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sugarandspicewriting · 3 months

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.* ࣪.⋆ ❐ OH, DARLING ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

﹙ ✿ ﹚── includes : dazai, chuuya, kunikida, ranpo, fyodor & nikolai x fem!reader

﹙ ✿ ﹚── content warnings : sfw content (very rare from me ☠), fluff, nikolai being an amazing father, a bit of crack, a teeeny tiny suggestive bit but nothing too bad, and ummm children?

﹙ ✿ ﹚── synopsis : bsd men as daddies 😍

﹙ ✿ ﹚── author's note : lmk if y'all want the baby making part aswell 😼

DAZAI ୭·࣭࣪̇˖

Dazai as a dad in one word is definitely 'silly'. He always knew how to make his baby girl's frown into a smile in mere seconds. He knew her like the back of his hand, always knowing how to calm her down when she's crying or throwing a fit. During your pregnancy he'd try to sing his famous suicide song to his soon to be born baby, only to get smacked in the head by you. He'd always keep a hand on your swollen stomach, excited to feel her kick.

You and Dazai were in your shared bedroom. His lips were on your own soft ones, plump and swollen from him softly nibbling on them. He gently laid you down on the mattress, kissing and nibbling on your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to you. He was about to lift your shirt when suddenly a cry came from the other room. You both jumped and sat up straight on the bed before you rushed out to comfort your crying baby. You picked her up from the crib and shushed her, bouncing your daughter in your arms in hopes for her to calm down. "Its okay, darling. Mommy's right here, see?" You smiled, wiping the tears and snot off her face with a towel. You sighed in relief when she stopped crying, only staring at you with a pout. "What's my princess crying about?" You turn around to see Dazai leaning against the door frame. You walk towards him and hand her over, pouting, "guess she missed her daddy?" He cooed at her, making her giggle and squeal. "Oh, is that right? Aren't you a naughty girl, interrupting mommy and daddy's spicy time like this?" He pinched her nose softly, his tone playful but holding so much love. He truly adored this baby. You huff playfully, crossing your arms. "I'm the one who carried her for nine months but you're her favourite?! This is so unfair." He chuckled, kissing your cheek. "Don't worry, love. You'll always be my favourite." You made a disgusted face, "I'd rather not." "Wha—Why?!"

CHUUYA ୭·࣭࣪̇˖

This man is the best dad any kid could ever ask for. He was genuinely so damn nervous when you first told him you were pregnant, almost thinking it was a prank until you told him no, you were actually having a baby. He was excited and scared at the same time, but you reassured him that he would make a wonderful father, and he did.

Chuuya was taking care of the baby today since you had to go and run some errands. He silently stared at his son absolutely demolishing the Barbie doll Dazai had gifted him, foolishly assuming you guys had a girl. His son, who had just turned two, straight up decapitated the doll and is now trying to rip off it’s arm. Chuuya debated whether he would stop the child before he accidentally hurts himself. He finally decided to just take a video and send it to you with the caption, “this is what we raised.” He placed the phone aside and strode over to his son, gently trying to take the downright brutalized doll away from him but he wouldn’t budge, tightening his grip on the toy, “mine!” Chuuya sighed, wondering just where this kid got his stubbornness from.

You arrived back home just one hour later, "I'm home!" You first placing the groceries in their designated spots before heading to the livingroom to see your husband and son. The living room was...a complete mess. Barbie limbs were scattered on the tiled floor, some even had teeth marks on them, indicating that the little boy was chewing on them. You sighed and your eyes landed on the sofa, where the two most important people of your life were sleeping peacefully. Your eyes softened. You walked over to the couch and gently kissed your son's cheek before doing the same to Chuuya. You noticed there was a Barbie head somehow stuck to his ginger hair. You laughed quietly, he definitely took after him.

KUNIKIDA ୭·࣭࣪̇˖

When you told him you were pregnant, he was absolutely over the moon. He was very protective during your pregnancy, not letting you go to work or do any household chores. He wanted to be the ideal husband and father for you and the bundle of joy you were giving birth to. He was with you every step of the way, reassuring you that everything would be fine and you were both in this together. He knew you'd be an amazing mother.

Kunikida woke up from the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. He squinted and reached for his phone, '2:16 am'. He sat up straight, blinking the sleep away as he got out of the comfort of the shared bed. He glanced at you, leaning in to kiss your forehead before walking out of the bedroom. He quietly headed towards the kitchen only to see his 3 year old daughter standing atop a chair infront of the fridge, tub of the cookie dough flavoured ice cream in her stubby hands. She tries to scoop it out with an ice cream scooper but alas, the ice cream is too hard. His heart clenched at the adorable sight of her pouting, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tries her best to scoop the cold treat out. He snaps out of it and clears his throat, hands on his hips while he interrogated her, "and what're you doing up so late?" She whipped her head towards her father's direction, startled by his stern voice. She quickly tries to hide the ice cream tub behind her, the scooper falling out of her grasp in the process. "n-nothing!" He sighed and picked the metal tool up from the floor, walking over to the sink to clean it before getting a bowl and returning back to his little girl. "Give that here," he takes the tub of ice cream, scooping a healthy amount in the bowl before giving it to her. "Don't tell mommy, okay?" She nodded, too busy savouring the sweet taste of the ice cream. He pinches her cheek playfully, "you're such a messy eater..and do not think you'll be getting away with this everytime, young lady." He scolds, flicking her forehead, making her whine. If only they both knew you've been watching the entire time, heart doing backflips at the cuteness of it.

RANPO ୭·࣭࣪̇˖

Ranpo was...an interesting father to say the least. He wasn't terrible but he definitely wasn't the best. You didn't expect anything more, considering he's a full grown adult with a toddler's mentality. While your pregnancy, he helped you with most stuff but he would not tolerate your mood swings. He once called you bratty while you were in your trimester and you smacked the shit out of him, which was deserved according to Yosano while he whined about it to her. He bought you your flowers and chocolates as an apology later. This man almost cried when he held the baby in his arms for the first time but he'd rather die than admit that.

Ranpo stared at you breastfeeding your baby boy in utter focus. His eyes were narrowed to slits as he observed his son stealing your tits from their rightful owner. You deadpanned at him, "honey, is something the matter?" He pouted, "I want milk too~" You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, mentally patting yourself on the back for dealing with his shenanigans every day. "You're not a baby, Ranpo.." "but you said I'm your baby! You call me baby every day, no?" Your son side eyed his dad for a second before going back to drinking peacefully. "Did you see that?! Did you see how he looked at me?!" Ranpo accusedly pointed a finger at the small child and you shook your head. "He's just a baby, darling. I don't think he can give you a nasty look at this age..." Your husband only crosses his arms angrily before crawling towards you on the bed, reaching for one of your boobs when his son side eyed him again, judging hard. Ranpo ignored the look and leaned in to take you in his mouth when your son started crying, waving his arms around in clear distress. You tried to calm him down, bouncing him in your lap and kissing his chubby face., "aww baby don't cry~ daddy is a weirdo? I know, baby, I know." Ranpo gasped, grumbling something about 'sharing is caring'. "so sharing is caring until it comes to you sharing your snacks?" You commented, giggling mischeviously with your son, who was now beaming as he watched his dad sulk away.

