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craisinsensation1029 · 16 hours

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Snuggle Bug

Toji Fushiguro

AO3 :)

just toji being soft and domestic, thats it ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

~2k

SFW but minors still shoo

It isn't hard to make assumptions about Toji with just one look.

With his imposing frame riddled with pounds of muscles, enough scars to rival any war hero, and an expression that screams I don’t tolerate nonsense, ever on his face, most people steer clear of him.

There isn’t much merit in thinking so, but so many easily peg him as a douche, an asshole, a womanizer—someone that probably has the worst opinion on anything ever.

While Toji has definitely judged more than one book by their cover, only sparing something a glance for no longer than a second before deciding whether or not it would be worth his time, he’s more than happy he was a book you were willing to read.

He still remembers having to build up the courage to ask you out on a date.

Every week he would treat Megumi to a few new books, and low and behold on a calm Sunday afternoon the sweet old manager was showing you the ropes on the cash register.

He was enchanted by your smile, the natural grace that you had, the zest for life that you conveyed just through your love of reading. At first it was innocent, Toji being just as excited as Megumi for the weekly trip to the bookstore, flying to the children’s section to see if you had any exciting news on any new releases. There was even the time where you decided to do an impromptu story time just for Megumi because it was a slow day.

After that, Toji had to admit that he did get a bit more greedy, making more frequent trips to the bookstore and flashing you a crooked smile when you would look for the bite sized version of him. “Just me,” he’d laugh, hoping that crimson wasn’t painting his cheeks.

When people say expect the unexpected you always thought it was referring to something completely drastic, like seeing actual pigs fly or winning the lottery. Not seeing this big, burly man scratching the back of his neck and blushing while he waited for you to say something, but you couldn’t complain. You simply smiled at him and said, “Well you can read at a higher level than Megumi, right? Let me show you some other books.”

As the weeks went by, Toji was spending more time (and money—but you did give him your employee discount out of the kindness of your shining heart) at the bookstore, whether or not he had Megumi with him.

“I put something else in the bag.” A cheeky smile that he couldn’t quite decipher was on your face as you pushed his purchase toward him.

He thanked you and was fighting every single urge not to pounce on the bag the moment he stepped out the door. The bit of self control he was able to maintain allowed him to wait until he got to the car, seeing a slip with your number scrawled on it right on top of the books he just bought.

He never felt nervous about making a phone call before that night, but every bit of tension eased from his body when your bright cadence filled his ears over the speaker.

Soon the two of you were texting good morning and good night here and there, the occasional how is your day going. It was far from that though. After a few weeks you were moving on to talking about new shipments of books, mentions of family, future plans. It became routine for both of you to talk on the phone nightly. Even if it was a day that he visited the bookstore, the true cherry on top of the cake was drifting off to sleep with the sound of your voice in his ears.

It only seemed natural for him to ask you out and make you his.

Being with Toji provides you with comfort and security not even money can buy. No one dares to cat call you with Toji by your side.

There’s something just so entertaining about seeing one of the people you adore the most making others cower in fear with just a simple glance, like having a big, vicious dog that growls at everyone in public but snuggles up to you in private.

And when it comes to snuggling, Toji is well versed in that department.

See, he doesn’t really believe in personal space; he can never be too close to you.

If you’re washing dishes in the kitchen, his arms are wrapping around your waist, bending his head so it's resting in the crook of neck, sighing contentedly as he breathes in your scent.

Sitting on the couch? He’s scooching as close as possible next to you, entwining his fingers with yours, not even looking at whatever is on the television. He damn near crawled in your lap a few times, arguing that it was much more comfortable for him despite your legs screaming in protest.

He doesn’t even care if you’re in the shower, sitting on the toilet seat and waiting until you finish. His go to is usually getting in the shower with you, withstanding the boiling hot water you somehow consider an appropriate temperature. He had to build up his tolerance, feeling like his skin was going to melt off his body if he stayed there longer than five minutes. This would only make you laugh and say, “Toji, stop torturing yourself. I’ll be out soon.” He’d just grunt and give you that pouty face that makes you dab a kiss to his nose.

If you’re taking a bath, he used to drag a chair out from the dining room, but ended up buying a cozy bean bag just to make himself more comfortable and accompany you.

Much like a big dog though, Toji’s spatial awareness seems to be a bit... Lacking.

He doesn’t mean it, you know he doesn’t, but there are times when you swear he is trying to decimate you with the weight of his body.

Especially nights like tonight when he’s coming home late from work.

Megumi already ate the dinner you made and has been fully entertained by a movie you watched together. Once you made sure he was snuggled in bed with his two favorite stuffed animals, the only thing left to do is wait for Toji to get home.

His job can be pretty unpredictable, leaving him coming home at late hours when the only thing he wants to do is be by your side, feeling the softness and the heat of your body while he closes his eyes and melds into you.

His stomach is rumbling, screaming for sustenance. When he walks through the door he knows there’s going to be a plate of food already made for him, just waiting to be heated up, but eating is far from being the first thing on his mind.

Instead he cracks open Megumi’s door first, a small smile forming on his face when he sees his little form tucked in, arms wrapped around those stuffed dogs while his chest gently rises and falls. He closes the door behind him, making the few steps to the bedroom that he shares with you.

It was obvious you tried your best to stay up and wait for him, indicative by the bedside lamp still being on and the book laying facedown on your lap. Though your thrown back head, the bit of drool leaking from the side of your mouth, and soft snores coming from your body shows your efforts were unfortunately in vain.

This just adds to the smile on his face, silently slinking back out of the room so he can eat and take a shower. You’re still blissfully asleep once he emerges from his shower. He carefully opens the dresser, opting for just a pair of boxer briefs.

He turns off the bedside light and carefully secures the place in your book with the bookmark you left next to you on the bed.

Despite his attempts at being gentle, the bed always creaks beneath his weight when he gets on it. The sound isn’t quite enough to wake you, only stirring a bit in your sleep.

With himself securely in the bed he moves in closer calling your name gently. Still, you only stir, murmuring out something unintelligible while your head turns to the side slightly.

He takes the opportunity to lay his head on your chest, listening to the soft beating of your heart while his fingers are drumming lightly against your stomach. The feeling always makes him melt, indulging in every pliant dip and curve of your body, the velvety texture of your skin such a contrast to the calluses and roughness of his own.

It isn’t long before his hands are exploring, moving down to caress the swell of your hips and making their way back up to feel the dip in your waist. All the while his head stays on your chest, as if his skull is a sword that will do anything imaginable to defend your heart.

He stays like this for a while, the thumping of your heart serving as his own personal white noise, the sensation of your skin beneath his touch alleviating all the stress of work.

“Mmm,” you groan, slowly opening your eyes only to be greeted by darkness and consumed by heat. “Toji.”

At the sound of your voice he slowly opens his eyes, immediately pulling you closer to him and panting a slew of kisses on your cheek. “You were sleeping when I got in,” he murmurs against your cheek, plopping another kiss there. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

You’re not sure what time you fell asleep, but tap the screen on your phone, squinting at the harshness of its brightness. It’s a bit past four in the morning now, rain beating down gently against the windows.

“Like you’ve cared about waking me up before,” you laugh gently, playfully rolling over to escape both his hold and the slobbery kisses he insists on planting on you.

“Come here.” A fit of giggles leaves your lips as you continue rolling over, just out of reach every time he tries to wrap his arm around you again. He lets you have it for a few more moments, letting you tire yourself until you’re completely breathless with laughter. Like a tiger waiting to strike he ambushes you, caging your body between his arms and letting his weight settle on top of you.

“Toji!” You try your best to contain your squeal knowing Megumi is sleeping just beyond the thin walls.

“What?” His voice is muffled as his head takes refuge in the crook of your neck, his lips pressing softly against the sensitive skin there. He feels your pulse quicken every time his lips brush against your skin. “I missed you.”

No matter how many jokes you make about canceling his gym membership or making sure he never has another protein shake again you wouldn’t trade the feeling of this for anything. One hand rubs small circles into his back while the other snakes around to the nape of his neck. He nuzzles further into your neck, humming with satisfaction when your fingers thread through hair and delicately massage his scalp.

“I missed you, too.” He doesn’t say anything, but you feel the curve of his lips against your neck as his arms maneuver beneath you, cradling your body tight.

The warmth of his embrace quickly lulls you back into a state of unconsciousness, only willing for the serenity to end when you wake up, ready to appreciate him with bright eyes, marking another day together.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fluff #jjk fluff #domestic fluff #ebs writes

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earenwen-leafwhisper · 7 months

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Not wanted (part 1)

Pairing : Daemon Targaryen x Chubby fem reader

Summer : "The silver hair of the prince was blown by the slight breeze, his purplish gaze burned with an anger worthy of his dragon. Y/n although set back could observe the scene unfolding in front of her eyes. Daemon was in front of her father, Dark sister in hand."

Author’s note: hello, I post the first part of "Not wanted" now, so you don’t wait as much. Part two will probably be published during the week or else it will be two publications on Sunday. I hope you enjoy this first part. Enjoy your reading.

Trigger warning: mistakes have undoubtedly had to pass my vigilance, English not being my mother tongue they will be corrected.

Ao3 profile : Earenwen_Leafwhisper

---

There is a feeling, or will it be instinct, which tells you quietly that you are not wanted in a place, it can happen everywhere, whether in school, in the street, at work, but also in the family.

This feeling grows over time and it is not pleasant, the worst being the evening when the truth comes out. When your father is drunk with all the alcohol he has drunk since the beginning of the afternoon explains to you that you will never be born, that your life you owe to your mother who wanted more than anything in the world a child. That explains, a lot of things, like never having a "congratulations" when you achieve something, or a "I’m proud of you, I love you my daughter". No. Never, just "Did you see how fat you are?" "Stop reading", "Why don’t you read?" , being cut off at every moment, "Shut up!" followed by "Why don’t you answer me?". Little by little, all your self-esteem eventually crumbles, by a member of your closest family. There is also this question, "What would I do alone?" The moments when you imagine running away.

Being born on Westeros is not a dream life, whether we are peasants or nobles, we have our own personal hell. Yours is your father. Although not wanted, your father decided to do something with you, and marrying a second-rate lord was a good solution. His son, born of a first union, was already married to a lady from your region, strengthening the ties of the two families.

His son, he saw it differently, for him he had nothing to reproach himself. But to all the others, he was a frightful asshole, who amused himself by threatening servants and lords of smaller house than yours. Manipulating everyone around you, going so far as to threaten you, morally and physically, explaining clearly, that the day your father died, he would put you at the door of your castle. But you were just a ball and chain. Your father did not want to marry you, at the very beginning, prefer that no one speaks of you or shows interest, waiting for the coming years, he ends up wanting to see you leave with a lord, he could not see you when he was drunk, insulting you with various sentences, more or less painful, explaining that nobody would want you, the least that nothing. Deep down, he was bubbling, refusing to accept that someone was interested in you.

During the various tournaments in which he participated as spectator, he tried to find you a husband in vain, he reproached you, while it was his fault, because no lords had seen you in the flesh. The lords are trying hard to convince him to get you out of the castle, wanting to see who this misterieuse young woman was.

A date was chosen, those of the games organized by Lord Baratheon, for the adoubement of his eldest son.

---

To say that you were surprised would have been an understatement, your father, one morning sober, warned you or rather ordered you to be present at the games organize for the son Baratheon. Your mind worked very quickly, you felt fear mounted within you, your whole body became warm, your heart throbbing, you felt your blood flowing at the level of your temples, your hands became sweatly. With time you had learned not to believe the good news coming from your father because to each of them, hid a dark face, turning against you.

You instinctively understood that something was wrong. He had never wanted you to accompany the "family", you learned to appreciate the fact of not participating in banquets, the only semblance of banquets in which you had participated was in your very young childhood, during which only the houses vassal to yours participated and at the same time make your acquaintance, having seen you as a child at your mother’s side. Whether it was a courtesy visit or in the most difficult moments, you, the child who tried to do well to please his parents, but ended up seeing his father drunk, yelling at the guests who contradicted him on anything, (whether on the land or on the alcohol he ate) and who fell asleep on one of the benches aligned against a wall of the room, a knight winning up to your nurse in order to sleep safely.

As you grew up, you would stay back, observing in the dark the rare events taking place in your castle, seeing from your apartments, your brother’s wedding, do not participate in the festivities. In a sense you were grateful, you did not want to play this open-air play, where false pretenses were common, you could only wish good luck to the servants, knowing more than very well, that their work and reprimands would be much more severe than usual

Now you had to participate, was it a new way to humiliate yourself? To have you away from the castle so that your brother could make it his stronghold and abandon you in a place that you were unknown?

All possible reasons paraded in your mind, not even trying to find optimism in them.

---

The area of your family was quite far from the stromlands, the journey was long and winding, the summer was coming to an end, the roads formed of a mixture of earth and large stones, you avoided the forests anticipate the slightest attack of bandits who could have hidden in the trees and depths of the forest. You were traveling for the first time outside your castle and your father did not want to worry about looting in addition to having you nearby.

There were two carriages, in the first was your father, a mestre and his advisor. You were present in the second, more modest, made only of wood, without ornaments, made of the rest of the wood of an old carriage, a servant was at your side, helping you to sew a new dress, for the dinner in which you and your father would participate, dinner to help you find a husband. «New», was not the right word, you used fabric of old dresses that belonged to you to make your work. The jerky movements of the carriage made it difficult to sew, more than once you had pricked your fingers, fortunately there was no taste of blood spilled.

