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yuellii · 7 months

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PLEASE ( DON’T ) BE MY WINGWOMAN !

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 his female best friend tries to help him win your love, but knowing her, it all goes wrong

feat. lyney, neuvillette, ayato ( separate )

note. gn reader, features : lynette, furina, ayaka. hello i am officially back and also officially 21 !! :]

LYNEY.

“Oh, woe is me! Please assist, my dearest sister!” The magician sat sprawled atop the couch quite dramatically, backhand over his forehead feigning feverish feelings. “Whatever shall I do when the God of Romance is plotting against a hopeless romantic, such as I?”

“What’s wrong this time?” By contrast, his sister’s voice proved no fluctuations, tone lacking the honeyed sound he needed for sympathy. Instead of catering to his sorrows, she instead sipped lightly at her tea, for it was far more relaxing than her brother’s ‘woes.’

Still, Lyney sighed. “The love of my life—my soulmate!” he cried out. “How should I win the affections of my other half, when I can’t even grasp the scale of romantic favor?”

“Desserts.”

Lyney sat up. “I beg your pardon?”

“Give desserts,” Lynette shrugged. “Everyone likes desserts.” This reasoning totally made the most sense to her.

She watched as Lyney started at her blankly for just a moment, and then he inhaled sharply. “So I should… use desserts as my gift…” With each passing word, Lynette watched as a staggering excitement in his voice grew tenfold. “And then, if I keep giving their favorite treats”—Lyney gasped—“they’ll start to associate the sweetness with me! Oh, Lynette, you’re a genius!”

Lynette blinked at him. That strategy explanation was not what she said at all, but whatever. Not her problem.

But when Lyney dragged her by the hand to go purchase desserts, and then forced her to sit down at the cafe just to watch him gift treats to you, then maybe it was her problem.

“A very special dessert!” he presented, and Lynette sat with disinterest as she watched your eyes light up at his cheap old appearance trick. “For a very special person.” And now came her own eye roll—caused by the way Lyney giggled to himself at the end of his own sentence.

Maybe it was charming ( but personally Lynette didn’t see the appeal ), because there was a sparkle that appeared in your eyes in admiration of him. And suddenly, Lynette didn’t understand why he was trying to win your love at all, because it’s clear to her that he’s already won it.

“This is for me?” she heard you say. “This is actually my favorite! Oh, Lyney, you shouldn’t have!”

“Don’t even worry,” she watched Lyney wave off. “It was given to me for free at the shop”—Huh?—“and I have no space for it”—What was he…?—“so I thought you might like it!”

Lynette blinked to herself. Then she blinked to herself again. And then one more time, and now Lyney was back to her spot with you no longer in sight. “How did I do?” Lyney excitedly questioned her. “A good start, right? Step one of your idea to get my crush to become obsessed with me is complete!”

Okay first of all, that was literally not her idea, but maybe she should’ve communicated it better. And second, “Why did you lie? That dessert wasn’t free—You specifically bought it to give to them.”

Lyney immediately raised a finger with that confident smirk of his. “Because, my dear sister,” he began, “it’s called playing hard to get.”

If she could sigh, she would. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am! And I’m taking this game very seriously, too. Do you know how hard it is to keep my cool when I’m around the love of my life?!”

“Playing hard to get just makes it harder to get someone, Lyney. They might lose interest and move on.” But still, Lyney insisted. And still, Lynette just silently rolled her eyes.

The next time this happened was literally only a day later. So much for playing “hard to get,” she supposes. Perhaps Lyney didn’t quite fully understand the scope of how suspicious it was to offer you another “free dessert” only a day later. Or, he was just so lovestruck he absolutely could not wait to talk to you again.

Lynette decided the answer to be the latter option.

And once again, he claimed not to buy this dessert on his own, and Lynette did not miss the obvious eyebrow raise you gave her brother this time. You were still grateful since it was your favorite, of course, but it was rather clear you were beginning to question this. Lynette sighed to herself.

“Lynette!” Lyney called excitedly once he left you. “Oh, dear sister, did you see it this time? She stayed with me a bit longer—grabbing the plate much more slowly. She must have been at the start of falling in love with—!” Lyney stopped when he saw the empty seat. “Uh, Lynette?”

Farther away, you suddenly yelped in surprise, almost dropping the plated dessert in your hands.

“Sorry,” Lynette mumbled. Oops, she didn’t mean to scare you. But… maybe appearing in your field of sighs so suddenly once you turned a corner and coming from a darkened alleyway was not the most subtle.

“It’s alright,” you brushed of. “Oh, you must be Lynette, right? Lyney’s sister!”

“Correct.” Ah, how would she bring this up? She was never really the best with words… And definitely not when she had to use a lot of them. “Um, my brother,” she started. “Don’t mind him being weird.”

At the mention of her brother being weird ( perhaps she should defend him, but whatever, he was being weird. ), you seemed to relax. “Yeah…” you trailed off. “He’s been giving me these desserts lately—didn’t seem too coincidental that he keeps getting them for ‘free’… Especially since they’re, um, not even having a promotion right now.”

Again, if Lynette could wack her brother on the head right now, she would.

“He likes you.”

The sudden shock on your face tells Lynette that maybe she shouldn’t have said that so bluntly. Or that she shouldn’t have said that. At all.

“You’re a very dear friend to him,” she correct. Oh, wait, but she didn’t want to completely shut off the idea of romance. Correct it again, quick. “Or, very dear person… Yeah.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, probably trying to process the amount of confessions and corrections she just shot at you. Archons, you probably thought her and her brother were so weird. Unfortunately, she couldn’t blame you.

“Thanks, Lynette,” you said, and she noticed your feet shift to walk away. “Actually, I think I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Well, Lyney certainly hoped you would. She just silently watched as you walked off. But she wasn’t worried, no. As long as you spoke of this “next time,” Lynette was sure her brother would eventually succeed with you, even if he was being weird at this game.

NEUVILLETTE.

The thing that gets Furina the most excited—absolutely elated, much shown in the way she kicks her feet and patters her fingers—is the fact that her dear Iudex has no idea he’s so in love with you.

To not only her, but also the rest of Fontaine, word is quick to spread with the simple way his feet always end up turned in your direction, or how lips curve a slight upwards motion when he speaks to you. Or, the way his feelings of admiration brings out the colors in his eyes, and the shyer tone in which he laughs along with you.

And Furina, being the bestest of friends she certainly is, only wants what’s best for the Chief Justice, truly! It’s such a downer seeing him be a quiet, unsociable, hard-to-get-along-with loner all the time. And so, the moment she catches wind of his feelings, she is more than quick to come up with a way to loop the two of you together.

She pats herself in the back. She’s confident that he’ll totally thank her for all her efforts later.

This confidence still yet remains even when she has you standing up nervously on trial, wide eyes a bit scared to be accused of a crime by the Hydro Archon herself. And Neuvillette atop his seat looks exasperated, much so in a way the audience is always eyeing him with fluttering eyes and chattering whispers—because the Iudex is looking at you with such a public display of concern that he has never been known to show another on trial.

Oh, she could already see the Steambird’s morning headlines! Chief Justice Neuvillette casts eyefuls of worry towards the accused?! Or, The Iudex’s rumored lover: Accused by Lady Furina?! —Oh, oh! She was so excited!

Amidst her internal giggles was when Neuvillette’s cane came hammered down on the wooden floor of his balcony seat, silencing every voice in the Opera Epiclese. “Furina,” his voice scatters as firm as ever, though the Archon could some people gasp to themselves—Ah, she could always trust her people to spot even the slightest difference in his voice; He was clearly angrier today! “I believe you have some explaining to do.”

“Is it not obvious, my dear Iudex?” she loudly proclaimed as if acting in a performance. Her voice was playful and teasing as always, and she could tell Neuvillette was much more annoyed by it than usual today. “I am pressing charges against a darling citizen, yet a criminal over here…!”

And that was when she threw the back of her hand over her forehead for dramatic effect, making you only more nervous upon your stand. Such an increase in your fear was clearly noticeable to the Iudex, of course, as he immediately spoke to silence the Archon accusing you.

“And what would those charges entail, Furina?”

There was a sudden glare in his eyes, almost threatening. But oh well, nothing he could do—She knew he would stick by the law and allow her to make her claim anyways. This was so easy, she could almost laugh to herself!

“For…”

Oh, celebration was already at the back of her mind!

“Murder!”

…Holy shit. Oh Archons. She was supposed to say theft. “Theft,” for stealing Neuvillette’s heart. But instead she slipped up and said murder.

Oh, she can’t take that back now. But… But no worries! She was the beloved Archon that had absolutely no issues performing for her people—ergo, she could totally come up with a new plan! Certainly, a single-word slip-up will surely not mess up her entire pickup line here.

“Yes, you heard me,” she played along, hands balling to fists and dramatically sitting at her hips. “Murder!”

“Furina!” Neuvillette silenced from his place below on the podium. Never before has she seen his facial expression this angered. There was a furrow between his brows that betrayed his usually calm and emotionless look—and aw, she thought it was so romantic for him to show these emotions so outwardly just for you! The audience must love his display of passion right now—all to defend your honor! “What is the meaning of this?” his voice boomed.

Furina cleared her throat. “Murder…” she began to make her case against you. You, who looked up at her so fearfully. She almost felt bad. “For… For breathing…!” Wait, that’s not what she meant. “No, no, like murder… of breath— of my breath— no, of Neuvillette’s breath, I mean—” Okay, at this point, she just needed to spit something out. And that was when she raised a finger, pointing it accusingly down at you and making her claim: “You killed Neuvillette!”

The next instance was filled with a silence so deafeningly powerful that she felt her own stomach churn and her knees grow shaky. Well, this was definitely an embarrassment she hopes to never feel again.

Surely, this silence wasn’t awkward enough for her land the finishing blow…?

“Like, you stole his breath away…” she tried. “So you technically killed him.”

Okay maybe it was time for her to shut up.

Neuvillette’s face; oh, he looked absolutely furious. This was not the picture-perfect sight of cherry tomato blushing she was hoping for here. And you: a horror-stricken disbelief. Your mind looked like it was racing to comprehend both being charged with such a serious crime, and having the Chief Justice just randomly outed in public for… having a crush on you…?

Meanwhile Furina stood still in her usual place, just about ready to curl up and die from her failed attempt at a love confession. But before that, perhaps Celestia heard her prayers.

The audience pretty much erupted in girlish screams and whispers—all those watchful citizens of Fontaine who treated your relationship with Neuvillette like the hottest topic of the century, like the storybook romance they were reading obsessively. And now, Furina watched—watched as your expression contorted to slow realization that maybe your Archon wasn’t exactly lying about Neuvillette’s feelings, and that maybe almost the entire nation was already romanticizing you two.

And then, there: that was when Furina watched as your face blew up an expression of pure embarrassment, all the fear being completely wiped away. Then Furina could almost die when she turned her gaze to Neuvillette—who was still watching you very intently—and how the ends of his ears turned a blushing red.

Oh, this view was priceless. Once again, perfect Focalors saves the day!

KAMISATO AYATO.

Thoma clicked his tongue. “Tall and awkward.” He squinted his eyes. “Practically unrecognizable in Inazuma despite your status.” Then, he tilted his head. “Absolutely terrible at small talk.”

Finally, Thoma nodded his head. “Yep, you don’t have a chance, my Lord.”

Thoma yelped as a paper fan hit his shoulder, and that was when Ayaka slid at the seat next to him. He made a quick apology to her, but when Ayaka looked across the table, she saw how her older brother didn’t seem quite phased at Thoma’s mean evaluation at all.

Instead, he seemed to be really considering what was told to him.

“Oh, brother,” Ayaka caught his attention. “Don’t listen to Thoma, he was only being mean. Personally, I think you have a good chance at winning this date!”

“No, no, Thoma might be right,” Ayato pondered. Aw, Ayaka didnt like it when he doubted himself. “All of those traits may make this date go horribly wrong—I might end up appearing as undesirable…”

Ayaka frowned. She may not have a love life of her own, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t watching her brother’s love life like an Inazuman drama act or like a romantic storybook. And the fact that Ayato has downright fallen tremendously hard for you—who Ayaka also loved dearly, and who she admired so much—makes her pray to the Archons every night for your relationship to set sail.

So Ayato scoring this first date with you was already a big deal on its own. Only… He wasn’t quite sure what date plan would make him the most appealing man to be courting you.

Of course, who else could he turn to, other than his darling best friend and sister? Ayaka certainly had no expertise in this, but if there was one thing…

“Brother, please take this!” Across the table, she shoved a stack of just a few papers, slightly faded and lightly wrinkled, into his hands. He blinked in surprise at them for a moment before squinting at the rushed handwriting that clearly did not belong to his sister. “The Traveler gave this to me; It’s a recipe for a pizza dish from Mondstadt!

And that was how she ended up here, watching with Thoma from the sidelines of the estate as Ayato gives you the friendliest smile can force upon himself as he offers to make the both of you food. Now, the last time Ayaka tried this, she blew up the oven with the Traveler in earshot. But surely, she knew her brother had much better survival skills than she did, and there was no way he would ruin a perfectly easy pizza recipe.

But then Thoma almost burst out laughing from their secluded hiding spot, and that was when she noticed her brother bringing out not one, but instead two platters of pizza. A rather odd aroma in the air. Oh.

“I thought we’d spice things up!” they heard Ayato say to you, clasping his gloved hands together and regaining his weird, excited smile and that equally weird, excited tone in his voice. Oh brother… “One pizza is normal, and the other pizza has random toppings I threw on it—as a taste test!”

And when he set the two down, it was… quite interesting. One was a normal mushroom pizza, cooked based on Traveler’s recipe: Ayato certainly made it much better than Ayaka could’ve attempted. But the second pizza was topped with a rather colorful palette: lavender melons, sea grass, and what looked like Sea Ganoderma. Ayaka and Thoma already found themselves gagging at the smell.

When Ayaka glanced at her blonde companion, he was furiously shaking his head at her, running a thumb straight across his throat as if saying “It’s over for him.” And honestly, Ayaka might have to agree this time. Maybe she should’ve never given him that pizza recipe or that cooking idea.

“A ‘taste test’…” you echoed. The two eavesdroppers heard shifts from your side do the table, meaning you reached forward to grab a slice—they quite obviously guessed you picked the regular mushroom pizza. “The host should go first, don’t you think?”

Oh? Did that mean you were interested in this game of two after all? Ayaka’s eyes practically lit up—She was so excited for her brother!

“I’ll take up that offer of yours,” Ayato chuckled lowly. And with no gag or hesitance at all, he takes a large bite with a whole unsavory mixture of the ingredients entering the cave of his mouth. “Mm, not bad at all.”

You were visibly surprised by his calmness, now reaching out to grab a slice of your own and biting it just as he did.

But almost immediately, that bite was spat right back out onto a napkin at the mere taste of this weird concoction. “Bleh, Lord Commissioner! How did you manage to eat a whole slice?!”

The first thing Ayaka and Thoma noticed: The way you said this was amidst laughter. You were laughing, and it even sounded like you were smiling. Because whenever Ayato tried this sort of gross mixing method with Thoma or Ayaka, they would also say the same line of disgust, but in an unfavorable way. But, no—You sounded genuinely lighthearted?

The second thing Ayaka and Thoma noticed ( from even the slightest of peeks ): The big, bona fide grin on Ayato’s face at your reaction. Oh, he was absolutely eating this up, as no one ever showed a positive reaction to his weird little hobby before. And of course, being partnered with the fact he was ( not-so ) secretly in love with you, only made it so much better for him.

“It was alright, I’d say!” he spoke excitedly, a hint of an uncontrollable laughter and uncontrollable smile laced in his voice. “It had the most memorable texture, and the taste felt like I was in touch with mother nature.”

You only scoffed at him in a joking manner, “None of those ‘compliments’ of yours weren’t inherently positive, Commissioner.”

To that, he gave you another big grin before silently reaching to eat yet another slice of this suspicious pizza. Well, Ayaka supposed her brother’s weirdness landing a perfect date with you, after all. And then she pat herself on the back—because maybe, giving him that recipe was the best mistake she could make.

// not proofread ;; THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNIER THAN INTENDED. BUT IM BAD AT BEING FUNNY :(

#neuvillette x reader #ayato x reader #lyney x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x gender neutral reader #lyney fluff #neuvillette x you

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saltpepperbeard · 8 months

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OBLIGATORY COMPLETE OFMD SEASON 2 TEASER THOUGHTS AND SPECULATION POST™

Okay, to start off, I cannot BELIEVE we got this. I cannot BELIEVE we got a voiceover of Stede's note to Ed. We were all thinking it. We were all hoping for it. I CANNOT BELIEVE WE LEGITIMATELY GOT TO SEE AND HEAR HIS LOVE RIGHT OFF THE BAT. HE LOVES HIS ED SO SO MUCH.