FYODOR ୭·࣭࣪̇˖

Fyodor was an amazing husband to you as long as you obeyed him like a good wife should that sounds borderline sexist but ok. He was also very caring and protective during your pregnancy, always looking out for you, making sure you're well fed, not letting you do chores by yourself, you get the idea. Fortunately, the whole process went very smoothly, he was there almost every step of the way. When he held the small child in his arms, he felt a joy he didn't know he could. The small bundle of sunshine got fyodor's raven hair, your eyes and his face structure. He just loved that kid so much and you could tell by the way he spoke to her so gently, cradling her in his arms as he promised her that would take good care of you both.

Fyodor was currently busy with giving his precious daughter a bath, the three year old jumping in excitement as she loves her bathtime. Usually you'd be the one helping her bathe, but you couldn't do that today because of a fever. So your dear husband took over the household duties for today. You tried to reassure him that he didn't have to, but he wouldn't budge, forcing you to lay down and rest while he took care of everything.

Now here he was, trying to choose which bathbomb he should pick for his three year old daughter. He settles on a sparkly purple one with pink swirls, "How's this one, love?" The toddler's eyes widen, curiously gazing at it with her big, doe eyes. He smiled and plopped the bathbomb in the tub, watching his daughter squeal as it fizzes up. "Oh! 's pwetty, daddy!" She giggled, splashing some water at him. He chuckled, head resting on his palm, thinking about how adorable she was.

NIKOLAI ୭·࣭࣪̇˖

Bro went to get the milk faster than lighting itself.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, likes and reblogs are very appreciated♡

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sugarandspicewriting · 5 months

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girl, you should definitely write something about luke letting you do his make up, please! i'm begging you!

Lipstick Kisses

Summary: Luke brings you a snack after missing you at breakfast, but finds himself getting a makeover instead.

Warnings: Fem Aphrodite!Reader. Fluff.

A/N: Here is the fic I mentioned. I’m also spreading my peel and orange for your lover agenda.

The Aphrodite cabin was filled with a soft morning light. You sat on one of the intricately carved wooden stools in front of the vanity you had claimed as your own when you were claimed by your mother. One of the best things about the Aphrodite cabin? Mirrors surrounded you, a luxury unique to this cabin. You had woken up late due to a late night rendezvous with your boyfriend, Luke the previous night. When faced with the decision of getting breakfast or looking good for the day, you decided that sometimes sacrifice was necessary for beauty.

No one could say you weren’t your mother’s daughter.

As you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup and mentally preparing to start your day, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. You were expecting one of your siblings to be teasing you for your not-so-stealthy reentrance last night. Instead, you were met with Luke voice.

“Figured you didn’t show up at breakfast because of last night, so brought you something to eat.” He spoke softly, not wanting to break the quiet morning atmosphere.

You smiled at him, not wanting to make too much noise yourself. Luke sat down on your bed and began to peel the orange he brought for you while you finished up your makeup, feeding you orange slices occasionally.

After finishing your morning routine, an idea stuck you, and you turned to look at Luke who had busied himself with cleaning up the orange peels. “Luke,” you called out, barely covering the excitement in your voice. “You’ve watched me do my makeup before, yes?”

He looked up at you, not sure where you were going with this, but the sparkle in your eyes made him ready to go along with anything you would say next. “Yes, why?”

“Would you let me do your makeup? Please? It’ll be fun and we can take it off before anyone sees and-“

“Of course princess.”

“-I wouldn’t tell-oh!”

His readiness to appease you in this way shocked you. You beamed at him and got up from your seat and ushered him towards the vanity.

In truth, Luke had no interest in having makeup on. But if it kept you smiling like that he’d wear it all day and all around camp.

Once he sat in front of the mirror, you climbed on his lap and began your artistic venture. Your breaths intermingled softly. The subtle smell of citrus floated between you. In between bouts of concentration you would catch him staring at you, and would have to bury your face in his neck in embarrassment until he coaxed you back up with promises of kisses. You had to ask him to stop staring.

He didn’t.

“Okay, close your eyes,” you instructed once you had finished your masterpiece. It honestly wasn’t your best work. Having his undivided attention with him being so close was still foreign to you and it made your hands shake.

You twisted around and dug through one of the drawers on your vanity, still refusing to leave his lap, looking for a hand mirror so he could get a close look at your handiwork.

Once you found it you got off his lap and held the mirror in front of him and counted down, “Okay three, two, one!”

Luke opened his eyes and gasped softly.

“Well what do you think?”

He laughed softly, “Well, I never thought I'd say this, but I might be a makeup convert now." He said. He started making over exaggerating kissy faces and poses which made you laugh.

But soon, he turned the tables, planting lipstick-stained kisses all over your face. Panicking, you protested, "Luke, I'll be seriously late if I have to redo my makeup!"

He grinned, "Consider this payback for all the times you covered me in lipstick kisses, princess."

#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you

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sugarandspicewriting · 5 months

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Random Cute Things He Does

Notes: female reader. In one section reader is a child of Aphrodite.

Warnings: none! Just fluff.

Walks close to street (This is more of a mortal au thing but bear with me)

It’s part of his protective nature. He’s watched the people he loves get hurt or worse, so keeping you save is ingrained in his DNA at this point. If you’re like me and you find yourself walking ahead of or behind people even while talking with them he will try and put himself closer to the street regardless. He will nudge you if you wander closer but he won’t explain himself unless you ask.

Let’s you do his makeup

Everything I write for him has to be child of Aphrodite core I swear. But imagine doing your makeup in the morning and sometimes he comes in and watches you. Eventually you teasingly ask him if he wants some too and he is so down for it. Sitting in his lap and putting mascara on him and giving him lipstick kisses >>>> (and what if I wrote a blurb for it)

Shows you off

Ladies and gentlemen we are eating good. I haven’t seen a lot of posts about this but it’s something I believe he would do. Most of the time it’s nonverbal stuff touching you. Whenever he’s with you he likes to have his hand on you like on the small of your back or just holding your hand. But other times when new campers show up he’ll proudly introduce you as his girlfriend and will say it LOUD. If you’re practicing a skill and you do something well he’ll hit you with a “that’s my girl” omg. Also think about after winning capture the flag he’ll totally kiss you in front of everyone. It’s 11pm when I’m writing this and I’m GEEKING.

Hand kisses

Self explanatory but still very cute. Absentminded thing that he does in passing. Eating together. Hand kiss in between bites. Walking and holding hands? Smooch. Sitting together at the bonfire. Kith kith. Corny but we love it.

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan imagine

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sugarandspicewriting · 5 months

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This flavor of hurt/comfort>>>>>>

Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo

Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶

true colours; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader

synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending

notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈

You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky.

This year, there were two.

As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls.

You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.

Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love.

It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day.

It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen.

Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility.

Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him.

Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”

(You came in fifteenth.)

You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away.

“You alright there, sunshine?”

He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile.

“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.

You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.

The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you.

Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes.

“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls.

Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does.

They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”

Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him.

So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice.

You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you.

Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”

It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer.

Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.

Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt.

You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”

He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh.

“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on.

Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear.

You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.”

If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is.

"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink.

You haven’t talked to him since.

It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too.

“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”

The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale.

“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”

You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”

“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you.

“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”

“Lee!”

“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.

You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”

“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.

The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next.

“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”

There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin.

“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?”

“No to the first, yes to the second.”

You wish you said no to both.

The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers.

He will not. Stop. Looking at you.

The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.

Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:

You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there.

It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way.

Luke, calling your name.

At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”

He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”

There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him.

His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear.

“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”

His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks.

“I’m not—”

“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.”

He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it.

“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!”

His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”

“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”

“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”

There’s a lull.

“What?” You blink stupidly.

