body.

"You wanna date the freak?" Jason scoffed

"He's not a freak." She said annoyed. Already tired of giving him her time. "But yes, I wanna ask Eddie out."

"That's social suicide and might lead to actual suicide," Jason argued

"Jason shut it." Chrissy snapped

"You know what Jason? I should have blackened your other eye. Save you from having to watch this." Y/N snapped. She grabbed her backpack and walked straight over to Eddie's table.

"incoming!" Mike said as Y/N marched over to their table.

Eddie looked at Mike and followed his eyes. Eddie straightened in his chair and quickly fluffed his hair.

"You look good, don't worry," Dustin whispered as he patted Eddie's shoulder.

"Y/N?" Eddie asked once she made it over. He looked over her shoulder and saw her table staring at him

"Stand up," she demanded and he quickly obeyed

He stood up, very confused about what was happening

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her lips on his. She didn't keep it little, she shoved her tongue down his throat and tangled her hands in his hair.

He felt his breath being taken away but made sure to kiss her back. His hands slipped down to her ass as he proudly groped her in the middle of the cafeteria.

The hellfire table stared at them with shock and amusement

Chrissy watched proudly

And the rest of the table watched with disgust

They pulled away, and Y/N smiled at Eddie's dazed face.

"Wanna go out, Munson? Try a real date?" Her arms were still hooked around his neck as she smiled

"Fuck yes" he breathed out as he caught his breath back

"Pick me up 7" she winked as she walked back to her table

Eddie blinked a thousand times, watching her walk away with her hips swaying.

"Dude! Nice!" Gareth cheered as he slammed his hands on Eddie's shoulders.

Did that really just happen?

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[nouearth]

“POLKA DOTS AND MOONBEAMS”

steve rogers x male reader.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 & 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓—headcanon [ 4.1k ] 〳 part one

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒—male reader 〳 domestic!au 〳 mid-century!era 〳 'roommates' 〳established relationship 〳 secret husband!steve 〳 mentions of period-homophobia 〳 brief quarreling 〳 sexual content: top!steve, bottom!reader, love-making, breeding, milking, praising, verbal, dirty talk, body worshiping, guidance.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who coasted the city and was on a mission to find the best spaghetti and meatballs with you.

‣ "Verdict?"

‣ Steve's gaze looked right past the fork held before your lips, watching your mouth and expression twist and turn like the spaghetti noodles around the fork prongs prior.

‣ "It's good... not great. The sauce isn't as thick as I'd like for it to be... but it tastes fresh? Basil leaves adds a nice balance to the acidity... but the meatballs are a little overcooked. What do you think, Steve? I'm too picky, aren't I?"

‣ It was written all over your face. Satisfied, but not impressed.

‣ Unlike the last restaurant where you two had the misfortune of eating bloated pasta noodles and watery red sauce, this place was edible and especially generous with their serving.

‣ Decent, if Steve had the chance of writing a one-worded review for the paper.

‣ "You're not picky, just particular, but I agree. Red sauce is good—Padrino's still better. Meatballs are pretty tough, aren't they... but I do like the flavor of them. You can tell they used a fattier mixture compared to the rest. A lot of garlic too, which makes up for the lack of it in the sauce..."

‣ "Not as good as Mama's?"

‣ "The moment we find a spaghetti that's as good as your mother's, is the day we find a way to squeeze water from stone, (M/N)."

‣ "Don't mention that to her. I don't need her ego to be any more inflated than it already has been."

‣ Dates like these were never boring.

‣ No matter how many times Steve had watched your face wrench in disdain or light up in surprise, he always found it a joy to watch you participate in this arbitrary—now routinely—idea of critiquing spaghetti and meatballs so earnestly.

‣ To be fair, it wasn't like you two had a slew of options to make dates seem... more like dates.

‣ In fact, there shouldn't have been any options offered on the table in the first place.

‣ Any intimations that you and Steve were on a date would've been subject to a location change.

‣ Most likely, a candle-lit dinner in a jail-cell, dined over cold hard concrete, and Steve was sure the spaghetti and meatballs served there was going to clutch last place in his ranking.

‣ Though, Steve was hopeful that the romance would still be alive and well had it ever come to that point.

‣ You had a thing for restaurants with a gimmick.

‣ "Seven out of ten sounds about right?"

‣ "What about dessert? We can't leave without getting the tiramisu, Steve."

‣ "Since when did we factor in desserts for the scoring?"

‣ "What—since we started. Don't tell me you've been only ranking the spaghetti and meatballs... it's all about the experience, the... the je ne sais quoi—heard that on the radio once!"

‣ "The je ne sais quoi—this is why I wanted you to be the one logging everything down, (M/N)!"

‣ It took more of a toll on him than it did on you.

‣ Well, if it did, then you did a stunning job at maintaining your usual optimism.

‣ Whenever you two were out in public, Steve felt hammered by this distance pushing him apart.

‣ It was a conscious effort on both ends—a natural one that pertained to the business of being in a homosexual relationship

‣ Or just being a homosexual, period.

‣ Steve understood it. He abode it. And he hated it.

‣ Often, when the conversation between you and him would come to a slow, Steve would look right past your shoulder, right at the lucky couple who were in his sight-line—a gentleman with an impressive mustache and his lady—and simply stare.

‣ His thoughts wandered.

‣ The gentleman was unabashed in his public flirtations with the woman.

‣ Massaging her hands, tending to the aches in her knuckles with firm, but appeasing presses.

‣ The smell of his cigar was pervasive, but the lady didn't seem to mind. It seemed like she thought it was rather charming when he blew a smoke towards her face.

‣ One hand would run up her arms in several strokes, rough callous grinding down her goosebumps, and the man would compliment how soft and supple her skin was.

‣ The lady would bat her eyelashes, giggle at the man's public display of affection whilst also maintaining some sense of courtesy to halt his advances when a pair of curious eyes were enough to render her cheeks scarlet—like the lipstick she had worn for the evening.

‣ Steve hated this restraint. This lack of freedom that forced him to talk to you as if you were his co-worker.

‣ To look at you as if he had no affection for you whatsoever when that was further from the truth.

‣ To touch you as if you were an infection that could cost him his life, and him to yours.

‣ That wasn't completely off from what society thought of people like you and Steve, was it.

‣ "It's not nice to stare, Steve... quit it."

‣ "If I can't even look at my own lov—you, what else am I supposed to do?"

‣ "Steve—come on, not now. You know how it is. It's hard, I know. But... we can't just be cooped up in our pad and wear out its virtues. It's nice to go out every once in a while, even if—it has to be like this."

‣ "It's just not—fair. Maybe—maybe we can do something. It doesn't feel right if we're doing nothing about those bar raids too. They're increasing, you know? Becoming more violent and—"

‣ "Hush. People are staring to look."

‣ "Why do you seem completely fine with this? Hiding ourselves—"

‣ "Look, I don't like it as much as you do. Hell, it's killing me on the inside that I can't even smile at you like how it would naturally come. But I'm okay with hiding—because it's for my safety, and most importantly, for yours. I don't ask for much, but I've envisioned the near end of my life to be fulfilled and labored with no regrets. With a house where I can harvest my own apples from my own tree. With a lazy pup that knows better than to eat through my laces. All of that would be possible because I hid—no—because I endured. And I would heavily prefer it if you would join me in that life. Call me a coward, spineless, or selfish, but I don't want it to be our last, Steve. It's terrifying—to know that any day I could lose you to violence and persecution, myself included. So, please—just hold it out for longer—that's all I ask of you."

‣ Most of all, Steve hated that he was envious.

‣ He wished he could be the one wiping sauce stain off your lips.

‣ He wished that he could hold your hand over the table and stroke the ring on your finger that you could've kept on.

‣ He wished that he could stop the tears from welling in your eyes like he often did back at home.

‣ He wished that he could tell you that he loved you, either with a mouthful of meatballs or none at all, because in the end—it would've felt better than communicating those three words with three taps of his foot to your shin.

‣ You nearly reached over for his hand to calm him down, but pulled your back straight upon the fright of a passing waiter and opted for the cipher that was could only be cracked between you and Steve.

‣ Three gentle kicks to his shin, once more to his other leg, and Steve sighed for pardon, returning the cipher gently to your own shin.

‣ He wished he could openly compliment how handsome his husband looked tonight, ramble how grateful he was to have you in his life, or complain about how you kicked him a little too hard, but that was all well and fine because it meant that you were still present.

‣ Freedom—All of it, the positives and negatives, without the looming threat of a policeman pummeling you and Steve with a nightstick afterwards—because that was normal.

‣ Because that was life.

‣ A life that will pay in the long run.

‣ "Check, please."

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐃𝐄.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who ambled the misty street of Brooklyn Heights with you, the night dew giving everything a hazy look as you and Steve passed through moist air, side-by-side.