Your journey was calm, you stayed in the carriage most of the time, leaving only when you had no choice, escorted by your servant and a knight, you avoid your father, who over the days used up the small reserve of wine he took with him when you left. The less alcohol there was and the faster he started to be irritable. The slightest thing that was contrary to his desires was directly criticized, whether it was the singing of birds early in the morning, the wind blowing a little too loudly, or a knight of one’s armor needed to be oiled. Everything was a pretext for his moods, the rare moments when he was sober and asked how you lived the journey, and his drinking crises where he remembered for an eternal time painful moments for all and reproaching you, even if you had nothing in it.

---

After more than a fortnight of travel, you finally arrived on the edge of the ramparts of Storm’s End, gave you the impression of being gloomy, all its shades of dark color, made you think of the tales that your nanny told you before going to sleep. Your servant looked through the opening of the carriage opposite to yours, observing the little distance that separated you from your destination.

"My lady! Look! In the sky!"

Surprised by her sudden change in behavior, you looked, trying to understand why she had reacted in this way.

You squinted slightly, trying to look towards the clouds that were beginning to gather above the stromlands. It was just clouds, nothing new, just big gray clouds with white reflections. Whatever… There you seemed to see a darker point, moving, appearing and disappearing, moving in movements that did not seem to come from the wind. The more you concentrated, the more you had the impression that it was getting bigger and bigger. Your throbbing heart, you didn’t understand what you see.

"Sir Percival, do you see this form moving in the clouds?"

Sir Percival was a knight of of family who was loyal to yours for several generations, long before the conquest of Westeros by Aegon the conqueror. Percival seemed to be close to your father’s age, as far as you could remember, you had always known her. He had always encouraged you when you were a child doing a task that seemed impossible to you, unlike your father who always found subject to criticism.

Sir Percival mounted on his horse’s saddle, lifted his head, you could see from his profile that he was concentrating, you could see fine wrinkles forming in the corner of the eye that you could see.

“It seems Lady Y/n, that it is, a dragon.”

"A dragon?"

“Lady Rhaenys Targaryen is a cousin of the Baratheon House through her mother. It would not surprise me that other Targaryen would have been invited. Although tensions are still high between the two houses, with regard to the iron thrones. "

“Thank you Sir”

"With pleasure Lady Y/n"

When you put your head in the carriage you began to imagine how big the shape could become, what their dragon riders might look like. Lost in your thoughts, you whispered a sweet.

“Dragons…”

---

Tents stood against the ramparts of the city that was facing the castle. The long and heavy linen fabrics covered them, a ballet of color paraded on both sides of the central aisle. Shades of blue, green, yellow and other warm and cold colors contrasted against the walls of an anthracite gray. The tents closest to the doors were intended for the most noble houses and more precisely for their knights, small paths were formed between the tents, taking visitors in the direction of the tents of the vassal houses, whose tents became increasingly modest according to their ranks and riches.

From inside the carriage, you and your servant could smell scents of roasted meats, grilled vegetables and soups. The smells came from the outskirts of the enormous camp, where servants of vassal houses prepared meals on oak tables, suspended above the campfires, stood pots where various soups and stews marinated. Looking from the openings of the carriage, you could see the knights helping from their squires moving armor, swords, masses and shields towards the forges moving from the city to the camp. The noises they heard were a mixture of words, metal clapping, the neighing of horses and clogs clapping on the ground.

The coach stopped slowly arriving at the level of the places defined at the location of the future tents. Your house was not one of the largest houses of Westeros, but had known to keep its independence from the largest houses, bend the knee only in front of the Targaryen house, after several years of fierce war. Some people in your family had kept a deep resentment towards silver hair, prefer to have links with other houses in Westeros, hence their placement. Coming out of the carriage, you looked around, taking the time to remember every moment, knowing that she would risk being married to a person she did not know at the end of the games.

Your house was placed between the Stark and Tully houses. You had never met a person of the two houses, hearing of them only by the few bits of words coming from messenger or by the books about the conquest of Aegon. The people coming out of the main tent of the Stark house were preparing the beds, moving the weapon and armor racks, they too had to arrive shortly before you.

"You do not speak without permission, you do not look a lord or a lady in the eye, keep your head down, and most importantly! Don’t make me ashamed!"

The words of your father came out of your thoughts, since your departure from the castle, he had not spoken to you directly, you understood that he would not speak to you more, and kissed the head you understood that it was the best solution for the moment, no one present knew you except the knights of your house, no one would have stood up for you.

Sir Percival descended from his horse, standing beside you. He put his hand against your shoulder.

"Don’t worry Lady Y/n, I’m here."

You sighed softly, feeling the weight of the years under your father’s yoke continue to pressure you.

"Shall I wait here until the tents are up?"

"No my lady, your father allows you to go around the camp, under the supervision of a knight."

"In that case, will you be prepared to accompany Sir Percival?"

"Of course."

Sir Percival, bowed gently in the direction of the young woman, letting his young squire take the reins of his horse, helmet under his arm, the knight began to walk beside the young woman, understanding more than his lord that the young woman needed it.

---

You felt several glances resting on you, despite everything you tried to keep your head high, constantly repeating to you, that your father did not see you, that he could not have concrete proof on your posture. The lord closest to your father looked at Sir Percival, recognizing the knight who at times accompanied Lord Y/f/n, they all watched the young woman round, recognizing for the most observant, the few features she shared with her father. So she was the young woman?

Murmurs began to roam the tents, first of all the less noble houses, clearly understanding that it was their chance to assert their houses in order to win ranks to theirs. The noblest houses were the most reluctant, the lords knew enough Y/f/n to know that your presence was hiding something. Never had your father talked about you, no hint, nothing. You could be legitimate just like a bastard they knew nothing about. A union between the two families by your blood did not guarantee the loyalty of the Y/h/n family, or even your legitimacy. There was still a positive point, your house, was known to have stood up to the Targaryen, it was powerful, but the disadvantage came from one man. Lord Y/f/n Y/h/n. Your father. Who of his problems with alcohol, became one of the most detestable men of Westeros, be it his words invaded with a hatred towards any man not thinking in the same way as him, refusing the slightest annoyance, and his bad manners, he turned and farted without any shame, whether during dinners, the shawl or in interviews when they took place at night.

Some shameless lords were already beginning to want to bring their sons closer, thinking they understood that your father could be overthrown quickly in case of an alliance, but the knight accompanying you watched over the grain, He threw black glances at people who observed too insistently his protégé. Fortunately all the families present were not insistent, greeting you simply out of politeness, resuming their activities just after.

From your walk in the central aisle, you could see the affinities of noble houses from their positions, the north remained mainly between them, the south with the south and then there were some houses that did not remain according to their geolocations on Westeros, But by their wedding rings, the children came and went from tents to tents, laughing at each other in a game that annoyed adults.

Looking at them you felt a slight pinch in the heart, you had never known a real moment of innocence to play with other children except one or two children of servants who ended up punished. Only your nanny and some knights kept you company, trying to alleviate the boredom of the little girl you were.

But of all the looks on you, you could never have imagined that one of them would have made you miss a heartbeat.

---

From both ends of the long alley stood two very large tents, of red and black color. From the location that the house Y/h/n, moving in the direction of the right stood the largest and most flamboyant in its shades of red, it was almost contiguous to the large door, this one raised flags of a red tricephal dragon on a black background. Many knights and servants moved in and around the tent, but no silver heads were visible.

“The king is very weak, he must have sent fighters on his behalf for the games.”

It was Percival, who saw the curiosity in your eyes, had spoken.

“In this case, who owns the second tent? It also carries the dragon.”

Percival concentrated, trying to understand why the Targaryen could have been divided into two parts. The Velaryons stood between the royal tent and the knights fighting under the banner of the Baratheon. In this case, the crown wanted to show that the union between the houses was maintained, although the princess was not the future queen. Who was in the second tent? To this Percival had no answer.

"I’m afraid I don’t know, lady Y/n. "

“It is nothing, we will probably learn in the coming days.”

You were right, when you returned to the tent of your house, you could see the second Targaryen tent grow. Unlike the royal tent, it was mainly composed of linen from a jet black. Two banners in the colors of the Targaryen were placed on both sides of the opening. There was very little movement around, the tent seemed almost deserted.

Almost.

A snap of armor was heard, you turned around at the same time as Percival and saw several knights walking quickly in your direction, Percival just had time to grab your arm and shoot at him, preventing you from being rushed. Slightly under the surprise, you did not pay much attention to the number of knights, or even to the fact that they did not apologize. The only thing that captivated your attention was a hair color that you had never seen beyond book to screen, silver hair, your eyes very easily found those that belonged to the person with silver hair. The purple eyes were almost hypnotic, you never thought possible that it exists, it took you a few seconds to turn away, not without fighting. In front of you, a man who seemed barely older walked, he was dressed in black with small touches of dark red. If at first the man’s gaze was surprised, it was quickly changed by a smirk. You felt your breath stay in your throat, time seemed to you to last an eternity. Although in reality your exchange of gaze did not last more than two minutes.

Percival with his protective arm around you, looked at the man younger than him, he growled. He understood why a second tent was present. Prince Daemon Targaryen would participate in his games, and this no longer in Percival. The prince since the appointment of Viserys as successor to the throne, was in dispute with the royal family, rumors about his adventures in the bordelles spanked numerous as his disrespect for people he did not see as his equal, refusing the arranged marriage with Lady Rhea Royce. The rogue prince was not someone the fathers wanted their daughters to meet. Percival though merely your protector feared that the prince would fall under his spell, not for the punishment he would have had, but he only wanted to protect you.

---

On the first night, Y/f/n ordered his knights and servants to keep you inside your tent, refusing to let you speak to anyone before he begins the bargain of your future marriage. He didn’t want you to undermine his progress, not noticing your look lost in the void.

Although you could not get out of the tent, the servants kept the entrance open allowing everyone to see what was happening outside, finding agreements with the servants of the nearby noble houses to say nothing to their lords.

You were sitting near the entrance and looking out, seeing that the movements of the day had faded by the time the noblest houses had come to the opening dinner of the games. You kept hoping you could see the silver-haired man again before your father came back, but he didn’t seem to have left his tent.

This is what you believed, because under a cloak with the hood up, the young prince was out, wanting to enjoy the night outside the large camp. He saw you from the corner of his eye, a servant was taking care of your hair (long/short, thin/thick, lise/curly/frizzy, etc.) y/hair/c.

Daemon was intrigued, he had already met your father on very rare occasions, as well as your half-brother. Oh more than once, the desire for murder had risen in his mind, he could still bear the Baratheons, but these two men, were detestable. Daemon wondered who this round young woman was, having never heard of her. Something in her attracted him, but he did not know what it was and he did not like it.

---

The night gave way to the days, the first games started at dawn, the archery tournament was on the outskirts of the city, long lines of targets next to each other butted in front of wooden bleachers. Ropes prevented the peasants from meeting the nobles. Your house was divided in two, the closest to the ground you were sitting with your servant, you had to keep your head low, feeling the heavy look of your father in the back, this one was two rows above you.

Daemon, from his place, standing back from the royal family, held a goblet of wine in his left hand, he tried to keep his gaze in the direction of the archers who were advancing, but was without hope. His gaze turned away at the slightest opportunity in your direction, he could see that since night, your posture had changed. From a straight posture, you had bent the spine letting appear some curves that he had not yet seen and which did not displease him, observing what was behind you, he saw Y/f/n, of which the black look was directed in your direction, while he seemed to speak with the lord next to him. Daemon despised this scene.

“You seem to be more interested in the Y/h/n house than in the tournament, my prince.” a lord who Daemon had forgotten the name, just spoken.

"If you please, my prince, it would seem that Lord Y/h/n wishes to bride his daugther although with her age I doubt that the lords are interested, they prefer them younger."

This lord annoyed Daemon, whether by his words or by his innuendo.

“At the same time, what did he think of his daughter, she only whas the second child, and of a second wife, his son will inherit everything.”

The second child… Daemon knew what it was like to be the second, more than anyone else.

---

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x chubby reader #daemon x chubby reader #daemon targeryen x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction

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humanpurposes · 11 months

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My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part iv, modern!Aemond

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // For fear that you'll find out, how I'm imagining you

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, smut, cursed dinner party, toxic family dynamics, Targaryen men being the worst

Words: 5700

A/n: Also available to read on AO3. And I made a Series Playlist :)

Over the last two months, finishing her thesis, taking exams, sending off masters applications and keeping track of a boyfriend has left little room in her mind for Aemond Targaryen.

For the last month or so she’s hardly even seen him. On the weekdays she gets up early and spends all day in the library. On the weekends she goes to Cregan’s place in central. He goes to the gym with Jace on Saturday morning and on Sundays he usually has a rugby match. Between that they watch movies in his room, go for drinks with his friends and sometimes she drags him around her favourite museums.

The sex is good. For a bulky guy with a nose piercing and sleeve tattoos of wolves and weirwood trees, Cregan is surprisingly gentle. He makes her cum on his tongue, then he leans over to fuck her with his hands pressed into the mattress, looking between her eyes and the space where their bodies meet. He doesn’t say much, a few strained “oh Gods” and a grunted “fuck” when he comes. When they’re done he falls into the bed beside her, throwing an arm around her while he rambles about whatever happens to be on his mind, exams, internships, summer plans…

She’s happy to rest her head against him, listening to the humming of his chest as he speaks, letting it lull her as she slips into her own mind. Sometimes she still feels a little empty when it’s over and doesn’t have the energy to go for another round. She puts it down to stress. Or hormones. Or something.