“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”

His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”

His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”

“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."

You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.

“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.”

The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”

“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”

The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“But you’ve got so many other—”

“I want you.”

“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”

"Your knee is fine!"

"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"

“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in.

He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.

“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”

Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”

You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.

“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”

Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth.

In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.

When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.

She's given you two more rainbows.

#luke castellan x reader #soooo yummy

5K notes · View notes

sugarandspicewriting · 5 months

Text

This is Modern Feminism Talking!

Summary: Luke takes care of you outside a Halloween party.

A/N: A cute little Luke x Ditzy!Reader blurb. Heavily inspired by Sexy on the Mean Girls soundtrack I’ve been seeing it all over TikTok.

Warnings: Allusions to nsfw themes. Reader is Aphrodite kid coded but it’s never said. She’s also dumb.

“You’ve barely left your cabin and you’re already hurting yourself.” Luke huffs as he inspects the scrape on your knee, both of you sitting on the steps outside of the Aphrodite cabin. There was loud booming music playing inside. Monster Mash was a strange choice for a camp full of demigods, but it was Halloween.

A light breeze floats through camp, and your skimpy body con dress wasn’t keeping you warm. You pouted as you wrapped your arms around your arms and replied. “It’s not my fault. It’s these damn shoes.” You lift your foot up and show him your strappy heels to match your dress.

Luke sighs. The only reason anyone could tell what you were supposed to be were the mouse ears perched on your head.

“Of course baby.” He responds absentmindedly, digging through your purse for a bandaid. He started making you carry them with you after becoming acquainted with how clumsy you could be, and if looked at you for too long with that outfit, he’d have his own problems to deal with.

You gasped in delight when he found one in your bag. Bright pink. Of course. He took the wrapping off and stuck it on top of your scrape. He then lifted your knee up to his lips and placed a kiss on it. “There you go beautiful, all better now.”

As if miraculously healed, you giggled and quickly moved to straddle him. ”Thank you baby! What would I do without you!” You began to press kisses all over his face and he grabbed your hips. Whatever his siblings had snuck into the punch must have been strong. Your lips eventually slotted over his own and your arms around his neck. You sighed in contentment when his hands came up to your arms to sooth the cold. As much as he was enjoying this, he didn’t want you getting sick and he could feel the goosebumps on your arms.

He pulled away and dodged your attempts at another kiss, and tried to ignore your pout. “Cmon sexy mouse, let’s get you inside before you turn into a sexy icicle.”

Your face lit up at the idea of rejoining the party with him, lost kiss seemingly forgotten. You got up at an alarming speed… and promptly fell on your ass after stumbling over your shoes again.

Luke takes a tired breath before helping you up and wrapping an arm around you to keep you upright. You give him an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. “My knight in shining armor” you coo in his ear. “What would I do without you?”

Gods he was so in love with you.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you

882 notes · View notes

sugarandspicewriting · 9 months

Text

SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?

or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.

warnings 13+ gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)

notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…

“500,000!?”

Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.

You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.”

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space?

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of.

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up.

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

#OH MY GOD #fic so good I had to walk a lap

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sugarandspicewriting · 10 months

Text

Lyney fluff Alphabet

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Lyney likes to demo his new magic tricks for you! He might practice them in front of Lynette fist just so he can impress you. I also feel like he’d enjoy watching/ helping you bake if that’s something you’re into.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

On himself he likes his hands. It’s where all the magic happens.

On you he likes your eyes. The voice-line was a diversion to get your mind off your questions, but all the best lies have some truth mixed in.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

If you’re close enough to him to be in a relationship, he considers you family and hates to see you sad. The first time around he might try to distract you with tricks or letting you pet his cat, but it all you really need is a shoulder to cry on and to have someone listen all the cards and magic will be saved for another time.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He doesn’t like to think about the far future so much, as he knows that he will have to take over for “Father” some day. But he will do everything he can to keep you and his family in his life.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

At the start of the relationship he tends to take on a more dominant role, because he’s still learning how to let his guard down. As it progresses, he’ll mellow out and become more passive.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He hates fighting. He runs from confrontation and it is difficult to have hard discussions with him unless you put him in a corner (sometimes literally)

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is very grateful for his s/o. Especially if they know about his involvement in the Fatui and are willing to stay with him anyway. He knows that would be a dealbreaker for a lot of people.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

LOTS of secrets especially when your relationship is new. The traveler still doesn’t know everything about him. Although I do imagine he’d like to reach a point of full transparency with you someday. All in good time.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Lyney clearly has some trust issues. I think the thing that would really change him would be to see you getting along with Lynette and Freminet. Loving you is one thing but having his family love you is another. Sees you talking to Freminet about Pers and encouraging his naïve beliefs and he’s ready to propose on the spot.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He does get jealous easily but doesn’t show it. Especially if you don’t know about his dealing with the Fatui. He feels like he’s not good enough and that you can do better. Goes through a cycle of isolating himself and then showering you with attention. But he can switch from one thing to the other in a matter of hours so it can be hard to catch. If you get the sense that his spiraling some words of affirmation is usually enough to get him back on track

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

With all that smooth talk he’s bound to have used that mouth for something else.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He would want to do something big and grand in front of people but luckily Lynette gets to him first and convinces him that the first I love you should be something just between the two of you. But if he gets the green light from you for grand gestures in the future… nothings off the table.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He does want to get married in his heart but he’s still unsure of his future in the house of hearth and if he really wants to get you involved in that. I’ve seen this written in fics before but I like the idea that he’s doing a magic trick and he says all he’ll need is your hand and he pull the ring out of this hat. It’s cute and very him.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Would y’all gag if I said kitten. I also think he’d like to use dove, angel eyes, and variations of French pet names like mon Cheri etc. He also likes to use your name often, because he knows that using peoples names is a good way to get people to like you I’m not joking look it up.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Lynette and Freminet are So Tired. Especially if he’s in the pinning phase before the relationship someone save them.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Not shy not even a little bit. He loves to put on a show at any at all times. Right in front of Lynette’s salad? He will not ask before hand either so if you don’t like PDA you’re going to have a rude awakening at first. He’ll stop if you really want him to but he might ask even still once and a while.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s very good at reading people so he’ll know when you’re sad, and will learn quickly what displays of affection you like the most.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Dude. It’s sickeningly sweet at times like are you seriously sending doves over with a love letter. Just use the mail. It’s all to show he cares thought and if gestures like that are your thing you’ll be very happy with him. So corny.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Yes I believe he would support his s/o in their goals. If it’s something in the arts he would take a more hands on approach, but if it’s anything else that he didn’t have experience in he’d take a backseat approach. I see hcs of people saying he’d want you to be in his show. He likes it when he can pick you as a volunteer in his audience but if you want to be part of the show you’d have to put in WORK. He won’t let you off easy just because you’re his s/o.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

His life is so unpredictable as it is so I think he’d like to fall into a routine with you. But never so much so that either of you would get bored.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He prides himself on his ability to read people so I think he’d make it a point to know more about you than anyone else. He also strikes me as someone who is very empathetic, but he won’t always act on it, unless of course it’s you he’s worried about.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship with you is something he feels is pure and untainted by his past and the Fatui, so he values it a lot and wants to keep it sacred in that way. He knows that because of his involvement that his life could change in an instant but he’s determined to keep you by his side.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Hand👏🏻kisser👏🏻. I’m not taking notes on this argue with the wall. He thinks it’s romantic and he’s right!!!