‣ "I was brash tonight, Steve. I apologize."

‣ "No, no... you were right. If anything, I was being a fat head. I was out-of-line. I'm sorry."

‣ "You were right too, you know. It's not fair. It's not that I don't want to do anything about it, I really do. I just—it can't be the two of us tackling something bigger than us. Everyone is petrified, Steve."

‣ "I know... but if we somehow all come together in some kind of union, then maybe—we can call for a difference. Show them that enough is enough. Show them that fear is no longer something they can instill in us."

‣ "Like a rebellion or something?"

‣ "Well, if it has to come to that, then so be it."

‣ "You know a guy, don't you..."

‣ "I know a guy."

‣ "Is it Bucky?"

‣ "What—how'd you know?"

‣ "Steve, you only know one guy."

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who was detoured into a dark alleyway between business building blocks. There was the droning sound sound of night, the low and humming resonant as the city had fallen asleep, all but two guests.

‣ "(M/N), what are we—"

‣ "All that quarreling made me forget to tell you how dashing you looked tonight. You know I especially like your hair combed back like that, Steve-o."

‣ He didn't need much of a hint as to what you were getting at.

‣ Squeezing in between a narrow passageway that would luckily only admit two bodies at a time, you and Steve were obscured from any wandering eyes.

‣ From judgement of the world.

‣ "Steve, you ought-ta listen to me more. Blue polka dots look darling on you."

‣ "If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted me to wear a pink tie, darling."

‣ "Pink would've made me sauced my pants..."

‣ "You. Are. So. Vulgar."

‣ Shadows cast over his squashed body against yours, the moonlight only lighting the parts that mattered the most right now.

‣ The laughter that left your mouth after each peck Steve would grace you with.

‣ The lips that had him feeling withdrawal symptoms after an unbearable few hours of watching you lick sauce off your lips.

‣ The hand that tug Steve closer by his tie.

‣ The eyes that drew Steve in closer, until the tip of his nose touched yours.

‣ "Have I told you how much I love my cologne on you, darling?"

‣ "Have I told you how much I prefer your cologne rubbing off on me, as opposed to me spraying it on directly?"

‣ Slowly, breathing, pacifying; Steve's invisible stubble made your mouth twitch with a scratch, one of your many quirks he found himself silently obsessing over.

‣ And that was enough to push him over the edge, and finally kiss you like he'd wanted to since the evening had started.

‣ It was slow, almost careful like Steve was afraid of breaking you.

‣ Steve wasn't expecting this self-restraint from you. He wasn't expecting your hands on his jaw, tenderly massaging at either sides to keep your hands preoccupied while he slid his tongue alongside yours.

‣ He wasn't expecting to hear his own pulse because you were so stubborn in maintaining this control—you refused to summon urgency by vaulting your moans into the back of your throat.

‣ But Steve knew you more than he knew himself. He knew how you liked your eggs in the morning. He knew the perfect temperature for your bath. He knew you from the mole on your back, to the stance when you were impatient.

‣ He knew that if he led one of your hands right here—feeling the cusp of his growing bulge—that you'd give Steve what he wanted, and fall completely apart.

‣ And Steve knew that—by the eager palm of your hand, shoving into his unbuckled pants and groping—he was right.

‣ "Steve—just fuck me right here, yeah? I can't take it anymore."

‣ "Honey, we don't have any slick..."

‣ "Then give it to me raw. Use your spit. The rain. I don't care, I need you—"

‣ Your lips were warm and soft when Steve kissed you from rambling into the void again. His hands were against your stomach and chest, and your moans sent shivers down his spine.

‣ "Christ—turn around."

‣ Against the brick wall, teeth sinking into your forearm, you took Steve in without any regrets. Cold sweat breaking over your skin like evening dew collecting on window sills.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—slowly, Steve—"

‣ You could feel Steve's heart beat against your back, pushing further into you, huffing into your neck.

‣ "I love you."

‣ "I love you."

‣ From then on, you and Steve lived without any regrets.

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍.

Secret Husband!Steve Rogers who relished every inch of your body; with his eyes, with his mouth, with his hands, with his body, with his being—until you found yourself transported wholly to all different kinds of sensations, and he'd repeat to discover new ones for you.

‣ "You're good at this, you know."

‣ "Humor me?"

‣ Steve was mouthing at your inner thigh, one hand stroking your leaking cock, and the other pumping his Vaseline-slicked fingers into you.

‣ He looked up from his eyelashes, teasing your sack with a lick.

‣ Another lick, because he liked being distracted by your body arching off the bed, crinkling the sheets in the process.

‣ "Good at loving me. You know what I want, what I need—just like that. Putting another finger into me without asking of me if you can. Twisting—fuck—turning me out, all based on how my body responds to you."

‣ "Well, it's not difficult to gauge what you need. Your nails dig into the sheets when it's too much. Your fingers and toes curl when the pleasure's coming in. Your hips roll—when you need more, or a new fix. I'm no magician you're making me out to be, (M/N).

‣ "You notice all of that? That's embarrassing... and here I thought I was being alluring..."

‣ Steve layered his thick cock in slick, capping the tin and tossing it to the bedside counter after.

‣ He teased your prepped rim, observing how the ring of muscle would catch a string of his pre-cum and latch onto it with a clench.

‣ At the sound of your moan, at the sight of you toying with your nipples, at the torn decision between preening—you knew that he liked the sight of you biting your lips—and ceasing his taunts.

‣ Steve's cock veins pulsed, his cock pleading for him to fill that delicious hole before him, otherwise it would live in agony for as long as it could leak.

‣ "I do, and it's not embarrassing. I love how you—mm—like that. I love how you immediately wrap your arms and legs around me when I finally push my cock inside of you.

‣ "Oh, Steve—"

‣ "I love how you call my name, just like that. Say it again."

‣ "Steve..!"

‣ He pressed his forehead against yours and groaned with you. His hips racketed off your ass in a slow, but increasing rhythm.

‣ You held onto him, hands over his neck, anchoring him close until the only way you could have your fix of air was through Steve's lips.

‣ Steve's mind was empty, except for the thought of your hot tongue roaming into his mouth and the swelling grasp your walls had around his loving cock.

‣ "Like that... I love how I can decipher every meaning behind the way you call out to me."

‣ "Fill me up so well, Steve—baby. Can feel you deep inside of me. Ruining me with your cock. Your balls slapping against me, God—Steve!"

‣ Your moans tasted delicious on his tongue. If they were seeds, they'd bloom colorful hybrids of fruits because your love for him couldn't be defined by one singular hue.

‣ You were an array of colors—a prism conjured by the way Steve loved you.

‣ Red, because you were gritting your teeth as Steve had you taking him balls-deep, filling you up to the brim, and stretching you to the shape of his pistoning cock.

‣ "Fuck me harder, Steve—"

‣ "You're taking me so well, darling..."

‣ "When have I not?"

‣ Orange, because Steve rendered you speechless except for a few gasps, with his cock grazing your prostate and his hand over your cock, stroking while kissing at your neck.

‣ "O-oh, fuck—oh, fuck!"

‣ Yellow, because you were on top, straddling Steve's lap and yielding to the nearing high that you both had been gauging.

‣ You took your sweet time to make love to Steve with your body. Hands braced on his chest, combing your fingers through the light hairs, deeply rocking back and forth on his cock after a couple of lighthearted bounces.

‣ You marveled over his well-built body, following the contours of his muscles with one hand while silently admiring his broad chest, perky nipples, and wide shoulders with your tongue.

‣ The smell of aftershave on him was infectious when you came up for a brief kiss. You kissed at his lips, then his chin, licking at the short blades of stubble before pulling away to preen again.

‣ Your back straightened and you spread your thighs apart for Steve to get a good look at how hard he was making you.

‣ Your cock throbbed, swollen a pronounced shade at the tip, bouncing to the rhythm of your hips, all while you devoted your mouth and tongue to Steve's thick fingers, suckling and laving your tongue over every digit, every vein, every knuckle—thanking him for opening you up so well with the slick of your saliva.

‣ Steve was absolutely keen on watching you worship him with one hand tucked behind his head, the other stroking your cock when he would finish appraising your body with a couple of fond strokes.

‣ "God, look at you. You're so beautiful. I could do this all day, watching you ride every vein on my cock..."

‣ Green, because you built up enough energy to reverse your straddle and take the lead for once. You wanted Steve to see all parts of your body, especially the asset that had been drawing out those glorious moans deep from his gut.

‣ You knew it was a pretty sight that would teeter Steve closer to the edge.

‣ Sweat ran over the plump mounds of your ass as you were propped up on your forearms, slamming down onto his thick cock.

‣ Skin rippled when your ass repeatedly hit his groin, and then prickled, when Steve grabbed a handful of your sweaty flesh out of pure enchantment before swatting it as a stimulus to your slowing hips.