Now, being on the other side of everything she realises time is passing too quickly for her liking.

Joan Jett blasts through the car speakers while Alys and Cregan go on about the season finale of some drama series she’s not kept up with.

Alys loves Cregan. Everyone loves Cregan because he’s a people person. He speaks to everyone he meets like they’re already lifelong friends and he has a remarkable talent for finding common interests. If she were cynical she would say he’s palatable.

The weather has been perfect so far, bright and sunny but with enough of a breeze that the heat isn’t unbearable. Ideal for the graduation ceremony.

She looks through the recent photos in her phone. She took a few nice ones of the Sept, the nave lined with columns and towering statues of the Seven watching over the cohort of students in red and black robes. She keeps swiping through photos of her and some of her classmates on the front steps tossing their hats in the air, a few of her and Joanna, one of her and Cregan, and one of her and Alys.

Sometimes she thinks she looks nothing like her mother, but when they smile they look strikingly similar.

Everything had paid off in the end, the study dates with Joanna, the all-nighters, the last minute breakdowns crying over the kitchen counter with Alys. But she’s proud that she did it all on her own. Especially given how helpful Aemond had been last year. Just thinking about it makes her heart sink.

He’d been living with them for a few months by then. They were comfortable with each other, existing in the same spaces, eating dinner and watching movies together when Alys was out or working late.

Sometimes he’d put his arm around the back of the sofa, letting her lean into him while they watched 90s thrillers, leaning into her every so often to make a joke or a profound observation. They could analyse movies forever, staying up late until their eyes were tired, leaning in closer and closer and never really realising it.

And then when exams came around, the stress just got to her. “It’s half the suffering,” Alys insisted, “you’re not doing yourself any favours, so don’t do it.” Easier said than done.

There was one particular module on Conflicts in the Modern Era that was chipping away at her sanity. It was her last exam of the year and every time she went over her notes she just felt hopeless.

Aemond offered to help her study. He had loads of notes and old assignments on his laptop from his undergrad and his masters. They spent hours in the dining room, going over readings and practice questions.

He would sit next to her, leaning over every so often to read through what she was working on. Every hand on her shoulder, every reassuring “hmm,” or utterance of “good girl,” when she got something right sent shivers down her spine.

She knew it was wrong, but she didn’t exactly want it to stop.

The exam ended up going a lot better than she anticipated. She opened the paper and instantly saw that, by some miracle, there were a few questions similar to the ones she had done with Aemond.

She came home ecstatic. Alys was at work but Aemond was home, loitering in the kitchen. She practically leapt into his arms when she saw him, telling him every detail she could think of with a huge smile on her face.

Aemond’s hands settled on her waist. He leaned into her until all she could see were his bright, blue eyes. “I’m so proud of you baby,” he said in a voice that made her breathless.

He leaned in further until his lips were on hers, soft and warm, kissing her tentatively. She thought it might be over quickly, until she reached up, teasing her fingertips over the nape of his neck while his grip on her waist tightened, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper.

When they pulled away, both a little breathless, he rested his forehead against her and smiled. She smiled back.

But she snaps out of that trance when she realises they’re pulling into the driveway.

She looks across at Alys for a moment, laughing at something Cregan just said.

Her chest feels like it might crush under the weight of it all, but time presses on and things seem to be moving forward for the better. She’s happy with Cregan. Who wouldn’t be? He’s funny, smart, maybe a little over confident at times but she can forgive that. And she’s got the whole summer before she starts her masters. With Cregan in the picture she figured she might as well stay at KLU. He’s been trying to convince her to move in the flat with him. There’s no reason not to, it’s close to campus, his flatmates are nice and they seem to keep the place clean. She keeps saying she’ll think about it.

He reaches for her hand as Alys leads them through the front door.

The house looks immaculate and it fills her with dread.

Alys has decided to use her graduation as an opportunity to host a family dinner. Maybe she’s intending it to be a grand offering of peace, maybe she just wants to show off, or maybe she’s just lost her mind because putting two halves of a warring family in the same room seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Not to mention she’ll have to introduce everyone to Cregan.

The dreamy rhythm of a Mazzy Star song drifts from the kitchen. Aemond is leaning over the counter, in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, prepping a rack of lamb. She tries not to look at his hands as he takes pinches of salt, pepper and spices between his fingers.

Alys heads straight for the vodka, offering a round of martinis before the dreaded guests arrive.

She and Cregan both decline politely, and when Alys turns to Aemond he purses his lips. “I don’t drink vodka martinis.”

Alys rolls her eyes. “Thinks he’s so sophisticated,” she says to Cregan.

Cregan chuckles and plants a light kiss to her cheek, muttering about taking a shower and disappears down the hall.

Her eyes meet Aemond’s for a moment. He smiles sincerely. He’s playing one of her favourite songs.

She tells her mother she’s going to get dressed, and feels Aemond’s eyes following her as she heads upstairs.

When she gets to her room she puts her graduation robes on a hanger and lies on the bed in the black slip dress she wore underneath. Something’s pressing awkwardly into her back, Cregan’s jeans and t-shirt. She tosses them across the room and falls back against the mattress, staring at the ceiling and listening to the hum of the shower.

Is it unfair to hate someone for listening to a song? Did he remember it was her favourite or was it a lucky guess? Maybe he was trying to tease her, or else it could have just been a coincidence, but that doesn’t seem like him. Aemond rarely does anything accidentally.

Cregan saunters in with a towel around his hips. He looks down at his clothes on the floor in front of the door. “Not where I left them,” he mutters.

She pretends not to hear him.

He gets dressed quickly, all he has to do is put on his jeans and clean white shirt.

“How many people are coming tonight?” He asks, spraying some perfume on his pulse points.

She keeps her eyes on the ceiling. “Viserys, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jace, Baela, Aegon and Helaena.” Luke and Rhaena were going to stay home with Joffrey, and Daeron would still be in Sunspear until the end of the month. Just as well, there would already be too many people to keep track of.

“I hear some of the family stuff from Jace,” Cregan says, “sounds like a mess.”

She hums to herself. “Oh, you have no idea.”

She takes her hair out of its low bun and fixes it into a more casual look, leaving it mostly loose but out of her face. Her makeup has managed to survive the day pretty well. She touches up her blush and wipes away her lipstick, applying a sweet tasting cherry lipbalm instead.

When they reappear in the kitchen Alys is nowhere to be found but Aegon and Helaena have already arrived.

Aegon and Cregan pair up nicely, swigging bottles of beer while Aemond pours out three gin and tonics.

She compliments Helaena’s patterned skirt and red boots. In return she admires her dress. “You two are matching,” she says, as Aemond hands them both their drinks.

He raises his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth are tight. “Happy coincidence.”

“Black’s not exactly a fashion statement,” she adds, taking a sip.

Aemond hums in agreement.

She takes a breath to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “How are you doing?” She asks Helaena, “didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the wedding.”

Helaena’s doing a PhD in Etymology at Highgarden, between that and her various art projects she seems happy, but something’s off. She’s never exactly been outgoing but she seems particularly timid, wide eyes darting constantly to Aemond and Aegon. She’s nervous, but in all fairness they all are. Or they should be.

While Helaena goes on about species of butterflies, she finds her attention almost completely on Aemond, his hand gripping his glass in the corner of her eye, the sound of his breath, those well timed hums and the smell of his aftershave. She takes another sip of her drink to steady her nerves, hoping neither of them notice her hand trembling as she brings the glass to her lips.

Eventually Alys waltzes in with Rhaenyra, Daemon, Baela and Jace following behind her. That seems like a good opportunity to escape. She goes to hug Jace and Baela, and follows them when they go to stand with Aegon and Cregan.

The tension is palpable, Alys having a stiff conversation with Rhaenyra, Daemon lurking at the edge of the room with a glass of whisky, and Jace stealing glances over her shoulder, at Aemond and Helaena.

She catches whispers of their conversation but nothing tangible.

“What’s your problem?” Baela hisses to Jace.

He tuts. “He’s staring daggers at me, fuck’s sake.”

Aegon’s lips thin. He excuses himself curtly and joins his siblings by the glass doors to the garden.

Their little group falls to an uneasy silence.

“Well done, dickhead,” Baela says, rolling her eyes.

Cregan gives her a confused look. She puts her hand on his shoulder and comes onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I’ll show you the powerpoint presentation later.”

Somehow the mood only gets colder when Viserys and Alicent walk through the door. It’s almost pitiful, watching Rhaenyra and Daemon trying to win his attention while Alicent keeps her hand on her husband’s shoulder, muttering into his ear whenever she can.

Not speaking to Aemond has meant she’s mostly been out of the loop, but she can guess they’ve not moved past the dispute over Viserys’ will.

Helaena and Aegon both go to greet their parents. It’s cordial at best, light hugs and pecks on the cheek, and Viserys shakes Aegon’s hand like this is the first time they’ve met. Aemond doesn’t go near them.

The lack of warmth is only more noticeable when Viserys greets Jace and Baela with open arms and a pleasant smile. He hugs her too, congratulating her— after all that is why they’re here— and shakes Cregan’s hand firmly.

She catches Aegon’s eye over his father’s shoulder. He frowns, almost comically and goes to find another bottle of beer.

Before long Alys ushers them all into the dining room.

Alys and Viserys sit at the two heads of the table and the others fill in around them. When they see Alicent has taken the seat to Viserys’ right, Rhaenyra and Daemon move to the other end of the table. Helaena sits next to her dad and they both smile vaguely. Aemond, rather diplomatically, takes a central seat between Aegon and Rhaenyra.

In an attempt to avoid sitting across from either of his uncles, Jace settles next to Alys, and once Cregan sits next to him, the only free seat is directly opposite Aemond. She sits down without a fuss.

Once everyone is a bit more settled, Aemond and Alys go back to the kitchen to bring in small plates of salad and seared tuna.

It starts off with smalltalk. Cregan and Jace are muttering to each other on her left, while Baela and Helaena have a friendly catch up to her right, leaving her to prod at her starter, waiting for an appetite to appear.

She doesn’t dare to look up past the space in front of her plate, or the pair of eyes she can feel burning into her.

Once they’re finished, the plates are whisked away and Aemond presents them with lamb chops, fondant potatoes and summer greens, while Alys pours out glasses of red wine.

Viserys’ knife scratches against his plate as he carves into the meat. “Really excellent lamb, Alys.”

“Aemond did the food,” she says.

He pauses, looks down at his plate and carries on eating.

She hears Jace whispering something into Cregan’s ear and they both grunt in amusement.

“Something funny?” Aegon asks sharply, reaching for his glass.

She finally looks across the table. Aegon’s face is a dangerous mix of anger and anticipation.

“Just admiring Aemond’s culinary skills,” Jace muses, spearing a cut of lamb on his fork, “didn’t realise he’d gone domestic.”

“Jacaerys,” Rhaenyra hisses.

Aegon huffs but keeps his mouth shut with a stern look from Aemond.

Viserys’ attention suddenly latches onto his grandson. The rest of the table falls quiet while he asks Jace about his exam results. 65 average. Just a few marks off a first.

Aegon nudges his brother but Aemond doesn’t react.

Their father seems to notice. “Jacaerys is shadowing me for the summer,” he says pointedly.

Aegon finishes off his glass and immediately refills it.

“Not coming to Dragonstone, then?” Helaena pipes up in a brighter tone, leaning to look at Jace.

The ancestral home of the Targaryen family, a beautiful estate along the coast outside the city. It’s more of a castle than a house really, passed down the generations over centuries. They use it as a holiday home now.

She went with the Strongs one summer. Ten weeks of beach trips, reading by the pool and fresh seafood for dinner every evening. It was the first time she really remembers meeting the Targaryen siblings. Aemond seemed so quiet then, always with his nose in a book. It feels like a lifetime ago now.

Cregan’s voice in her ear takes her by surprise. “You alright?” He asks, stroking his hand along the silky black fabric on her thigh. “You looked a bit lost there for a moment.”

She can see Aemond looking at her in the corner of her eye. “I’m fine,” she says, pushing Cregan’s hand away.

“We’re just a little busy at the moment,” Rhaenyra says, “work is… hectic.”

Alicent visibly bristles.

“Might make it down for a few weeks, if the boss lets me off,” Jace says.

“I’m excited to have you,” Viserys says, “good to get him used to the order of things nice and early.”

“Yeah, amazing what you can do when you have everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter,” Aegon says, casually taking a long draw from his glass.

Alicent and Rhaenyra look horrified. Daemon and Viserys are both clenching their fists.

“He says as if Otto Hightower didn’t have to buy him a place at KLU,” Jace retorts.

Aegon shrugs. “So what if he did? Got the degree, didn’t I?”

“And what have you done with it?” Viserys says in a scathing voice, “bought a flat with my money. Drank and screwed your way through life with no concern for your career or your family.”

Aegon tuts. “The fuck does that mean, family?”

“Leave it,” Aemond mutters and the table settles into an uncomfortable quiet.

“At least Jace has some direction,” Viserys says, breaking the silence. For a moment his eyes dart to his wife.

Alicent’s brown eyes are wide and glassy. “And my children don’t?”

She watches Aemond’s lips flicker into a sneer before he composes himself and goes back to staring vacantly at his untouched glass.

“That’s not what I meant, love–”

Daemon chuckles quietly. “And yet…”

Alicent slams her knife against the table with a jarring clatter. “Maybe they would have amounted to something more if you had shown even the slightest bit of interest in your own children!”