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes! Other than Lynnette and Freminet he’s not very close to anyone and they’re not the cuddly type. He’s probably a little touch starved and would always be touching you in some way if he could. Big fan of laying on top of you and let’s face it he’s probably 100 pounds soaking wet so it’s not uncomfortable enough to push him off.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

The drama. Spare Lynette please and come back. He’s waxing poems and it’s been 3 hours. He’ll tone it down if Lynette looks like she’s about to strangle him but he’ll still be mopey just for the theatrics of it all. He’s very used to only having his sister but he’s never had someone like you in his life and wants to keep you around!

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Once you’re in a committed relationship there’s no telling what he’d be willing to do for you, especially after growing up around someone like Father and seeing what she could do. After the news gets out that he’s fatuus, no one wants to mess with you.

#lyney x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #lyney #lyney imagines #genshin impact #fontaine

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sugarandspicewriting · 1 year

Text

That’s how you know!

GN! Reader. Inspired by the Enchanted song bc it’s been stuck in my head. How they show you that they love you. Possibly OOC bc I’m delusional. Enjoy!❤️

Plan a private picnic

By the fire's glow

Dan Heng- He is very shy about showing affection in private for many reasons. He’s got dangerous people after him and he doesn’t want to put a target on your back. He also doesn’t want to hear it from March 7th. But occasionally you’ll get a text from him asking you to meet him in his room and when you get there he’ll have something set up for just the two of you. His reservation about any kind of PDA makes him feel like a bad boyfriend sometimes, so he tries to make it up to you when he can.

Send you yellow flowers when the sky is gray?

Gepard- Geppy🥹 the type to bring you flowers. Imagine he asks you on a date and you say yes and then he shows up to pick you up with a big bouquet of flowers and he’s like “for you😊” he absolutely would. Once he sees how much you like it he keeps doing it for special occasions and when he notices you’re feeling down. Sometimes when he’s gone for a long time fighting the Fragmentum he’ll write to someone like serval and ask her to bring them to you just so you know he’s thinking about you <3

Well, does he leave a little note to tell you

You are on his mind?

Jing Yuan- Regardless of his nickname “The Dozing General”, I imagine he does have to get up pretty early. Sometimes you wake up with him, but on the days you don’t, you’ll be sure to find a note on his pillow written for you. Some of them are short and sweet just wishing you a good morning and that he loves you, or if he’s feeling particularly sappy, he’ll write something about how pretty you looked sleeping and that he just couldn’t bear to wake you up. You keep all the notes obviously. But switch it up one day and sneak one on his desk and you’ll be sure to get a bunch of kisses when he gets home!

Because he'll wear your favorite color

Just so he can match your eyes

Sampo- He has his signature look, but I don’t think he’d mind switching it up if you wanted to do a little matchy matchy with him <3 would wear bright fluorescent pink if it would make you happy. No one comments on it because well… he’s Sampo. But if you ever wanted to rock his signature red and purple he’d love that too!

#honkai dan heng #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #Honkai #jing yuan x reader #sampo fluff #sampo x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #gepard fluff #dan heng fluff #jing yuan fluff #hsr x reader #hsr

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sugarandspicewriting · 2 years

Text

❪ DOLL ❫ — N. F.

THE QUARRY !

during the whole predicament of the night, you're with nick. how would it go? especially with a needy ass aussie. #A BLURB !

TRUTH OR DARE?⠀

having nick be so possessive of you is something to witness. this guy's all for you and will not hesitate to sit anyone else down who tries a move that night. especially after the bite. i mean, he's gotta reasonable as well, can't be mad about you for everything that's not your fault. you're such a beauty inside and out, it's not for him to blame others for trying something on you; but nonetheless, that doesn't happen as nick has made it pretty clear your his. or at least in his mind.

during the truth and dare game, you were dared to kiss either ryan or jacob. being who you were, you knew jacob was still coming in terms with the things with emma, so you kissed ryan. no, not a kiss, per say, but a whole make out session.

you straddled ryan's waist as you placed your hand on the back of his neck and the other to cup his cheek.

'course, nick didn't take that too lightly. he knew what you were doing. he knew exactly what you were doing. it wasn't a riddle to be solved: you were trying to make him jealous. to your efforts, it worked. too well.

he walked from the situation and into the woods — to which you obviously had to follow and explain yourself. you guys weren't dating but had intense make out sessions here and there.

friends with benefits, if you will.

but nick wanted more than that and you did as well, course, you two being you two, none of you made a move. so you decided to make him make a move.

that's how you were now pinned to a tree, shirtless as nick kissed you fiercely. he was not taking it lightly. he wanted to be the last taste in your mouth. he wanted to be the only one you kissed so passionately. he wanted to the only one to kiss you like so.

he made it very clear that night that you were his. very clear.

NEEDY WOLFBOY

when nick got attacked and bit — oh boy, you were scared at first. you worried he'd die from bleeding out to death. he didn't, instead, he was slowly becoming more possessive with you as the night went on.

you took notice how he'd always have a hand on you, no matter the situation. nick didn't speak much, scared he would make you run away from him, so he kept quiet — only speaking when you asked him questions if he was okay or if there was something he needed.

"you, i need you, y/n." he'd whine like a brat. you would be lying if you said you didn't find it hot; however after acting a like a needy sub for a while, he took more on a dom act. quite a shift, you'd say.

'course you'd let him kiss you here and there, but never too harshly as you would usually do. nick was still injured, you couldn't risk him dying in a make out session.

"another kiss, doll." he'd groan as you'd break the kiss. you would give in sometimes, the whole puppy eye thing worked on him so well.

MINE AND ONLY MINE

when nick got too harsh with you, you had seeked comfort with dylan. he'd reassure it would all fine after this night and what not.

bullshit, nick would think. everything would be fine if you had just stayed by his side like you were supposed to. why dylan? why not him? you were his, not dylan's.

"hey doll, c'mere." he whispered to you in such a voice, you obviously had to. you felt so warm when he said that. the affect he had on you was something else.

but on the way to him, dylan stopped you. "y/n's fine right here, nick."

and all hell broke lose.

before you could do something about it, dylan had pushed nick into the pool — to which nick started freaking out and splash everywhere.

in the pool house, you two got a corner where you couldn't be seen and nick took that to his advantage.

FINAL FORM (LMFAO)

before transforming, he becomes more touchy and needy with you. his hands find their way under your shirt. he slips his tongue in your mouth and tries to get a reaction from you, which he does. you moan into his mouth and twirl his hair around your fingers.

he wanted more, obviously growing more hungry for you as he started to grip you harder and pull you towards him.

"nick, you're hurting me.." you told him as he broke the kiss and looked at you. his eyes were now a shade of yellow and not to mention, he looked so damn good for someone who was about to transform.

"you probably taste so good, doll." he whispered into your ear and his mouth slowly made its way to your neck. you felt a wave of pain wash through you as you realized, he had bit your neck.

you pushed him away and ran to grab the shot gun. earlier you had a theory of whatever was happening and you weren't gonna die doubting yourself.

he stood up and smirked before groaning. you had to shoot him, whether you wanted to or not — and you did.

an explosion of blood happened and the next thing you knew, he had jumped out the window into the woods.

UNTIL DAWN

when nick woke up he found himself outside in the woods with shredded up clothes, merely naked.

he walked around and found you talking to the officers. you looked like you had been through literal hell.

you had cuts, bruises, and also didn't have much of the clothes you had the night before. nick had bit you so you transformed when you were abi.

after talking to the officers, you saw nick standing there, confused.