Followed by this shot right as Stede is narrating. It's difficult to tell, but it seems like Ed??? The one-armed jacket and the fact that it's layered with Stede's narration makes me quite certain it's him. But ALONE??? AND COMING OUT OF THE SURF??? (There's a shot later that has me PARTICULARLY raising eyebrows at this moment. I'm thinking that he fell off the boat/was lost in that one storm shown later, and Stede of course is going to dive in after him or attempt to get to him in some sort of dramatic way. Which makes me think he and Stede are going to potentially talk feelings/reconcile on the beach)

And the fight choreography of this. Are you actually kidding me right now. ARE YOU KIDDING ME. GETTING TO SEE ED ABSOLUTELY KICKING ASS IN COMBAT??? NEVER IN A THOUSAND YEARS DID I EXPECT TO SEE A SHOT LIKE THIS BUT I'M HOLLERING SO HARD OVER IT (NOT TO MENTION, AGAIN, LOOKING AT THIS AND A LATER SHOT..........I'LL SCREAM ABOUT MY THOUGHTS WHEN SAID SHOT APPEARS HSKDLS)

Oh, they're PINING pining. They're YEARNING yearning. They're GAY gay.

They want to be back with each other so so so bad I'm losing my mind <3

"Fuck you, Stede Bonnet." The way he's JUST as dramatic as we were all thinking. The way he's hurting in a way WE ALL ANTICIPATED. LIKE, YOU HATE TO SEE IT, BUT MAN DSJKLDSSDKL. Also, the contrast of him saying that vs Stede's voice over is so so insane. The editors are INSANE FOR THAT ONE.

AGAIN, GOING BONKERS OVER ED'S CHARACTERIZATION BECAUSE HE SEEMS EXACTLY HOW I ANTICIPATED. Outwardly, angry, hardened, and cold. Inwardly, heartbroken, desperate, and wanting nothing more than to be back with Stede. Because hello, HELLO, HE'S NOTCHED WHAT I ASSUME TO BE HIS NUMBER OF DAYS WITHOUT STEDE IN THE WALL??????

HI OLU HELLO OLU MY DEAR DARLING OLU

but also screaming and crying and throwing up because this is ALSO what i was anticipating/hoping for. the crew being like "ummmmm lmao captain?? you really think you've got this under control???"

"You think Blackbeard's going to murder you?" I THINK NOT BECAUSE WHAT IS HE EVEN SHOOTING AT JSLDKS. OFF TO THE SIDE??? A WARNING SHOT????? Also the lighting of this and his look matches the ending shot so I'm very eyes emoji at this entire thing.

HOWEVER...

"MURDERER THRICE OVER?????????????"

Like sorry, that sign won't stop me because I can't read. Look at him. LOOK at him. You're telling me he stole the wedding cake toppers so he could PAINT HIMSELF ON THE BRIDE??? SO HE COULD MAKE HIMSELF INTO THE BEAUTIFUL BRIDE HE WANTS TO BE????? SO THAT HE COULD PLAY PRETEND MARRIAGE BETWEEN HIMSELF AND STEDE???????

INSANE!!!

INSANE FOR THIS!!!!!!

Again, bonkers editing. The split screen. The CONTRAST between Stede's hopefulness and Ed's depression. The WAY THEY LINED IT UP TO MAKE ED LOOK LIKE HE'S TAKING AIM AT STEDE. THE WAY THIS PROBABLY PERFECTLY ENCAPSULATES THEIR CHARACTERIZATION IN THE FIRST FEW EPISODES HSDJKLSDS LIKE BITING THE EDITORS BITING THEM BITING THEM

ALSO ED AND ALL OF HIS GUNS,,, NINE GUNS???????

It kills me because he's probably being exactly what he thinks people see him as. He's probably like "Oh, you want a monster? I'll give you a monster."

WHICH,,,, NO, HONEY. YOU'RE A SWEETHEART, SORRY ABOUT IT.

AND THEN LOOK AT THEM. LOOK AT OUR DARLINGS!!! FANG'S FUCKING SPIKES ARE SO METAL. FRENCHIE'S WOLVERINE COSPLAY SHDJKLSHDLKS. JIM!!! JIM JIM MY BELOVED JIM, AND THEIR PAINTED BEARD. THEIR GENDER!!!!!!!

Honey hsdksjds the drama of it all. THE DRAMA. CRASHING WEDDINGS TO DISRUPT LOVE BECAUSE YOUR OWN WAS DISRUPTED??? SIIIIIIRRRR THE THEATRICS, THE SPICE OF IT ALL

excuse me ma'am that is a gay man shdkjshkls THAT IS A GAY MAN. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING,,,

kiss me instead like wtf

OKAY NOW THIS,,,

THIS.

PRESIDENTIAL ALERT: THE BABYGIRL IS FIGHHHTTTTIIIING

BUT IZZY WATCHING ON??? IZZY????????????

I have Genuine Thoughts™ about this. I have a feeling that the big arc/character development Con mentioned might pertain to him like, REALIZING what's important, and what Ed actually wants and needs. And a good chunk of that will be him realizing the consequences of his actions, and maybe potentially wanting to undo the damage. And also, in his Bitchy Izzy Ways™, he might also get very very tired of Ed's sulking/theatrics and want to rectify things for that reason too.

So I feel like he's going to sort of team up with Stede and show him the ropes for that reason?? So they ALL can work towards betterment???

WHICH IS NUTS LMAO. NEVER EVER EXPECTED THAT.

REGARDLESS, GO STEDE BABY GO!!!

HI REVENGE HELLO REVENGE PLEASE DON'T DO ANYTHING DRASTIC LIKE EXPLODE OR ANYTHING PLEASE BABYGIRL <3

yeah yeah the titties we've all seen them.

BUT AGAIN, AGAIN, STEDE OFF TO THE SIDE. STEDE WATCHING. STEDE LEARNING THE ROPES FROM THE MOST UNEXPECTED PERSON EVER SHDJKSDS LIKE WHAT!!!

AND HEEEEEEERE WE GO. HERE'S THE SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER.

THE SAME BLACK SAND BEACH. FIGHTING THE BRITISH. ED AND STEDE. ED WITHOUT HIS MAKEUP ON. STEDE IN A DIFFERENT OUTFIT.

ARE THEY BOTH,,, FIGHTING TO GET TO EACH OTHER??? FIGHTING THROUGH CROWDS AND ENEMIES TO GET TO EACH OTHER'S SIDES???????

WHAT IF THEY FIGHT TO EACH OTHER AND THEN KISS HUH???

WHAT THEN.

HIIIIIIYYYAAAA JACKIE <33333

ALSO HELLO IS THAT THE SWEDE BEHIND HER???????

EXPLOSIONS FIRE EXPLOSIONS EXPLOSIONS FEELING VERY WEE JOHN CODED RIGHT NOW!!!!!!

AND THIS IS YET ANOTHER SHOT I WAS REFERRING TO EARLIER,,,

LIKE UHHHHHHHHHHHHH

WITH ED ON THE BEACH, AND THIS SHOT OF SOMEONE FALLING INTO THE WATER,,,,,,

I HAVE A FEELING THAT ED IS GOING TO DO SOMETHING THAT ENDS WITH HIM FALLING OFF THE BOAT. MAYBE HE TRIES TO SAVE SOMEONE???

if he fights to save stede from going overboard or something equivalent i'm going to eat all the tiles off my floor <3

LIKE IT'S BAD BESTIES. IT'S BAD. IT'S DIRE. THE WATER IS SO FUCKING HIGH AND THEY'RE IN A STORM AND JIM IS SCREAMING AND I AM ALSO SCREAMING!!!

But then also, LOOK AT FUCKING WEE JOHN!!! IN DRAG!!! HE'S A FUCKING MERMAID!!! JIM ISN'T A MERMAID???? WELL, THAT'S FINE--WEE JOHN IS!!! LIVING HIS BEST FUCKING LIFE!!!!! AND WHAT IF HE MADE THAT COSTUME HIMSELF SJDKSDJLS <3

AND THE FINAL SHOT I'M CHOOSING, THE FINAL ONE OF THE SET,,, MATCHES UP WITH THAT LIGHTING EARLIER.

WHO ARE WE FIGHTING, ED BABE. WHAT'S THE TEA. WHO ARE YOU CLOBBERING.

IS IT US?

IT'S PROBABLY US.

BECAUSE THIS ENTIRE THING HAS ME SO SO SO DEAD Y'ALL

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monocaelia · 1 year

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with my hand in yours.

as your fingers trace along the lines that make up their palm, they wonder how such a wonderful being like you could ever love someone like them. aka; little abstract thoughts about what their hands would be like.

feat. al-haitham, childe, diluc, kaveh, scaramouche, xiao.

genre : fluff. light angst but it's not that serious.

note : school sucks and i want to hold hands w childe so bad rn so here is the product of that thought.

❀ AL-HAITHAM

contrary to what you may think, al-haitham's hands are large and calloused; not to the point of being overly rough, but enough to know that he keeps his hands busy from both paperwork and dealing with unruly people that come across his way. which is surprising considering that he was always one to take the easiest route out of any situation.

but you suppose someone who is adept at using a sword and dealing with eremites and annoying scholars can't just get away with smooth hands.

your hand is much smaller than his in comparison, especially so when his encases your own while you reach for a book you cannot quite reach within the house of daena. you insist that you could reach it yourself, but after minutes of watching you struggle and nearly make the bookshelf topple over as you lean more and more onto the shelves, he decided to take matters into his own hands. although you hate it when he aids you without you asking for help, he finds it endearing, especially so when he gets an excuse to hold your hand like this.

sometimes, the scribe doesn't understand your fascination with his hands as your fingers lazily trace shapes and lines across his palm while his eyes skim through the book in his hands. your body rests against him, head gently propped on his chest and fingers busy with his. although it was a distracting feeling, it was one he welcomed and preferred rather than the presence of his dramatic roommate.

though, al-haitham cannot deny that he doesn't find the contrast between the size of his hands and you amusing. how different your jaw feels in his palm as he lifts your face up to keep your eyes on him during your study session. your soft skin against his rougher hands was a nice feeling, a contrast that he finds humor in despite the blank expression that never leaves his face.

even if you push him away, fed up from his constant deadpan comments and dry teasing, your hand always finds their way back in his with fingers intertwined as he skims through the next book that catches his attention. with a gentle squeeze and a kiss placed on the tops of your knuckles, al-haitham holds onto you until it is unfortunately time to part ways. but even then, the ghost of your palm presses against his when you're gone and he cannot wait to hold you once more.

❀ CHILDE

the scars the decorate childe's hands are ones that he holds with much pride. they're living proof of the battles that he has conquered and pushed through with mere strength and wit; and there isn't a moment where he would ever hide his battle scars.

childe's hands are rough and calloused with toughened skin from years of fighting, both from training for the fatui and also from surviving through his time in the abyss.

but despite it all, a sign of humanity shines through his hardened hands; light freckles dust the back of his hands and his knuckles and travel up his arm. though they aren't as condensed as the ones that shower his cheeks like the stars, they're still enough to attract your attention to them when his gloves are off around you.

his hand often clings onto yours as he guides you to places you've never seen before in his home nation. with gloved hands intertwined with one another, childe eagerly tugs you along the banks of morepesok, gently guiding you along the more troublesome and icier parts of the path so you wouldn't slip. his hand, sturdy and strong, gently presses against the small of your back while the other holds one of yours as you hop over a rock.

other times, his hand is held carefully by yours as you admire all of scars with him. the young harbinger finds it humorous when you stare at him in shock after telling you about the battles he fought to get them before getting a firm lecture by you about taking care of himself. he doesn't see the big deal; if he's the fatui's biggest asset when it comes to fighting, why wouldn't he want to be used as their weapon?

however, seeing your tearful expression as he comes home battered from a serious battle shatters his proud heart into a million pieces. he warned you about the duties he has a fatui harbinger, and yet you continued to love him and stay by his side. childe wasn't a good guy, per se, and there would be times where there would be no signs of him coming home at all. but you persevered, telling him that he was crazy for even thinking that you would be scared away because of his job.

his thumb, rough and heavily scarred, brushes away the tears from your cheek as you clean up the blood that soils his clothes. you're so much different than he is; someone who is not bludgeoned and terrorized by the horrors of the abyss or the power of the fatui. and yet you hold him like he is your world, like he's fourteen again and didn't have the scars of the world on his body.

❀ DILUC

diluc's hands tell the tragic tale of his past; scarred from years of avenging his father with only his great sword by his side and burned from training and utilizing the pyro vision that dangles by his waist. he is damaged and hurt from years of betrayal and the deep scars that run up his hands to his arms are visual evidence of them.

but, despite his cool attitude and standoffish personality, his hands are the warmest you have ever felt. as if the agony his heart experienced in the few years of his adulthood failed to extinguish the flickering flame that keeps his soul ablaze.

the young master of dawn winery's rough hands hold onto yours gently, fingers cupping your own as he brings them to his lips as a polite, yet cheeky greeting knowing you would fluster at the mere act. they're playful, often traveling up your arms after his small greeting and pulling you into his embrace. the flame that was once ignited by rage, burning with the intent to harm those who have wronged him, now lulls you in with the intent of making your heart race.

diluc is aware of the effect his hands have on you, especially during battles where the two of you are fighting alongside one another. gloved hands quickly reach out to grab you, pulling you behind him as his flaming great sword slams forward to knock the abyss mage into the ground. although the battle was over, his hand does not leave your arm and you knew at this point that he was leaving it there deliberately.

his touch, as playful as they get sometimes, were also one that you found solace in, especially when the cold winter air of mondstadt nips at your skin. although diluc worries you find his hands worrisome to look at and feel, all of his disrupting thoughts melt away when your hand squeezes his in return. and so, hands roughened by the most painful of memories hold yours and give you the comfort that you seek.

and comfort you, they do. when the heavy rain outside the winery drenches you to the bone, diluc's warm, scarred hands quickly pull you inside. he doesn't ask you what happened, instead waits for you to tell him yourself, and with a towel in his hands he dries you as much as he can. attracted to his touch like a moth to a flame, your shaking hands quickly grasp onto his own and cling to his being like he was the sole reason you were still sane.

and just once, diluc is happy that you find relief in embers that once burned with no remorse.

❀ KAVEH

kaveh's hands are slender and smooth, contrary to the fact that he wields a heavy claymore as his weapon of choice. anyone would assume that his hands are rough from hours spent on studying architecture and building miniature and actual scale models of his designs, but those who know the young architect are aware of his fondness towards body and skin care.

if anything, the only flaw that hinders kaveh from having the perfect, flawless hands that anyone would dream of would be the smudges of both ink and graphite from his drafts of architectural buildings that stain his fingertips and sides of his hands.

you can't imagine the amount of times your face had ended up accidentally smudged by the inked fingers of your lover. soft, thin fingers lovingly brush the side of your face, moving a stray strand of your hair that obstructs his view of you, only to reveal a smudge of graphite where his fingers just touched. no matter how many apologies spewed from his lips, the smudge remained and small bouts of laughter escape from your lips before reassuring the young architect that it was fine.

however, when his fingers are clean, they're often found touching you in only the most innocent ways. his skilled fingers gently rub in the moisturizer on your face, huffing in fake exasperation as you laugh and attempt to escape his pinching and prodding. with enough squirming and chuckles, kaveh finally squishes your face in between his soft hands, tilting your face to look directly at him. affection is evident with the way he stares at you, smile warmer than the sunshine that radiates brightly in sumeru city, before he quickly bends down to peck at your puckered lips.

there's nothing but love and care in the way that he touches you, regardless of when or where it happens. his nimble fingers find their way to your arm when you drift asleep against him, waiting for him to finish up his draft of the new building he's designing. they graze across your skin, skimming everything that makes you you, the you that the architect loves so dearly.

sometimes he wonders what you see in a simple architect that shoots too far to land on the stars, but if you're beside him with every step that he takes, kaveh feels as though every star is suddenly in reach.