A chair scrapes against the floor and Helaena’s silver hair billows behind her as she leaves the dining room.

Baela grabs her wrist and pulls her to stand. “Excuse us,” she says sweetly. Not that anyone will hear her over the shouting match brewing between Alicent and Daemon.

They find Helaena in the lounge, on the sofa, picking at her nails.

“Hey,” Baela whispers, coming to hold her hands so she stops.

Helaena looks up at them with glistening blue eyes and a trembling lip. It’s the first time she’s really seen the resemblance between her and Alicent.

Raised voices echo from down the hall. By the sounds of things Aegon and Viserys have joined in too.

Helaena releases her hands from Baela’s and presses her palms to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she says, taking a few shallow gasps. “I just don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Baela hums in agreement.

Tears start to trickle from her eyes. “I used to love hanging out with you and Jace and everyone. I don’t understand… what did we do wrong?”

She isn’t sure what to do. She feels so helpless just watching Helaena as she starts to cry. Baela sits next to her and puts her arm around her shoulders.

And while the arguing persists, Helaena eventually starts to calm down a little, wiping her tears on her sleeve and leaning into Baela. “We missed dessert,” she sighs.

“We have ice-cream in the freezer,” she says, “strawberry or vanilla?”

And just like that her face lights up. “Both.”

“Noted. Baela?”

Baela smiles sympathetically. “Strawberry please.”

She catches fragments of the insults being thrown around the dining room as she walks past. “Hightower leech”, “spoiled cunt”.

She sees a figure in a black shirt through the frosted glass door to the kitchen. She holds her breath as she opens the door.

Aemond is leaning over the counter, fiddling with a packet of cigarettes. He looks up as soon as he hears the door. She lets it close behind her and leans against it.

He stares at her with a tight jaw, a sad little pout on his lips and a slight scrunch in his nose. Despite everything she can’t help but feel sorry for him.

She tuts to herself and goes to place two bowls and two spoons on the counter, avoiding Aemond’s gaze.

Not my problem.

She goes towards the freezer and hears Aemond sigh heavily behind her. She hovers her hand over the handle.

Not my problem. Not my problem. Not my problem.

“Is it stupid of me to ask if you’re alright?” She asks, turning to fave him.

One of his wide plams is pressed against the counter, his legs crossed casually at the ankle. “No.”

“And are you alright?”

His nostrils flare as he takes a slow breath. “I told her this would be a bad idea,” he says, tapping the box against the counter. “But what do I know, it’s only my fucking family.”

The way the light shines on his face makes the scar over his left eye seem like a shadow. She’s never asked about the details of what happened, but then he doesn’t like to talk about it.

Two months ago she would have held his hand or pulled him into her arms when he was this anxious.

But things have changed now.

“Aemond, I–”

“Babe?”

She whips her head round to see Cregan and Jace standing in the doorway. Guilt twinges in her chest and she doesn’t know why. A conversation is nothing to be ashamed of, surely? She hadn’t even heard the door open.

“Baela and Helaena are in the lounge, right?” Cregan asks.

“Yeah,” she says, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

They both glare at Aemond before they leave. When she turns to face him, he’s looking back with a cold indifference.

“He seems nice,” Aemond says once they're gone. “Palatable.”

She starts to drag her teeth over her bottom lip but stops herself. Aemond’s eyes are so intense, glaring from across the room with a dangerous look of fury and sadness. That’s exactly how he looked at her, the night of the wedding, when they were in her hotel room. When he asked her about Cregan then she liked how it made him jealous.

Her blood starts to simmer, a feeling that cuts deeper and hurts more than hate. “Is this it then?” She says.

His brows scrunch into a frown, but his wide eyes seem more bewildered than anything. “What do you mean?”

It’s like a switch clicks in her brain and something in her heart dies. These last few weeks, even with things going so well with Cregan, she’s carried Aemond with her, hoping that one day she’d wake up and things would have worked out differently. It’s what she’s been doing for the last year anyway, she just never managed to break the habit.

It has to end somewhere, the lying, the guilt, and the naivety that she meant something more to him than a pretty face and a convenient fuck.

She needs to let go and she’s known that for a long time.

“Forget it. You’ve made your side of things clear,” she says, her voice starting to tremble. “This was never going to end well and I should have thought about that before I led myself on.”

She takes a step towards the door but he’s in front of her, keeping her between the freezer and the counter.

“Do you love him?” Aemond mutters, quickly and quietly.

She can feel her heart beating in her throat.

“Do I… what?”

He takes advantage of her hesitation. His hand clamps around her wrist as he moves to the door. It takes a few moments to realise he’s dragging her with him.

The door to the lounge is shut. She hears Cregan’s booming laugh on the other side as Aemond leads her further along the hallway.

And suddenly they’re in the downstairs bathroom. She stands in front of the sink, staring at her own reflection as the lock clicks.

She watches Aemond in the mirror. The room is small and narrow, even when he’s standing by the door he’s close. Then he starts to close the distance between them with slow, taunting steps until he’s standing over her.

She can feel him and smell his aftershave, the bitterness of gin and the sweetness of red wine.

There’s that dark look in his eye again, determined, and hungry.

“Did you really think I’d let you keep up this pathetic little act?” He murmurs, eyes fixed on hers through the glass.

“What act?”

She lets out a little gasp when he places a hand on her hip and pushes his hips against her, grinding a growing hardness against her so subtly he might not be moving at all.

He leans into her but no part of him makes contact with her skin. She shudders at the heat of his breath running over her ear, neck and shoulders. “I said you were needy, didn’t I?”

Her shoulders flinch when a single fingertip touches the nape of her neck. He draws it gradually along her spine as she desperately resists the urge to cry out at the tingling sensation it brings, arching against him because her body has nowhere else to go.

“And so sensitive,” he says and stops just as he reaches her lower back. “It was all for me, wasn’t it? The crop tops, the staring, even Stark, you just wanted a reaction.”

She’s always been a good liar but when she opens her mouth to reply she finds she just can’t do it. She doesn’t want to, not when he places his hand on her side and traces over the curves of her waist, her hips, the pouch of her stomach and her thighs. It’s been so long since they’ve been this close, and it’s not close enough.

“You stopped wanting me,” she breathes.

“Stupid little slut,” he says, leaning his chin over her shoulder. He starts dragging both hands down her thighs, taking the hem of her dress with him as he moves back up. “How could I ever stop wanting you?” His voice is harsh and hypnotic all at once. Cold and unforgiving. It sets her skin alight and leaves her wanting more.

But it doesn’t make sense. He was the one who left the hotel room.

“I don’t understand… this isn’t fair.”

“But you and I both know you don’t like to play fair,” he rasps, tracing circles over the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing over the hem of her panties.“I just know these last couple of months have been fucking unbearable without you.”

She bites down on her lip to stop herself whimpering at his touch.

He groans as his head falls against her neck, hands still pawing at her legs and the dress hitched around her waist. “Let me fuck you,” he utters in that low voice that means it’s taking every ounce of effort to hold himself back. “I know what you need. Just be a good girl and let me fuck you.”

Anticipation floods her body. She can feel her self-control slipping. She can’t think straight, can’t think past him or a world beyond this moment.

She wants it too much to feel guilty, for now at least.

“Please,” she utters.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

Suddenly his soft touches are gone and he yanks her panties down to her knees. One hand slides between her legs, prying them open enough so he can circle her clit with the pads of his fingers. The other snakes up her body and takes a gentle hold of her throat.

He finally brings his lips to her cheek. They graze over her skin as he mutters, “you said something to me, that night. What was it?”

She scoffs. “You’re such a cunt.” She can hear how weak her voice is as she says it.

“Mouth on you, baby,” he coos, “come on, I know you remember.”

She shakes her head fervently, hoping she can focus on the movements of his fingers, the pleasure building and building inside her.

“I want to hear you say it, baby.”

She lets herself melt against him, clinging desperately on his arms, breathless but defiant as she meets his eyes in the mirror.

With a short huff he withdraws his hand, but keeps her against him by her neck. He easily undoes the buckle on his belt, bringing his trousers down just enough to free his cock.

She bucks her hips on instinct as he slides the tip through her folds, gathering her wetness, and smiling when he realises responsive she is to him.

“Have you always been this restless? Or have you just missed me?”

Her head hangs slightly as he teases between her entrance and her clit. She can feel how thick his cock is, how hard he is and she already knows it’s going to make her feel so fucking good.

The grip on her neck becomes firmer, demanding her attention back to the mirror. He holds her gaze as he slides into her tight, slick cunt.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, “look at how well you take that.”

He’s right. The sight of her pleading face and parted lips as he holds her and pushes deeper inside of her only adds to her arousal.

He fucks her slowly, precisely, placing a hand on her stomach and pressing into her while the impact of his thrusts are muffled by fabric.

“Can you feel that?” He whispers, “can you feel how tight you are? Can you feel how deep that is?”

“Ah— fuck, yes…” she chokes, savouring the burn and the stretch of his cock as he drags through her walls and hits her sweet spot. When his fingers come back to circle her clit it all becomes so light and perfect and deliciously overwhelming.

“I knew you still wanted me,” he pants between the gentle kisses to her cheek. “Say it.”

“No,” she manages to whimper.

“Say it.”

Her orgasm comes as a sudden burst of warmth and Aemond isn’t far behind, suppressing a grunt as his hips still and his cock throbs inside her.

A few moments pass and he turns her head towards him, keeping his eyes on her lips. He leans in to kiss her and she twists her head to the other side.

“Fucking brat.”

Suddenly he brings her to face him fully, effortlessly lifting her by her thighs to rest her against the edge of the sink.

There’s no teasing this time, no pretence, just need. He pushes himself into her in one cruel snap of his hips.

He’s too impatient to give her time to adjust before he starts to fuck her, fiercely and without mercy, hands digging into the flesh of her rear, pulling her in over and over again. He brings his forehead against hers, glaring into her eyes like he hates her.

But like this she can wrap her arms around his neck, hold him even closer and lose herself in just him.

“All you need to remember is you’re mine. You’re fucking mine and you know it.”

Tears well in her eyes and she can only take what he gives her. “Fuck… Aemond...”

Her climax builds until it’s almost excruciating, and then it tears through her, a release unlike anything she’s known for months. She keeps her arms tight around him, burying her face into his neck as her thighs shake and her whole body tenses and trembles.

Aemond doesn’t stop, fucking her through it until she’s writhing with the overstimulation.

“Too much,” she whines, “fuck it’s too much!”

He clasps a hand over her mouth to muffle her protest, dangerously echoing on the tiled walls and floors. He comes again, gnawing at his lip to keep himself quiet and spilling deep inside her as tears stream from her cheeks.

He admires the mess they’ve made as he pulls out, her cream on his cock and his cum leaking from her quivering cunt. His eyes flicker back to her face, his expression softening and his lips curling into a half smile.

Dazed and still desperate she leans into him, but her lips barely get to graze his before he pulls away.

“Oh now you want to kiss me?”

She frowns, which only seems to amuse him.

By the way he grabs her jaw she doesn’t need to be told what to do. She offers him her tongue and swallows when he spits into her mouth.

A satisfied groan rumbles in his chest and her belly flutters in anticipation, as if he hasn’t just made her come twice, as if she can’t feel his spend starting to drip down her thighs.

He slips her off the sink and kneels down to pull her panties up her legs. Then he fixes her skirt, smoothing down the fabric with his palms.

“You’re going to be civil,” he murmurs, one of his hands coming to fix her hair. “You’re going to go back out there, kiss your boyfriend on the cheek, but I want you to think about me. Think about how good I make you feel. Do you understand?”

She nods.

“Words, baby,” he says as his hand comes to cup her jaw, stroking his thumb over her flushed cheek.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“That’s my good girl,” he says softly, leaning in to plant an almost chaste kiss to her lips.

She tries for more but he steps away, eyes roaming over her to make sure she’s presentable.

With a vague “hmm,” he carefully unlocks the door and slowly steps out. He shoots her a quick wink before he closes the door, his footsteps fading down the hallway back towards the kitchen.

Her legs almost give out underneath her and she clutches the sink to keep herself standing.

That certainly wasn’t how she was expecting this evening to go.

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to show her face and go about pretending like nothing’s happened in front of their families. Maybe she’ll rediscover her ability to lie, kiss Cregan on the cheek and play the part of the sweet girlfriend, but what kind of person will that make her?

She looks at her reflection, at the glimmer of blissful tears and sweat on her face.

A familiar laugh drifts down the hall.

How is she ever going to look her mother in the eye again?

General Taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3

#my fics #aemond targaryen #aemond x original female character #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #modern!aemond #modern au #house of the dragon fanfiction #stepdad!aemond #my heart belongs to daddy

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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

Text

angsty ending (as if)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: sad ending to part three of as if 💔

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 812 words

content/warnings: swearing, mentions of smutty content MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), teasing, angst :(((, rejection, grudges. i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: eddie’s actually the worst i’m so sorry. it’s arguably a really basic ending tbh but to me it’s so heartbreaking idk about y’all.

part one - part two - start of part three - surprise part four based on this ending

Eddie never did work up the nerve to properly ask you what you meant by that blunt reply that one Autumn day. And he really should have rather than let it fester like some sort of black mold in every dark corner of his mind. It made him grow bitter again. He stayed as sweet as he could to keep you wrapped around his finger, but he was really starting to hate you for that day. He hated that you had made him so sweet—even for a moment. He hated that he couldn’t have just simply hated you and bully you only to make you miserable. He hated that deep down he was sure that you only grew to like the excitement of how wrong this all was. After all truly being with him…? As if, right?