"omg, you're alive!" you sighed and hugged him tightly. nick coughed as you looked at him.

right, both of you were basically naked. you were driven home by travis and nick decided to stay with you.

you caught him on what happened and he apologized for being such a prick about dylan touching you and whatnot.

of course, a lot more than an apology was made that night. a lot more.

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sugarandspicewriting · 2 years

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Nick fluff Alphabet

Here I go posting more Nick content

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Nick loves to cook with you! Imagine him wearing an apron and cooking something on the stove he can fulfill your househusband fantasy.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He loves your smile. Not the fake smiles for taking pictures but the real ones when Dylan makes you laugh or Jacob does something stupid.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

His love language is physical touch, so his instinct is to sit with you, rub your back, wipe your tears, stuff like that. Would probably pull you in his lap if you let him. Say sweet things in your ear with that accent.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Can’t help but imagine the “American Dream” with you. Big house in the suburbs, some kids, and a dog. Thinks it’s romantic, but knows it’s harder than it seems to achieve that (comrade sugarandspicewriting checking in). Would settle for anything as long as it with you.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

At first he would be more submissive. He can’t believe he scored you so he wants to impress you and keep you around! Once he figures out that you love him for who he is he’ll be more likely to make decisions in the relationship.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He rolls over pretty easily to be honest. He hates fighting.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s very grateful for you. Anything you do for him he appreciates.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

In the game if you don’t kiss Abi in the woods he admits he’s done things in his past he’s not proud off. That’s true for everyone, but with the way he said I can’t help but wonder if there’s something more going on. I don’t think he killed anyone or anything (at least before the werewolves) but I do think he has some secrets. It might take a while for him to open up but I think he will.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

I think that his partner will help him gain some self confidence. Getting him to let down his guard for you is a good step in the right direction.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

I think he gets jealous with guys like Jacob. He feels like he’s not “man” enough (Even tho he’s canonically jacked).

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Listen we all saw the scene with Emma and what she said after. He can make your knees weak if he wants to.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Not a very big event. Probably you two sitting together and he just can’t keep it in anymore. Might hit you with a “I like-like you”. He’s blushing hard too it’s so cute, but put him out of your misery.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Yes🥹. Wants to see you walking towards him in a nice white dress he’s so traditional. I read a fic in where Emma implied that he was from a loaded family and now I can’t stop thinking about rich boy Nick buying you a beautiful engagement ring doing whatever you want for the wedding. Probably wouldn’t want a huge wedding thought just family and close friends.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Apparently in Australia “possum” is a term of endearment so he might let some of those slip. Also I read a different fic and I believe in babe/baby Nick supremacy.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He’s so gushy in private it’s gross. He tries to hide it in public but there’s only so much he can do to hide his heart eyes from everyone. People can definitely tell he’s in love when they look at him when he’s with you.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

The most he’ll do in front of others is holding your hand, putting his hand on your back and a quick peck. If you can get him to a semi-secluded place you can get a longer smooch. He will brag about you though. He’s so proud of you he can’t help but bring you up in a conversation when he can.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

I already talked about this but he’s an amazing cook. He knows that the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. He also knows how to make food that will sooth and ailments you have too. Him making you soup when you’re sick I love it.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He’s too shy to do anything crazy but will definitely make sure so woo you every once in a while to keep you on your toes. You might come over for a casual dinner date to find that he’s got candles and wine out for you. After that he’ll make you a bath and rub your shoulders (unless you want him to hop in with you that is 👀)

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Yes he’s big on supporting your goals. He feels pretty aimless in his own life so seeing you be passionate about anything inspires him to have something like that one day.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Not one to take many risks. If it’s something you want he’ll go along with it but he wouldn’t bring it up himself.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He makes it a goal to understand you as much as he can. Relationships can be tricky and he’s scared to mess things up. Keep stressing the importance of communication and he’ll be fine.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

He values the relationship a lot. Like I said he doesn’t have much direction in his life so he can easily let the relationship get more important than it should be especially if you’re busy a lot he starts to miss you a lot. He needs a reminder of how important others parts of his life are sometimes.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

You know how when you buy new clothes you want to show everyone. He will not only allow this but encourage a fashion show. Will trip over his words trying to complement you.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Snuggly boy. Shy about PDA but will smother you in private kisses and hugs galore! If you’ve found yourself cuddling with him be prepared not to leave for a long long while.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

You get a FaceTime call from him and when you pick up he’s on the phone like 🥺. He misses seeing your face, hearing your voice, and touching you. FaceTime will cover two out of three of those so expect a lot of calls.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

In theory he will but at the same time he’s still very shy. As long as it’s not a public thing he’ll go as far as he thinks he can.

#the quarry x reader #the quarry imagine #nick furcillo #nick fucillo x reader

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sugarandspicewriting · 2 years

Note

nick furcillo nsfw alphabet <3

— “ i’m yours, all yours ”

[ nick fucillo, ns/fw alphabet ]

A, AFTERCARE

King of aftercare! Nick will tell you he loves you afterwords and clean you up with the most delicate touches he’s ever given! He’ll make you something to eat if that’s what you need, or run you a nice, warm bath. He’s there for absolutely anything you need!

B, BODY PART

Nick is definitely a boob guy… he doesn’t care what size they are, if they’re all scarred up, freckled, have stretch marks, he literally does not give a shit! He thinks they’re hot just as they are! And of you’re someone who doesn’t have boobs, he likes your thighs, he likes holding onto them while you two fuck, he likes kissing the delicate inner skin of them and slowly, teasingly inching his way up to your cunt/dick with his tongue

As for himself, he likes his hands. He likes the way that they can squeeze so many lewd sounds from you, the way they can make you red faced and stuttering, but also the way they can comfort you, stroke your hair, rub loving circles into your skin, and how they can cup your face in a sweet kiss. <3

C, CUM

He isn’t a hugeee fan of getting all down n’ dirty with sex, he prefers to keep both you and himself clean of bodily fluids. He prefers to cum inside you, he likes keeping it (semi) clean, and thinks you look cute all filled up <3

D, DIRTY SECRET

He’s got a little bit of a thing for vouyerism… he likes watching you get off right in front of him, wether it be with a toy, on a pillow, or with your own fingers. He likes the pleased yet embarrassed look you have on your pretty face while you’re fucking yourself stupid!

E, EXPERIENCE

Nick hasn’t really slept around that much, but he pays very close attention to how you react to things the first few times you have sex, and honestly, he won’t ever stop paying attention, just not as intensely. He likes to know just what makes you feel good and what doesn’t.

F, FAVOURITE POSITION

He likes any position where he can see your pretty little face! Missionary, wrapped lotus, etc etc… he loves watching your features change from adoration to pleasure and back again <3

G, GOOFY

While Nick has a more serious take on sex than most of the hacketeers, viewing it as the most intimate you can possibly get with the person you love (how romantic! <3) he’ll throw in a few jokes here and there if he feels like there’s any awkward silence.

H, HAIR

Nick takes pride in his physical appearance, which of course also includes… down there… he keeps it nice and cleanly trimmed just for you! Totally not because he’s obsessive about his appearance! ^^

I, INTIMACY

Sex is the ultimate form of intimacy for Nick, he can’t possibly imagine doing it with someone he doesn’t have deep feelings for. He’ll tell you he loves you between moans, and hopes that you’ll do the same for him! <3

J, JACK OFF

By himself? He’ll only do it once in a blue moon when he’s feeling really desperate. In front of you though, Nick will go absolutely wild, he gets off on your gaze alone.