‣ "How's the view?"

‣ "Stunning..."

‣ Blue, because your body was covered in shivers from the way Steve had captured you into his arms and pummeled icicles into you from behind.

‣ Kneeling upright, Steve had embraced you tightly, supporting your core with a flat palm while simultaneously engaging his, thrusting into you.

‣ His hand was around your throat to feel every vibration that would squeeze from your throat and then pour into his mouth like a saucer of milk as he swallowed your sweet moans.

‣ Like Steve's cock, his other hand was equally uncompromising. He squeezed into the pulsating veins of your cock, stroked your shaft, and teased your glans with a thumb.

‣ When you sank back into the dip of his hips, Steve would propel you forward with a strong thrust, forcing you to fuck his closed fist in midst as he held you from ever retreating back on all fours.

‣ He loved that dazed look on your face. Wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Flushed like how you were abashed by his compliments to your novice cooking, yet only a hundred times worse.

‣ He also loved the way he had fucked you into being inarticulate, muttering a slurry of words—warnings of you coming soon, Steve would later learn after turning his ears up.

‣ "Steve, stop, stop—I'm going to c-come—seriously—"

‣ "Come for me, (M/N). I want to see you stain the bed. Want to see you come because of me. Only me. Want you to drench my fist and—Christ, there we go..."

‣ Violet, because you were red, and Steve was blue.

‣ You spilled heavily over his fist, shooting large, thick ropes of cum over the bed sheets. The sound of the cum splatters making your cheeks run hotter than the warmth drawing out of you.

‣ Each spurt shot further and further the harder Steve pounded into you and milked your orgasm with unrelenting strokes to your shaft.

‣ His thighs slapped into yours, resonating the bedroom with a sharp thunder that was sure to wake up the tenants.

‣ His cock punctuated deep into your guts, hard and sweet against your prostate.

‣ You cried out as Steve battered your insides with his cock, with his undying love for you. Biting into your shoulder to contain his groans, but Steve had enough of this restraint, of constantly holding himself back.

‣ He growled behind your ear, filtering out the resentment society had instilled in his body as he let his grunts loose, replacing that bitter feeling with the antithesis of knowing that he wanted to live life to the fullest.

‣ With a house that grew oranges alongside your apples.

‣ Steve thrusted harder.

‣ With an indifferent cat that couldn't care less about your torn shoelaces.

‣ Your moans hitched at the sharp snap of his hips, his cock digging somehow deeper into your guts when he pushed you lower into his groin.

‣ With a fulfilling life that was lived without regret.

‣ Steve felt himself come undone upon the last thrust. Every fiber of his muscle unraveling like pointe shoes after intense wear.

‣ He held you tight as he shuddered against your, his pulse anchored and soothed by the palm of your head on his cheek, stroking him affectionately.

‣ Silken white, he spilled his hot seed deep inside of you, weakly propagating the warmth from the outer rim of your raw, swollen hole, then to the deep depth of your walls and prostate, milking himself until he was jelly in the legs, until you were creamed, from inside and out, with his thick cock.

‣ You and Steve shared one more kiss, another breath, heaving and panting like you two had never kissed before, before his stance eventually gave out and made him collapse over your body.

‣ "Think—I might bump the restaurant earlier up a few spots, (M/N)..."

‣ "Why's that?"

‣ "Must've put some kind of aphrodisiac in that spaghetti... I'm deeply spent."

‣ "I disagree. It must've been that couple! I told you it was all about the experience—that je ne sais quoi that I've been talking—"

‣ "You really aren't going to stop saying that, are you?"

‣ "Shouldn't have fixed my radio if you knew you were going to be disappointed, Steve."

‣ "That's where you're wrong. If you think anything about you is disappointing to me, then I'm not being a great husband, am I?"

‣ "Well, look at you being all sappy tonight."

‣ "Too much?"

‣ "Never too much. I'm far too gone to ever think otherwise, Steve-o."

‣ "Me too, darling. Me too."

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[supershot73199]

Dpxdc prompt here.

Valerie goes to Gotham and gets a bat Boy/Girlfriend

So the setup for this is that Danny just got done helping the big bad bat with some big ghost themed problem. What was it? Doesn't matter but in the epic adventure that happened identities were revealed (its a good parent fentons so no adoption) and at the end Batman says "If there is anything I can do to return the favor let me know."

And Danny responds with "Actually there is something but it's something Bruce Wayne is better suited for."

Danny then goes on to explain what happened with Cujo and Valeries dad and how he's pretty sure that the way he was fired is illegal in some way. Now he's not asking for you to try to sue these guys but if Maybe you were able to offer him a job with a living wage so that Val doesn't have to stress so much since Danny can't do anything to fix this himself.

Bruce who had already planned to open some form of Wayne Tech branch in Amity to give him an excuse to be seen there if it was ever necessary just says he'll see what he can do.

So Damon Gray (also I love how he has such a similar name to a bat) gets a call from a Wayne tech hiring manager saying that they are opening a location in Amity and would like to interview him for a position. Damian gets the past the initial interview but he has to go to Gotham for a few weeks foe relevant training etc.

Obviously Valerie has to go with him so they pack up and are off on this all expenses paid trip with a bigger paycheck at the end to look forward to.

Now obviously Bruce's kids notice what is happening and after he explains that a young hero he met asked for his help in setting things right that he doesn't have the resources to do himself. Of course the kids have to meet the family that this (rather impressive from what Bruce was saying, which is not biased by him looking like he could be one of his kids no way) hero gave up a favor from the Batman for so they "just so happen" to stumble upon the two and in true batfam manner convince the tour guide to let them tag along.

Now here is where things get fun so depending on which bat you choose obviously determines who's all there as if you choose Dick then the only other bat's of that age would be young Jason and maybe Barbara if you drag her in. Now me personally I think the best choices are Damian who's not my favorite for this as I think Val would find it weird to date a guy who has such a similar name as her dad one of either Cass or Steph and while that could be fun i think the only Bat boy who as far as I'm aware has not had a badass vigilante girlfriend who can snap him like a twig so far is Duke.

Now some other reasons I think it might be fun for Duke and Val as a couple is maybe he can see the changes her red huntress suit causes to her with his powers thus leading to that initial curiosity that causes him to spend more time with her to get to the bottom of it.

Maybe she asks one of the Wayne's if they know somewhere she can get a good spar and the others sacrifice Duke as he's got the least experience under his belt (not saying he's a bad fighter but some of these bats have been fighting since before puberty) since they assume she's just a standard civi. He tries to hold back since again civi, but she knocks him on his ass before he can react before saying she probably should have mentioned being a black belt.

Just think of all the cute moments they could have together.

One interaction I thought of for after they know each other's vigilante identity and val learns Danny is why Bruce reached out to her Dad. (She knows he is Phantom in this)

"So that dork went out of his way to ask Batman for help even after I finally pulled my head out of my ass to see it wasn't his fault? Of course he still feels guilty over it, damn Martyr complex, we aren't even dating anymore!"

"You guys dated?"

"Yeah in civis while I was actively hunting him for revenge in our hero ids. Who dates a girl actively trying to kill you?!"

"Can't blame him."

"What?"

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I know | Megumi x Reader Ft. Gojo

Request: Megumi and the reader no longer know how to meet on the sly without looking too suspicious, but Megumi adamantly refuses to let Gojo know about their relationship. What if the reader is a student from Kyoto and everything happens during the exchange event? And, conveniently, Megumi doesn't know that there are cameras installed throughout the forest monitored by the teachers.

Pairing: Implied!Megumi x Fem!Reader; platonic Gojo/Megumi

Content Warning: Fluff, main focus is Gojo and Megumi, Megumi is a moody teen

For @yaninnaacu

Satoru likes to tease people. For his own entertainment and to try to build friendships with them. It also didn’t hurt if, in the end, his actions made their lives a little better and brought some happiness to them. A small laugh in a harsh world like this could mean a lot, the right push could change someone’s entire outlook.

So, he likes to play the fool, try to get people to let their guard down so he could wiggle in through an unknown crack and maybe make their world a little easier to breathe in and it wouldn't be a lie to say his own as well.

This holds doubly true for one precious student in particular.

“You seem excited. Ready for the big exchange event?”

Megumi stops his stretching, rotates his neck a few times to get out the last of the cricks, before turning to face him. The training grounds are empty tonight, save for the two them, and Satoru has never seen Megumi this interested in training.

“Not particularly.”

He says that but the Megumi that Satoru knows would never be this determined. Megumi may not have realized it but Satoru has been watching him train ever since he came back to the school. He hasn’t had much time to watch over the other students since training Itadori, but he knows that they’ve been making strides. Megumi included.