You’d grow bored of him by your first semester of college, finding yourself all cozied up to some fucking tool in pre-med or some shit like that. He had to hurt you the way you had hurt him that day in ‘83. He had to hurt you the way he was so sure you’ll hurt him once you realize you want a normal, boring relationship. He thought about it every time you made him smile or his heart ache or his stomach clench—just so angry that he was inevitably temporary to you. A phase in your perfect little world filled with loving parents and white picket fences and your pick of colleges to choose from.

So he fucked everything up. He couldn’t help himself when you presented the opportunity so perfectly. You were half naked in your cutesy bed, all laid out after spending hours fucking off and on. It was a muggy, rainy day and those were the days you felt so domestic with him. Like you were having sex on a calm, Sunday morning in a home you shared while the rain pit-pattered against the windows. So maybe it got to your head, maybe you were actually sincere. Either way, you looked over at him as he smoked over by that window you never locked anymore. (He really wasn’t supposed to be smoking in your room, but at least you got him to stay by the window whenever he did).

“Eddie?” You ask in a soft voice. His head tilts and he looks at you expectantly with a lazy raise of his brows.

“I think I love you…”

Think. Why was that the part he was focusing on? He kept his face neutral and you could hear the crackling end of his cigarette burning as he breathed in. You toyed with your comforter with anxious hands.

“Do… do you love me…?”

It was something you had been thinking about for a while. Something you had wanted to admit for a while. All the time you two spent together was likely more about lust for him than anything else, but you had to tell him how you felt. You needed to see if there was more potential to this than sneaking around. You had been brooding over it for the past few weeks as you started to really consider telling him—actually having had a few failed attempts up your sleeve by now. You felt nauseous when you thought about him not feeling the same way. You tried to keep a rein on your expectations (especially considering this was Eddie you were admitting this to), but sometimes they got away from you. Sometimes you imagined a world where he had also been secretly holding onto a love of his own for you. He had certainly become gentler with you. Kinder, even, so who says he couldn’t love you back? You feared you had let yourself sink into the sunshine and rainbows side of what could be, rather than what was arguably the more realistic side. The one where he laughed off your feelings like it wouldn’t grip onto your lungs and form a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. The one where you wind up all alone, wondering how you could have become so delusional along the way.

Eddie let out a partial snort despite that fiery grip on his heart, looking down at that small hole in the bottom of his boxers then looked over at you—taking you all in before your expression crumbled from four simple, cruel words. Before you try to laugh it off and say Eddie, I’m being serious (you had hoped his smirk at his own response was a sign of playfulness rather than smug maliciousness). Before he shrugs you off to flick his cigarette outside to fizzle out in the rain. Before leaving you all alone with a whiplash that you feared you gave yourself by driving too fast towards the sunshine and rainbows with someone who really never would’ve let you get too far.

“Love you? As if.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #bully!eddie munson #mean!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson #stranger things x reader #as if eddie munson #stranger things imagine #as if eddiessluttywaist #as if part 3 #as if part 3 eddiessluttywaist #as if angst

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moonlit-midnight · 1 year

Text

Like the ocean loves the shoreline

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech.

Genre: Hurt Comfort, Platonic Fluff, Friendship.

Summary: In which your best friends saw you at your worst many times, but they will always love you even after the waves stop crashing the shore.

Warnings: Reader is a female, and is half mermaid half human. Mentions of mental disorders and bullying.

—

Floyd knew it was getting worse for you again.

You might be a master at fabricating cheerful smiles, forcing laughter and pretending to be happy, but you cannot fake your illness.

Your attempts at masking your depressive state was in vain because he was quick to caught on your self-destructive behaviors.

He didn’t fail detecting your constant procrastination, refusing to take your medication at times, and your recent compulsive activities such as gaming from 12 midnight until 4 in the morning.

Your happy-go-lucky public façade masked your anguish, but Floyd could clearly see the distress in your eyes and your difficulty to manage your negative emotions in private.

“There you are, starfish.”

Floyd caught you one Sunday midnight, sitting in the dimness of the eerily quiet lounge, crying with a cereal bowl on your lap.

“Why are you looking for me?” You wiped your tears with the sleeve of your oversized purple hoodie which belongs to Floyd.

“Just wanted to check on you. Looks like you’re taking a break from your unhealthy gaming sessions.” He said in a serious tone, eyeing your untouched cereal.

“Guess I’m busted.” You sniffed, setting the bowl down on the table.

“You don’t have to endure it alone. We’re here for you no matter what.” Floyd brushed the tears rolling down your pallid cheeks. “I know that you’re so tired of relapsing, but you’ll get better one day. Remember that recovery is a journey, not a destination.”

“I know.” You nodded, a hiccupped sob escaping your lips.

The teal-haired merman smiled at you before his strong arms carefully lifted you in a bridal carry. You let yourself snuggle against him as he carried you to his room.

There was no way he would let you sleep in your room tonight.

He was sure that you would slip out of bed at 1 or 2 in the morning to continue your gaming until the sun rises.

Your unhealthy ways of coping might not eventually come to a stop, but Floyd would be there to help you step by step until you see the light again.

★ —

Jade knew that you were sleep deprived and being haunted by your past nightmares again.

Your thick concealer might perfectly hide the dark circles beneath your eyes, but if he looked a little closer, he would fully notice the anxiety, the exhaustion and the fear that swirled deep in your eyes.

His suspicions were confirmed when you asked him if you could stay over at his room for a a few days.

Every time your horrid and dreadful nightmares came back, you would seek comfort from none other than Jade.

There was something about him that put you at peace.

“Can’t sleep, my precious pearl?”

At the sound of his calm yet concerned voice, you stopped tossing and turning.

“I’m scared.” You inched closer to him, cuddling his side.

“Don’t be afraid,” He let you bury your face on his chest, his left hand gently cradling the back of your head. “I’ll fight your bad dreams off and chase away your demons if they come to get you.”

“Thank you, Jade.” You murmured, listening closely to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat like a child holding a seashell to their ears.

In a matter of minutes, you fell asleep and the terror gnawing your mind for the past two weeks was slowly lulled to slumber.

“I’m always here for you.” Jade whispered as he kissed the crown of your head.

★ —

Azul knew that you were being bullied and oppressed again.

He noticed that you wouldn’t leave the classroom unless he was with you.

He noticed how you would constantly grab his hand to rush back to the dorm during dismissal time, how you kept your distance when walking the school hallways, and perpetually avoiding people’s gaze in the lounge and the cafeteria.

He found you one late night, crouched down on the cold marble floor in the corridor of the dorm.

You were sobbing, head hanging low and shoulders shaking with every sob escaping your lips.

You didn’t notice that Azul was there until you felt him wrapping his warm coat around your trembling figure, and his gloved hands cradling your tear-stained face in the most gentle way.

Your body felt sluggish and worn out, so you slumped against the silver haired merman, your delicate arms looped around his neck.

He placed a firm hand on your waist to keep you steady while his other hand patted your back to soothe your tremors.

Once your crying stopped and your mind calmed, you spilled your heart out.

The same bullies were bullying you once more.

You thought it won’t happen again after your three best friends; Azul and the Leech brothers threatened your oppressors many times, but you were wrong.

Those jerks wouldn’t stop bothering you over things that didn’t concern them.

They would pick on you when nobody’s around, and they would rudely question your sanity for hanging out with Azul and the twins.

Well, the three mermen were your real friends and your companions for as long as you could remember. Only the ones who were truly close to them were allowed to see their true selves and the goodness of their hearts.

Your bullies knew nothing. It was none of their business, so you weren’t obliged to answer their stupid questions or respond to their insults.

“Did they hurt you physically?” Azul asked anxiously, blue eyes burning with anger.

It caught his attention that you’ve been wearing pants instead of skirts recently.

“Y-yes,” You weakly nodded.

Days ago, a few of your bullies secretly followed you to the swimming pool club which had no members but you.

You were in mermaid form when you took a swim when they jumped on you out of nowhere.

They poked your scales and tugged at your tail, it was painful that it left marks of wounds and bruises on your human legs.

Azul was absolutely appalled and aggravated by these lunatics.

“Leave this to me. I’ll teach them a lesson they’ll never forget, and I assure you no harm will come your way ever again.” Azul tenderly stroked your hair as he whispered his promise.

★ —

After a year and a few months, your mental state and physical health were both improving bit by bit.

Your moods were getting better, and your heavy heart was starting to feel lighter again.

Although you still had moments of failure, your state of mind was stable and at peace at last.

It was all thanks to your efforts to better yourself, to lead a healthy lifestyle and your bravery to strike back at your illnesses.

Besides, you didn’t endure it alone. Azul, Jade and Floyd were there, always ready to lend you a helping hand and supporting you in your long journey to healing and recovery.

Your three best friends were like a sunrise and a bright blue sky, always giving you hope.

“Guys, she’s really getting better.” Floyd barged into the VIP room while he was on his shift.

“She’s finally laughing, isn’t she?” A smile graced Azul’s face, peering up from the stacks of papers he was sorting alongside Jade.

“She is.” Floyd nodded enthusiastically, beckoning the two boys to follow his lead.

Exiting the VIP room, they made their way to the kitchen.

There you were, sitting comfortably on the floor, watching your favorite comedy show on your phone.

Your face was glowing beautifully, and your head was thrown back each time you laughed, a laugh no longer fake or forced.

Azul, Jade and Floyd observed you from the doorway, their hearts lighting up with joy and gladness from seeing your genuine happy self again.

It felt nice hearing you laughing cheerfully and smiling brightly without a care in the world once again.

“Care to join me, guys?”

The three mermen jumped on their spot, your sweet voice snapping them out from their daze.

Your eyes was focused on your phone, but you could sense Azul, Jade and Floyd watching you with their affectionate gazes.

“Sure thing.” They said in unison as they joined you sitting on the floor.

The four of you were huddled together, leaning into one another as you continued watching your favorite comedy show.

Then and there, you would giggle and laugh heartily alongside the boys.

Your laughter was like a mellow tune playing on a warm spring afternoon, and the boys relished the happy and delightful sound.

Slowly, slowly but steadily, you were finally blooming like a spring wildflower after all these hardships.

#🌸hannah’s musings #twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanfic #twst scenarios #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x fluff #floyd leech x fluff #jade leech x fluff #azul ashengrotto x fluff #twst x angst #floyd leech #jade leech #azul ashengrotto #octavinelle

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passivenovember · 1 year

Text

Billy opens the black velvet box and says nothing.

Steve wrings his hands. Thinks about wrining his own neck. He runs through everything Robin said to him, every ending to every nightmare he's ever had about this moment and locks those thoughts out in the cold.

This is the worst and hardest and most--

Terrifying thing Steve will ever do.

He counts to fifty. Thinks, if he can make it through this promise he can make it through anything.

And Billy doesn't get it.

His knuckles are white on the lip of the coffee table, sock feet peeking gently from where they're tucked against Billy's pajama pants, and.

His cheeks are red and pillow lined. Nap-fresh. Babyfaced.

And it hits Steve right through the center of the chest. It's like taking a nail gun to the upper lip, stubbing every toe on each foot against a wall that's caught fire-

Steve loves him.

More than anything.

And, he used to think that was a figure of speech. I love you more than anything--that it wasn't possible for a man to love someone more than he loves the sound of his grandmother's Sunday service voice, or the first winter frost, or the amber tint of the sky at dusk--

But. Billy wets his lips. "I don't know what it means," He admits finally.

And Steve loves him.

More than--

"Anything," Steve hears himself say. His mouth is dry, cotton all the way down. "It means anything you want it to. Anything you want to give me."

Because it doesn't matter, what Billy's answer is. If he shuts the velvet-lined box and tilts it back across the table. If he gets up and puts his boots on and stomps out the front door and never comes back ever again, because.

"I got it for you because we're too young to get married," Steve tells the coffee table. "Because I just wanted you to know that I would if I could. Because you're. Everything."

Steve's heart bangs on his uvula. Asks to be let out along with his breakfast and all his fear, where it sits bottled in the back of his throat.

Billy sits like that for a long time. Civilizations rise and fall around them. They both turn to stone, to pillars of salt, to galaxies full of stars, and back again, until.

Billy puts the ring on his finger.

Billy puts the ring on his finger, and the entire ocean of love inside of this room, this house on Hawkins hill, calms.

It sleeps, lapping gently at Steve's own left hand when Billy takes it and nestles the matching ring where it belongs.

Steve is swallowed whole

#harringrove #idk what this is!#hope you're all having such a lovely night #<3 <3 <3

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pianokantzart · 8 months

Text

A Picture of Wealth

A quick oneshot for a possible beginning of a Luigi's Mansion movie. Not particularly exciting, but if you like quiet Mario and Luigi slice of life stuff you'll probably like this. I started writing this a while ago, but this post by @theangelofangst inspired me to finish it. AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49496971

_____________________________

After waving ‘goodbye’ to the Mail Toad, Luigi popped open the mailbox and pulled out a stack of envelopes. He scanned them for a moment, loosely sorting them in his mind. It was easy to tell what came from The Mushroom Kingdom and what came from Brooklyn; bright, pastel colored envelopes and fountain pen clashing against cold copy-pasted text on plain white. There was a ‘thank you’ card from a neighboring toad whose sink they had fixed free of charge, a little flier advertising a free upcoming performance in the square, and a pretty, pink envelope embossed with a crown, whose handiwork was easy to recognize. Even the bills were friendly and personable, though they formed as much of a pit in his stomach as the cold typeface from Brooklyn.