❀ SCARAMOUCHE

ball joints similar to a dolls connect and form the hands that belong to scaramouche, a permanent reminder of the reason he was birthed into this world. as much as he hates looking at them and no matter how much he does to erase his past, they haunt him and contain the memories that he wishes to leave in the past.

maybe then, he would feel more human and let his once fragile heart breathe once more.

similar to a doll's hand, his hands are also smooth and dainty with only a few permanent scars on his fingertips. faint lightning scars trail from his finger tips to his second knuckle and slight calloused fingertips from tending to the doll he calls his "wandering companion."

despite the living proof of his existence as a puppet, there are a few moments where he feels human, where he feels as of his heart could beat once more and hope is flourishes throughout his weathered soul. when your fingers intertwine with his and your palm presses gently against his own, it's as if his forgotten heart had grown wings, fluttering on its own after years of stagnant pain.

feeling your pulse beat against his skin and the gentle tug of his arm as you lead him reminds the wanderer that despite his harsh past and the betrayals that led him astray, he lived through them and is living life anew, a life where he controls the trajectory of his life. and one where he is loved by you.

as much as he hates his hands, he cannot stop you from loving them in his place. when you kiss his fingertips and rub comforting circles across his skin, it's hard for his hatred to fester and grow; for how can he hate something that you love.

not that he would ever admit it to you; always flicking your roaming hands away from his and pinching the fat of your thumb when they reach for his. he calls your touch "annoying" and a "nuisance," but when it's his turn to watch over you during the night, his pinky never fails to interlock with yours.

❀ XIAO

xiaos' hands are rough to the touch, fingertips slender and sharp like the talons of a hawk ready to snatch its prey from where they lay. after centuries of fighting off enemies and protecting the mortals that reside peacefully in liyue, it would be more surprising if not a scar decorated the yaksha's skin.

he is cool to the touch; not needing to generate body heat as he has no need to stay warm and used to the cold from serving his previous master.

blood stains his palms from the lives he took, whether it was accidental or on purpose he doesn't remember any more. innocent lives were mixed in when he dealt with enemies and his karmic debt affected those around him even if he wanted to suffer alone.

and yet, you hold his hands as if he were a small finch; fragile and prone to dying even though he is anything but. your hands are so warm, nearly encompassing his entire being with a mere brush of your fingertips against his. it was inviting, enticing, something that he craved even though he shouldn't.

despite pushing you away when his karmic debt was going to take over, your hands still found his and held on with little to no regard of your own wellbeing.

"as long as i get to you, it doesn't matter," was always your excuse when he demanded why you did something so reckless.

even if he hated the thought of his curse harming you in the worst way possible and feared the mere possibility of losing you, the yaksha could not calm the happiness that fluttered in his chest as if erupting a nest of a million crystalflies within the cavity of where his heart used to be.

you who kiss the scars that litters his hands, as if you were scared that the young adeptus would be the first to disappear from your life, deserve better than him, someone who has innocent blood pooling from his fingertips. but he does not have the heart to deny you from holding his hand and pulling him close, for he loves you too much to even humor the thought of a life apart from you.

#alhaitham x reader #tartaglia x reader #diluc x reader #kaveh x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #alhaitham scenarios #tartaglia scenarios #diluc scenarios #kaveh scenarios #scaramouche scenarios #xiao scenarios #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #didi writes

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trashmouth-richie · 1 month

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this comes from @serasvictoria with this ask the prompt words were: pillow, caught, crush

18+ no minors, angst leading to smut, vulgar, eddie talks about his dick and steve’s 😌

2.1k // eddie x fem reader

your ex hears you’ve moved on; is he ready to let you go?

send me a prompt!

“Don’t be a dumbass.”

Ringed hands were folded together, glistening from the makeshift dramatic lighting in Gareth’s basement.

In the summer, Hellfire moved locations from one member's place to another, rotating every Friday to a different place. A new aroma to tickle one’s nostrils upon entering whichever home was the designated spot for the evening, to host Hawkins very own hell bound teens.

Some homes were kept nicer than others, while Eddie’s trailer smelled like stale cigarettes and bong water, the Sinclair’s living room was pristine with updated furniture, smelling of warm vanilla and the smell of dinner still lingering in the air.

Gareth takes another gulp of Mountain Dew, wiping the lime colored beverage from his lips. Belching on the spot.

“Why would I lie about that?”

Eddie shifts in the folding chair leaning forward— the chain from his waist clinking on the metal, “whatever man, don’t fuck with me.”

Gareth grins, hands up in surrender, “listen dude, I’m just telling you what we saw, no need to shoot the messenger.”

What Gareth and Jeff had seen weighed heavy on their minds. They had even contemplated on keeping it secret. The two couldn’t decide if Eddie should know or if it would hurt him— in the end Gareth opened his big mouth and blurted it out, in the most repugnant way imaginable.

The painted tin container used to hold dice was crushed under the weight of Eddie’s fist as he hammered it onto the table.

Jeff shook his head, sucking in a breath between his braced teeth, looking away from the soon to be manic Munson.

Eddie’s temper ran hot when it came to one thing—and one thing only, you.

Raking his fingers through his scalp, he kicks the back of his chair upon standing, ragged breaths in and out, eyes to the ceiling. You still had a hold on him, it had been months—and the only one who seemed to not be able to move on was him.

He chuckled, pinching the inner corner of his eyes and shaking his head, “one of you take over as DM, I gotta go.”

Bounding up the stairs before he could hear any bitching from his two longest standing friends, the carpeted steps squished under his quickened boot steps. Stealing a cookie from an iridescent colored decorative plate on the kitchen counter, Eddie stomped out the front door and to the paved driveway, starting his van with a flick of his wrist, pedal to the floor as he reversed onto the street, running over flower beds in his wake.

—

The daffodil warmth of the sun was high in the sky, a small stitch of wind blew the blades of grass gently, feathering the soft pages of your book every so often.

It was a perfect summer day as you laid out on your driveway, ass parked in a tiny kiddie pool from your youth, blue in color, the flimsy plastic circle was filled with cool water straight from the hose.

A few shots of spiced whiskey danced on your tongue and tangoed with the carbonated bubbles of the mixed in Coke, fizzing with each slurp from your straw, you don’t have a care in the world.

Admiring your freshly painted nails in the pastel bubble gum shade he had picked out— it was a stark contrast to the ruby reds you had been accustomed to— but those days were long gone, and things were finally starting to look up for you.

It had been four months since Eddie broke things off, claiming he needed ‘space to find himself’ and although you spent a majority of that time wallowing in ice cream containers and mopping up tears when you saw a brown set of curls, or heard the jingle of a chain wallet— you moved on.

He wasn’t from Hawkins. Didn’t know of Eddie at all, and you preferred to keep it that way. You were never ashamed of the boy you loved for so many years, the only embarrassment you felt was the night he ended things like someone would end a call after placing an order for pizza.

Like it meant nothing to him, like you meant nothing to him. But that was then, and you were happier now.

So when you looked up to see Gareth’s wide eyes staring in shock was not at all how you imagined your date would go. You had been caught red handed by his best friends, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he found out.

Toes twirling in the water you bobbed your head along to the music playing on the portable radio, sunglasses perched on your nose— not a single care in the world.

Until the music turned to something more familiar.. the screech of guitars and aggressive tempos, you could practically feel the warmth leave your skin as the dark cloud of Eddie’s van cast its shadow on your skin, parked in your driveway like he belonged here.

By the way he tore around the corner and through the stop sign— you knew he was pissed. The clunk of his rings scraped against the paint as he reached through the window to open the door—still broken.

“I don’t smoke anymore Munson, but if you’re offering freeb—”

“Who is he?” he interjected, in no mood for your joking tone.

Sucking your drink until the ice clinks together at the bottom—whiskey making you ballsier than you ever had been—you finally answer, “Who is who?”

He crosses his arms, trying to stay calm, although all he wanted to do was scream, “the guy, cmon princess, don't play dumb with me.”

Staring at him you can’t believe the audacity of the boy standing in front of you, coming here, demanding to know what’s going on in your life when he’s the one who practically skipped on his way out of it.

instead of stomping around and causing you a scene, you simply ignore him, “you’re in the way.”

“Huh?”

Pointing with a lazy finger to the sky you watch as his eyes follow, “don’t tell me you came here to bitch me out, you’re wasting your time.”

He leans in over your body so close that you can see the chocolate color of his eyes, eyes that you'd lose count of the times you’d stare into them.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me who he is.”

“Okay.” You say nonchalantly, unbothered.

“Okay?”

“Yeah go ahead, stay. ‘s long as you want,” you push yourself up from the pool, standing in a string bikini that matched your nails, “I’ll be the bigger person here, and I’ll leave.”

Water dripped down your thighs as you walked to the front porch and pushed the door open, ready to slam it shut and twist the lock upon entry—but a dark boot prevents your dismissal.

Rolling your eyes you try to kick his knee to get him to move but he wouldn’t budge, and you huff in annoyance.

“Pretty sure this is harassment.”

You ignore the way he walks in your house like he knew his way around, even though he did, your house was a second home to him for years.

Shutting the door with dramatic flair, Eddie leans into your space, inches from your nose, “just answer my question sweetheart— and I’ll be on my happy little way.”

“You’re deranged if you think I’m telling you anything.”

He cocks his head and laughs like a jerk, mocking you.

“Thata more than likely, but I know better than anyone,” his eyes undress you, fingernails skating across your thighs, “how much you like it.”

You turn and shout over your shoulder, “go home Eddie— I’m not in the mood for this!”

He barrels around you, demanding your attention.

“Aww you’re not in the mood?” his voice dipped to a gravelly bite of anger as he put his hand over his heart, “my sincerest apologies to your feelings baby…but I somehow don’t give a fuck about your little feelings when I find out from Gareth that you were sucking some guy’s dick in the Starcourt parking lot.”

Your face heats in embarrassment and Eddie’s eyes are glassy, coated with pain. You never wanted to hurt him, never wanted him to look at you the way he is right now.

“Ed—”

He smirks.

“I think it’s cute…honestly, still doing the same shit you did with me…” he moves to brush your cheek with his thumb, “I’m flattered.”

“Get out,” you bite back, making to shove him to the door but you’re no match for him.

“D’dya swallow for him like you did for me?”

“Get..”

“He bigger than me?”

“…out!” your shoves are fruitless against his broad shoulders.

“Last I checked Harrington was the only one who had me beat… unless you’re fucking him too.”

The slap startled him, but he knew he deserved it. The torment in your eyes was fueled by his words and he fucking hated himself for making you feel that way.

He was hurting too, body shaking with rage and swallowing tears the whole drive here. But, when your tears fell on the apples of your cheeks— all his pain turned to gloom.

“I’m sorry— I— That was a dick thing to say.”

“Do you think getting over you was easy for me?”

“I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t.. and truthfully I don’t think I am yet, but what fucking choice did I have?!”

“Babe—.”

“I loved you, Eddie… I still fucking love you. Why isn’t that—”

His large hands clutch your cheeks, warm lips press into yours with a magnetic force you had forgotten about. Eddie’s tongue tasted like the tobacco spice of a camel, and a subtle hint of mint, and you devoured it like you were starved.

He whispers and groans how he was so stupid, a real dumb mother fucker, and that he never should have ended it.

Accepting his apology—for now—you pull him towards the couch, heels rocking on the carpet until they hit firm on the plush sectional, still lip locked with the man you swore, that you hated to your friends but your pillow heard a different plea ever since he broke your heart.

His arms wrap around your waist, fingers daintily pulling the string from your bikini bottoms until the soft fabric hits the floor. His Hellfire shirt joins them before you both collapse into one another on the cushions, Eddie’s hair draped into your face hiding you both away from consequences and the reality of bad decisions.

He breaks away from your lips to lick up the slope of your neck, and your head angles back in ecstasy. His body temperature was like fire against your skin, curling your legs around his back you couldn’t get enough of him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Eddie grooaned, grinding into your naked cunt, his tongue kitten licking around your neck, working his signature hickey into your skin, “my angel.”

You moan feather light in his ear, fingers twisted into his curls. His hand works down your front, sliding between your slick folds with skills you swore only he possessed.

He played your body like a guitar, knew how to tune you up, the proper way to hold you. A true expert of his craft— your pretty little noises would harmonize from the simple touch of his fingers, your sweet cunt clinching onto him like vice.

“Missed that sound,” he chuckled, his bangs pushed up from the angle on your neck as you came undone, “so pretty like this… drunk on how I’m making you feel.”

Your eyes were pinched shut, chest heaving from the breath shattering orgasm you haven’t had since you got dumped by him. Nobody came close to the way Eddie could do it.

Kissing him square on the mouth, you twist your tongue with his, massaging them together as if a flame could spark from the pink wet muscles.

Intimacy with Eddie felt like home, like a warm blanket straight from the dryer when you were freezing. A cup of soup to soothe an itchy throat.

He melted into you, collecting each gasp you choked out with a kiss from his lips, doing a poor job of hiding the smirk on his face when your breath was stolen from his pistoning hips.

New— but entirely the same, your bodies fell back into each other like no time had passed and he made up for what was lost, twice. Each time your cries rang out like music to his ears— his favorite song.

You slept now, adjusting to his arm wrapped around you, a kiss to your forehead, and a new plea in your pillowcase— for Eddie to stay, forever.

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie drabble #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb

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luminnara · 2 months

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Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)

PART ONE

Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!

Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang

Word count: 4.6k

Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye

Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25

It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.

“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.

“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.

Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.

“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.

“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.

You returned it.

As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.

You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.

Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?

You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.

Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.

Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.

How strange the wheel of fate was.

“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.

“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.

“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.

“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”

“I do not look Harkonnen.”

“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.

“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.

“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.

You did not know if you wanted that to happen.

You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.

You hoped today would be no exception.

“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”

“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”

You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.

When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.

You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.

He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.

Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.

“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.

One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.

Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.

It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.

This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.

Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.

“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”

Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.

When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.

“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.

“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.

“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”

He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.

As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.

When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.

His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.

And you enjoyed being caught.

“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.

He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.

Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.

She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.

“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”

You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.

His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.

But he wouldn’t kill you.

You were his.

And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.

As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.

“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.

“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.

He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.

Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.

“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”

You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.

He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.

“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”

You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.

Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.

You did not care.

You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.

He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”

Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.

How strange, the things you appreciated now.

-0-

“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.

You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.

He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.

“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.

His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”

“I know, but—“

“I was worried.”

His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.

“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.

“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”

“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”

“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.

“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”

“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”

“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”

“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”

“You are a target.”

“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“

“Feyd.” He growled.

“Wh-what?”

“Call. Me. Feyd.”

You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”

“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”

He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.

“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”

Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.

“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.

He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”

You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”

“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”

You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”

He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”

His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.

“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”

“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.

He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”

“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.

“Am I?”

“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.

A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”

“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”

Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.

“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.

“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”

“Answer me,” he purred, amused.

“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.

“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.

And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.

As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.

“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.

Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.

“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”

Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.

“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.

Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.

“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.

“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.

“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”

And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #dune #dune x reader #unheavenly creatures

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prettiestlovergirl · 2 months

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STARVING

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; ditzy, princess, kook! reader; oral (m. receiving); dacryphilia; dom! jj; praise kink; light spit swapping; semi-public; oral fixation! reader.

a/n: as an oral fixation girlie myself... i really made this for me lol. writing ✨heals✨. this is a shorter one n i might delete later, but for now.... enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

"you know, ma, i think you're a sugar addict." jj informed you, watching as you unwrapped and popped another jolly rancher into your mouth.

the two of you had been snuggled up on your living room couch together, watching this romantic movie you had practically begged him to watch with you.

you'd given him your best pout and batted your long lashes at him, he was in no position to turn you down. how could he tell you no when you'd asked him so nicely?

besides, as much as the movie uninterested him, it still gave him an excuse to hold and massage your tits under the shirt you'd stolen from him, and that was enough of a selling point in itself.

"nuh uh!" you pouted, shaking your head as you crumpled the wrapper up and tossed it back into the bag of jolly ranchers you had beside you.

"baby, you've got a giant half-empty bag of candy right beside you. you're an addict." he smirked, squeezing your boobs gently to make you shiver while you continued to pout.

"i am not! i just like to have things in my mouth." you explained, shaking your head and trying to turn back to the movie. jj's smirk only grew, you had no idea the door you'd just opened for yourself.

"oh yeah? that so?" he smirked, his hands slipping out from under your shirt and gliding down to your waist. "i can definitely give you something to put in your mouth."

"jayj, wait, i wanna watch the movie!" you whined, strawberry jolly rancher swirling around your mouth as he fixed you on his lap, your head still turned to try and focus on the tv.

he started pressing kisses to your neck, suddenly far more interested in you than he ever would have been in that movie. "c'mon, ma. just wanna help, give you something extra good to put in your mouth." he grinned.

you continued to pout, but it was really no use trying to fight it. jj was persistent and you were his little, eager to please princess. you'd do just about anything for him n sucking his cock during a movie? not the craziest thing he'd asked you to do.