“I heard about what happened with Aoi,” Satoru says, poking around in the younger boy’s wounds to see if he can find the reason for this sudden burst of passion. “I thought you’d be interested in fighting him.”

“I’m over it.”

“Really?” Satoru says with a laugh. He has no reason not to believe Megumi, but he still has the suspicion it might be a little deeper than that. “Something has to be on your mind. You’re not normally this energetic.”

He racks his mind, trying to find the last time he remembers the kid having any sort of pep to his step so to speak. He’s always been a bit…restrained except when—

“Oh.”

Gojo smiles.

“I remember now.” Satoru chuckles lowly and dares to pat the boy on the shoulder. It’s a little harder than he was aiming for and Megumi jerks forward with a scowl. “It’s because your girlfriend is coming. Her clan enrolled her into Kyoto, right?”

If there is one thing about Megumi, it’s that he doesn’t change one bit with age. That glare is still just as scary as it was when he was five.

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Megumi corrects, his eyes downcast. “We’re…friends.”

“Still!?” Satoru really, really doesn’t mean to sound insensitive but he is honestly surprised. Megumi always treated you politely and with more regard than others. Granted that bar was so low that people in hell could trip on it but to Satoru it was noticeable that Megumi held some type of soft spot for you. Satoru clears his throat to try to regain his composure and hopefully stop Megumi from stabbing him with his eyes. “Ya’know events like these provide the perfect opportunity to impress someone; show them what you’re made of.”

Satoru means it. He genuinely wants to help, and he doesn’t think you’d be adverse to giving Megumi a chance if Megumi would only give himself the chance first.

“Good thing I’m not trying to impress anyone.”

“Don’t be that way,” he says, extending his arms out in an effort to offer his time to his little student. “How about you train with me one more time before the event?”

“No thanks,” he disagrees immediately, and Satoru deflates over the fact that Megumi didn’t even stop to think about it before grabbing his pack and walking away.

Megumi isn’t willing to take that step yet, he guesses.

The morning of the Goodwill Event comes faster than most. The teams set off while Satoru and the other teachers find a cozy room to set up in and watch the festivities. Everything seems to be going well so far with the teams fighting and breaking off in different directions.

It isn’t long after when Satoru picks out one student from Kyoto different from the others. Satoru could tell that the other students were aiming to pick each other off one by one, and he had his ideas on why that was the case. However, the crow focused on you noticed you weaving through the forest, ignoring the other students in the vicinity, as you made your way to a very specific destination based on your speed and concise path.

That is until you’re stopped by one of the curses released into the area.

“Utahime, it looks like your little busy bee is engaged in battle with a curse.”

The other teacher doesn’t turn her direction, focusing on another screen.

“Fushiguro is on a direct path towards the fight as well.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows, his blindfold widening with the strain. Sure enough, the two of you collide on both screens, and it isn’t but a matter of seconds to take out the curse together. It isn’t unusual for the two schools to fight together; after all, the rules did state that exorcising curses was the top priority. Next, would be—

“Now, what will they do.” Satoru tilts his head to the side, watching Utahime as she brings a hand to her mouth and mutters behind it. “Normally, I’d have no doubts that she can beat him. However, given the terrain, she’s at a disadvantage.”

Satoru hums to himself, wondering the exact same thing. The two of you should be pretty evenly matched in this situation; but as he watches the screen, he notices that neither of you look interested in fighting.

In fact, Megumi is touching you, hand crossing over your face and moving your head around. Satoru can barely make out the sight of blood on your face with the screen this zoomed out but it doesn’t matter as Megumi wipes it off. There’s only a small moment where Megumi lets his forehead press against yours as he cups your cheeks.

Gojo raises his blindfold over one of his eyes, just to make sure he’s seeing this correctly. Surely, he is when Megumi briefly kisses you. He can barely contain his laughter. He knew it! There was no way you two weren’t dating!

“Stop talking to yourself, 'hime, and look.”

Utahime looks back up at the screen, her face scrunching. “Are they?”

“I knew it,” Gojo repeats his thoughts. This time he does laugh as he kicks up his feet and throws his hands behind his head.

“What are they saying?”

“I never took you for a voyeur.”

“Will you shut up!” she says before glaring back at the screen. Her eyes search out for Megumi, who has already headed out of this broadcast area to the other. “Where is he going?”

“Looks like he’s headed straight to Kamo. I can’t imagine him smooth-talking the information out of her but there it is. My students really do take after me. I’m so proud.”

“You’re insufferable,” Utahime replies, scoffs, then returns to watching the battles unfold.

After the events of the Goodwill Event and the chaos of that Special Grade intruding on the event, Satoru takes the time to check on all the students injured during the fight. He makes his last stop Megumi, who had spent the longest time getting the spores taken out of his stomach before being patched up by Ieiri.

With his hand on the door handle, Satoru stops outside the door to his room. He can sense two people’s energies from behind the wall, one from Megumi and the other from…oh…looks like someone came to comfort Megumi before he could get the chance.

The words from behind the door are low.

How are you feeling? Does it hurt?

Satoru laughs to himself when Megumi obviously tells you to stop mothering him and that you’re worrying too much. He doesn’t know why the little guy still has such a hard time letting someone care about him, but it comforts him to know that you’re not willing to accept it as he hears a harsh “stop being stubborn and let me see.”

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize when he presses on the door too hard. The door squeaks inward causing him to tumble in a little clumsily on his tall limbs and for you two to pop up like spooked deer.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he dismisses clumsily – caught red handed. “I was coming to check on my favorite student, but it looks like his girlfriend is already taking good care of him.”

It’s adorable how your eyes widen and your mouth gapes as you sputter out an incoherent excuse. “No, I was just uh—” your fluster only increases when you finally realize you’re still holding the edge of his shirt in your hand while his hand is gripped on your wrist obviously midway in stopping you. You aggressively push his shirt back to him, making him hiss as you tap his stomach. “This is a misunderstanding, sensei.”

“It’s alright,” Satoru says, raising his palms and flattening them to let you know it’s fine to calm down. “I already know. No need to pretend.”

 “How do you—”

“Funny thing about the event,” he starts, taking one long step in the room to the nearest chair. He spins the chair around, sitting in it backwards with his legs hugging the chair and his chin rested on the curve of the back. “Teachers keep a close eye on the students, accessing their battle prowess and team strategies. It just so happens that to do that we need visuals. Mei Mei’s crows…recording devices…cameras…yeah I don’t think there’s many blind spots to miss any battles or when a pair of students want some alone time together.”

Backing away from Megumi, you place your hands in your hands and bow your head towards him. “Sensei, we didn’t mean to do anything against conduct. I just…wanted to help Megumi and the vesse—Itadori.”

“I’m not lecturing you, so there’s no need to be so formal,” Satoru tells you, not that he minds having someone who gives him a little respect around him. “I want to give you my blessing.”

Megumi is the first to object, his nose stiff and scrunched as he bares his teeth at Satoru, mostly in surprise. “No one needs your blessing, and you’re not my parent.”

“Ouch. So touchy,” Satoru remarks, his smile stretching as he glances back over to you. It’s cute how he gets so worked up over something so small, well, he guesses young love isn’t so small, and he can’t help the little urge he has to tease him. “He’s so grouchy. Honestly, you’re way too good for him.”

Megumi hisses. “Get. Out.”

 “No, it’s okay,” you say with a smile, stand, and gently press your hand to Megumi’s shoulder. “I should get going. I’ll come check on you later, Megumi.”

You make a beeline to the door, pausing only to give a short bow.

“Good night, sensei.”

“Good night,” Satoru waves casually, as if he didn’t know that bow just now was to hide your flustered face as you scurry out the room. “She ran off…Cute.” Despite your actions being endearing, the same couldn’t be said for the side-eye he was receiving from the dark-haired boy. “Don’t look at me that way. How come you didn’t want to tell me?”

“Because you’d act exactly like that,” being the answer.

“Okay, okay. You’re not completely wrong,” he agrees. He willingly fell into Megumi’s irritation, riding the waves of it to hopefully end up on a small island where forgiveness was waiting.

Megumi didn’t give him that.

“Didn’t I tell you to get out already? I’m recovering.”

Satoru thinks if Megumi has the energy to keep up his attitude then that must mean he’s doing well, which is good given the nature of his wounds from earlier. Satisfied, Satoru decides to give his charge some peace.

“Fine. Fine. We’ll talk about you lying to your teacher later.”

He doesn’t give any mind to the growl Megumi gives him or when the boy ignores his wave by adjusting his gaze to the flowers on the nightstand.

Satoru would lie to say that attitude doesn’t hurt sometimes, but that’s okay. Even if Megumi was distant about it, even if he still didn’t want to give in and accept the fact that Satoru very much cares about him, you care about him as do his other classmates.