For Mario and Luigi, living on their own had been an adjustment, and having an actual income was a serious learning curve. There was an initial high of having money in their pockets, which led to a spending spree to replace much of their oldest tools and equipment before independent living’s new stack of expenses hit them like a train. Still, they had been fairly cautious. Despite a few poor initial decisions they would’ve had enough money to stay out of the red… had it not been for one giant curveball that had been thrown at them.

Luigi stepped back through the front door into the kitchen where Mario sat at the table, hatless and disheveled, hunched over a computer and a stack of papers where he’d been since sunrise. One hand tapped a pencil against a notepad, the other pressed their shared cellphone to his ear.

“Dad, it’s alright. You need it more than we do,” Mario said, “No, forget it, I- no, it’s not a loan.” Luigi couldn’t help but smile as he peeked around the doorway and listened in. It sounded like their father had discovered the check they sent them, and was reacting about as expected. He at least sounded lively from what he could overhear… when they first got the news that he was staying in the hospital for a few days, Mario and Luigi feared the worst. Luckily, it seemed their dad had the family’s hereditary trait of being able to bounce back from just about anything, the bad news was that despite twenty five straight years of company loyalty, getting the help owed to him by the insurance was like pulling teeth.

“Look, I’m a little busy. We’ll talk about it at Sunday lunch, okay?” Mario sighed, “Yeah. Okay. You too. Bye, Dad.” With that he hung up, and set the phone to the side.

“Sounds like he’s feeling better” Luigi laughed, finally stepping into the kitchen to deliver the mail to the table. “Yep.” Mario replied with a tired chuckle, barely even glancing up from his work. “Not well enough to work yet though, as much as he wants to.” “Did the check get deposited?” “Mom managed it under his nose, but it might be the only check that goes through for us this month if I don’t figure something out.” Mario sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, “Ugh, why did I replace our van’s entire engine. All it needed was a few new spark plugs!” “The Garrisons still owe us for rerouting their fountain." Luigi assured, "I’ll send them an invoice.” He stopped for a moment and looked over Mario’s workspace: every possible refund for unnecessary expenses noted and listed, every document scattered about like the stress of the room had caused a miniature explosion on the kitchen table, a mustard-stained receipt for a strap wrench having made it all the way to the empty dishes from lunchtime. Luigi reached over his brother’s shoulder to retrieve the dishes and arrange some of the papers into neat little piles. Mario leaned to the side to give him room.

“You know,” Luigi began hesitantly, “maybe we should ask Princess Peach if-” “We are not asking the princess for money.” Mario interrupted. “No no… I mean, maybe she can void our water bill or something?” “She gave us a free house Luigi! You really think it’s right to ask her for more.” “Maybe?" Luigi shrugged, "I mean, protecting the kingdom has kind of interfered with our work schedule.” “We do that because it’s right, Luigi, not for a paycheck.” “I know!” Luigi raised his voice a little in frustration. He stepped away from the table to deliver the empty plate and glass to the sink, rinsing them off and scrubbing them a little too aggressively to let off steam, “But I’m sure if we explain our situation, she can do something.” “I told you, the answer is no. We’re not bumming off of anyone, especially not Princess Peach.” “It’s not bumming, it’s asking for help! There’s no shame in asking for help. When you need help, you need help!”

Mario didn’t answer, he just grumbled quietly to himself and returned to the bills. Luigi rolled his eyes, scrubbing clean a few extra dishes and placing them in the drying rack before he returned to where his brother sat. He leaned against him, resting his forearm on his shoulder in a purposefully obnoxious way. “You’re as bad as Dad is.” “I am not.” “Are so.” Luigi smiled mischievously, “You look like him too. I’m probably gonna start calling you ‘Dad’ on accident when you start losing your hair.” Luigi tussled his brother’s auburn locks. Mario pulled away, unable to help but laugh as he grabbed one of the pieces of junk mail on the table, crumpled it up, and threw it at Luigi in retaliation. “Will you get out of here?”

Luigi blocked the missile with his hand. He attempted to catch it, but it tumbled out of his slippery grip and landed on the floor. Luigi intended to take it directly in the garbage, but leaning down to pick it up the colors caught his eye… and he realized he did not quite notice this particular piece of mail when he initially emptied the mailbox. Interest piqued, he uncrumpled the paper and read it. His brow raised and his heart skipped a beat. “Mario!” he declared, the sudden exclamation making his brother jump, “We’ve got a free mansion!” Mario let out a loud groan, turning around in his chair. “Oh come on Weegee! It’s an obvious scam!”

Luigi shook his head. “No no, they’ve got a map and an address and everything!” He turned the pamphlet over in his hands in order to reexamine the large block of text on the back, “It says ‘only a select few who apply for noble titles, such as those who are known locally for their heroism’ … that's us!... ‘ are receiving this limited time offer’!” Luigi looked up from his reading to grin excitedly at Mario, who looked back at him with a bored expression. Luigi, undeterred, returned his eyes the advertisement. “There’s a place called Evershade Valley with a big, beautiful mansion in the center of it. Look!” Luigi held the picture out to his big brother, shoving it a little too close to his face in his excitement. “Neo-Gothic architecture!”

Mario took the flier from Luigi’s hands to scrutinize it more closely. The cover image seemed sketchy. The coloration was off, the greenery in the lawn looked doctored, and the giant, garish rainbow plastered into the background reeked of overcompensation. “Sounds like just the kind of padding they’d add to a scam to make it seem like a little less of a scam,” he mumbled, eyes trailing down to the map beneath the image of the mansion. “Evershade Valley… looks like it’s not too far from The Dark Lands. Are you sure about this?” Hearing ‘Dark Lands’ Luigi stiffened a bit, bringing his hands close to his chest as he reconsidered for a few seconds. “It’s near The Darklands, not in The Darklands.” He decided after a moment, “Maybe we can flip this place!: reinstall some plumbing, fix up the wiring, add a fresh coat of paint… boom! Money in our pockets!”

Mario gripped his chin, running a thumb over his mustache thoughtfully. No way it was that easy. If this was really a free mansion like the advertisement said, it couldn’t be anything other than a dilapidated shell that wasn’t worth the investment. If not that, there was no doubt something wrong with the location… nobody simply gave away free mansions.

On the other hand, Mario was impressed that Luigi maintained interest despite its close proximity to The Darklands. Given his past experiences, Mario expected him to back down at the mere mention of that place. The fact that some old building was enough to overshadow those fears made his desire hard to ignore. That, and Luigi was giving him that stupid sad-eyed pleading face that Mario could never say no to. He let out a heavy sigh, smoothed out the pamphlet a bit with his fingers, and handed it back to his brother. “Fine. On one condition.”

“Really!?” Luigi cheered. He threw out his arms to pluck his brother up into a hug, when Mario extended a hand to stave him off a moment.

“On one condition.” He repeated, “You stay here and run the business while I’m away. We can’t afford to miss any clients.”

Luigi deflated. He withdrew his arms and anxiously rubbed the tops of his hands. “Run the business… alone? Just me?” “If I take a warp pipe I shouldn’t be gone longer than a day. You’ll be fine.”

“No I won’t.” Mario cocked his head. He was startled by the terseness of the reply, upsettingly certain in its pessimism. “What do you mean? Of course you will! You just got a few leaky sinks and a running toilet. Nothin’ major.”

“Mario, name one time I did something completely on my own that didn’t turn out a disaster.” Mario opened his mouth to respond, but stopped. He thought things over a bit longer, opened his mouth again, then shut it again to think some more. It was difficult enough recalling a time that Luigi was on his own to begin with– they worked together at every opportunity– but when circumstances drove them apart, even for the briefest of moments, Luigi seemed to always end up in some kind of trouble. Mario’s eyes brightened as one instance popped into his mind. He smiled and snapped his fingers. “Aha! seventh grade! You made it into the Wizard of Oz musical! Played a really good Tinman!” Luigi smiled despondently, crossing his arms. “Mario, I vomited on stage.” “Only during the final bow. The final bow doesn’t count.” Luigi’s expression only grew more troubled as his arms tightened against his chest, and his eyes remained fixed to the ground. Mario stood up from his chair. He walked up to his brother, and took his face in his hands. “Hey, c’mon, don’t look like that,” he said, lifting his Luigi's head to meet his gaze. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, you just need a bit more confidence.” Mario’s grip fell from Luigi's face to his shoulders, giving them an endearing squeeze. “Maybe it’ll be good for you to give it a shot on your own. Your luck can’t be all bad, can it?” Neither of them quite knew the answer to that. Both of them stood silent for a moment as Luigi looked at his brother, then down at the pamphlet in his hand, and the big, beautiful mansion on the front. He couldn’t quite figure it out, but something about the place resonated with him. It made him remember being a kid, reading through his mom’s interior design magazines– the sense of wonder and possibility they incited, and the quiet longing to have such a place of his own to wander and explore. He folded the flier, placed it in his pocket, took a deep breath, and sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“Ha ha! That’s my bro.” Mario released his brother’s shoulders to give him a friendly jab with his elbow. “Maybe it’ll be good for you to try to work the business on your own! Just… make sure that clients put their dogs away before you set foot anywhere.”

Luigi grimaced. A small shudder ran up his back as he remembered the incident with Francis The Dog at their first job. Wondering what might have happened to him if Mario hadn’t been there to come to his rescue, second thoughts quickly began to creep in. “Maybe it is a scam–” “Nope! Too late. We’re doing this.” Mario had a fresh determination in his voice as he pulled out his chair and sat back down at the kitchen table. “I’ll finish balancing the checkbook tonight, then leave in the morning– 8 a.m sharp. If I hurry, I might be able to get home in time to help you with the last few jobs.”

Luigi knew that tone. No matter how much his brother initially hated the idea, once he started talking like that there was no stopping him from following through. Luigi had dug his grave, it was time to lie in it. Trying– and failing– not to think about everything that could go wrong in a single work day, Luigi began looking around for something to occupy his mind. The dishes were done, the garden was weeded, and he didn’t need to start dinner for another few hours, so he went to the broom closet and pulled out his vacuum. Plugging it in and unwinding the cord he went to work, allowing himself to get lost in the satisfying rattle of dirt being sucked away as he meticulously went over the carpet and wooden floor bit by bit, until every square inch of the house was clean and tidy.

#my art #Mario #Luigi #Super Mario Brothers #my writing #mario fanfic #Luigi's Mansion #Mario Movie #Aside from Luigi's expected issues with self doubt and anxiety he needs to overcome #I like the idea of them having money troubles at the beginning #Gives more impact to Luigi coming back with both his brother safe and his pockets absolutely STUFFED with cash

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use-your-telescope · 1 month

Text

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 18: You Were in the Darkness, Too

Summary: The aftermath of the attack on the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Author’s Note: So… I meant to post a chapter two days ago, then Sunday morning I woke up and was like “nope I need to re-do some of this because I think it’ll be better if a certain event happens ‘on screen,’ so to speak.” Long story short, two days later, here we are! I feel like Oprah - “you get world building, you get back story reveal, you get plot progression, you get super self-indulgent hurt-comfort (maybe a bit more hurt in this chapter, but have no fear there is LOADS more comfort where this came from)!”

Another random note - back when I started posting snippets on the beloved hellsite, this song initially was set with an entirely different chapter. Then I concluded it worked much better here. So if you have been around for long enough that you’re like “hold up a minute!” when you see the song and what happens here, that’s why. Tbh, I think most of the songs that were paired up with chapters have changed since I initially posted snippets. That’s the beauty of drafts, I guess? Anyways, thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoy <3 reblogs are always appreciated, and lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

Contents: Descriptions of vomiting, in relation to describing a migraine. Nightmares. Tears. Loki being the actual MVP.

Word Count: 5,913

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine

A falling star fell from your heart And landed in my eyes I screamed aloud as it tore through them And now it’s left me blind

Some types of pain could be relieved with medicine.

Others… not so much.

From the moment Theo found Chris outside of the Met, standing amidst the crowd of attendees in a makeshift triage area that had been set up by blocking off 5th Avenue, she could sense a difference in the way he looked at her. He didn’t rush towards her; instead, he approached slowly, scanning over her appearance with wide eyes and the color actively draining from his face. When they met in the middle, Chris reached out as if he wanted to embrace Theo, but he froze with hands hovering inches away from her body, as if he was afraid to touch her.

Even as Theo promised she was fine and that Chris shouldn’t worry – even as she checked him over, asking if he was okay, the short, half-hearted answers and the cold, wary look in his eyes didn’t diminish; instead of embracing her, he lowered his arms and stepped back, putting even more distance between them.

He looked at her the same way the council looked at her: as an abomination, a curse.

The exchange, however, was cut short - one of the medics employed by Stark to work with the Avengers spotted Theo and rushed over to request her help treating some of the most critical patients, who otherwise would not survive transport to the nearest hospital.

So, Theo pushed the raw ache that settled in her chest to the back of her mind, ignored the churning of her stomach and the pounding in her skull, and set about treating the worst of the injuries, even if it meant she would blow past her limits and pay the price later on. There was a physical cost to using magic, and with healing that cost was much higher - particularly when the scope of healing required was practically bringing someone back from the dead.

However, between someone dying or inducing a migraine from overexertion of magic, Theo would choose the migraine every time. At least when she healed, some good could come from her magic. Did it make her suffer? Yes, but she probably deserved it after everything.