"mmm, fine." you nodded, sighing with contentment when his lips pressed against an extra sweet spot along your neck. "but you owe me!" you reminded, turning your head and tapping your lip gloss covered lips for a kiss.

he chuckled but happily obliged you, groaning at your strawberry flavored saliva filling his senses. you made out like this for a while and when you eventually pulled away, you realized his skilled tongue had stolen your jolly rancher.

"hey!" you frowned, looking back at him as he started helping you get down onto your knees. he swirled the jolly rancher around his mouth, chuckling at your new little pout.

"so dramatic today, mamas. really gotta work on this attitude of yours." he tutted, shaking his head. "no! no, 'm sorry, i'll stop pouting." you stated quickly, your thighs still tender from the last time he worked on fixing your attitude.

"that's what i thought." he grinned, rubbing his thumb along your lower lip to smudge your lip gloss around your chin as you finally sat up.

you pulled his shorts n boxers down his legs, nuzzling yourself in between them as your hand wrapped around his already angry n swollen cock.

you held him at the base, lifting it up and kitten licked up the entire underside of his cock. jj groaned, his hands reaching down and bringing your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, so it'd stay out of your way.

you let your nails scrape over one of the larger veins as you licked over his leaking tip, the salty precum a delicious contrast to the sweetness of the jolly rancher flavoring that had lingered on your tongue.

you went on teasing for a while, but once his grip started to tighten around your hair, you finally relented. you slowly took more of him into your mouth, going until you started to gag.

you sucked and swirled your tongue around what fit into your mouth, your other hand rubbing and massaging everything that couldn't fit inside.

"mm, c'mon mamas, i know you can take more than that." he grunted, his eyes happily fixed on the view of your glossy lips wrapped around his cock.

you huffed dramatically, pretty eyes rolling, but you did just what he asked. you placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself before forcing yourself to take more of him in.

you loudly gagged around his length, but you didn't stop. your eyes watered immensely, blurring your vision, but you didn't care. jj's groans and praises spurred you on.

he really just couldn't take his eyes off of you, you just looked so fucking perfect like this. as much as he loved burying his face between your thighs, nothing beat the view of your water eyes and drooled soaked mouth gagging on his cock.

"that's it, that's my perfect girl. fuck, yes." he moaned, closing his eyes and relishing in the loud, wet noises that blocked out the tv in the background.

you gagged and slurped up and down his cock, coating it entirely in your strawberry flavored saliva. his cock started to twitch in your mouth, signaling he was close, so you brought your hand up and started gently massaging his balls.

"fuck, ma, 'm gonna cum, where do you want it?" he grunted, biting his lip as his hand held your hair even tighter. you used your free hand to tap your lower lip.

he forced your head to stay down as he bucked his hips up against your mouth, fucking your face momentarily before he finally came down your throat, painting the inside of your mouth white.

you finally pulled off, panting and gasping for air, your tongue hanging out. as you pulled off, you left a glossy sheen all over his cock, making you giggle softly.

"can we restart the movie now?"

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x you #obx smut #jj obx #outer banks #outerbanks smut #smut

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eveningepiphany · 9 months

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welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.

warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!

a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.

also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig

———

There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.

That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.

You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.

You’d waited years just to get here in general.

When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.

But you’re here. At the front.

You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.

A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.

Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.

But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.

Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.

You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.

Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.

“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.

You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.

“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.

Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”

Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.

“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.

“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.

You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”

You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.

“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.

“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.

You could stay in this moment forever.

As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.

You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.

Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.

Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.

Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.

And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”

“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.

Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.

The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.

You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.

You were enamoured by him.

Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.

His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.

“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.

“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.

He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”

You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.

But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.

From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.

But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.

This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.

And then he reads the sign.

‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’

His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.

You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.

“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.

As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.

However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.

He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.

“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”

“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.

You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.

Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.

‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.

A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.

“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.

He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.

“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.

“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”

A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”

Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.

You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.

“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.

He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”

You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.

The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.

Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.

“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.

“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.

“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”

And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.

You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.

And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.

But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.

You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.

It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.

To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.

Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”

You blow a kiss back.

And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.

Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.

You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.

Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.

———

Post love on tour depression is a real thing.

There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.

But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.

The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.

And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.

The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.

You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.

You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.

It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”

It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.

That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.

Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.

“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.

He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.

He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.

“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.

You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.

But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.

You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.

“Hi…” You flush profusely.

“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.

Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.

The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.

That are very intensely locked onto yours…

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”

He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.

“Y/N.” He tuts gently.

“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.

“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.

“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.

Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?

You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.

“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”

“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.

“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.

You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.

He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.

Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.

You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.

Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.

Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.

You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.

You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.

You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”

He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.

“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.

“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.

“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,

“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”

Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”

He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.

In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.

“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.

The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.

“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.

“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.

“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”

He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”

“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.

“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.

“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.

“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”

“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.

“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.

“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”

He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.

You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.

Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.

The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.

He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.

Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.

You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.

But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.

You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”

He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”

A friend of his?

“Alright, bye, I love you.”

And just like that the phone hung up.

“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.

“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.

You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.

“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.

It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.

“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”

“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”

As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.

Your brain stalls at his comment.

“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.

“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”

“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.

He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.

“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.

You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”

He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”

“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”

You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”

He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.

You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.

“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”

You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”

He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.

You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.

“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.

“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.

He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.

“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.

Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.

You check your phone to see the time.

1:53pm

1 new notification

Unknown Number | :)

So that actually did just happen.

———

To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,

so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?

And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.

———

part two!!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #fanfic #harry styles smut #famous harry #fan! y/n #fangirl! y/n #italyrry #he’s so cute

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grandlinedreams · 7 months

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Hi! I really love your work, and I’m loving these pieces you’ve been writing. Could you maybe do a Sanji x reader where they’re not a couple or anything. But clearly they have feelings for each other, yet the reader doesn’t like his smoking habit? 👉🏻👈🏻🥺💚

Hiya!! Thank-you, I really enjoy writing them and I'm glad that I can share them with you all! and absolutely I can, here you go!!

[heads up!: cigarette usage/smoking]

Click, snap. Click, snap. Click, snap. Click –

You listen as Sanji finally lights his cigarette, finishing his idle playing with it – the end of it gleams red briefly as he inhales. Pause. Exhale, thin cloud of white smoke leaving his parted lips.

You look up from your book. “Sanji,” you intone, a light warning in your voice – and he looks over. “I enjoy your company, but smoking in a library probably isn’t the smartest idea. Robin will have your head if any of these books end up smelling like smoke.”

True, the otherwise mild-mannered archeologist won’t be very fond of him if something happens, and he tugs his cigarette from his mouth. “Come outside with me then,” he says, “it’d be a shame to leave your beautiful company so soon.”

A born flirt, that’s what he is – and normally you’d roll your eyes and wave him off, but it’s rare that you get much free time to spend around each other. The boundaries of Luffy’s appetite are few and far between – who knows when your beloved captain will demand a snack or a meal.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, watching as Sanji’s expression lights up, and he gestures at the door with a dramatic bow, the flourish of his hand included.

“After you, my sweet.”

Now you roll your eyes, though the gesture is good natured as you exit the library, Sanji in tow. He follows close enough that his hand brushes against yours, other tucked into his pocket – and you allow the brief graze of your fingers against his before you pull ahead.

The lower deck of the Sunny is a bright contrast to the lighting of the library, and it takes you a moment to adjust to the bright blaze of the sun above before you move towards the sanctuary of the table Robin often sits at.

“Want me to make you something to drink? Iced tea? Lemonade?”

You sit down, setting your book down before you look up at Sanji, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What if I want you to sit with me?”

His own smile widens, even as he takes another drag of his cigarette – and misses the way your smile fades as he exhales a cloud of smoke and takes the seat across from you. Opening your book, you hesitate, debating for a moment before you look back up at the man across from you.

“Sanji,” you begin, “why did you start smoking?”

The blonde blinks, not expecting the question – and he pulls the narrow cylinder from his lips to tap it into the waiting ashtray before he snuffs it out all together and leans back with a sigh. Guilt already tugs at your insides – you hadn’t meant to bring up any bad memories for him, though he speaks before you can voice your apology.

“I’m not sure,” he answers. “Couple of the guys back on the Baratie used to, and I picked it up from them. Helped calm my nerves during services, and definitely made taking the crap geezer’s shit a lot easier to handle.” He tugs his hand free from his pocket, lighter in hand – but all he does is thumb at the intricate swirls. “I know you don’t like when I smoke.”

Your brow furrows. “That’s–”

“It’s not really a secret,” he says, but there’s no anger to his tone, and the fond look on his face is unfaltering as he reaches across the table to take one of your hands into his. “I know I should stop, and I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable with it.”

You stare down at his hand, the answering stutter of your heart at how easy he makes affection like this look – that though he still flirts with Nami and Robin, at least this is reserved for you and only you. “I could help you find other outlets,” you say, earning a look of momentary confusion from Sanji before you continue, your gaze still on his hand. “When you get anxious. I’m sure we can come up with something that isn’t…smoking.”

Sanji stares, clearly considering it – and again, you worry that you’ve overstepped a boundary – and then he smiles. “We can try that,” he says, “I can’t promise anything, though.”

You squeeze his hand gently. “Trying is more than enough.”

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous #–ml: sanji.

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alexsfavgirl · 11 months

Text

CHAT, I AM NOT A SIMP !

➪ pairing : quackity x reader

➪ sypnosis : in which alex starts getting mushy when he talks about you on his stream

➪ other notes : ahhh first post on this acc, we’ll see how this goes, it might take a while for me to get a gist on writing irl fics, non edited

you were watching your boyfriend’s stream, surprisingly this was a chill stream where he was just chatting with his viewers. you often put on his streams for background noise when you’re doing your college work, except this time something caught your attention. “look at the house we made chat,” you hear your boyfriend say, proudly showing off the house you and him made in your own minecraft world. “chat they are real!” the contrast from the previous moments before is evident, quackity getting jokingly offensive when his audience still refuses to believe you exist despite you having showed up on stream times before.

you quietly giggle to yourself as you see alex scramble to prove you’re his significant other. he then pulls up old pictures of you and him on his pc, both of you hugging each other and smiling widely. you can see alex trying to hold back his smile but failing miserably as he reminisces on old memories. “i know this sounds corny but i can’t imagine any other life without them, they just understand me,” he says, a wide smile and light blush sitting on his face, as he speaks so fondly of you. that quickly changes when his chat starts spamming “simp” mixed with “awe’s”. “chat i am not a simp! and even if i was they’re my partner so it basically cancels out !”

this goes on for a while before it cools off as he continues to tour your world. a few hours pass before he ends the stream before calling you to ask if he could come over to your apartment. obviously accepting, you finish up your work before starting to make a simple dinner for the both of you. when alex finally arrives to your apartment, his persona shifts from chaotic idiot to soft lover. it’s not often that he shows himself this way to his fans, but with you, he can feel himself relax. once both of you eat dinner, you both settle down for a movie.

you lay on top of him with him massaging your scalp and rubbing your back. you chuckle to yourself remembering this was the same man claiming he wasn’t all smitten over you. “what are you laughing at,” your boyfriend turns to you with a toothy grin. “it’s okay to admit you’re a simp for me,” you say leaning up to give him a peck on the lips. “hey you’re bullying me like chat did,” he exclaims with giggles following at the end. “well it isn’t bullying if they’re telling the truth,” you say and he dramatically gasps in offense. “my own lover turning against me,” he says with a pout on his face. the night continues on with the occasional teasing and the continuous love. it’s these moments you wish could last forever.

#written by terra #sincerely terra #engraved with tenderness #quackity #quackity x reader #alex quackity #quackity imagines #quackity fluff #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #streamer x reader #qsmp x reader

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yvnaology · 3 months

Text

♦︎ from : the opera epiclese.

synopsis. the five stages: interest, enlightenment, infatuation, falling in love, and lastly— decision. to say that these five stages aligned with your progressing relationship with the peculiar magician in fontaine was a grave understatement. the heart wants what it wants, and it wanted him. (repost!!)

to: @rainswept @ryuryuryuyurboat @boykissr @meidnightrain ( taglist ↲ click link to sign up! )

♠︎ | title : 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. wc. 5.4k tw: none.

i. stage one : interest. the first stage can be described as many things: the overture, the beginning, but one does not miss how an inexplicable intrigue takes hold. this is the genesis of a crush.

besides trials, the opera epiclese served as a stage for a variety of performances. according to luzerne, the receptionist, lyney and lynette’s magic show was one of the more popular acts in the opera house.

upon entry after hesitantly purchasing a ticket, luzerne’s words replayed in your mind — the keyword ‘popular’ stood out like a thorn in her sentence. even with her dreamy sighs and gaze filled with admiration, there was no doubt that her words were as truthful as her ginger hair.

the raised seating sections of the grand, multi-leveled opera house were filled to the brim — with people wearing starstruck expressions and waiting in anticipation. the people seated next to you were so dazed, despite the goal of the show being to successfully deceive their twinkling eyes.

you felt out of place, unable to believe the charm the twins possessed to have the audience at their beck and call.

the lights in the confined space darkened, and the spotlight was casted upon the two. the assistant was a female whose feline features made her unique and fascinating — carrying a softened voice and dark violet colored eyes that would appear hollow and contain a certain nothingness. but the male.. he was her opposite, her contrasting counterpart, a magician with a mischievous grin and flowery words as his weapon.

at least, you thought so. his eyes were a lighter shade of violet, clear and full of flamboyance. yet, his eyes seemed as if they held more nothingness than his sister’s. he seemed like he had more to hide.

your own irises followed the movement of lyney’s hands as he moved his fingers in an intricate manner to bend a card to his will. swift movements with what were supposed to be made of regular plastic — made objects appear. first it was a simple teacup of porcelain, then a mechanical penguin, followed by a card with the design of a piece of jewelry that belonged to an audience member.

as soon as the other’s heads turned to the stage, lyney had already prepared his next move — holding said jewelry with a cheeky grin. with the snap of his fingers, the object of pristine value had disappeared, returning to the person who once wore it.

lyney unveils a mysterious box, explaining that it is the portal through which he will perform the ultimate teleportation. he invites a random audience member to inspect the box for any hidden compartments or tricks. once satisfied, lyney places the selected card, the vanished handkerchief, and the dove inside the box.

as the audience holds its breath, lyney dramatically opens the box. to everyone's astonishment, the chosen card, the handkerchief, and the dove have all vanished. the lights flicker, and suddenly, lyney appears at the back of the courthouse, holding the vanished items in his hands.

but yours were focused on his expression, the slightest jittering of his hands caught your attention more than the trick did.

as soon as the other’s heads turned to the stage, lyney had already prepared his next trick — holding one of the audience member’s precious jewelry. with the snap of his fingers, the object of pristine value had disappeared, returning to the person who once wore it.

the audience erupts in applause and cheers, marveling at the magical journey they've just experienced. the magician takes a bow, leaving the audience with a sense of wonder and disbelief in the face of the extraordinary — that was a magician’s natural talent. therein lies the beauty of it all.

the performance was magical in its own right, chaotic and mysterious. it held enough stunts to have the people questioning how they were done, with interviewers bursting with questions by the end of it.

you noticed how you accidentally left your umbrella in your seat, rushing to retrieve it — a fear of an umbrella theft taking place in the opera epiclese was not as irrational as some would think.

“is this umbrella yours, by chance?”

his smooth voice and charming smile made you pause. for a second, you felt nerves in your stomach — swallowing any unauthorized thoughts before nodding. “yeah, that’s mine.. must’ve left it in my seat.” you responded quietly, unsure of what to make of the situation.

“you did, but don’t worry — there won’t be any theft here on my watch.” he reassured before placing the umbrella in your hands. the moment he saw your eyebrow raising, he let out a chuckle. “you look a tad bit nervous, that’s why i assumed — unless it’s my presence causing such nerves?”

his grin only widened at his own words.

“no, just fear that i’ll be drenched in the rain and wake up feeling sick the next morning,” you retorted immediately, yet his grin never faltered.

“hehe — of course, of course.. you’ve just been coming to my shows quite often, that specfic seat is always occupied.” his tone was lighthearted and carefree, causing your heart rate to decrease a little.

“i’d say you’re quite intrigued by me, no?”

“by you? no, it’s just your tricks i’m interested in.” the way he put his thumb and index finger under his chin as if contemplating tells you that he didn’t buy your lie.

“your eyes usually don’t wander to where the happenings of my tricks are, they’re constantly on me — it’s not good to lie, you know?” he quipped, and your eyes only averted to the floor which made his smile turn into a smirk.

your embarrassment was evident, but he wouldn’t want you to become uncomfortable in his presence so he backtracks. “don’t worry — i'm not making fun of you or anything of the sort. in fact, i think your interest in me is a form of praise in itself.”