If Megumi could remember to accept that and to allow the rest of you to hold onto him and learn to hold onto you in return, then he’d be alright.

So, Satoru stops at the door, because he just has to make sure that Megumi doesn’t make the same mistakes that he did. “Do you know what you’re doing?” Satoru sighs when he doesn’t receive a response. “You should treat her well. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

“I know,” he reassures him bluntly.

“You can always ask me for anything,” he offers, without the bravado and grandeur, and he lays himself out, extends an invisible hand for Megumi to reach towards, just as he always has whether the boy wanted it or not.

And Megumi falters, if only for a brief second, he lets his eyes meet Satoru’s a bit more softly, with less caution, and his voice has lost all the bite that was there moments ago.

“…I know.”

Megumi forces his eyes back down and refuses to look at him. It reminds him of the kid who let his guard down enough to fall asleep next to him for the first time many years ago.

“Good talk then!” he remarks with a thumbs up and a laugh. Otherwise, he might not keep his composure that the warm feeling coating his being makes. “Make sure to get some sleep. We want you well rested for tomorrow’s events.”

Satoru doesn’t expect a good night as he grabs the door but he doesn’t expect Megumi to call out to him either.

"Hey."

It’s with a tinge to his ears that Megumi finally looks at him again.

“...Thanks.”

[obbystars]

Hello! I was amaze by your sabastian x reader fic especially "it's you!" in the flash back part where sebastian where still alive and talking with reader abt going on an aquarium date soooo I want to request the part where they actually having a date at the aquarium they were talking about? That would would be so cute if you ask me!thank u! c:

(You know what they say. All toasters toast toast!)

(AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM- sorry. ANYWAY TOTALLYYYY I have been thinking about it lately tbh and I guess this request is kinda a push and my brain is like “OKAY LETS GO IT!” I’m glad you’re liking the fics I’ve been making! I hope you all know I giggle like a maniac whenever you guys say you like them, makes me so happy :)))

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / AQUARIUM DATEEEEE i’ll stop / takes place before the events of Pressure / FLUFFFFFFF / Connected to both It’s You! and Drown in the Deep, can be read as a standalone / Reader and Sebastian are both still in college / Angst because I couldn’t resist / Fairly short, sorry :(

“You are so lucky my sister let us borrow her car,”

You lightly batted his arm with a laugh, “You say that like it’s a bad thing,”

“Because she’ll kill me if this thing even gets a small scratch!”

“Mmhmm, and who was the one who offered to drive us there?”

Sebastian gives you a quick glance, but you still noticed the look he gave, “She wouldn’t even be mad at you if you were driving. She adores you for some reason,”

Your eyes widened, “…wait, really?”

“Yeah, last time we spoke, she would not stop asking me about you and when you two can meet up to talk more,”

Well, you made one hell of a first impression. You’re glad she does at least like you and is looking forward to meeting with you again. You feel kind of flattered and relieved.

“So,” you turn to him, “Why can’t I drive?”

“Because I don’t trust you behind the wheel,”

You stifled a laugh as you turned your attention towards the window. You decided to change the subject.

“You know, I’d love to meet your family again. Classes are a pain though. Maybe when we head back, I could stay for dinner? I don’t have that much work piled up on me right now,”

Though faint, you can see him smiling, “I know my sister will be overjoyed to see you. I think my mom likes you too, she never gave me a clear answer on it though,”

Your face drops slightly. Now the pressure’s on. You didn’t exactly talk to his mom last time you were there besides the introduction part of it. As for his brother, you didn’t get a chance to talk to him which made you assume he was shy. You do remember spotting him and his sister eavesdropping on you and Sebastian. He also caught them and wasn’t very happy about it.

When you two finally arrived and were allowed to go in, Sebastian practically had to hold you so you wouldn’t run off due to being so excited. Sometimes he’d keep you in place, other times he’d let you drag him. When looking at the brochure, you were especially excited about the fish that often liked the dark. He still doesn’t see why, but you’re having fun and he’s been enjoying the time here.

“Oh! Sebastian, look!” You exclaimed, “A mantis shrimp!”

The mantis shrimp was just hiding in its little cave.

“It’s a freaky looking thing,” he laughed.

“It is. I heard that they’re capable of tuning the sensitivity of their vision to adapt to their environment. Isn’t that so cool?”

“What I would give to have something like that…”

“I know!” You smiled, “I kinda wish they had anglerfish though. I heard they’re just generally hard to manage, so you never see them in aquariums,”

Sebastian stands up straight and looks at you, “Aren’t those the fish with the light on their head?”

“Yeah. Only the females have it, and it’s used to attract both prey and a mate. They’ve got a freaky way to reproduce, if you want to hear,”

You see him think about it for a minute.

“I’ll bite. How do they reproduce?”

It’s safe to say Sebastian will never ask a question like that again if the sentence prior was “They’ve got a freaky way to reproduce.” What he heard was not what he expected at all. It was parasitic and the image in his head definitely wasn’t pretty.

You continued to tell him fun little facts of a few of the fish you saw. He mostly only responded with a hum or an “oh yeah” but you still continued. He never stopped you as it looked like you were having a lot of fun.

When you got to the long tunnel with the fish swimming around, you both decided to rest there for a bit. It’s been a few hours anyway, plus it’ll be nice to just watch the fish swim by. There were turtles, stingrays, and many others some you could name while others were unfamiliar. There was even a few sea urchin sitting in one of the corners.

You were about to say something until you turned to Sebastian and took a good look at his expression. You smiled and said nothing as you leaned your back against the glass, following where his gaze was. You wonder if this is what he saw in his dream on the night you two discussed on coming here. Drifting in the water as the fish swam around you, you wonder if he felt cold. He said he didn’t feel like he was drowning, so maybe he actually felt warm.

But when you asked if it was a nightmare, he alluded to it. You wonder what he saw… Or maybe he didn’t see anything. Maybe that’s why it was a nightmare, or at least close to it. The dark abyss is a terrifying place as not a lot is known due to the water pressure and the lack of light. Fear of the unknown, so to say.

Your smile faded slightly. You turn to him and lightly give him a shoulder bump.

“Hey, you having fun?”

He continued to stare up at the fish for a moment before turning to you, “If I wasn’t, you’d know. Why? Are you not having fun?” He teased.

“No, I was just making sure,” you laughed.

“To be honest, it gets a bit interesting when you start to nerd out about some of the fish here,” he then smiles, “But I didn’t think you were THAT much of a nerd,”

“Aha-! Yeah, I may or may have not been watching a lot of videos about fish…”

“You were that excited about this, huh? Were you also trying to impress me?”

“No! Not at all!” You paused, “M-Maybe a little..”

Sebastian laughed when you admitted it, then stands up, “We should keep moving. Aren’t the sharks just up ahead?”

“Oh yeah,” you take out the brochure, “It looks like we’re almost done too. We haven’t had lunch yet either. You hungry?”

“A little. Didn’t we pass the food court already?”

“We did… How about we go back and grab something then?”

“As long as you’re paying,”

“Ugh! Fine,”

Sebastian grabbed your hand and pulled you up to your feet. He didn’t let go as you two walked down the hall. You perked up and decided to throw another factoid at him.

“Hey, did you know you can really just redirect a shark by just setting your hand on their nose and gently pushing them the other way?”

He looks at you, not exactly believing you, “It can’t be THAT easy,”

“I’m serious! It is that easy! Maybe it’ll be harder when it’s a great white shark though,”

“Obviously, those things are massive,”

You continued to talk about sharks with him until you two made it back to the food court. Sebastian ended up paying for your food as long as you paid for his.

Sebastian stares out into the dark abyss beyond the glass. It was usually empty, but sometimes the many-eyed shark was there. And sometimes she’d notice him. He wondered if she recognized him as the one who freed her. He wondered why she stayed when freedom was right there for her. Revenge, perhaps? That he can understand. What he was doing was for the same reason.

Just then, he sees a familiar green glow of the shark passing by. She was close enough to notice him, and for a second, she did look at him. She never really stayed around, nor has he ever heard her speak in his head. He remembers how you spoke of sharks all those years ago. He wondered if you’d think she was a beautiful shark despite what they’ve done to her.

Unexpectedly, she lingers around for a while. He doesn’t pay her any mind as she swims back and forth, occasionally looking at him. He continues to just stare out the window, looking at nothing in particular.

How would you react to him? Would you even recognize him? Remember his voice? Ten years is a long time, after all. Though, he doubts there is even the smallest chance you two could meet, let alone in this facility. He hoped not.

It’s quiet.

He never thought he’d hate silence. It was almost never quiet when you were with him. You always had something to tell him, no matter how small it may have been, and he’d always listen. Even when you don’t think he’s listening, he was. No matter how long you went on and on about something, he was always listening.