K, KINKS

He’s got a bit of a breeding kink, he loves the cute face you make as he’s filling you to the absolute brim <3 He’s a bit of a vouyeristic perv and enjoys playing a little bit of peeping tom… consensually of course!

L, LOCATION

Nick absolutely loves shower sex. He likes that he won’t be dirty afterwards, he likes all the noises the water makes when he’s thrusting against you, he likes it all! He’ll of course fuck you in bed, and occasionally on the couch after you distract him from a particularly boring movie.

M, MOTIVATION

Everything about you turns him on… you’re absolutely perfect! Tease him about it all you want but what really gets him going is a nice, planned out evening dedicated to the sexual intimacy of the two of you

N, NO

Nick is totally freaked out by the idea of pet play! Yuck! He also isn’t a fan of anything regarding being bound up with intricately tied ropes, it makes him feel too constrained!

O, ORAL

He enjoys both giving and receiving equally! He adores the sounds and faces you make when he goes down on you, and how easily you can make him come apart when you do the same for him

P, PACE

Nick prefers slower sex, he likes to enjoy the moment, take in how gorgeous you are all covered in sweat like this… How’d he even score someone as hot as you!

Q, QUICKIE

Nick isn’t really one for quickies, he’d rather have a nice, thought out night with you! But if you’re really desperate for a quick fuck, he’ll do it for you, how can he resist?

R, RISK

He isn’t big on risks, preferring to have sex in the comfort of his or your own home, dorm, or wherever you’re currently staying. He likes knowing that you’re going to have everything you need right there with you.

S, STAMINA

This man can only go for one round… don’t worry though, he’ll make it worth it! <3

T, TOYS

Nick totally has a few toys for you! He likes to watch you use them on yourself! ;) If you ask really nicely though, he might help you out a little

U, UNFAIR

Not too into having you tease him, or teasing you. He doesn’t like being mean :(

V, VOLUME

He’s pretty quiet during sex, but really hopes that you aren’t the same way. He likes hearing all your pretty moans and cries, he takes it as a sign that he’s doing a good job!

W, WILDCARD

Soft dom Nick soft dom Nick soft dom Nic-

Y, YEARNING

His sex drive isn’t all that high, he’s really not one to have sex more than 4 times a week… but maybe with a little convincing you can change that number

Z, ZZZ

Nick won’t sleep until he knows you’ve been properly taken care of first! After everything is cleaned up and dealt with, he’ll snuggle into bed with you, and sleep for a good long while :) If you need space afterwards though, he’ll take a nap by himself, which he is 100% okay with! He wants to make sure that you’re completely comfortable! <3

#nsfw #nick fucillo x reader #the quarry smut

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sugarandspicewriting · 2 years

Text

seven minutes in heaven ⪧ nick f.

🐚 — fandom: the quarry,

🐚 — character: nick furcillo.

🐚 — summary: all it took was a stupid game for nick furcillo to fall on his knees for the cute counselor he’s been eyeing for the entire summer.

🐚 — trigger warnings: none, just pure fluff and a very happy nick (that’s what he deserves), gender neutral!reader.

🐚 — word count: 1.5k

The sigh of relief that left the six remaining counselors’ mouths as soon as the closet’s door fluttered shut was almost too funny to be true. Five weeks. Five weeks of intense labor just to have the two of you admitting their feelings for each other, and still nothing, two days before the end of the summer camp. And it’s not like they didn’t try anything: Playing truth or dare and asking very specific questions to the both of you, voluntarily letting the two of you alone in some secluded areas as much as they could… Hell, one day they even told Nick you were looking for him, and told you Nick was looking for you just so you could meet and have some serious conversations… But nothing worked. Absolutely nothing.

Worst of it all? The two of you were completely oblivious about each other’s feelings, too shy to do a move, or too scared to be rejected. Maybe it was just because you didn’t want your friendship to come to an end, to see things growing more and more awkward between the two of you if things didn’t go as planned. But it came to a point where it was absolutely unbearable for the other counselors: Dylan almost spilled the entire thing yesterday night during one of the infamous late-night-boardgame-parties, and it took Kaitlyn all she had to stop him right on time. Emma, on the other hand, was completely dumbfounded to see how clueless two people could be. Maybe love does make you go blind after all…

‘That’s some seriously small closet,’ Nick muttered, his back almost glued to the wooden surface, terrified by the thought of touching you without your consent. And even if the ‘room’ was pitch black, you could feel how uncomfortable he was, betrayed by the tone of his own voice.

‘Don’t you think they did it on purpose? I mean, Jacob said it was a childish game the other day but he was the one begging to play tonight-‘ What was supposed to be a simple thought came out loud and clear, words falling off your lips one by one until a full sentence was formed.

It was silent for a moment, Nick seemingly too stunned to say something out of the blue: But thinking about it, it did make sense, after all — Something finally clicked, yet he wasn’t so sure of the meaning of that entire situation. It couldn’t be him. You were out of his league, and he knew it oh so well, even if it made him sick, deep inside.

‘I’m sorry the bottle stopped on me and not Ryan.’ The bitterness in his voice was overwhelming. And the fact that he was nervously playing with his fingers all along didn’t help his case either, even if you quite couldn’t see him.

‘What are you talking about?’ Trying to stay as quiet as possible wasn’t so easy. Especially when you just wanted to grab him by the shirt and shake him a bit for being so… Dumb? Stupid? Or just naive.

‘Don’t you… Have a thing for him?’

An other silence. Thick, almost uncomfortable, heavy. You could barely breath, yet you managed to inhale loudly through your nose, looking for his arm with clumsy fingers and helpless eyes.

‘Nick, what the hell are you talking about. There’s no such thing as me having a thing for Ryan.’ You mumble, finally gripping his left forearm ever so gently. And you could feel it all — The tension in his muscles, the veins popping off his sun kissed skin. The signs of upcoming anxiety that had your heart sinking down your chest. ‘As far as I know, the one guy I spend most of my spare time with is you.’

‘And I don’t even know why. I’m just… Boring? Not as entertaining as the others for sure.’ The brown eyed man sighs, almost painfully. Yet it felt like the gentle touch of your fingers on his arm was enough for him to calm down, at least a bit. And if he wasn’t controlling himself so damn hard, he would have grabbed you by the waist, hid his face in the crook of your neck and hold you tight against him — But that was all in his head, once again. Just like the dreams of you that haunt him at night, never missing a rendez-vous.

‘You’re not boring, Nick Furcillo. I love you because I feel safe around you.’ That’s it. The confession that slipped off your tongue, betrayal of an entire life. And it took you so long to realize that you knew it was already too late to even try to save yourself.

Hot blood rushed up your face, feeling of dizziness taking over your entire body, mouth dry and eyes wide open. Fingernails digging in his skin, you were so taken aback by the sudden realization that you couldn’t even notice they would leave red marks on his arm. Nick, on the other hand, was a complete mess. The butterflies swirling around in his stomach, your words echoing over and over again in his mind, and a firework of relief creeping up his heart.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it earlier..?’ His voice was calm, soothing. Pushing all fears away. It’s almost enough for you to feel safe, to understand it wasn’t a mistake to tell him about your feelings, but bits of doubts remained, not wanting to leave your mind yet.