“really? a form of praise..?”

“you focus more on the artist rather than the art.. hm, that itself intrigues me as well.”

his body language gives away that his words are sincere, but given his position in society — a man meant to lie and wait in the pool of falsity, you were uncertain.

he crosses his arms, keeping his posture straight and poised. “i hope to see your seat occupied during my next show, but until then.. i see that you have places to be. i bid you farewell, and hope you have a pleasant day.”

he waved you goodbye, but the moment you stepped outside — you were met with the sight of pastel petals and a green stem in your bag. “how interesting.” you mused.

ii. stage two : enlightenment. with understanding comes development, as the seat in the opera epiclese continues to be cushioned specifically for you — leading to a blooming friendship between you and the magician whose presence fills you with more questions than answers.

“hey, i didn’t see you yesterday.” he pouts, finding his most precious audience member’s seat empty was not the most pleasant sight he could’ve seen — and you were left to deal with the aftermath.

it wasn’t often that you’d have to deal with a pouty magician, but whenever such an occurrence did happen — your eyes were glued onto his expression, watching as it changes depending on your words. “sorry, i was pretty busy and forgot to buy a ticket..”

he stared into your eyes for a few seconds, before his signature grin etched onto his face. “hm.. not to worry, i happen to have a ticket right here.” he turns and directed the softest smile at you, sliding a ticket in your direction; your surprise was evident, and the grip on the teacup’s handle tightened slightly.

“you’re giving it to me?” you decided to question, placing the teacup back onto the table with utmost care. lyney let out a laugh at your disbelief, quirking a brow at how your expression was one of shock.

“of course, who else would i give it to?” he questioned back, leaving you with many possible candidates in your head — but knowing the esteemed magician quite well by now; he’d have several responses at his feet to reassure you otherwise.

far across — a few tables away, you could hear the sounds of giggles and endless chattering. their eyes were set on you two as if you were a prey of gossip. you tensed, lifting the teacup to your awaiting lips to distract yourself from their quips with the taste of tea leaves.

“don’t mind them,” he suddenly suggested, though it sounded more of a command that was merely spoken in a softer tone than anything else. “if they feel the need to gossip, let them. indulging in the past-time of mentioning other people before reflecting on themselves is rather common practice.. unfortunately.”

you could’ve sworn you heard him stifle a yawn mid-sentence.

“are you tired?” your voice revealed your concern, much to his dismay.

“caught me red-handed, just.. please don’t mention this to lynette — she’d scold me a new one.” he pleaded, and the obvious exhaustion made the thought of the gossiping spectators be sent to the back of your mind.

“were you practicing late again?” another question that left him with a guilty conscience.

“well.. it isn’t as if i could practice a trick once and master it immediately.”

“i know.. but you can’t keep skipping days of rest either,” you gently scolded, a wave of concern hitting you at the sight of newly found under-eye bags.

he only lets out a faint sigh, a frown creasing on his face as you gently take his source of consciousness — coffee, and place it on the opposite end of the table.

“and this isn’t a healthy solution.” you continued with a voice carrying a tint of worry.

“go home and sleep, lyney.”

“but.. i still have a performance later.”

“take a nap, replenish your energy — otherwise you’ll be ridiculed for having the appearance of a literal zombie.”

he laid his head on the table, his frown only deepening at the offense he felt from your comment. “but being in the company of such a lovely friend as yourself is already replenishing my energy.”

“how touching, now get up.. please?” now you were the one to plead, but with good reasoning — to your defense.

he contemplated for a few seconds, weighing the pros and cons of listening to your rather commonplace advice. his involuntary pout returned, and you had a feeling he was going to make a deal of sorts. “if you promise to come to my show today, i’ll go home.”

you almost snorted at his persistence to have you in his audience, but you kept your impending giggles to yourself before nodding. “alright, i promise.”

his eyes were rapidly blinking, as if in an attempt to keep himself awake. you were staring longer than a friend ever should, that was for certain. your index finger gently tapped on his nose, causing his eyes to settle onto your face. “go home.” you repeated.

he let out a yawn before rising from his seat, waving you farewell as his steps became quieter until his silhouette was nowhere in sight.

another two stems of rainbow roses made their presence known in your bag, multi-colored petals emphasizing its beauty. your fingers subconsciously twiddled the stems, a giddy smile appearing on your face — the warming of your chest and the prolonged stare at its pinkish color made your mind race. you hoped he enjoyed the small gift you left in his hat.

it wasn’t just you with the feeling of newfound joy in your heart, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a small transparent bag tied with a red bow — its contents making his expression grow soft. cubic jellies, one of the many desserts that he had the habit of bringing to his workplace — and one that you remembered.

iii. stage three : infatuation. sparks begin to fly, fluttery, exciting sensation in the stomach — intense desire, heightened sensitivity… daydreams and fantasies cloud your judgement. to be infatuated means to experience both euphoria and fear. to be infatuated means to seek more than you’re being given.

you dreamed of him that night.

his twinkling amethysts mock you in your daydreams, his charming grin garners your prolonged gaze — and you find yourself attracted to him. the magician was a tease, even when he’s simply crossing his legs and asking for your opinion on his newest trick.

all of your objectivity heads out of the window by that point. all you can think about is how to praise his hard work, even if he reassures you that any kind of criticism is welcome.

shuffling a deck of cards, his eyes dart from the props on the table to your expression — waiting for any reaction. “so, my dearest audience member.. what did you think of that last one? i do think i need more practice before my next performance—”

“it was perfect.”

to say that lyney was surprised at this was an understatement.

your praises never came so quickly, he wasn’t even able to finish his sentence because words of awe and admiration escaped your throat. it was as if you weren’t even thinking before you spoke (which was completely the case). it wasn’t your fault that his handiwork was so compelling, alluring to the eyes as much as his face was. there wasn’t any room to think, only to stare, only to scan his every feature.

“oh? is that so? you don’t need to sugarcoat it so much — i can take it!” his smooth voice carries a hint of teasing, adding to your current stress of having words pop out of your mouth quicker than your mind could comprehend. great, now he thinks you weren’t being genuine.

“i’m being serious, i didn’t see anything wrong with it.” you decided to respond, hoping he took your words seriously and perhaps even complimented you in return.

lyney only looks confused, causing your head to ache out of nervous anticipation.

“thank you for the praise, but trust me... i do need more practice. after all, i ended up forgetting a prop during this practice session..” he concluded with a chuckle.

he did? you hadn’t even noticed. you felt so incredibly stupid. of course, he wasn’t looking for praise — but honest judgment. ‘flowery words in this scenario were not the right call’, you noted.

that was only one of many examples of the disaster that came with infatuation.

idealism was the one-way ticket to a world of hurt, and you wished that you could use your head instead of your eyes — projecting your every desire and fantasy onto him. he was a mystery even after months of friendship. you felt as if you barely knew a thing about the object of your affection — and that alone made your heartache.

in your mind, his every mistake was to be overlooked — he was perfect through your rose-colored glasses. that was what you were sticking with, to make up for the lack of knowledge you had on the magician. he appeared in every dream, filling your mind with rose petals and heart-shaped eyes. that wasn’t reality, you were being sucked into a world of illusion.

that, and his flowery tongue was less than helpful. you often wondered what he was thinking whenever he spoke to you that way. did he mean any of it, or was it all a farce? you truly never knew, and perhaps that was his goal.

it seems that your attempts at being subtle were going south by the minute, teases from your friends about your relationship with him made you groan, and their giggles and quips.. all of it was more conflicting if anything.

“so, you and lyney?” one chirped with eyes sparkling with mischievous intent, gathering the gazes of the rest of the group who had their mouths agape.

you had no choice but to shake your head, feeling your stomach twisting in an unfamiliar manner — all while your friends sat in waiting for an explanation you didn’t even have in hand.

“me and lyney what?” it was the safest dialogue option, creating open room for conversation — yet revealing their true intentions with such a question that they were bound to respond honestly to. it was a mere attraction, something that would pass with time. at least, you desperately hoped it did.

“are you two going out?”

such a question was absurd, even to your ears. you only found him attractive, and you’d make that sentiment clear to prevent any misunderstandings and possible rumors. “no, i just find him attractive... i don’t like him like that though.”

your voice was firm, filled with confidence that you were completely uncertain of. it seemed that they got the hint, as their expressions changed from curiosity to understanding, with slight concern as well — you noticed.

but it seemed that there was one that decided to continue to push, hoping for something to satisfy their desire for the knowledge of your relationship with the magician.

judging stares, nudging shoulders — perhaps they didn’t get the hint after all. “are you sure?” they inquired further, seeming like someone akin to a journalist about to branch out on their next exclusive.

were you sure? your stomach churned at the thought of yourself being uncertain; you had to be, there was no other choice. the grip on your clothing grew tighter, and the moment you turned to face your friend — all you could do was give an affirmative nod. “i’m certain.”

iv. stage four : falling in love. when the feeling settles in at a random moment as if waking up from a nightmare that sends your heart pounding — a realization that has that same effect. what hits you first isn’t joy, it’s panic.

you were not certain.

as you lay in bed that night, you recall your conversation with your friends — and mentally curse yourself for having the slightest doubt that lyney and his enticing demeanor didn’t make your heart warm and race.

his every move was a magic trick, and his audience was your aching heart that yearned for him. you often wondered what it was, what about him excited you so much. what was it that made him appear in your every dream? twiddling your fingers as you sat in your bed, you demanded yourself to believe that what you felt was an illusion.

but it wasn’t, being in his mere presence lifted your mood more than anything or anyone else; then there was the giddy feeling that overwhelmed your senses, the rush of emotions you earned from his every woven word. all of it was replaced with a heavy guilt and fear.

what were you meant to do now?

it wasn’t as if you could confess, your blood ran cold at the mention of spilling your everlasting line of emotional distress because you liked lyney to anyone. it was as if you were chasing an impossible goal, with no path opened to go to next. helplessness felt with every breath you drew. hurt, etched with every doubt in your mind that lyney most likely didn’t return the sentiment.

how could you possibly be hopeful at a time like this?

lyney was a perceptive person, able to read a person’s emotions from their micro-expressions, using their emotional leakage to expose one’s true intentions and feelings through a mere gaze. of course, you were no exception.

lynette, as peculiar as one might find her, had a similar talent of such. which is exactly why you caught her eye in particular. as usual, lyney never failed to mention his day-to-day endeavors to her, much to her (slight) delight. once your name escaped his lips, she was already intrigued. his description, while dramatic, gave her enough curiosity to watch over your conversations with him — her results? she finds them to be more surprising than usual.

at first, her mind drifted to you being simply attracted, not thinking too much in depth about the words you’d use or how your cheeks would redden at even the slightest charming comment. it was rather common for someone’s behavior toward the object of admiration, at least she thought so.

fascination was a usual occurrence, especially for someone as eccentric as lyney. he attracted the attention of those he met, created a suave impression — and kept it up for as long as possible. lynette wasn’t a stranger to such things, she’d seen it happen one too many times to count.

she prefers to use her eyes to understand the situation and find an appropriate solution, usually. though this matter was more complex, the more she used her eyes, the more insight she’d have on your feelings — oftentimes, she’d stay quiet during your conversations with her brother simply to observe your mannerisms around him, and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow on more than one occasion.

“hm, these animals seem to enjoy your company more than mine — tis a tragedy.” the magician tuts, gently touching the snow-white fur of one of the bunnies used in his eccentric shows. you were hung on his every word, your finger gently tapping on the bunny’s nose — causing its ears to twitch. “aw, we’ll i’m honored.”

the moment your gaze left the bunny and landed on his eyes, lynette couldn’t help but notice the slightest quirk of the corner of your lips or how your fingers fidgeted — signs of nerves, she recalled.

“my, it seems that they certainly are quite fond of you — presenting you with something of utmost value..” he beamed, looking pleased with himself as you heightened an eyebrow. “notice anything different about our little friend here?”

your pupils dilated once your eyes set on the bunny once more, carrying a rainbow rose in between its teeth — the moment you moved your hand closer, the animal dropped the plant into your palm. your breath hitched, unable to control the sudden rush of euphoria and the sound of your heart pounding against your chest, threatening to burst.

perhaps it was a better idea not to look so awestruck by a stem and petals, clearing your throat as you keep your gaze on the furred animal instead of your friend. “a rainbow rose..?”

“only befitting, if i do say so myself.”

his comment only made you swallow, the urge to bite your lip in embarrassment was strong, yet you resisted — lest you appear as a lovesick fool in his eyes. that was the absolute last thing you wanted.

with a flourish of his arms and lilac embers staring into the very corners of your soul, you found yourself completely lost in the allure of his gaze. “i used a lumidouce bell last time we spoke, remember? it’s only natural that i upgrade your little gift~!”

he wasn’t good for your heart, not in the slightest; and one day, you sincerely hoped he’d see that as well. his smile held a certain kind of elation that you’ve never seen before, enough to make your heart melt into a puddle. lynette could only imagine what you must be thinking, and even she’d begun to ponder how deep your feelings went if her interpretation held any accuracy.

after such an interaction came to a close, with lyney adjusting his hat as you walked away — lynette’s footsteps were barely audible as she appeared next to you. your eyes landed on her blank expression immediately, wondering why she wasn’t heading in the same direction as her twin. “did you need anything?”

“you.. like him, don’t you?”

her question was enough to halt the rapid beating of your heart. whether to be honest or not was completely up to you, yet — hiding in cowardice and dishonesty was not on your agenda, you’d realized that ever since you came to terms with your battling emotions.

“i do.” was all you could answer her, unknowing what to expect from the half-feline — though, a harsh scolding was completely out of the question and out of character for lynette anyway.

lynette only pulled at the hem of her sleeve, and you could only assume she was contemplating on what to say. “i see, i figured as much.. your behavior lined up.”

you were confused as to whether you should feel offended or joyful at her words, knowing that you weren’t the most subtle — but then again, who could deceive lynette’s eyes and ears?

you were about to speak up when lynette cut to the chase and nodded. “are you certain that you do..?”

were you certain? you’ve asked yourself this countless times, having played a sequence of contemplation, contradictory thoughts, guilt, and finally, acceptance all in your head; you were lost and being forced to deal with a desire for even another second simply being next to him, what you wouldn’t give to hear his voice every second of every day. were you absolutely certain that this phase was truly different?

lynette stared at you expectantly, you had no doubt that she saw the hesitance and worry written all over your face — but your answer remained the same, it was what you answered to your friends when you came to the wrong conclusion, but this time was in complete contrast. “i’m certain.”

v. stage five : decision. the decision stage is naturally the hardest, the most important and the most impactful. it’s the phase that sets the stage for you two — one that determines it all with only a few words.

in your eyes, there was a one-sided nervous tension in the air. a confession loomed, weighed down by unspoken words for too long — your world was crackled with vulnerability, a loop of anger directed at yourself, as well as sharp pangs of pain at how heavy your heartfelt because of the condemnation that was love.

at the center of it all was lyney, a burial of your feelings was in order — yet they would resurface every time he said with his smooth voice. it felt almost eerie, how quickly he could make you let out both chuckles or bitterness and joy. apart of you felt so incredibly warm, the feeling that you once thought was fleeting — led on for months. it was impossible to suppress, challenging to hide, and hurtful to keep silent.

your throat begged for the day when you would spill every thought that crossed your mind whenever you saw his face. begged for the opportunity to be able to swoon whenever he combed his unruly hair back with a grin, begged for you to release the tension in your body if only by saying “i love you.”

A delicate dance of revelation and acceptance was what it was, the syllables almost escaped your tongue on too many occasions — and your emotions were beginning to become bothersome to keep in control. your mind splurged with imagery, your hand reaching to touch his gloved ones, and how your heart yearned for his attention.. it was out of bounds to even have these thoughts occur.

guilt, at the concept of pushing your feelings onto another and praying to every archon that they’re reciprocated. to you, that sounded unfair — and unjust. acceptance, that your feelings were true and uncomfortable, yet it was what your disposition felt entitled to have, it’s the path you’re set to follow whether you approve or not. hope that perhaps pouring every mumble and verb onto him would earn you a softened gaze instead of a stare of concern and judgment.

perhaps he’ll say “i love you.” in return instead of “i’m sorry.” — that he would acknowledge you and save you from crumbling sorrow buried under the label of heartache.

would it be able to handle rejection? would you be able to recover from such a thing? how will you face him after? what would you say?

the thought of weight being placed off of you through unspoken truths, destroying that invisible barrier of transparency, revealing authenticity through hardened exteriors — both scared you and elated you.

you’d wonder what it would feel if it was all placed off of your chest for him to carry for you.

your eyes searched his lilac ones, your legs almost touching as he performed another trick for you — a routine you’ve gotten used to (minus your rapidly beating heart). “Magic has a way of revealing the hidden, don’t you think?” lyney mused, his eyes locking onto yours as your gaze averted to his cards — clenching your right hand instinctively.

you could only nod, following along with his deft hands making the cards made out of plastic seem like the most interesting thing in the world. “it’s like unveiling secrets one at a time, it’s.. more than just illusions.”