Even if he were to be freed from this place, what then? What home does he have to return to?

[dira333]

Of Lovers and Friends - Ushijima x Reader

thank you @screamin-abt-haikyuu talking to you is inspiring

If you find a typo, I wrote this instead of going to bed. Goodnight.

“Just a Tonic Water, please,” You order, well aware of all the eyes on you.

“Are you sick?” Kindaichi asks, already pressing a hand against your forehead.

“Pregnant?” Kunimi’s next, though less serious.

“As if, you can’t get pregnant from RPG,” Makki points out, licking foam off his lip.

“You would know,” you tell him, a little peeved, as you push Kindaichi away.

“I’m fine. I just have a date later.”

Yahabi whistles, clearly impressed. God, you need to amp up your game. This is just sad.

“Who is it?” Kyoutani asks, forever your best friend. Or at least the one guy who’s seemingly the least interested in teasing you.

“I don’t know, my Mom set us up. She went to school with his Mom or something like that. I just know that he plays Volleyball and is about my age.”

“Could be anyone,” Watari mumbles into his Aperol Spritz.

“Could be Ushijima,” Mattsun jokes, causing Makki to choke on his beer, spluttering as he bellows out a laugh.

“Can you imagine? That would be hilarious!”

“Har har har,” you thank the waitress for your drink and lean back in your chair, “Can we change the topic? Does Makki have a job yet?”

“Uncalled for!” Makki points an accusing finger at you. “And no. But a little birdy told me that Kyoutani’s got a fangirl.”

Kyoutani blushes, glaring into his drink. The girl must mean something to him if he’s trying to pull himself together like this. You swerve to look at Kindaichi who’s managed to spill his diet coke - again.

“What about you? Did you call that girl we met at the coffee shop?”

“No,” he ducks his head. “I didn’t. I was… I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Makki lets his eyes wander as usual, “Tell you what. There’s a nice girl with her friends two tables over. We’ll get you her number but you have to call. Or at least send her some funny memes, okay?”

“Okay,” Kindaichi’s looking at you. Makki’s looking at you.

You groan and get up. “Next time you get someone else to get that number, okay? This is the last time.”

“Love you too, pumpkin!” Makki calls after you as you make your way over. These patterns have turned familiar.

-

You should have gotten a beer, you think two hours later as you wait, your legs twitching with anxiety. 

You’ve been painfully single for so long that you can’t help but feel you should have worn a dress or at least something more fancy than the jeans and top combo you’re sporting. But it’s comfy and it sets you at ease. And you’ve always been an advocate for being yourself on the first date. If they don’t like you like that, they won’t matter anyway.

So far that has brought you a lot of first dates and not a lot of second dates.

A deep voice calls out your name. You turn, your hands clutching the single purple carnation you had to bring - your mother’s idea. 

You spot the flower first, a tiny purple thing held in massive hands. He’s tall, impressively so. You let your eyes wander up as he walks over, the flickering street light casting long shadows over his face until he’s reached you and the soft warm glow of the restaurant behind you. 

Your heart skips a painful beat as he attempts a rather forced smile.

“Ushijima-kun,” you stutter, the confidence earned in twenty-something years shattered and replaced by the anxious brain of a teenager.

He offers you his hand, the one without the flower and you take it. His palm swallows yours, his grip warm and firm. If you can blend out the history your team has with his, that your friends have with him, you can give him a chance, right?

-

“Are you close with your mother?” He asks in the tense moment when the food’s already been ordered and the drinks aren’t served yet. It’s the worst possible question to ask, too, because no, you’re not close. Not since she went through with the divorce, unable to settle with a man ever since, as dissatisfied with them as she is with life, her business, you.

You don’t ramble often, but you do when you’re nervous. 

If he’s taken aback by the flood of words, of trauma seemingly long overcome, he does not show. He’s like a rock, sitting steadfast in the crashing river of your emotions, unmoving, sturdy.

When you’re finished, throat a little dry, he nods slowly. 

“My parents are divorced as well,” he says. You wonder if he’s told it often. 

“How was it for you?” You ask and the surprise in his eyes tells you that he hasn’t been asked this before. 

His tale is told more slowly. He hands out information bit by bit, always confirming that you’re still listening, still interested in what he has to say about this topic. You share a bottle of wine over his parent's divorce, the main dish just an accessory to the topic at hand. 

When his words run dry and the last drop of wine is poured into your glass, your mind a little fuzzy and his lips tinted a little blue, you are full and empty at the same time. All the anxiety has left you over dinner. 

Seijoh and your friends are far, far away but Ushijima - Wakatoshi, as he asks you to call him - is right there.

“Do you want to share dessert?” You ask and his eyes light up with a new emotion, one you haven’t seen before on him. It’s a little softer, makes him look a little younger, maybe.

“Do you like chocolate?” He asks, leaning forward a bit as if to share a secret.

“Who doesn’t?” You ask back and learn about his best friend.

-

“This was nice,” you say when he walks you to the train station, slowing his steps to be in tune with yours. The cold night air does wonders for your fuzzy brain but the chill is less pleasant. You shiver.

“Here.” A warm weight settles over your shoulders. His jacket drapes over your skin like it was made for this. It smells good, too. 

It’s not the first time you wonder if there will be a second date. But it’s the first time you really, really hope there is.

The train station appears much too soon. You want to prolong this evening, stay longer in this emotion that you cannot name. But you’re a realist at heart and you slip his jacket off before you become too used to its warmth.

“Keep it,” his large hand stops your movement, easily takes hold of yours. “You can give it back the next time.”

“Next time?” You ask, unable to keep that hopeful tone out of your voice. 

“I don’t have much free time,” Wakatoshi explains, “Could we meet again in a week? Same time, same place?”

You nod, much too eager to come off as nonchalant. It reminds you of Kindaichi, but you cannot bring yourself to care. You give him your number and feel your lips slip into a smile when he immediately texts you so that you have his as well.

Overhead your trains arrival is announced. You turn, still unwilling to part.

“Until Friday,” Wakatoshi says, one last wave. “Good night.”

- - -

You sleep well, better than you have in days.

It’s only when you wake up that you realize what this means.

You have a second date. The first in a long time. 

But as excited as you are for it, dread still settles in your stomach. How on earth will you explain this to your friends?

The answer is, you don’t.

When you meet up for beers and games on wednesday, Makki consolingly pats your shoulder. He seems to think your date went awful and you do nothing to correct him. You only feel a little guilty. It’s his fault for not even asking.

The others seem to already have forgotten. The news of Kindaichi getting a first date is more exciting and you let yourself get dragged into it, give him fashion advice - that goes ignored - and laugh with the others when Yahaba tries to fix his hair.

It’s only Friday afternoon that your nerves make themselves known.

Surely there’s nothing wrong in dressing similar again. Wakatoshi didn’t seem to mind and neither should you.

But you want to, you desperately want to… look a little better. You want him to look at you, unable to catch his breath, unable to form words, at least for a few seconds. Is that too much to ask for?

But you don’t own any Make-up, courtesy of rebelling against everything that makes you think of your mother. So you do the next best thing and call Mattsun.

“I’m not late,” he answers, immediately defensive. Right, you’re still on for drinks before the date. You can’t think about that now.

“I don’t care. Get your girlfriend on the phone, I need help.”

“What? Why?”

“Girls-stuff, you wouldn’t understand.” 

Miri agrees to join you for drinks. According to her she won’t need more than ten minutes in the bar bathroom to give you a little bit of an extra kick.

“You don’t want to look too different to what he’s seen the last time,” she reasons as you go over the few options of fancier clothes you have.

You're anxious the whole time, nurse one soda after the other. Even Kunimi notices.

“Second date?” Kyoutani asks. Makki’s eyes widen in surprise. You hate it.

“Maybe,” you grumble, getting up to pee once more. 

“What? You didn’t tell us the first one went well.”

“You didn’t ask,” you tell him as you make your escape to the bathroom. But this is Makki. He doesn’t let go of a topic.

“What’s his name?” He asks as soon as you’re back. “What team does he play for?”

“Let me get through this date first,” you huff, trying to sound more relaxed than you are. 

“He’s nice?” Kyoutani asks, able to put a threat and a question and a whole lot of worry in those few words. 

“Yeah,” you say, a little flustered just by the thought of him. The boys go silent around you. 

“Wow, you really like that guy,” Mattsun points out. 

“Shut up,” you grumble and empty your glass, calling for another. You don’t want to talk about it.

“Anyway,” Miri points out and you’ll forever be thankful for that, for her switching topics when you need it most, “Mattsun and I have decided to move together. We’re still debating about which apartment to move into, though.”

“Are you for real?” Makki’s always the first to put in his two cents, “Miri’s apartment is way better.”

Miri laughs. “Thank you Makki, I knew I could count on you.”