‘Don’t you feel the same for me?’ As if all strength left your body, your arm fell against your side, teeth nervously biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I was stupid for not making the first move, I’ll give you that,’ Nick grunts, angry with himself more than anything. Just thinking about the fact that he lost so much time worrying about things that didn’t even exist in the first place was enough to have him furrowing his eyebrows, a heavy sigh leaving his pretty lips. ‘And stupid for being a dick about Ryan and you.’

‘Maybe you could… Kiss me to make up for it? Maybe I’ll forgive you then.’ Surge of courage rushing through your veins, you finally dare to ask, bold and confident.

‘I love you, please never forget what I said.’ And he was so quick to oblige you had to repress a giggle, his arms caging your waist and his lips looking for yours in the dark.

‘Sir, that was my nose,’ this time, you can’t help it anymore, laughing at his clumsiness until his mouth hovered over yours, trapping it in a gentle and sweet kiss, slowly turning into a wet and passionate one.

And that’s what you’ve been missing on. The taste of lemon and mint of his favorite tea, the scent of his sea salt cologne, the safe haven of his warm body against yours and his hands on the small of your back. A kiss that left you breathless, eager for more — Cheeks flushed, lips all messy and eyes glassy. But the seven minutes are up, and the door of the closet is seconds away from revealing the scene everyone has been longing for.

all credits to @theqvarrys 2022.

#me when I become a Nick blog on accident #I love him and this fic so bad

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sugarandspicewriting · 2 years

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NICK NATION WE’RE BEING FED

I bet infected Nick would fuck you over and over again until you're crying from overstimulation

WOOF

(cw: gn!reader, degradation, overstim)

"I-I love you--oogh, love you, I love you Nick!"

"stop crying, you look pathetic."

the Nick you know and love would never be this cruel, he would never insult you--but then again, the quiet, shy Nick you know also wouldn't be bouncing you on his cock, so maybe he isn't really Nick at all anymore. his grip on your waist is possessive, and his dark eyes are soaking you up like he doesn't care if you're embarrassed, and even if this isn't Nick, your brain is so scrambled from being used as his fleshlight that you don't care about the difference.

he mimicks your wobbly voice "I love you!" with a cruel snicker to follow it. he's so mean...but he fucks you so good that it's hard to even want to make it all stop.

"no! I love you!"

"you love being a blow-up doll for me more than you love me."

his voice is like a growl, gravelly and low, not like the soft tones and words tinged with an accent that you're used to. something about him referring to you as his sex doll causes a fuzzy feeling to stir in your tummy though, even if you talk back before you can think about it.

"you're too fucking cute when you whimper like that."

"god, shut up."

Nick sits up to get closer to you, the command said with a wicked grin on his lips as he kisses your tears off your cheeks. you keep nuzzling him to try and get one on the mouth, but when he responds to your wordless plea, his tongue comes first and forces its way past your lips to nearly choke you. you weren't expecting it, after all, and you have no idea how badly Nick wants to choke you when he hears your pitiful gurgling and your little coughs like you're drowning in his spit.

if you knew he was going to turn into a monster soon, you might insist on stopping after the orgasm that those degrading compliments bring on--but even if he's a bully, Nick still loves you and he would never hurt you...not intentionally, anyways.

#oh my GOD #I need a 45 minute nap to recover from this

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sugarandspicewriting · 2 years

Text

pleasantries -- dylan lenivy

cws: enemies to lovers, male reader/mlm romance, teasing, dirty talk but it's mostly praise, fingering, unprotected sex, bruising.

word count: 2.7k

he's a dumbass. genuinely. and no, you won't change your mind on that–Dylan has been a menace since the day he arrived at camp, and you're certain that he'll be that way until the day he dies. he's just so….so….

"thinking about me, gorgeous?"

so infuriating. he flashes you a wink and a smirk and you wish you could just slap it off his face.

"about how annoying you are? always."

"wow, I'm on your mind all the time, huh?"

"shut up."

you hate that he can twist your words so effortlessly to humiliate you, especially when there are other people around. your banter has reached legendary status at camp, to the point that even the campers feel the tension whenever Dylan starts teasing you when you're not in the mood. he's just lucky that the cabin you've shared with him is cleared out for the summer, and your fellow counselors are packing up at the lodge all the way across the field. and you're certainly ready to join them, but Dylan apparently wants to be a nuisance just one more time, since he steps in front of the entrance to the cabin and rests his arm on the doorway. even if you tried, there's no way you'll get past him when he towers over you so significantly.

"whoa! whoa–hold up, now. you gotta pay a toll to leave our beloved cabin eight, y'know."

"is it a kick in the balls?"

you're quick to bite back, but he holds his hand up to his ear, his two fingers sticking out to mimic exactly what you thought he was insinuating.

"it's your number, duh. and please don't kick me in the balls."

"and why would I give you that, exactly? so I can call you up for a good time?"

you say it in a tone dripping with mockery, and yet the grin on his face is all you need to sigh and roll your eyes. you knew for a fact from the first week of camp that Dylan's harboured deeper feelings for you, even though you're certain that it's just because you're the one other guy at camp that swings his particular way. it's nothing more than that…nothing.

"aw, c'mon, you mean two months of nagging you hasn't worked?"

"incredible, isn't it? and here I was thinking you'd get it with just one more day. shame."

you move to duck under his arm, but he stops you with a hand on your chest and winks. he really does think he's so smooth, and with a sigh, you shake your head and hold your hand out.

"y'know what? fine. gimme your phone."

Dylan's more than happy to do as you say, his metaphorical tail wagging as he drops his cell in your palm and straightens up with a winning smile on his face. it's so easy to make him think he won, you almost feel bad for holding it close to your chest and darting past him before he realizes what's happening.

"hey!"

you barely make it down two of the steps outside the cabin before he's on you, and fair enough, it takes him only a second to catch up when he's so much bigger than you. you can feel him on your back in seconds, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, it makes you stumble a bit when it feels a little…well, it feels better than you would’ve imagined.

"get back here, you!"

Dylan's arms reach around you easily, tightening like a vice around your midsection as he pins you back against him and starts carry-dragging you back through the door. and for once, you're laughing and giggling along with him as you try to wiggle away–but you end up achieving the opposite, as the more you flail in his grip, the worse his balance gets until his knees buckle against the bed and he falls backward into it. with his height to his advantage you don't even hit the sheets, you just fall into him completely as his phone slips from your grasp and clatters to the floor. panting, you hold your hands up as your white flag.

"alright, alright. you win. i admit defeat,"

on the contrary to what you expected, Dylan just squeezes you tighter, totally numb to the fact that his precious phone now lies abandoned on the floor beneath him. you poke at his arm and up his bicep whilst reminding him of his victory, with the full expectation that he would now let you go, but he just nuzzles his face into your shoulder.

"I know. I just like holding you."

the touch makes you freeze up, and the soft twinge to Dylan's words causes you to rethink your feelings, even if just for a moment. it's rare that you get to see him drop the faux-confident act, and even rarer so to hear him whisper so he knows you can hear.

"....you smell really nice."

"get off."

you feel his grip loosen immediately, and he holds his arms away from you to allow you full reign to get up and off his lap. but, instead, you wiggle about until you've turned yourself around and plopped yourself right back where you were. except this time, you can see for yourself how deeply Dylan is blushing. you lace your arms around his neck, your knees on either side of your lap, and grin to yourself as his eyes dart down and back up again.

"you like being beneath me, huh?"