“you have quite the keen eye, watch carefully now.. blink, and you might miss it,” he warned with a cheeky smile, asking you to choose a card — emphasizing that you hold a special connection to the card you chose.

after shuffling the deck, lyney’s eyes close tightly — before picking a card and handing it back to you. opening one of his eyes as if winking, he only smiled at you before inquiring, “is this your card?”

you stare at the card with a rose symbol embedded into it, recalling that it was the exact card you had picked before. “it is, what now?”

he chuckled, reminding you that patience is a virtue — he placed a hand above the card, his fingers not coming into direct contact with it. after a second, the card began to levitate, much to your awe and confusion.

unfortunately for you, his eyes were as captivating as ever, drawing your attention from his hands. your ever-growing line of questions extends the moment a rose appears from the card, landing on your palm. your eyes widened with amazement, “how did you—”

“i did tell you to watch carefully, didn’t i?” he responded with a smirk forming on his face, causing you to give him an unamused stare.

“come now, don’t give me that look..” he feigned a look of defeat, much to your dismay — though, you had to admit that his expression was oddly adorable.

“i wouldn’t have been able to catch it even if i did watch carefully,” you retorted, keeping your eyes focused on the rose’s petals to check for authenticity — confirming that the rose was more real than your feelings for the magician.

“guess that’s one secret i’m afraid you won’t get to catch.” he hummed, evidently content with his actions while you couldn’t hold back the urge to roll your eyes. your nerves were subtle, and you couldn’t bear to think of lyney’s reaction when he found out what you were planning to say soon.

you took a deep breath, yet his expression was still lighthearted and peaceful — his eyes glimmered with something else.. not the nothingness that remained when you first met, but pure and wholehearted contentment. he didn’t look as if he were hiding, cowering, or even hesitant. his eyes were filled with the determination you wish you owned.

“speaking of secrets, there’s one i’ve been keeping, and tonight — the stage is set to reveal it. would you like to know?” he placed a hand under his chin, crossing his legs as you blinked. “a secret?”

“one i’m surprised you haven’t caught onto yet, yes.” he reaffirmed, his expression softening and his smile growing slightly wider. this was nothing you’ve ever seen from him.

“what is it?” you inquired, your voice barely above a whisper — as if your earlier fears were resurfacing. your fingers tightened around your sleeve, biting your tongue and anticipating his next words with newfound anxiety.

“i love you.”

the rose rested on your lap, a spur of emotions hitting you all at once — you opened your mouth to speak, to say anything, but once again.. lyney rendered you completely speechless.

the props were witnesses to the development that you weren’t expecting, such a gentle voice and three words filled with elation and affection. his eyes were twinkling with redamancy, awaiting the answer that you were certain he would have anticipated.

his hand shifted closer to you, opening it to reveal his gloved palm. “if you’d have me.. i’d like to be more than friends.. how does that sound, my dear companion?”

nothing could capture the nuance that accompanied the present moment, as your throat betrayed you and your voice cracked. “i love you too.” you hadn’t meant to come off as meek, but the beamed look on his face was enough for you to overlook your little setback. it felt as if you’ve made his entire world with one sentence that echoed in the air for at most, two seconds.

“then,” his fingers lingered on yours, tugging slightly until your hand fit in his own. “allow us to create our own authentic performance that lasts.. forever, what say you?”

#lyney x reader #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #astronetwrk

356 notes · View notes

dreamauri · 5 months

Note

WHEN IS THE NEXT CHAPTER OF My love mine all mine COMING OUT BCZ IM INVESTED

┇𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 - part five ┇୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ╮ ┇arranged marriage does not always hold ┇the outcome you expect !! ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊ ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen x wife! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( romance + smut ) ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠song — ( link ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠word count — ( 1, 047 ) ╰ 🌿 :: ⁠ content warning — ( oral f receiving )

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( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"First driving lesson. Are you ready?" "Absolutely not."

You gave a smile and thumbs up to the camera recording you and your husband, whilst max adjusted the strap to your helmet. "Learning to drive in a fast car is a bad idea." You warned him. looking around the controls to the NSX.

"It's not a bad idea." Max assured you, reaching over and buckling you up. "It very much is, liefje." [baby] You dismissed, looking out the open window to the Red Bull team filming you guys from the outside. "Can we get a slower car? I feel like We'd be much safter in . . . I have no idea. A slow car. A Kia maybe?."

Max laughed at you. "Are you serious? A kia? You think I'm a bad teacher." "No!" You turned to him quickly, holding his hands. He was teasing you but you still felt the need to make sure he knew. "Max, you're an amazing teacher. But you being intact is more for our home race is more important than me learning drive."

"You don't like my birthday present?" He gasped, putting his hand on his chest, being dramatic. "I—" you pulled him in a kiss only for your headgear to bump into his and stop you. "ow . . . I was gonna say I love it." Max laughed at you, leaning his head on the window while your glared at him.

"Where's the go and stop." You were commanding him now, putting both your hands on the steering wheel.

You did eventually get the basics, you were to scared to lift your leg off the brake that the car was literally only moving for a meter before it came to a full stop. The process of breaking every few seconds continued until max was able to get you confident in yourself to drive a steady 40 kilometre per hour around the long straight.

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"How is it, with the wife." "My wife?" Max's eyes light up at the mention of you. He was up onstage in the fan zone, sitting on a stool with checo and an f1 presenter. "Married life, how is it?"

"Well, I didn't know if the video went out yet, but i just gave her her first driving lesson this morning—" "really?" Natalie pink ham butted in, giggling.

"Is that what that was?" Checo laughed along with the crowd.

"I mean, no offense, Shatje; she sucks at driving. But it's nice to have that contrast, because I cannot paint or cook for the life of me." He laughed, leaning back to look at the side stage where you stood, smiling at him. "She's gonna kill me when we get home. Look at that smile."

The crowd erupted in laughter. Max waved you a hi, even though he was spending the whole day with you. You rolled your eyes playfully, folding your arms. You couldn't help the smile that curled on your lips as you looked at the cute puppy of a Dutch f1 driver. "Beautiful smile." Max chuckled, turning back to the fans.

You two were stuck to each other after the interview, sitting all cozied up in the hospitality, snuggled up to each other as you scrolled through your phone, both of you judging the décor and furniture you would need to renovate.

"This wallpaper is nice." You hum, pressing on the image. "My love, we don't need wallpaper. We have you." You chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm serious, you're very talented." He tilted your chin up kissing you.

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"Maxie!" you called through the house, peaking out of the bathroom door. You peaked down the foreign Belgian house, looking down the hall looking for your husband. "Maxie!" You called louder. "Ja, schat?" [yes, love]

"Kun je een handdoek voor me halen? . . alstublieft." [can you get me a towel, please]

"Wat? ik kan je niet horen."[what? i cant hear you] he called back. You could hear the faint noise of the tv from where max sat in the living room.

"Towel, Max." You sighed. What was he watching, foot ball? "I'm wet, and I'm cold and I'm naked—" yep that did it. You heard his footsteps run up the stairs at the word, his fluff of blond peaked from behind the wall to try and see you.

But you thought before hand and hid your body behind the door so all Max could see was your wet and messy hair and smile as you repeated the word. "Towel."

He pouted with a huff as he stomped to your room, returning seconds later with a fluffy towel. "Thank you." You hum, pulling the towel in with you, disappearing behind the door. Only, the towel was pulling from you. You peaked out the door to see Max holding the opposite corner, puppy eyes as he looked at you.

"Max, not now." You whispered feeling your face redden with embarrassment as he tried to peak in. "één kus, één kus." [one kiss, one kiss] you pleaded and you couldn't say no, leaning in and granting him his wish.

Well, you ended up granting him another wish as well because asking for one kiss turned into two kiss turned into 6 turned into 20 and so on. Which led you to being eaten out for the first time while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, hand entangled in blond locks, with gasps leaving your mouth.

You didn't know what max was doing, head between his thighs, eyes staring up at you as he licked and sucked and lapped and did things you never imagined of before. Your body shivered each time his warm tongue would drag across your gummy walls or take your bud into his mouth. You didn't even realize it when your orgasm dawned on you, heaving with whines and whimpers.

You caught his lips once he was back to your height and max was quick to return the favour, savouring your lips as he pulled you straight to your feet to his bedroom, 2 and a half hours from zandvoort f1 circuit; but he wanted you to have your first time in a home, under the moonlight of his windows.

Which you've got to admit, was a magical night.

432 notes · View notes

alice-after-dark · 13 days

Text

Vox & Alastor's Portrayal of Power

Vox and Alastor handle their public and power very differently. Alastor wants to inspire fear. Vox, however, wants adoration. Yes, of course he wants people to respect his power, but his ultimate drive is for the public to love and admire him. And so he must tailor his image to please them whereas Alastor tailors his image to terrify.

Like, for contrast, when Alastor is walking down the street having his chat with Zestial, we see sinners literally lighting themselves on fire out of fear. That's how terrified the public is of these two. They would rather set themselves on fire than risk whatever they might do to them.

We see the polar opposite with Vox.

When Vox comes out of his elevator, there is a massive crowd of people ready and practically salivating to talk to him. They don't run. They don't lose their minds at his arrival. They bend over backwards to try and get close to him. And Vox loves every second of it. He slaps on his public persona and does what he does best: put on a show. His slogan is literally "Trust Us."

Now, I'm absolutely certain that Vox has publicly displayed his power on several occasions (can't have people forgetting that he is in fact a powerful Overlord), but I guarantee you that all of these incidents have been carefully calculated for his image. He can't just go off on some random bystander for looking at him the wrong way (like Valentino would). He probably waits for some blatant show of disrespect and then very quickly and efficiently puts them in their place. It's not a big dramatic show like Alastor or a mindless rampage like Valentino. It's swift, it's clean, and it's terrifying. But because he doesn't lose his shit at every little thing, it still leaves him approachable.

Arguably, he is the most personable and approachable of the Vees and he likes it that way. Valentino is charming when he wants/needs to be, but also volatile and hostile and easily enraged when things don't go his way. Velvette...well, she's more likely to just ignore you entirely but that's her brand, she is that #bitch after all (which Vox will gladly take over a public tantrum; besides, it means when she does engage, it's all the more impactful). With Vox, however, people hang on his every word and opinion and flock to him when something big happens (look at how sinners specifically cared about his opinion regarding the shifted Extermination deadline). His image is everything and controlling that image is his top priority because it's how he controls the public.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin alastor #hazbin headcanons #radiostatic #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin velvette #hazbin valentino #the vees

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sometimesanalice · 4 months

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Make You Mine This Season

Summary: It’s your second Christmas with Bradley and the holidays are always better with him by your side. After the perfect day out, you come home with a new accessory- just not the one you were hoping for.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 8K

Warnings: so much fluff and some allusions to smut and a cast that looks like a candy cane.

(Author’s Note: set in the Oh, Christmas Tree universe, can be read on its own)

You can’t fight the smile on your face as you watch Bradley studiously stare at the Christmas tree with a delicate glass icicle ornament dangling from his long finger.

“I think it need to go a little to the left, Roos,” you say, watching the way the little golden thread attached to it gleams from the many strands of white lights he had spun around it earlier in the afternoon.

The contrast between your handsome Naval aviator boyfriend and the very large, very fluffy pink Christmas tree he had bought for you would never not thoroughly charm you.

“Here?” he asks, moving the dainty icicle to the left per your suggestion.

“Maybe just a bit up?”

Bradley moves it and holds it up to a spot near the little glass Hawaiian shirt ornament you’d gotten for him. He was so amused by it that he’d given it what he called a place of honor on the tree.

“Hmm, no. I think back to the right and down a smidge.”

He turns and shoots you a smirk over his broad shoulder, “Ok, now you’re just messing with me.”

And then he hangs it on the tree with a flourish.

You laugh when he steps back and gives a dramatic sweep of the hand that would put Vanna White to shame.

Ever the showman.

He had been so excited when he’d found the ornaments in the storage locker he’d kept in Virginia earlier in the summer when the two of you had taken a quick trip to there to pack up the remaining things he’d left behind and bring them home.

The sleeves on the flannel plaid shirt he is wearing are rolled up highlighting his forearms and that snug fitting tank and the ridges of his abs on full display. You’d taken the liberties to sneak in a few glances as he’d bent over to grab ornaments out of the large plastic storage container you keep them in.

It’s an easy choice to abandon the silvery glittery Fa-la-la-la garland that you had been working on hanging on that tricky bit of wall space beneath the stairs to come stand next to him by the tree.

Plus, you know that you can get Bradley to put it up for you- even though he hates the feeling of glitter on his hands- if you offer to make him an Old Fashioned in exchange.

He drapes his arm over your shoulders and drops a kiss to the top of your head as you wrap your arms around his waist, the two of you taking a moment to admire the pretty twinkling tree in front of you with Bob Hope crooning softly on the background.

You love this tree.

And not because it is the most wonderfully ostentatious thing you’ve ever seen. Or because he’d surprised you with it when he asked you to move in with him the year before. But because it was one of the many ways he showed you just how important you were to him, just how much he paid attention to you.

Bradley kept asking what you wanted for Christmas this year, but you’d been avoiding giving him an answer.

Because he was the only thing on your list this year.

You would gladly never have a real tree again as long as it meant that Bradley got to be yours forever.

His allergy to pine trees had taken both of you by surprise last year. Before that chaotic afternoon last December, he had never had a real tree before, but it didn’t take long until his normally sunkissed skin has been covered in angry red hives.

And that gorgeous seven-foot Noble Fir that you had selected from the Christmas tree lot had quickly become Jake’s gorgeous seven-foot Noble Fir.

But you’ll never forget that magical moment when you had walked into his cozy living room to see that candy colored confection of a tree for the first time and how proud Bradley had been to be the one to make your dreams of a pink tree Christmas come true.

It was something you had only ever mentioned once in passing, but that’s who Bradley Bradshaw is. The type of man who goes above and beyond for the people he loves.

Last year, the two of you had just picked up a couple boxes of basic multicolored bobbles to hang on the tree. But this year, your pretty pink tree has some new decorations that you’d collected along the way since then.

The sparkling frosty mug was something he’d found at the airport on the way back from when you’d taken him home to meet your parents for the first time. To no one’s surprise, they’d loved him. He’d had a lot of fun at the breweries you’d taken him to and you liked getting to see a tipsy and pink cheeked Bradley Bradshaw.

There was a blue miniature model toy Bronco with a bottle-brush Christmas tree hanging out the back was one you’d recently found at a Christmas market you went to with Nat and Bob the previous weekend. You’ve never handed over your credit card for something so quickly before in your life.

There was even a shiny shamrock that Jake had picked up to commemorate your first- and last- Leprechaun Run.

It was a promise you were coerced into making in exchange for Jake’s help and the use of his truck to move your things into Bradley’s place the weekend after you happily agreed to live in with him. You were planning on waiting until after the beginning of the New Year, but Rooster wouldn’t hear of it. You were able to hold off for a few days, but he’d made some rather compelling points with his mouth that had swayed your mind pretty quickly.

That New Year’s Eve, he’d kissed you properly and thoroughly surrounded by a dozen half-unpacked brown cardboard boxes.

You thought Hangman would have forgotten about it, but it turns out the only person that had forgot was a you, because you’d nearly spit out your beer mid-sip when he’d slapped down the race bib in front of you at the Hard Deck one evening in March.

It was just as terrible as you’d imagined it would be and worse. Not even the four-leaf clover bobble headband you’d worn had cheered you up even the slightest.

The term fun run was an oxymoron and you were willing to die on that a hill.

And of course, there was also a copy of the house key dangling on a pretty pink velvet ribbon. The one he’d originally given you was a permanent fixture on your key ring.

“So what’s the verdict, sweetheart? How did I do? Is it fluffed enough?” he asks, pulling back to look down at you.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” you say grinning up at him.

You’ve loved his homey Craftsman since the first time you’d stepped inside it with all of its warm wooden paneling around the entryways and ceiling beams. The hand tiled fireplace was mostly for aesthetics rather than functionality. You’d filled it with a display of tall pillar candles, but there’d been a couple of occasions where the two of you had stacked it with wood picked up from the grocery store and had the sounds of its crackles and pops serving as the soundtrack to your cozy night in.