-

“There, done.” Miri steps away. You look at yourself in the mirror, the knots in your stomach slowly loosening. You don’t look like a clown, not like your mother either. 

“What did you do?” You ask, a little perplexed by how long your lashes suddenly are. 

“Mascara and some eyeliner. A little lipgloss too, you can reapply it when you’re at the restaurant.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. If you want, we can go shopping for some of this stuff. You don’t need much and I can show you how to do the little things you might want to do sometimes.”

“Ah,” you look away, embarrassed, “Let me get through this date first.”

Miri smiles, understanding visible in her eyes. 

“Go get him, tiger,” she tells you when you part ways.

- - -

Wakatoshi is already waiting for you. 

Warmth pools in your stomach when he stills at your sight, his eyes warm as they wander over your face. 

“You look beautiful,” he tells you and you have to look away, too flustered to face him for a second.

“Am I not beautiful all the time?” You joke, hoping against hope that he does not notice the way your voice breaks slightly.

“Of course,” Wakatoshi tells you immediately, not an ounce of insincerity in his voice. You have to swallow twice before you’re able to talk again.

“You’re very pretty too,” your voice is doing funny things. You offer your hand to shake, a little unsure of what greeting is correct. He takes your hand in his, not to shake it, but to hold it all the way to the table and you’re unable to look anyone in the eyes until you’re seated, your insides a fluttery mess.

-

“Can I see you again?” Wakatoshi asks when you reach the train station, his jacket a comforting weight on your shoulders, your hand resting in his.

You nod, unable to hide your eagerness. 

You can’t blame the buzzing of your mind on alcohol this time. He’s calmly explained that he can’t drink often with his strict diet, has to choose between dessert or a glass of wine most of the time. It didn’t feel right to drink when he wasn’t allowed to.

Somehow your conversations feel deeper, more meaningful without the alcohol coating them. You know he means it when he asks and he knows you mean it when you nod.

Overhead, your train is announced. You don’t let go of his hand.

“I could do a little walk,” you say, “What do you say?”

You kiss his cheek when you eventually part. His skin is soft and warm underneath your lips. It follows you into your dreams.

-

On Wednesday you get a text just as you head out to meet the boys for beers and games.

“I’ve got out of practice earlier. Do you want to go for a walk?”

You go back inside, put on the lipgloss Miri had lent you as you text him your confirmation. You think about kissing him and wipe it off again, unsure of what you want. In the end you put it into your pocket just in case.

“Can’t come today, I have another date,” you text the group chat. 

Makki’s the first to answer, per usual, but his use of emojis has your anxiety rising so you put your phone on silent. You’ll deal with this on Friday.

It’s not yet time for the Sakura blossoms, but the park is beautiful anyway.

Not that you can focus on much besides the feeling of your hand in his, the way his voice rumbles in his chest as he talks about practice and his plans to meet up with his old teammates. 

You like this, the calmness of it all. You like him, with his serious expression and his direct way of asking. You like how he never fails to ask how your day has been, how he’s interested in all aspects of your work, even the little ones that no one seems to care about.

You like him, a lot. And if the way he looks at you is any indication, he likes you too. 

It’s when you’re on your way back, the setting sun bringing forth a chill, that someone calls your name.

You turn, your hand still firmly in Wakatoshi’s grasp, only to spot Kyoutani. He’s frozen on a near path and you know with certainty that he’s recognized your date. Your heart beats painfully in your throat and you feel sick.

“Everything okay?” Wakatoshi asks at the same time the girl next to Kyoutani pulls her massive scarf down to look at you. She looks familiar, blond hair, brown eyes, petite figure. It’s only when she opens her mouth to ask Kyoutani what’s going on that you recongize her. She’d been Karasuno’s volleyball manager. Yachi something.

Kyoutani seems to realize that you’ve recognized her because his face turns dark. He shakes his head at Yachi, points into the distance and leads her away. 

You’re still frozen next to Wakatoshi, realization washing over you like the cold floods of the  Tamagawa. 

“Is everything okay?” He asks again, cradling your face in his hands to make you look at him. You blink to clear your mind, wish you could just lean into his touch and disappear forever.

“You know what school I went to, right?”

“Aoba Johsai, yes. You were a manager for their volleyball team.”

“Yes,” He must have realized the truth already, still he asks you to say it out loud. “I’m still friends with the team, like you are with yours. They are not… They’re not fans of you.”

“I understand.” Wakatoshi nods. His hands slip away from your face, you miss them immediately.

You didn’t plan for it to go like this. He’s got an uncanny ability to make you open yourself up. Being vulnerable feels less scary when it’s him. 

He takes your hand again, guides you around the park for another round as you tell him all there is to know about your poor attempts at dating. How it sucks to be “just one of the boys” sometimes. How it hurts that they don’t even ask anymore if you’ve got a second date. How scary it is to admit to them that you’re dating him.

You bite your tongue after those last words. You’ve been on two dates so far, this is your third. Is it too forward to call this “dating”? What if he’s not-

“I understand if you want to keep this a secret for longer,” he says. His voice is heavy in a way that tells you that there’s more to it. 

Two things can be true at the same time. Understanding it won’t mean that he’ll appreciate it.

“I will… I will try and talk to them,” you promise. And you will. Even if you could keep this a secret, you won’t if it hurts him. And you can tell that it hurts.

-

You wish you could kiss him goodbye. But you can tell that he’s distanced himself, put up a wall to protect his heart. 

“On Wednesday we usually meet up to drink beer and play games,” you explain, wringing your hands, “They should all be there right now. Well, except Kyoutani. I will... I will go and talk to them right now.”

He nods. Your voice breaks a little when you ask. “Are we still- Are we still on for Friday?”

“Of course,” his deep voice soothes your anxious heart a little. You take a step forward and hug him, stiff and awkward, before you move back.

“I really like you, Wakatoshi,” you say before you can take it back, swallow it down, hide it from the world. 

“I like you too.”

- - -

Makki is already buzzed when he opens the door.

It’s probably not the best time to talk about things like this, but you want to get this over with. If you talk about it now, the dust will settle by Friday. Or so you hope.

There’s an iPad on the coffee table, Iwaizumi and Oikawa grinning back at you. You accept a beer, almost drop it with how jumpy you are, your legs unable to stay still.

“So, how was your date?” Makki asks, cutting off one of Oikawa’s rants.

“Good,” you say and take another sip of beer, “We met Kyoutani at the park.”

“Oh?” Mattsun looks up from his phone. “So you met the girl he fancies?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, unwilling to give up his secret. He’s got his one fears to face. 

“What you mean, dear Mattsun,” Makki teases, “Is that Kyoutani met her boyfriend.”

Oikawa gasps dramatically. “No way?! You got a boyfriend? Who is it!”

“Ushijima,” you say, ripping the bandaid off in one swoop.

Makki cackles, spurned on by Oikawa’s apparent confusion.

“Good one,” Mattsun jokes as Iwaizumi snorts. The younger players don’t think the joke’s that funny. It’s Kunimi who bothers you the most, his perceptive eyes locked onto your face.

“Guys,” he cuts through the laughter, “She’s serious.”

And it would have turned out better, you suppose, without the beer. Because Oikawa gets more petulant when drunk and Makki’s jokes are a bit less funny and a lot more mean when he’s buzzed. The younger guys don’t really know how to mediate. That has always been your job, or Iwaizumi’s. But the distance does not work in your favor.

You leave half an hour after you’ve arrived, angry tears streaming down your face. 

It’s always the people closest to you that hurt you the most. They know what parts of you are the most sensible, and which parts of you are still bruised, still in the process of healing.

You press your phone to your ear.

Wakatoshi picks up right away.

“I talked to them,” you press out. Your voice is doing funny things again and you swallow back another wave of tears, less motivated by anger and more by hurt.

“Do you want to come over?” He asks and you don’t hesitate to agree.

It hurts to fight, to possibly lose good friends over something as stupid as old rivalries, but Wakatoshi is good at soothing over it, with warm hands and the gentle rumble of his voice as he holds you close.

-

You don’t meet up with the boys on Friday. No one has bothered to invite you.

You watch Wakatoshi practice instead, laughing about Kageyama who pesters you about how to better his form - you’re a licensed sports therapist after all - and teasing Hoshiumi who fake gags every time you throw Wakatoshi a kiss. 

You move your date to Wakatoshi’s apartment, cook dinner together - it turns out pretty decent - and talk through the night. When you wake up in his arms on Saturday morning you know that you want this to go on, that you want this to be a relationship that lives instead of dies, one that strengthens over time.

- - -

You’re a little surprised to find Mattsun and Makki at your work. 

It’s Wednesday and they should be working too, well, at least Mattsun should.

“Iwaizumi called us every day,” Mattsun admits eventually, “Apparently we’ve been dicks.”