And boy, she was suffering.

By the time she left, the only people who remained beyond the emergency response crews were paparazzi, lurking around the perimeter like predators stalking prey as they attempted to capture glimpses of the aftermath. They pounced at the sight of Theo, bloodied and drained after what was meant to be a celebratory occasion turned to a nightmare. Each burst of flash felt like an icepick to her skull and left her wishing she had enough energy to teleport herself home. Theo lifted one hand in a futile attempt to block some of the light, only for the shouting of the photographers to ricochet through her eardrums and into her skull.

How Theo survived the ride back to the tower without throwing up from motion sickness, she wasn’t sure. By some miracle she made it back to her suite, only to make it a few steps inside the door before the nausea and sensitivity to light and sound made her beeline for the bathroom, scolding herself for her earlier recklessness as she dove for the toilet and prepared to empty the contents of her stomach.

Over the sound of her retching, Theo didn’t hear her phone ring. Because her head was buried in the porcelain bowl of the toilet, she didn’t see the screen light up with Chris’s name.

As the nausea faded, Theo remained firmly in place, bent over the toilet bowl with both arms stretched across the top of the toilet seat. Once she knew she wasn’t going to be sick, Theo carefully eased herself down to lay on the floor, having spent the last of her energy throwing up.

Laying in her bed would have been more pleasant, but the thought of moving sent waves of churning heat through Theo’s stomach and made her entire body ache. Besides, the cool tile felt great against her uncomfortably warm skin and it was tolerable enough for her to pass out without even realizing she’d done so.

It was the vibration of Theo’s phone rattling on the floor that dragged her back to the world of the living, only to find she somehow felt even worse than when she passed out earlier. In her half-asleep stupor, Theo clumsily grabbed the phone from where she had tossed it as an afterthought. A wince snuck out as the light of the screen stabbed through Theo’s head; she squinted, trying to make sense of the contents on the screen.

The culprit was a text from Wanda, stating “you okay??” and then including what looked like a link. But Theo didn’t open the text right away - a different notification on her lock screen caught her eye. A voicemail from Chris, from right around the time Theo got back to the tower, elicited a sense of foreboding dread from Theo that she couldn’t ignore.

With shaking fingers, Theo unlocked her phone and went to her voicemail. She selected the message, relying on the speech to text feature to read the contents of the message instead of listening.

“Hey, it’s Chris. I’d been hoping you would answer, but I guess it is what it is. Look, I’ve been thinking - I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I know it’s cliché, but I mean it when I say it’s not you - it’s me.”

Even if Theo knew it was coming, reading the words still made her sick to her stomach.

“I know that you’ll always have to put your work as an Avenger first - I’ve always known that. I wouldn’t ask you to try and choose between being an Avenger and our relationship. But tonight, I saw you fighting, and I realized what it really means to date an Avenger, and– it’s too much. I can’t do it. If there’s stuff you left at my apartment, I’ll send it back to you. I’m sorry, Theo. Take care.”

Theo barely finished reading the transcription before bile clawed up from her stomach. She gagged, scrambling to her knees and barely managing to get into position before she threw up, this time expelling nothing but stomach acid in the process.

Between the cramping of her abdominal muscles, the burning in her throat, the pounding in her skull, the uncomfortable heat of her skin, and the aches radiating from her bones, Theo was miserable enough. The voicemail, however - that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A gasp escaped from Theo before she could stop it, then a whimper. Her eyes were leaking - no, water poured from them. She tried to cover her face with her hands as a whine escaped her throat, but she couldn’t stop the sobs that shook her entire body. Moving was painful - crying was painful - but the ache inside of her was far worse than any physical discomfort.

She should have known it would end like this. This was always what happened when people got to know her - they realized she was no good, and then they abandoned her. Thinking this time would be any different was stupid. Even if she told herself that whatever she had with Chris was nothing serious, it didn’t make the fact that he saw her for the curse she was, and he left.

They always leave.

And the worst part? Theo wasn’t angry at Chris for leaving. As much as she hated when the council looked at her like the curse she was, she could understand why. Her family deserved better. The Aneterrans deserved better. They all deserved better than her.

Chris didn’t know the extent of the bullet he dodged, but he knew enough to make the smart decision and leave before he got hurt.

By the time the tears stopped, Theo felt like a mess through and through. She didn’t even want to think about what she looked like - eyes swollen, hair tangled, makeup smudged, her skin still sticky with dried blood, and her armor torn from fighting.

She needed a shower, and then a real bed.

As tempting as it was to lay back down on the floor and continue to wallow, the desire to feel less disgusting won out.

Theo sat on the floor as she peeled the layers of armor off her body, only standing when she absolutely had to in order to remove her pants. The addition of vertigo meant that she spent most of the short time beneath the spray of cool water leaning against a wall, eventually sliding down to sit on the shower floor when her legs grew too tired to support her weight.

The process of drying and dressing in pajamas required multiple pauses - one to be sick again, the others a result of aching limbs and muscles trembling from prolonged exertion. It took a herculean effort, but Theo finally made it to her bed, falling asleep before she even had a chance to pull the covers over herself.

The stars, the moon, They have all been blown out You left me in the dark No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart

Once a bustling metropolis, Meridia had been known for its opulence and innovation. The streets were packed with vendors peddling their latest inventions and entertainers attempting to woo the staff of the royal court in hopes of securing an audience with the king and queen.

That Meridia was no more.

Theo stood in the center of a barren flagstone street, blanketed in the dark of a new moon. Broken glass clung to the window frames of weathered stone buildings long-abandoned, just one trace of the city’s descent into madness. Adjusting her mask, Theo pressed forward, relying on muscle memory to carry her into the underbelly of the city she once called home.

Theo used to sneak onto those very streets with her cousins, placing bets on which performers would successfully charm whoever was tasked with the day’s errands. Sneaking amongst the city was how Theo first learned her governess had a crush with the Apothecary’s son, always traveling to him whenever she needed some sort of potion or supplies for Theo’s lessons. Theo also once caught Ravenna performing to a crowd while in disguise, though Theo immediately recognized her sister and used the knowledge as blackmail. If she listened close enough, she could hear faint traces of musicians’ voices in the wind.

A chill wracked her body.

Throughout the streets, navy fog shimmered, emitting an iridescent glow as it weaved in and out of the alleys around her. When she left, this neighborhood had yet to be tainted by the arcane fog that had come to be known as the haze. An orange glow and billowing smoke in the distance highlighted the silhouette of a broken skyline.

Even after all these years, the ruins had yet to stop burning.

The city was but a shadow of what it once was.

This was no longer the Meridia that Theo remembered, much less the Aneterra that Theo hoped to one day return to.

Instinct led her down alleys and side streets, through what once were lush court gardens bursting with exotic blooms as she reached the rear of her destination. Dead vines of Ivy still clung to once-pristine stone walls; cracks in the weathered glass window panes only hinted at what Theo might find inside. Careful to avoid drawing attention to herself, Theo lurked in the shadows as she made her way round to the front of a building she once knew in and out, the place that she reminisced about on cold nights when the winds of winter rattled her windows as a girl in Michigan.

Somehow, the front door - crafted of thick lumber and held together with intricate metalwork that reflected the status of the home’s former residents - hadn’t been destroyed in the massacre.

Theo started to push the door open, but stopped short. She hadn’t been there since the night of the massacre, when she thought she lost everything. Even if Fury was right - even if Theo’s parents and sister were alive - they weren’t the only people Theo lost that night. The possibility that Theo might discover their remains just beyond the door was one she had to be ready to face.

Theo drew in a deep breath, steeled herself, and pushed the door open.

The creaking of worn hinges echoed through what once had been a grand foyer. A thick layer of dust coated the overturned furniture and picture frames along the walls, askew from the chaos of the massacre.

Theo’s boots clicked along the marble floor, each cautious step percolating through the air. The further she ventured into the room, the stronger the sense became that she was not alone.

Before her, a grand staircase curved up to the second floor, drawing the eye towards the massive windows which previously made the foyer feel particularly grand. In the dark, however, Theo couldn’t even tell if the glass remained in place, or if fighting had destroyed those windows too.

Without consciously thinking about it, Theo crept towards the stairs and began to climb. Halfway up the stairs, Theo swore she saw a silhouette amongst the shadows cast by the window frame. Curiosity spurred her forward, past the top of the stairs.

Someone stood just in front of the window, looking out onto the ruins with their back towards Theo. They wore a black cloak, its cape brushing against the stone floor as it obscured the individual’s identity.

As Theo drew near, they made no effort to look back and see who was there; as far as Theo could tell, they didn’t even seem to recognize she was there. With only a few feet between them, Theo opened her mouth and took a deep breath, ready to speak–

“...So…” The figure turned around, hands adorned with runes reaching out from beneath the cloak to lower the hood and reveal themselves to Theo. “... You are alive.”

Theo knew that voice like she knew her own name.

Ravenna stood before Theo, piercing lavender eyes filled with ice as she regarded her younger sister. Inky black hair tumbled over her shoulder, stopping just below her chest. Despite the lack of light, her skin cast a soft glow.

“Rae—“ Theo took a jarring step forward, only for her sister to step back.

“After all this time, you wander back here.” A bitter laugh escaped the elder sister. “What, are you here to save the day? We needed that years ago.”

“No, Rae–” Theo tried, “I had no idea—“

“No idea – what, we would still be here? Still fighting?” Ravenna spat, taking another step back. “Of course you wouldn’t - you brought this on us, why would you bother to try and fix it?”

She was the curse.

“No, Rae, please–” Theo extended a hand to her sister, desperate to plead her case. “I’m trying to get back so I can help–”

And in the dark I can feel your heartbeat I tried to find the sound But then it stopped And I was in the darkness So darkness I became

Theo awoke with a jolt, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The sudden movement sent a wave of aches rolling through her limbs while her pounding heart throbbed between her temples.

Dreams of Aneterra were nothing new, but the nightmare was different from anything she had seen before. This wasn’t seeing the world from someone else’s perspective, or watching like a third party; it was as if she had actually been there.

It was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare - she had experienced plenty of them before. It didn’t take a witch to know that this wasn’t a premonition or a vision - this was a manifestation of her worst fears. There was no reason to give this particular nightmare any merit - her anxieties were unfounded, at least according to Memere.

But this one felt particularly vivid, and it was hard to shake.

Just the thought of her sister’s anger brought another round of overwhelming nausea. Throwing off the covers, Theo nearly tripped over herself as she bolted for the bathroom. She shoved the door open and stumbled inside, wincing at the crash of the door handle slamming against the wall. Collapsing to the bathroom floor, she barely managed to get her head over the toilet before throwing up.

Despite the minuscule amount of bile, she continued to retch and gag for a couple minutes; it was as though her body was convinced something else was still in there, even though there was absolutely no way in hell that Theo hadn’t already emptied her stomach many times over.

Completely spent, Theo closed her eyes and slumped against the toilet, temple pressing against the cool porcelain of the tank. Even without her eyes open, the ground beneath her tilted and swayed like she was on a boat during stormy seas.

God, she was a mess.

“Are you alright?”

Theo’s head snapped up towards the voice, only for her to wrench her eyes shut and groan as a fresh round of misery bashed in her skull. When the worst of it passed, Theo cracked her eyes open, blearily peering up through the dark to find Loki standing in her bathroom, staring at her as if she was a ghost.

“What’re you doing here?” The question slipped out, her exhaustion and malaise resulting in a far too blunt delivery.

“I had been on my way to the sitting room when I heard crashing come from inside your quarters; when you did not respond to my knocking, I grew worried and came inside…”

It took a moment for Theo to register what Loki had said, but when it finally clicked, she burst into uncontrollable tears.

I took the stars from my eyes And then I made a map And knew that somehow I could find my way back Then I heard your heart beating You were in the darkness too So I stayed in the darkness with you…

Of all the things Loki expected in life, attempting to console a truly distraught Theo at three in the morning while sitting on her bathroom floor was nowhere among them.

And yet, that was exactly where he found himself - cross-legged on the marble tile as he cradled Theo in his lap, her face buried in his chest as she wept with such vigor that her entire body shook.

Loki replayed the series of events that led to his present position.

Like many nights, it began because of his inability to sleep. What was rare, however, was that his insomnia was not the result of some night terror, some monster that left his mind running in circles as if it were a dog chasing its tail.

No, he had been quite content when he settled into his bed, his well-worn copy of The Eye of the World in hand for some light reading. Yet, instead of dozing off to thoughts of Moiraine Damodred and her search for the Dragon Reborn, his mind wandered back to the attack on the Met Gala.

Theo had been the only one to successfully defeat one of the mystery beings that had been discovered, revealing an ability to control the shadow creatures that continued to antagonize Midgard. The carnage left behind, however, indicated that the being proved to be quite a challenge - beyond the mess in the gallery, Theo walked away from the exchange with no shortage of wounds that would require a healer to address.

Still, she hadn’t returned to the tower with the other Avengers. Instead, she insisted on ensuring her beloved actor was safe and seeing if any victims needed care - all the while acting as if she herself was not actively bleeding from multiple parts of her body.

Selfless, stubborn creature.

From there, his mind shifted to the being who had wrought such havoc. In the immediate aftermath of the attack, there had not been much opportunity to examine the corpse before it was whisked away by SHIELD agents for further study; what he had been able to discern remained fairly generic. Humanoid in form, though the shriveled appearance of their flesh gave the impression of some type of undead creature. Spider-like black veins stretched beneath their skin, as if they had been poisoned or cursed in some manner.