Dylan stutters, his words coming out squeaky and sentences broken to the point of unintelligibility. eventually he realizes that it was worthless to try and speak, and he shuts his mouth for once.

you're not even sure whose clothes came off first, or who kissed who first, but before you know it your lips have introduced themselves, your shirt is bundled in his fist and he's got a hand on your lower back, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your jean shorts. and his own top is gone, thrown somewhere on the floor of the cabin, and yours soon joins it when he tosses it aside and lays back so you can hover over him. and his kisses aren't too bad–they're gentle, sure, but they're there and once he introduces his tongue to the mix it gets a lot more heated, fast. it feels like forever to try and get your buttons undone, and your cock is already growing so stiff against the fabric that it just pulls a whine from you when you finally yank them down your legs. and it actually goes pretty smoothly then, up until the moment that you feel Dylan's palm brushing you through your boxers and it sends shivers racing up your spine.

"shit! ah, quit it, Dylan–don't make me cum yet…"

you bat his hand away and reach behind yourself like you were trying to, your fingers briskly wetted with spit that make it a much simpler task to press them inside yourself. however, it becomes a little more complicated when you've now got something hard pressing right into that spot, and in the moment that you hesitate Dylan's fingers pry yours out and replace them, much to your shock and strained awe. what surprises you even more is that when you turn your attention back to Dylan himself, he's got a concentrated look on his face like fingering you is some sort of complicated equation he's gradually figuring out. you're so tempted to make fun of him, and you're about to, until one of those long fingers of his presses against something vital and you moan instead of speak–and then he's got such a shit-eating grin on his face, and even worse, he doesn't stop prodding that spot once he finds where it is.

"keep moaning for me, you're so cute.."

you really have no say in the matter, because as long as he insists on curling his fingers into that spot that makes you melt, you can't do anything but hide your head in his chest and grumble about how annoying he is between each gasp. but his name comes out in a sweeter way than you mean it, and he's all too eager to unzip his jeans and guide your boxers down your thighs and off each leg before he settles you back into your place against him. with nothing separating you now, it all feels much more real, and it dawns on you that this is really happening–but you're a little too far gone to let your pride get in the way, and you let him push your hips down to meet the head of his cock. he's definitely bigger than you thought he was, but that's one thing you swear you won't let him know…until you cry it out when he pulls his fingers away and starts to enter you.

it's beyond embarrassing, and so is how warm your face has gotten, but Dylan just smiles and laughs breathily as you sink down lower on his cock with a "really?" on his lips. he's squirming a little bit, trying to alleviate the pressure that comes with how unbelievably tight you are, and at least it eases your nerves a little to see him coming undone and grabbing for the sheets just at the feel of you. when you've finally reached the end, or at least what feels like as much as you can take, you finally manage to move your hips–only for Dylan to gasp and grab your waist with those big hands of his, trying and failing to get you to stop as he whines that he's already too close.

"I'm too much for you, huh?"

you say it half-jokingly and half-smugly, but he's got nothing but sincerity in his eyes and his voice when he answers you in that tone laced with desperation.

"you're so pretty on top of me,"

this time you try to be more commanding as you order him to shut up, but it comes out more like a whine and he answers you so quick you can't think of any other good rebuttal.

"make me."

he doesn't need to say it twice, he can barely get it out once before your lips are on his again. it's disgusting how talky he gets when he's holding you down on his lap, his hips thrusting slowly like he doesn't want it to end too soon…it's…it's something you wish didn't feel and sound so good. Dylan's method is more focused on guiding you by the waist rather than trying to be rough–he grinds you down against him and pauses when you clench especially tight around him, and as much as you hate to say it, it's definitely one of the better ways you've been touched. every stroke and glide down his cock feels like trails of fire are left behind, your body so heated and warm that it feels like it's making your brain fuzzy and melting you from the inside out. you've been trying to keep him quiet, but you're the one that's making all the noise the second he starts ramping up and getting a little rougher with you, including the whimper you let slip when he brings his palm down on your ass in a sharp slap.

lucky for you, though, because you're not alone. Dylan may be doing most of the movement, but he's just as much of a mess as you are and can't stop arching his back into you, like it's impossible to even think of keeping still. he doesn't even seem worried about the door hanging open a crack–his eyes are on you and only you, and his grip only gets firmer and more possessive as you ride him faster and faster to meet his thrusts. if you didn't have the threat of someone stumbling upon your little session, then you probably would try to drag it out even longer to get as many of those reactions out of Dylan as you could. but time is not on your side even now, so you let him chase his own end because in all reality, you're going to cum much sooner than he is at this rate. much sooner, of course, being now.

"fuck!"

a few more f-bombs squeeze out of you as you ride him to your end, until you can't move because you're tensing up so much that even a stroke against you feels like fire against your flesh. your moans resemble sobs at this point, your untouched cock twitching and spitting cum all over Dylan's chest and yours, while he yanks your hips down with his bracelet digging into your skin as he cries out your name instead of your chosen expletive. the regret and shame starts setting in when you start feeling the warmth of his cum in your belly, but you brush it off because you're too tired to care and you barely have enough energy to lift yourself off his cock and collapse into bed beside him.

there are no words exchanged, just exhausted panting. he reaches over to touch you, to tousle your hair with his fingers, and for once you let him do it without any snarky remarks. maybe that's why he does it now, because you can also feel a kiss on your forehead that feels just as soft as his other kisses. it's nice, at least for a little while.

but before long, you work up the energy you need to pull yourself up and sit on the edge of the bed. Dylan sits back on his elbows panting, sweat dripping down his chest, and a glowing look about him like he's just been hit by cupid.

"you tell anyone about this-"

he just touches your hair again, and while you don't push his hand away, you do suck back what you were going to say and resign yourself to a pout instead.

"aw…still didn't win you over, huh? even with my massive, gut-churning-"

you shut him up with a kiss, because he really doesn't know when to shut up. he's such an idiot. he's your idiot.

"say another word, and you won't ever get it again."

you stand up on wobbly legs, and start pulling your pants back up and buckling them into place. if you were paying attention, you would notice the shivers down his back as he listens to the sound.

"you, uh…you don't wanna…clean up? I'll find you a towel,"

he flinches when you look back at him with the kind of intensity you've been saving for a moment like this. he's right, pulling your jeans up over your sticky skin when you haven't even wiped yourself off is not the most comfortable feeling, but…

"nope. I wanna smell like you for the rest of the ride home."

while you're retrieving your shirt, you scoop up Dylan's phone from where it's fallen, tap away at the screen for a few seconds, and turn to toss it into his lap which he safely catches. it's good he does, because if it breaks you'll have to listen to his whining all the way home.

"you'd better call me, idiot."

"I'd rather call you my boyfriend."

your eye roll could be heard from Spain, and so could his laughter at his own joke. it's not like you're gonna correct him though, because he thankfully has picked up on exactly what you were thinking. and it doesn't happen often, so you'll take what you can get where you can get it.

just as you're pulling your t-shirt on over your head, a clicking sound demands your attention and you shoot a look over your shoulder–and of course, there's Dylan, his phone's camera pointed at your bare back that's undoubtedly littered with bruises around your waist area. you cast a glare down at him, and he shrugs his shoulders but can't hide the satisfied expression on his face.

"what? I needed a contact picture…and, uh, a keepsake. y'know. for science."

he doesn't even believe his own bullshit for a second, but you can let it go. you'll just be biding your time for the ride home, because you know it'll be impossible for him to keep quiet if you can get your hands on him. and you don't even yet know that your night's going to turn out much different than you thought…which might make you wish you had taken a shower when you had the chance.

#nsfw #dylan lenivy x reader #male reader

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