“Yeah,” you tell him bluntly, noticing that Makki’s still stubbornly staring out of the window. “You were.”

“Oikawa’s still pissed,” Mattsun admits next, taking a seat in front of your desk. “But he’ll get around. Kunimi pointed out that it was a blind date. You didn’t actively pick him.”

“Even if-” You start but Mattsun just shakes his head. “It’s Oikawa. Logic does not pull.”

“I’m only apologizing-” Makki interrupts, huffs, and continues, “I’ll only apologize if you do too.” He glares at you. Mattsun’s looking too, though his eyes are softer.

Finally, you nod and get up, offering your hand for Makki to shake.

“I’m sorry I made fun of you. It’s not your fault that you got fired.”

He huffs again. You know that sound. He sounds like that when he’s trying not to cry. And you suppose you can’t fault him for that. Friends just know where it hurts the most.

But he shakes your hand, his grip a bit firmer than it needs to be.

“I’m sorry that I called you an ugly bitch that has no game.”

Suddenly you can’t help but laugh. It flows freely, from deep within, has you bending over the desk as you cackle. They laugh along, softly first before it breaks out of them too.

“All good?” Makki asks when you eventually calm down.

“All good,” you agree, looking over at Mattsun. He shrugs. “Don’t look at me, I’ve always been good.”

“Sure,” you joke, “But just so you know, I’ll bring Wakatoshi along tonight.”

Makki rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll smoke him at Mario Kart.”

As it turns out, however, Wakatoshi smokes him.

Who knew he had it in him?

.

-.- Warsaw -.-

The front door closes with a soft click, alerting you.

“Shh!” You hiss at the boys before turning toward the door of the living room. 

“Hey honey, welcome home!”

“Hi,” Wakatoshi steps inside, spots the beer and your laptop screen and waves. “Beers and Games?”

“Yeah, but it’s not that important.” You get up to kiss him, ignoring Makki who’s trying to make a point of his importance. “You wanna go out to eat?”

“Can we stay in?” He asks, “There’s this new movie that Satori recommended.”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. “Go shower. I’ll make some food.”

He smiles and leans in for another kiss, waving at the camera before he leaves for the bathroom.

“So he doesn’t know, huh?” Mattsun asks as you pick up your laptop and carry it to the kitchen.

“No, I want to tell him tonight. Thanks for not spoiling it guys.”

“Anytime,” Kindaichi pipes in. You bet he’s got no clue what you’re talking about. “What are you making?”

“Golabki,” you answer, “Cabbage roles. I’ve been obsessed with these lately.” 

You catch up while you cook, eager to hear more about Kindaichi’s budding relationship or Makki’s latest work adventure. Even Kyoutani contributes a lot today, proudly talking about how Yachi has won a prize for one of her designs.

At some point Wakatoshi appears, leaning into you as you work. He likes to be in the way when you facetime the team, thinks it’s funny that Makki has named him “the Log” or that he’s always blocking the drawer you need to get to the most.

“Move,” you tell him, pulling at his thighs. Behind him’s the cutlery you need to set the table.

“There’s a price for that,” he tells you quietly. You roll your eyes and move to kiss him. He shuffles slightly to the side, now blocking the cabinet that hides the plates.

-

It’s only after dinner, your laptop put away, the dishes done, that you find yourself back on the Couch, cuddled into him.

“Wakatoshi,” you address him, your hands shoved under his shirt. His eyes have closed but he’s still awake, you can tell by his breathing.

“Hmm?”

“Remember how we were talking about what we wanted to do on your next break?”

“Yes?” He opens one eye to squint at you. “Do you still want to go back to Japan?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you confess, “But we talked it through. It’s not feasible and I’ve got a better idea.”

That has him opening both his eyes. He can sense that something’s coming and you nestle further into him. 

You like to surprise him, for sure. You love how quiet he gets when you do something special for him, almost unsure if he deserves it. If this is really just for him. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered by your feelings for him once in a while.

“I got us tickets to Paris,” you tell him quietly. “Tendō already knows.”

When he pulls you close he doesn’t have to say anything. You already know.

He misses his best friend just as much as you miss yours.

[earthtooz]

baby, would i still be your lover?

fluff with angst, 1k words, gn!reader celebrates their bday bc it's my bday today, reader likes pearls, childhood friends to lovers (?), ooc!al-haitham, conflict and resolving it, al-haitham's grandmother is featured.

The best way to describe yours and al-Haitham's friendship is... unusual.

Having known him since childhood, you cannot say that he has changed much over the years. When your parents brought him to his grandmother's house to hopefully give the young boy a chance to socialise with something other than academic journals, befriending him was not easy.

He dodged all conversation you tried to make, ignored all attempts you made to play tag with him, completely evaded your childlike innocence. He always was more mature than everyone else his age, or rather, always acted like it.

Most unusually, he had an uncanny streak of pushing everyone out of his life, and you were not immune to the imaginary lashes he strikes, eventually removing yourself from his life too out of frustration.

At seventeen, when an unforeseen tension had lodged itself between you and al-Haitham, it deteriorated your friendship. One day, he had taken his opinions too far and sharpened his words too much, you left the House of Daena tearful and too wounded to see him for a while. It creates a distance between you two, one that lasts for three years.

At twenty, you visit al-Haitham's grandmother for the last time, and she makes you promise something. She pleads you to take care of her grandson, that for years, he has been hoping for the rekindling of your friendship, and she asks of you to make his wish come to fruition.

You reach out to him a month later on impulse. He invites you to dinner and drinks at Lambad's Tavern, and for the preceding week, it mentally drains you to think about being alone with him again.

He is already there when you arrive, sitting with crossed legs and arms at an empty booth. Showing up later than him gives you time to admire how he has grown. Now freshly turned twenty-one, time has served him well. He has grown into his sharp, taut features, and the way his grey hair falls accommodates his features well, and his build is impressive for a scholar. You've heard from others that he's graduated with the highest honours, and has already been offered a job at the Akademiya.

When the conversation begins, you're relieved to find out that nothing has changed from when you were both seventeen and fumbling teenagers.

As the only person who has stayed in his life since his youth, there is a bond that somehow cannot be severed. You apologise for what happened at seventeen, he does too.

As dinner passes, one thing becomes abundantly clear: al-Haitham does not need someone to 'take care of him' like his grandmother asked. What he did need, however, was his childhood friend that always knew how to push his buttons, and perhaps that was your way of 'caring' for him.

"Y/n." al-Haitham's broad figure looms over your desk, causing you to pause the scribble of words and numbers that you were in the midst of writing. "With your birthday coming in less than a month, I went to review our personal channel for gifts you'd like."

"Have you now?" You rest your chin on your hand, looking up at him through your lashes.

He completely ignores your question. "A sango pearl necklace? From Watatsumi Island? Is that your only desire?"

"I am easy to please," you shrug.

"Perhaps you misunderstand me. Is there no other gift that you'd appreciate?"

"Is a pearl necklace not possible?"

"One from Fontaine would be more achievable. Watatsumi Island, however, given our geographical distance and the fact that Inazuma is only just beginning to open up its transnational-"

"-So it's not possible? Even for the Grand Sage?"

"Acting Grand Sage, and whilst it is not impossible, I came to review with you possible alternatives for gift ideas that would provide the same marginal benefit."

"I suppose I could think of something else," you tap your chin. "One day I'll get my hands on those pearls, do you see the way they shine so clearly? You could use them just to fix your makeup! Cold to the touch and a clearer reflection are what make pearls high quality."

"How fascinating," he responds flatly and you pout. "In other news, it's lunch time now, and you promised you'd pay for my next meal at Lambad's."

You huff, compiling your papers together and clipping them together. "I was hoping you'd forget."

(As always, when the meal is said and done, he doesn't actually allow you to pay.)

A month later, when the clock strikes midnight on the day of your birthday, there is a series of knocks at your door. Unsurprisingly, you're greeted by al-Haitham's handsome face, now softer without the makeup he wears to enhance his features, but still beautiful nonetheless.

In his hands, he holds a gift.

"Happy birthday, Y/n." He declares, straight to the point, and hands you the box. "I hope it is to your liking."

The unassuming packaging only adds to your shocked delight when you see the contents inside.

"Sango pearls, from Watatsumi Island! You got me a necklace and bracelet set!" You squeal in pure excitement, treating the jewellery like fragile little things when you feel them. Cold to the touch, and you can see your reflection in them.

Pride shines in his eyes and a small smile pulls at his lips. He doesn't say anything except watch you freak out, satisfied with the hoops he had to jump through for this present.

"al-Haitham, I am so happy I could kiss you."

"I'd be happy to oblige."

The best way to describe yours and al-Haitham's relationship is unusual. You would do anything to get on his last nerve (without overstepping), and he would do anything for you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.