You loved it even more now that your books were mixed in with his on the bookshelf. On top of his upright piano there were framed pictures of you and him and of all your friends and family. On the mantle of that fireplace were ivory knit stockings embroidered with your name and his.

This was your home now too, pink Christmas tree and all.

“The best thing, huh?” he says, amused.

“Maybe second best,” you muse, sliding your hand into the back pocket of his snug jeans, “Those Danny Zuko shorts you wore last Halloween still live rent free in my head.”

“I’ve still got those short-shorts, you just say the word and I’ll go put them on for you anytime.”

You snort a laugh and pull him down for a kiss.

The two of you have been together for almost a year and a half, but the way Bradley kisses you still sets off butterflies in your stomach and makes your heart flutter.

Soft kisses. Passionate kisses. Hello kisses. See you soon- never goodbye- kisses. Just because kisses. There you are kisses. Never stop kissing me kisses. All of them turn you upside down just like a snow globe.

He pulls away first, looking to the tree again contemplatively, “You know, the more I look at this the I feel like something is missing.”

You skim over the tree with its warm glow from the many strands of lights, the sparkling ornaments, the glinting icicles, and the delicate bejeweled snowflake tree topper. Short of tying on a few bows for the fun of it, there’s nothing more you think this tree needs.

“I might have tucked a little something in the piano bench,” Rooster says with a nod towards his well-loved upright, “Why don’t you take a look.”

You try and fail to ignore the swoop in your stomach as you walk up to the bench. You already know that you want to be his forever and the two of you are on the same page about it, but you don’t want to get your hopes up. You’re trying to be practical, realistic.

But the heart wants what the heart wants, and your heart wants him.

The seat creaks open as you lift the lid open with a not-so-steady hand, and sitting inside a small box filled with iridescent filler are the prettiest pair of ceramic ice skates you’ve ever seen. You lift the dainty ornament from the box to see that they dangle from a couple ribbons that have been tied together in a lovely bow at the top. They even have a little white fluff lining the rims of boot.

It was one of the things you missed most about home, your town had a little outdoor rink that was set up every year. You weren’t the greatest skater and it had been a few years since you’d laced up a pair of boots, but it had always been one of your favorite traditions growing up.

“Oh Bradley, they’re so lovely,” you say with a dreamy sigh, “I love it, thank you!”

You admire them for another moment taking in all their little details before hanging them up on the pink tree near his little Hawaiian shirt ornament in a place of honor on the tree.

“I have another surprise for you,” he says with a grin, looking very proud of himself.

“Oh? When did you become such a man of mystery?” you tease.

“Gotta keep my girl on her toes,” Rooster winks, sliding a finger through your belt loop to pull you closer before wrapping his arms around you. “You know how Hotel del Coronado has that ice-skating rink set up now?”

Of course you did.

The tickets went on sale a little over seven weeks ago and time slots had sold out in five minutes. You’d even signed up early to try and get a spot in the queue and it still had kicked you out with empty hands.

“Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, looking up at him skeptically.

Bradley has been on a training detachment at the time, so there was no way Mr. One Percent could have gotten them when you couldn’t. There’s just no way.

You must say that part out loud or think it loud enough for him to hear you because that gorgeous smile of his gets devastatingly self-satisfied.

“I sure did, sweetheart-”

You jump up and cut him off with a kiss, he is quick to get his hands underneath you for support while your legs wrap around him.

“Oh my god, Bradley, how?” you ask excitedly between peppering kiss across his nose and cheeks.

“Ok, I can’t take full credit. I had some help,” he admits, clearly happy with your reaction, “Nat has, and I quote, ‘fast fingers’.”

You make a little squeal in delight as you throw your arms around his neck to hug him and he laughs. It’s the best sound in the world to you.

“What do you say, want to make a day of it? I might have a few things in mind for our San Diego Christmas. We’re a couple weeks early, but I’m feeling festive.”

You get too distracted by his smiling mouth to give him your answer then and there, but you remember to officially accept later that night in bed after your heart finally stops racing.

Convincing you to move in with him might be the best thing Bradley’s ever done.

Those cool Winter nights last year had tasted like bourbon and were spent wrapped up together on the couch and under the covers.

Your first big fight had been over whose Super Bowl team was going to win. There had been a lot of trash talk that night, but eventually a peace had been brokered. And really, no one was a loser when it came to orgasms.

In the Spring, he had built you a bunch of raised garden beds in the backyard for you to grow whatever you wanted. He’d learned that he had a bit of a green thumb when it came to zucchinis, a fact that irked you to no end because you could never get them to produce anything. He didn’t know sunshine had a scent until he could smell it on your skin with your hands covered in dirt and a smile on your facec.

And he was not surprised to learn that he was also very much a fan of your sundress collection.

The golden Summer days were spent at the beach and taking road trips to nowhere in the Bronco then the long way home. Rooster burned more often than he cared to admit, but you started keeping a container of aloe in the fridge for him. He’d never say no to have your soft hands on his body, your touch more soothing than the cooling gel could ever be.

That Fall he’d finally been able to go home with you for Thanksgiving. He’d met your family earlier in the year, but you’d been so proud to show him off at the official family gathering as you’d sipped on your cranberry mimosa. And after a year of planning, the two of you had finally been able to enact your Stealthy Soufflé Scheme.

He had been determined to get his girl that closely guarded recipe no matter what.

Your Aunt Christine had been putty in his hands with all of his yes, ma’ams and no, ma’ams and charming smiles and All-American golden boy aviator thing. You’d primed him on what things she was interested in and he had fully leaned into it, sweet talk and all. It didn’t hurt that she had been a big fan of the expensive bottles Syrah the two of you had brought with you.

You and your mom had been thrilled when he’d presented you with the handwritten copy of the coveted recipe. He had been happy to do it, but he didn’t mind the way you showed him your thanks later that night in your childhood bedroom.

He was the first boyfriend you’d ever had in there, and if he has his way, he’d also be the last.

Victory- and that not-so-secret-anymore corn soufflé recipe- never tasted so good.

The two of you had had a great first Christmas together last year, excluding the slight hiccup with the whole hives thing. And he knows he’s a bit of a perfectionist, but he wants to make this one even better.

He had let you sleep in as long as he could, but he was excited for all the festive things he had arranged for today.

“C’mon, sleepy girl. We’ve got plans,” he says, skimming a few soft kisses along your shoulder.

“Do those plans involve coffee?” you mumble sleepily into your pillow.

He chuckles and brushes back a few of the hairs that are stuck against your forehead, “Of course, it’ll be the first stop after.”

You peek up at him from under your silk eye mask, he’s always liked a slightly fussy girl. You’d even got him one for his deployments to help him sleep better on the carrier.

“After what, Roos,” you ask skeptically.

“You seemed to enjoy that Leprechaun Run you did with Jake and I saw that there was an Ugly Sweater Fun Run today and I signed us up, we have to be there in an hour.”

“Bradley, you didn’t,” you say with a gasp, sitting up like you’ve been struck by lightning.

You look so alarmed, clutching the top sheet to your chest, that he can’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

“No, I didn’t. I promise,” he says, trying to pull you into his chest.

You shove lightly at his shoulder, “That was so rude of you, Bradley Peter Bradshaw.”

“Not the government name,” he smirks, leaning down to trail a couple kisses along your neck. He likes the way you always shiver when his mustache grazes that ticklish spot under your ear.

“Oh my god, I swear I just had a war flashback to that second mile when Jake tried to make me keep up with him,” you huff, leaning your head to the side to let him continue apologizing with his mouth, “You’re so lucky I’m even talking to you right now.”

“I am very lucky to have such a pretty, smart, and forgiving girlfriend. One who appreciates over the top Christmas decorations and brunch with themed cocktails.”

That piques your interest and you seem much more awake now for someone who usually needs at least two cups of coffee before becoming a fully functional human being, “Themed cocktails, you say?”

“Mhmm, they even have a Ho-Ho-Hot and Spicy Bloody Merry, spelled m-e-r-r-y,” he says with a smile, running a finger down the bridge of your nose. “But to get one, we have to get out of this bed and into the shower.”

“Sounds like it would be more efficient if we took one together, huh?” you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Plus I’m all about preserving the planet’s natural resources.”

The two of you were a little late getting out of the house, having worked up an appetite, but still manage to make it in time for the reservations he had made.

The restaurant had been swathed in miles of frosted evergreen garlands with so many oversized ornaments dangling and ribbons woven throughout that he wasn’t sure how it hadn’t come crashing down off the ceiling. Not an inch of it was left undecorated, it was all stands of lights and shiny wreaths and giant cellophane covered candies.

Brunch had been complete with a couple of those Bloody Merry’s he’d heard about from Coyote, as well as an order of Santa pancakes topped with a hat of strawberries tossed with orange zest infused syrup.

The Christmas radio station was playing all of your favorites and you were singing along as he zipped along the highway to the next stop.

The Ocean Beach Christmas tree was beloved for being San Diego’s unofficial response to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Bob had told him he’d stumbled upon it on accident one day last year when he had been exploring his new city and learned about the tree’s forty-year history and had enthusiastically recommended that Rooster added it to his festive agenda.

Bradley loved the way your face lit up at the sight of it. The top of the massive tree was leaning to the right and looked straight out of Whoville the way it decorated with all kinds of blow up pool toys. There were beach balls galore, traditional ones and ones that looked like disco balls, a few parrots, and even one shaped like an electric guitar.

“Oh my god, look!” He looks up from the text message he was replying to and follows the line of your arm to where your finger is directing his gaze, “Another bird defying the laws of physics.”

And there tucked away up in the tree next to a blow-up globe is an inflatable rooster.

On the way back into town, two of you stopped by Mission Bay to grab some more coffee and walk around the marina to check out some of the decorated boats docked for the Parade of Lights. He’d heard about it from Penny, who had even participated in the event herself a few years ago.

You’d both agreed the one that had turned the tall mast of the sailing boat into a glowing Christmas tree was the clear winner.

The next stop was something Bradley knew you’d be really excited about.

He’d found out about the Christmas centerpiece floral arrangement class from Nat who had a crush on the florist who ran the little shop.

The class was filled with mostly women, but there were a couple other men scattered around. They’d greeting him with that head nod that only men seem to exchange, like you got roped into this too, huh?, but what they didn’t know was that being there had been his idea.

Rooster was slipping his phone back into his pocket when you returned back to your little round table with an arm full of various flowers and different greens, with not a pine frond in sight. He’d even called in advance to make sure that there wouldn’t be any involved, just in case.

You were divvying up the things that you’d gathered from the long farmhouse tables in the front between the two of you when his phone pings again.

“Rooster, is everything ok? I feel like your phone is going off a ton this afternoon,” you asked, putting down the white berry looking things to look at him, a little crease there between your eyebrows.

“Yeah, of course,” he’d said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Fanboy decided to invite chaos into the group chat by asking if a hot dog was a sandwich or not. It’s getting pretty contentious.”

You give him a look but go back to dividing the pile in front of you, moving on from the berry things to some small roses.

“Also, for the record, a hot dog is definitely a category of its own. You don’t call a hamburger a sandwich,” you’d replied, not missing a beat.

“You won’t hear me arguing with that logic.”

“Good. Because facts are facts, Bradley.”

He pulled out his phone again to give it one last quick skim before turning the volume down, before noticing what flowers you’d just set in front of him, “Hey, are those dahlias?”

You hold up a stem with a large deep burgundy flower for him, giving it a spin between your fingers, “They are! It’s a little late in the season for them, so I’m surprised to see them here. Aren’t they pretty?”

“Those were my mom’s favorites,” he’d said fondly, remembering a backyard from decades ago that was lined with around the edges with the flowers.

“Were they? Well, I’m glad I grabbed them then,” you said with a soft smile, before handing him a few more to work with.

By the end of class, he knows his ears are pink because of how much you’re showering him with praise and gushing over his arrangement. He’d even gotten a few supportive thumbs ups from some of the other people in class.

“Seriously, Bradley. It’s so lovely! I mean, look at those pinecones you tucked in it. I can’t wait to put it on the dining table!”

You wanted to swing by Mav and Penny’s place to drop yours off for them, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to convince you that it could wait until tomorrow.

He couldn’t wait for the next part of your day together.

Bradley jogs around the front of the Bronco to open your door for you after he parks at the Hotel del Coronado. He gives you his hand to help you down from the car, instead you reach and pull his face to yours.

The kiss is like spun sugar, airy and sweet. He could taste the lingering peppermint from your latte earlier.

“What was that for,” he murmurs against you lips.

“I just really love you,” you sigh, nudging his nose with yours, “Today has been so perfect. I feel like I’m in one of my Christmas movies, except I know you’re not going to ask me to leave my job in the big city to help you run your grandmother’s failing bakery to only get paid in gingerbread and Christmas spirit.”

“Lucky for you, my grandma could barely make toast, so you’re spared from such a fate. You wouldn’t need that little Mini Cooper of yours in a town that only has one stoplight.”

You press a quick kiss to his cheek, “Well thank goodness for small miracles.”

“We’ve still got one more thing on the list. You ready for this?” Bradley asks, holding his hand out.

You slip your hand in his with a grin, “Virtue and Moir better watch out.”

You can’t say you’ve ever expected to see an ice rink set up with a display of white sand and sparkling blue ocean behind it. But it was easily one of the most magical things you’ve ever seen.

The sunset has painted the skies a beautiful display of cool blues, soft pinks, and dusky purples. The palm trees lining the rink have been done up in strands of white lights that crisscross over it above your heads. The mixture of happy laughter, Christmas songs piped over the sound system, and waves crashing served as the soundtrack to the moment.

And you’re trying desperately not to fall and make a fool of yourself.

It was more than a little humbling stepping onto the rink after having not had a pair of ice skates on for more than a decade. It had been awhile since your family had indulged in this particular tradition, but you figured it would be like riding a bike.

It’s almost laughable now how wrong you were.

“How are you so good at this?” you jokingly accuse as you wobble on your skates, yet again. Luckily, Bradley’s sturdy grasp on your hand keeps you from falling.

He laughs, “I thought you said you did this all the time growing up?”

“I did! I just never said I was good at it.” A kid whizzes past you- a little too close, a little too fast- and Bradley shoots a disgruntled look at his swiftly retreating figure. “You come from a snow state, it’s in your blood. You automatically have the advantage.”

“Are you thinking of the other V-state? Vermont?” he teases, easily gliding around you swapping spots so that you’re closer to the edge of the rink rather than the middle.

“It snows in Virginia, I googled it.”

“I mean, yeah, but not a ton,” he says, “But it wasn’t like I was hitting up the indoor rinks either.”

“So you’re telling me you’re just a natural?” You roll your eyes affectionately at him.

He winks at you, “You said it not me, sweetheart.”

You’d nearly melted on the sight when Rooster had knelt down in front of you and looked up at you with such a boyishly charming smile as he’d tied the laces of your rented ice skates.

It took a moment to get your hummingbird heart back under control after that.

After a few more laps around, you’re starting to feel like you’re falling into the rhythm of it. You’re still keeping an eye out for people and the older kid who had earned himself more than one glare from people trying to enjoy their time on the rink as he erratically bobbed and wove his way through them. But your strides are getting longer and the shifting motion from side to side is getting smoother. You could almost claim to be gliding.

You’d forgotten how much fun it was, but then again, Bradley always made everything better and brighter.

Your cheeks ache in the best way from how much smiling you’ve been doing today.

And if you faked a couple wobbles so that he’d put his arm around you, it was worth the sacrifice of trying to look graceful. He’s already seen you at your best and at your worst, so you didn’t think your lack of skill standing on a quarter of an inch of metal was going to scare him away.

Rooster is a few feet ahead of you showing off some of his fancy footwork and maybe if you hadn’t been so distracted by his smile you would have heard the aggressive woosh of the kid’s skates as he sped up behind you.

It had only been a matter of time.

He collides with you but keeps his balance and propels himself forward, not slowing his pace in the slightest before taking off again. Your feet slip out for beneath you and before you know it you’re extending your right arm down to try and break your fall.

You meet the ice hard.

You feel pop.

A rush of warmth.

And then throbbing.

The next five hours pass in a twinkling blur of heavy guilt and aching pain.

Bradley had gone through so much effort planning such a perfect day for you and you feel terrible about how it ended.

The wait at the hospital had been miserable. The lights were too glaring and the noises too loud. The garish green and red garland draped on the desk seemed to mock you as you’d gone through the motions of getting checked in.

Your wrist had been killing you and you hated being the reason that Rooster’s leg hand been bouncing anxiously next to you in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. He’d tried to hide it, but you’d seen that deep furrow between his brows. You’d almost cried when he started stroking the back your pain-free hand with this thumb. It wasn’t until they’d brought you back for X-rays and had given you a light dose of painkillers that the world had shifted back into the dreamy soft focus it had been like earlier in the day with Bradley when he’d taken you on all those perfect dates.

You didn’t know if he had planned anything else, all you knew is that everything had unraveled so quickly.

It’s an odd feeling like you could float away at any moment. The painkillers made you feel buoyant and light, yet you can feel the weight on your shoulders just the way you feel the weight of the cast on your wrist.

Even now as the candy-colored lights that he’d put up along the front of the house bounce off of his still perfect curls, he’s wearing the softest of smiles for you as he works to open the front door. His dreamy brown eyes are reflecting nothing back at you other than warmth and affection and care.

Your wonderful, loving, perfect boyfriend. Your perfect Bradley.

You know it’s not entirely the drugs fault the way you’re struck by just how pretty he is. You’ve always thought so, but here and now you’re simply mesmerized by him under the glow of the Christmas lights.

“I don’t think I’ve been called pretty before, sweetheart. But thank you,” Bradley says with a little amused chuckle.

“Well you are. And your hair. Bradley, it’s not fair.” The words are tumbling out of your loose lips.

“My hair isn’t fair?” he asks with a tilt of his head, holding open the front door for you.

“No, it’s not! You just wash it and it dries like that?” He takes your purse from you and sets it on the entry table before helping to ease off the heavier sweater jacket you were wearing from your shoulders. “I don’t think you get it. You’re pretty, but you’re so handsome too.”

He squats down in front of you and smiles up at you before helping to slip off your shoes, “I’ll take handsome too if it’s on the table, sounds like a nice combo.”

“Please, you sound like Jake now,” you giggle.

“Oh no, we can’t have that now can we,” he grins, “But at least I’m pretty and handsome, hopefully that’ll cushion the blow.”

And you just love him.

You love him for the way he loves you and takes care of you and tries to make you laugh when he knows you’re feeling down. You reach up to pull his face to yours when you are distracted by the thick cast on your arm.

“This wasn’t the accessory I was hoping for for Christmas,” you say with a sigh.

The panic that electrifies your body is immediate as your spine goes ramrod straight. Oh no oh no oh no oh no. You can almost see the words swirl and twirl around him, and you know there’s no way you can snatch them back from the way they hang in the air.

“Ohmygod. Oh my god, I didn’t mean to say that.” You’re so flustered now, so embarrassed. “Please pretend you didn’t hear that.”

But Bradley is looking at you with his eyes crinkled around the corners and his lips pressed together like he is trying to hold back a laugh with the way his cheeks are pulling up.

“Oh, did you want a pair of earrings?” he teases, cupping your face in his hand.

“Bradley,” you whine.

“C’mere, baby,” he laughs and pulls you into his chest. You wrap your arms around him and wonder briefly if he can feel the hard plaster of your cast pressed against his back. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “You know you never did tell me what you wanted for Christmas.”

“Don’t need anything,” you murmur into the warmth of him.

He’s already all you’ve ever wanted.

As you make your way up the stairs, glow from your pretty pink tree seems brighter than usual. Normally, you’d take one last peek back at it before going to bed, but you’re still a bit wobbly on your feet. It’ll still be there waiting for you in the morning.

“Oh shit,” you hear him mutter from behind you.

“What’s wrong, Roos?”

“Ah- just stubbed my toe. C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.” The heavy tread of his footsteps is close behind you, you can almost feel the warmth of him at your back.

At you back. By your side. He’s the only person you’ll ever need.

They’d given you some of the strong stuff and he could tell that you were still floating in that sweet spot before all the gravity settles back into your bones.

The distal radius fracture in your right wrist meant that you’d be in the cast for the next six weeks. You’d gone with a white and pink stripped candy cane inspired look to match the tree, Bradley. While he wishes it wasn’t there in the first place, he thought the pattern you’d chosen was cute.

He’d quickly and quietly kicked off his shoes before he’d followed you into the bedroom. Hoping that you wouldn’t notice them, he’d take a disinfecting wipe to the floor and stairs tomorrow.

For as well as Rooster knew you, he felt a little out of his element because he knew you were hurting but he wasn’t sure what would make you feel better in that moment. When he offered to draw you a bath he’d instantly known it was the right choice by the look on your face.

So he’d made you one with all of your favorite products. The mound of bubbles he was able to achieve was truly impressive, if he did say so himself. He even dimmed the lights and lit a few candles for you.

Bradley had carefully wrapped up your cast in plastic wrap and secured the top with a rubber band. And the dejected pout on your face when you looked at it and called it an “unattractive arm condom” had nearly sent him over edge.

He’s already looking on his phone for other options, sitting on the bathroom floor next to you as you soak in the tub, when he feels your fingers thread through his hair and he leans into your touch.

“I really am jealous of your hair, you know. I’m sure there were a few of the girls at that floral class who were too.”

Your head is leaning back against the lip of the tub as you gaze at him, your hair wet from him washing it for you. He’d noticed the moment you realized how difficult it would be for you to do it yourself for the foreseeable future. But you brought out the optimistic side of him and he’d already come up with a solution, “I guess we’ll have to take more showers together then, so I can wash your hair for you. Plus, it’ll be good for the environment”. You’d laughed, and he was happy to see some of the light returning back into your eyes.

“I don’t know why when yours is so pretty,” he says, reaching out and lightly tugging on a lock of your hair.

“Did I tell you one of them asked me if you had a brother? She was honestly so put out when I said that you didn’t that I’m pretty sure she took the last of the dahlias out of spite when she saw me reaching for them. They didn’t even match her arrangement,” you say rolling your eyes, adjusting the way your plastic wrapped candy cane cast rested against the other side of the tub. “Like sorry not sorry, I’m not going to give you my boyfriend.”

“Was it the woman in the striped sweater?”

“Yes! It was her!”

Bradley had notice her checking him out a little too closely for a man who was clearly there another woman and happily taken.

“She had crazy eyes, I wouldn’t have wanted you to give me to her anyways.”

You snicker at that, “She did have crazy eyes.”

He makes a mental note to remember to grab the arrangements from out of the back of the Bronco before he goes to bed. He didn’t want anything to happen to them, but that could until after you were tucked in bed and asleep.

“But the instructor was so sweet, Roos. I told her that the dahlias were your mom’s favorites and then she went to the back and got me a bunch. She didn’t put them on the table or anything for anyone else, just handed them over to me for us to use. It was a real girls supporting girls moment, we bonded.”

He’s struck by the fact that you’d already known about his mom’s favorite flower. That you had let him think it was happenstance when really you had grabbed them because you’d known it would mean something to him. That you wanted to make it special for him when he was trying to make it a special day for you.

He didn’t think it was possible to love you any more than he already did, but you were so good at making him fall in love with you over and over again.

“That was really nice of her, sweetheart,” he says, his throat a little thick.

“It really was. And better yet she’s single and likes women,” you say with a grin, “I got her number to get coffee, but I might see if I can play matchmaker between her and Nat. She looks like Nat’s type.”

“This was our instructor? You got all of that out of her in a few minutes of conversation?” he asks, impressed.

You give him a cheeky shrug of your shoulder, “Yeah, I’m efficient. She owns the shop too. I think I’m going to order something for Penny and Mav from her closer to Christmas.”

“You know what, I think you’re right, she does seem very much like Nat’s type,” Bradley smiles to himself, Phoenix is going to be very excited when he tells her about this.

“’m always right,” you hum.

“You sure are, sweetheart,” he says fondly.

He watches as your eyelids start to get heavy and helps you to get out of the tub, wrapping you up in the biggest, fluffiest towel he can find and sits you on the bed as he goes into the closet to find something cozy for you to wear.

“What do you want me to grab you, baby?”

“Your shirt,” you call out sleepily.

He peeks his head around the opening, “Sweetheart, you’re not going to want hospital germs in bed.”

“No, not that one,” you say, scrunching your nose, “Your henley. The soft navy one with the little white flecks. ‘s my favorite.”

You look so tired, he doesn’t like the slump of your shoulders. He knows that feeling all too well and he hates that you feel so bad about something that you had no control over. It had been such a good day up until the end. But even so, you’re the only person he wants to go through the highs and lows with.

He strips down and puts both his clothes and yours into the hamper before grabbing the shirt for you. “Arms up,” he says gently, he pulls the sleeve wide to fit over your cast before threading it down your arms and over your head.

Rooster pulls back the covers for you to crawl into bed. He climbs in after you, cradling you against him as he reaches over for the remote to turn on your favorite Christmas movie channel for you to fall asleep too.

Your cast rests heavy on his chest.

The heroine just won the cookie cook-off and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you murmur quietly into the dark room, “This is the second year in a row, Bradley, I really think we should consider skipping Christmas next year. For both of our sake’s.”

“We’ve got too much Christmas spirit for a little pine tree allergy or fractured wrist to keep us down,” he tips your head up so that you’re looking at him, “Give it time, it’ll turn around. I promise, sweetheart.”

He seals that vow with a sweet kiss against your lips and a few minutes later he feels as your breaths even out and you fall asleep tucked against him.

You wake up the next morning feeling more than a little groggy and cotton-headed as everything from yesterday comes rushing back to you.

As does the aching in your right wrist.

You reach out for Rooster, but his side of the bed is already cold. He’s always been an early riser and once he’s awake he doesn’t know how to sit still. You wouldn’t have minded cuddling with him for a little bit, but knowing him he has probably already brewed a pot of coffee for you.

When you finally crack open your eyes, you see that he’s left out a bottle of the prescription strength ibuprofen the doctor had sent home with you on your nightstand and a note written in his slanted script reminding you to take one. Your sweetest boy.

You attempt to splash some cold water on your face with one hand, willing it to depuff your face a little bit and then try to fix up your hair so that you look and feel less bedraggled. It is one thing if Bradley is the one responsible for it, but that wasn’t the case this morning.

Before heading downstairs, you decide on a whim to change out of his shirt and into the cozy cream-colored fuzzy lounge set you’d bought on sale the other week. It takes three times longer to get dressed than it usually did, but getting yourself at least a little more put together made you feel a bit more in control. You knew the extra effort wasn’t necessary, but you felt cute and it was making you feel a little bit better about everything.

The pink and white cast was a bit of a choice looking at it in the morning light filtering through the airy curtains, but you thought you pulled it off well. It was cheerful and fun. And you weren’t going to let it affect you or your Christmas plans with your perfect boyfriend.

There is still some residual guilt you’re trying to shake off, you know it was a fluke of fate, but you’re already thinking about ways to make it up to him all the same.

You gingerly make your way down the stairs making a mental note to look up what other festive things were happening this weekend and call out to Rooster, “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

The raspy laugh that reaches your ears makes you smile for the first time that morning, “I’ve got one ready for you in the living room, sweetheart. It’s ready when you are.”

The painkillers, the coffee. The man is a saint and looks like a god. And he’s all yours.

You take those final few steps a bit faster, ready for the strong dark roast that only he seems to be able to make to just right and to thank him for taking such good care of you.

You lose all words when you walk into the living room.

It’s like you’ve walked into a dreamy pink forest straight out of a fairytale.

Your beloved very large, very fluffy, pink tree covered with all of your memories collected from the past year and Bradley’s mom’s sparkling vintage glass icicles is surrounded by two other very large, very fluffy, pink Christmas trees.

The newest additions to the living room glow with the hundreds of twinkling white lights. It’s ethereal and whimsical the way the light bounces and dapples on the walls and floors.

And there standing in front of them is Bradley, barefoot in his favorite sweatpants in your cozy living room of the home he’s made with you looking like a daydream.

You don’t think it’s the prescription strength pain medication kicking in that makes you feel like you’re floating as you walk towards him. You know it’s all him.

Bradley says your name with such adoration, such love that you swear you feel your heart reshape in your chest with his name on it.

“I envisioned this a bit differently in my mind, but the way I see it, we’re just starting the ‘in sickness and in health’ part a bit early,” he says, taking your right hand and dropping a kiss to your cast. Your eyes well up at the tender gesture.

And then you stop breathing when he sinks down onto one knee in front of you.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love your big heart and the way you’re so kind and generous to everyone you meet. I love the way you can light up a room with your smile. The best parts of my days are when I am with you. You’re the only person I want to wake up to, the only person I want to fall asleep with in my arms, and the only person who I want a forever with.” He reaches out and takes your shaky hand in his warm one, “Last year, you let me give you more than a drawer and it has been the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. This year, will you let me give you my last name too and marry me?”

You can almost see his heart that he is wearing on his sleeve. His pretty honey brown eyes are tracing over every inch of your face, almost like he is trying to commit every microcosm of your expression to memory.

You had imagined this moment so many times. It was the movie you’d put on in your mind on those nights when sleep felt just out for reach. And like a snowflake, no two dreams had been the same.

But nothing you’d imagined could have ever topped the reality of this moment here and now.

Because there was nothing was better than being surrounded by three pink fluffy trees and looking forward to getting to spend a lifetime with Bradley Bradshaw.

“Well it’s convenient I fractured the right one,” you say with a watery laugh as a few happy tears escape from your eyes.

“I guess that is a lucky break,” he grins.

“Literally.”

You didn’t think it was possible to smile this wide. That you could be this happy.

“You still haven’t given me an answer yet, sweetheart,” he says, slightly squeezing your good hand.

“Haven’t I though?” you tease. There’s no what he doesn’t know what your answer is, not with the way you’re beaming.

“C’mon, let me hear you say it.”

You don’t make him wait for long.

“Yes, Bradley, yes I will marry you. It’ll always be a yes with you.”

You barely get to finish your sentence before he is shooting to his feet, pulling you into his arms and kissing you.

Your Bradley. Your fiancé.

On Christmas morning, after all the presents are unwrapped, you find yourself sitting under your perfectly pink tree surrounded by scraps of ribbons and bits of shiny wrapping paper.

Even your striped pink and white cast looked particularly festive under the gleam of the trees.

Rooster is in the kitchen making another pot of coffee for the two of you to share. You can hear him singing along to one of the vintage crooner Christmas albums you had gotten him.

You’ll be hosting Mav, Penny, and Amelia for dinner tonight. You let yourself enjoy this quiet of the mid-morning before things get chaotic. The two of you had dressed the oval oak dining table yesterday afternoon. The centerpiece you’d ordered from Nat’s now New Year’s Eve date was stunning, there were even a few white dahlias tucked into the arrangement. Thankfully, with no pine needles in sight.

The tall pillar candles had been moved off to the side and a real fire was popping in the hearth of the tiled fireplace. And the sun streaming through the bay windows is bouncing off that sparkly silver garland that you’d gotten Bradley to hang up for you in a way that makes the shiny wooden floors look like they’ve been scattered with specks of confetti.

The swirling, sparkling, shimmering dots on the ceiling, however, were from your own ring as you move and tilt your hand admiring the way the sun illuminates it. You know the matching pair of diamond earrings that Bradley had gotten for you as you Christmas gift are shining just as bright.

He still blushes whenever anyone teases him about forgetting to pull out the engagement ring he had got for you before he’d proposed. But you wouldn’t have changed anything about that moment for the world.

The marquise diamond had belonged to his mom, but he had had it reset in gold with a halo of diamonds around it for you. He’d even bought a pink velvet box to put it in for the occasion. It was easily the prettiest thing you’d ever seen and your heart still fluttered every time you saw it on your finger.

The two new trees are still only dressed with the many strands of lights that they’d arrived with. You learned that Bradley had enlisted Jake and Natasha to help him out with that particular surprise that day a couple weeks ago when he’d taken you on what you affectionately refer to as the 12 Dates of a Christmas Proposal.

Your favorite pink tree, the one he had gotten for you last year- the one you’re sitting under now- was also in possession of a new accessory. A shiny new pink ring pop ornament Bradley had gotten to commemorate the occasion of you saying yes and was hanging in a place of honor on the tree right between the little Hawaiian shirt ornament and the dainty, dangling ice skates.

Saying yes was the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Yes to forever. Yes to him.

This season and every season.

You couldn’t wait to see what new ornaments would fill those trees by next year.

And the one after that.

And the next one after that.

Happy Holiday's! It's been almost a year since I've posted my very first story on here. I'm so thankful that a zoom kaboom plane movie has introduced me to so many wonderful people! Thank you for reading my stories and for all the support I've received over this last year! It has meant the world to me!

This story is set in the Oh, Christmas Tree universe. If you missed the fic that started it all, you can read it here!

Many thanks to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for so, so many reasons. I hope you enjoy this, this one's for you!

You can read my other stories here!

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