Yet, he hadn’t seen anything quite like it.

At that point, Loki accepted his fate: he was nowhere near sleeping.

With that in mind, he scoured his book shelves for one of the tomes he rescued from Asgard during Ragnarok - one that he referenced from time to time, usually when SHIELD requested his insight regarding creatures that Midgard had never seen before. Leatherbound book in hand, Loki began the familiar venture to the sitting room for a sleepless night of research.

Until heavy, syncopated footsteps and a muffled crash from the next room over stopped Loki dead in his tracks.

A heavy thud, as if multiple heavy objects had been dropped simultaneously, followed. The sound came from within Theo’s quarters - a realization which only brought an increased pulse and a festering sense of dread.

Loki approached her door, rapping his knuckles on the dark wood. “Theo?”

He pressed his ear to the door, listening for any signs of movement. If he strained, he thought he heard some sound - coughing, maybe? - but nothing indicating movement.

A twist of the doorknob indicated that it had not been locked. Before he fully thought the decision through, Loki pressed the door open. He slipped inside, carefully navigating the pitch black as he began to search for Theo.

Though Theo’s space was never perfectly clean, the sitting room appeared as if nothing had been knocked over or disturbed. The sense of urgency grew as he explored further, knowing that such a racket followed by such silence never had benign origins.

A painful-sounding retch came from the direction of Theo’s bathroom, followed by a groan.

Loki strode towards the sound, careful to remain quiet in case something foul was afoot.

He rounded the corner to find the bathroom door wide open, revealing Theo hunched over the basin of the toilet as if she had just been sick to her stomach.

The pieces fell into place - he must have heard her running to the restroom and throwing the door open.

When she finished, she slumped down a bit, eyes closed as she laid her head along the seat, breathing as if she had finished a grueling training routine.

Though Theo had clearly showered since her return, she somehow appeared even worse for wear than the last time Loki saw her. Her complexion rivaled that of a ghost. Her eyes, though closed, appeared red and swollen, lashes glistening despite the darkness. Wrinkled pajamas twisted around her body in a rather unnatural fashion; combined with an absolutely disheveled braid, Loki guessed she’d been tossing and turning in her sleep.

Loki stood there for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Should he say something? What would he say? After waiting this long, would it scare her? Would saying something make things worse? If he didn’t say something, would she think he was a creep? Should he just leave?

At one point, he stopped himself and nearly laughed. He was Loki, of Asgard. How a Midgardian would react to him should not have been of concern.

However, this was no ordinary Midgardian.

He drew in a deep breath.

“Are you alright?”

The way Theo’s head shot up confirmed she had no clue he was there, or at least he had startled her. A brief moment of horror flashed across her face, only for a grimace to take hold as she clutched her head and groaned.

Loki cursed himself for startling her with such a pointless question - of course she was unwell, she would not be in such a position otherwise.

Theo lifted her head once more and cracked her eyes open, squinting up at Loki as she blinked slowly. Something about her gaze seemed… Off.

“What’re you doin’ here?” The question came out half-mumbled and a bit slurred; she listed back and forth ever-so-slightly, almost like she could not keep her balance.

“I had been on my way to the sitting room when I heard crashing come from inside your quarters,” Loki replied, frowning at Theo. “When you did not respond to my knocking, I grew worried and came inside…”

Unsure of how to conclude his statement, Loki trailed off, running his fingers through his hair.

The predicament he found himself in was well outside of his area of expertise; comforting people was something Maximoff was far better with. He briefly debated leaving to fetch the Scarlet Witch – she would know the perfect solution in a moment like this. Yet, Loki remained frozen in place, mind reeling over how to proceed. Should he try to locate a healer? Should he try to soothe her? Should he leave her alone?

The silence stretched as Loki stared at her, frantically running through different ideas in his head and dismissing them for all the reasons they might not work. Loki found himself frozen, unable to make up his mind about what he should do.

In turn, Theo simply sat there, blinking slowly as she stared up at Loki…

… Until her face crumpled and she caved in on herself, a small, hitched breath giving way to a heartbroken sob.

Such a desolate sound had no place falling from Theo’s lips.

Spurred to action by Theo’s tears, Loki lowered himself to sit on the floor beside her. He may have been an Avenger, but he certainly was not a perfect hero. Despite bravery being in the job description, he had to dig up the last of his courage to pull her into what he hoped would be a comforting embrace.

At the new touch, Theo tensed, gasping quietly as her trembling hands flew up to cover her mouth and stifle her cries.

Loki froze.

Yet again, Theo had startled, all because of him. Loki cursed himself - of course he would make a mess of what should have been a simple interaction. With his luck, she wouldn't have a thing to do with him after tonight.

It was too far to turn back now; after all, in for a penny, in for a pound.

Just before Loki lost his ambition and pulled away, Theo settled beneath his touch, shifting so her face pressed firmly against his chest; hot tears dampened the knit fabric of his shirt as she somehow began to cry even harder. Her arms slipped around his waist, clinging to him despite the way her entire body shook.

Loki cupped one hand to Theo’s neck, the pad of his thumb slowly brushing against her unusually heated skin. This time, Theo did not recoil or freeze at the change, instead melting into the touch.

Perhaps there was hope.

Motivated by a surge of courage, Loki shifted from simply holding Theo close to tracing gentle, unhurried circles along her back.

With every new circle, the smallest hint of tension slipped from Theo’s muscles; as more of her body relaxed into Loki’s embrace, her cries slowed and grew softer. Even when Theo had loosened her grip and the only sounds she made were shaky, slow breaths, Loki had no intention of stopping his ministrations.

“Theo?” He murmured, nose brushing against her hair as he looked down at her.

“M’m s’rry…” With her face fully buried in Loki’s shirt, Theo’s almost embarrassed response came out almost charmingly muffled; however, she made no effort to move.

“It’s alright.” Loki used the hand on Theo’s neck to sweep her messy braid aside, flattening his cool palm against the overheated flesh. “I take it you do not feel well?”

She weakly shook her head. “Feel Awful.”

“How about I help you to your bed so you can get some rest?”

“No, please – I can’t – ” The force with which Theo shook her head the second time caught Loki by surprise, as did the rising panic in her tone. “– Can’t go back–”

“Darling, you need rest if you’re to feel better,” Loki gently tried to rationalize, though if the heat radiating from Theo was any indication, her ability to rationalize likely had been impacted by some level of a fever. “The floor is no place for someone who is ill. You ought to rest in bed.”

“Not mine,” Theo begged, ”I can’t–”

“Would you like me to bring you to the infirmary so you might rest there?”

Theo shook her head, tightening her arms around Loki.

“I’m not sure what other options there are, as I do not think I can bring bring you to your actor—“

“Broke up.” A new pair of damp spots on Loki’s shirt accompanied the two-word interruption, punctuated by a sniffle.

“Pardon?”

Theo blindly reached to the side, drawing Loki’s eye to her mobile. He unfurled one arm to retrieve it for her. Theo didn’t even pull away from Loki to look at what she was doing as she unlocked the device before handing it back. Loki accepted, eyes scanning across the screen.

The most recent of Theo’s voice messages was from her lover, not long after the events at the Met Gala. White, hot fury shot through Loki’s veins as he read the transcription; despite what Loki had been told of the Midgardian’s supposed kindness, the message he left Theo was short, blunt, lacking any sense of care for the recipient. If anything, it was downright cruel.

Perhaps it was for the best that Loki needed to ensure Theo was cared for first, as he otherwise might have tracked the bastard down and made him regret his callous behavior. The first thing to sort out, however, was where she might be amenable to resting, since her bed and the infirmary were, for some unknown reason, unacceptable.

An idea came to mind; though it might cause others to talk, it was, up to that point, the best he could manage without waking anyone else and dragging them into the conversation.

“How about you come with me to my quarters?” Loki cautiously suggested. “You can rest there for a while, then decide later if you’d like to return to your own bed or seek out the infirmary. Would that work?”

A slow, almost sleepy nod brought a swell of tenderness to Loki’s chest and a soft smile to his face.

Loki carefully adjusted to cradle Theo in his arms before slowly rising to his feet. In what almost seemed to be instinct, Theo pressed her forehead into space between Loki’s shoulder and the crook of his neck, letting out a strained breath before settling in. Though Loki had already established the presence of a fever, it wasn’t until carrying Theo that he noticed she was not simply trembling, but downright shivering.

Careful not to jostle Theo as he navigated the tower in the dark, Loki made the return journey to his quarters with restrained haste, relying on his Seidr to help with managing doors and other environmental obstacles that otherwise could have slowed or complicated the process of getting Theo to bed.

Upon arriving in his own quarters, the dim, golden glow from a nearby lamp provided the first opportunity to take in Theo’s appearance under any sort of light; Loki paused for a moment to confirm his prior assessments regarding Theo’s condition. Much of what he discerned in the dark remained accurate, though he did find the smallest relief that it seemed she had fallen asleep while in transit and appeared almost peaceful… Were it not for the tell-tale signs of tears previously being shed, one might have been fooled into believing all was well.

With a hushed sigh, Loki brought her from the great room to his bedchambers. A flick of one finger and shimmer of emerald seidr later, Loki lowered Theo onto the bed, carefully tucking her beneath the silken sheets and the plush duvet which Loki had crafted from the finest Asgardian textiles, pausing for a moment when a soft, breathy hum snuck out of Theo and she shifted, snuggling further beneath the covers.

A few minutes later, Loki had placed a bin beside the bed in the event Theo became sick to her stomach once more, procured a glass of water and set it on the closest nightstand, and drawn the drapes shut so the morning light would not wake her.

With nothing else to distract him, Loki now had to answer the question he had yet to consider: where was he going to sleep?

The proper answer, of course, would be to find alternate sleeping arrangements, lest anyone make inappropriate assumptions about the circumstances.

But doing so meant leaving Theo by herself, essentially abandoning her when she was in the midst of a particularly vulnerable moment. Surely, she would understand if he remained close by; after all, she trusted him up until this moment, enough to abandon her own quarters in favor of staying in his. Besides, he had stayed with her once before when she felt unwell. Precedent had been set to ensure no one mistook him for less than noble intentions, given the circumstances.

Yet, as Loki crawled beneath the covers on the opposite side of the bed, the distance still felt as if he were abandoning her. What if she woke up, delirious from fever, did not see him beside her, and panicked at the lack of familiar surroundings? If Theo laid with him, Loki would know the moment she woke and could ensure she had whatever she needed; even better, he could use his Jötun heritage for benevolent means, combining it with his seidr to reduce his core temperature so he could serve as a sort of full-body cool compress.

Amidst warring thoughts, the weight of an arm draped across his chest ripped Loki from his indecision. Theo had rolled over in her sleep, curling into Loki’s side with her head resting atop the dip between shoulder and chest and one leg wrapped around his as if second nature. She nuzzled into him, oblivious to the waking world, her breath slow and deep in contrast to Loki’s racing heart.

For a moment, Loki found himself dumbstruck by just how natural it felt to lay with her tucked into his side in such a manner. In her most vulnerable moments, she found solace in his presence. In her sleep, she sought him out. And though he could make any multitude of excuses as to why - she was not aware who she curled herself around, she was not of sound mind from illness - the excuses did nothing to dispel the pure awe that resulted from realizing the trust Theo placed in him.

In the morning, he would locate Maximoff and determine how to proceed; until then, he would embrace the trust placed in him, and hopefully repay it tenfold.

He willed his seidr to work, cooling himself to offer Theo some relief from her fever, then allowed himself to drift into a pleasant sleep.

The stars, the moon, They have all been blown out You left me in the dark No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart

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that--funny--feeling · 2 months

Text

Like the first time

Two days ago I saw All things and I still have feelings. I liked it so much.

Here's my take on how it went in that missing moment iykyk

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She didn't even remember when she actually fell asleep. One moment she was talking to Mulder about destiny and choices, the next she was feeling his arms wrap around her shoulders and her legs, lifting her off the couch.

«Mulder, what are you doing?» she whispered into his chest with her eyes still half-closed as her blanket slid off of her onto the floor. She hadn't even realized she had it on.

«I'm taking you to bed, Scully.» She heard his voice rumble in his chest. She could feel his heat through his shirt too. It was comforting.

«No… It's late, I have to go home.» she tried to reply weakly, but she didn't even believe her words.

«Don't even try it, Scully.» She imagined him shaking his head. She could have seen it with her own eyes, if only she had opened them. But she was so exhausted. She wondered how he could carry her so easily. She felt so small, wrapped up in his arms. Safe.

Mulder laid her on his bed, under the covers. The sheets must have been just changed because they smelled clean. Scully fully opened her eyes only now and realized that Mulder had already put on his pajamas. Maybe it had been longer than she'd thought since she'd dozed off on the couch.

«Mulder, I've been wearing these clothes since this morning.»

«I can help you with that.» he grinned widely, leaning down on the bed next to her. His smiles were insufferable, but also irresistible. And Scully just didn't have the strength to hold back hers right now.

«And I didn't even go to the bathroom.»

«Mi casa es tu casa.» Mulder indicated his bathroom with a broad hand gesture. «There's still the toothbrush you used the last time in the sink. If you can get past my insane way of closing the toothpaste.» Scully grimaced in response. «And I prepared one of my t-shirts for you as pajamas, if you like.»

Scully caressed his cheek and looked straight into his eyes. He was right, he had only been gone a couple of days, yet it was as if everything had changed. And at the same time as if nothing had changed.

There had always been a part of her that was afraid of making the wrong choices. First she worried about her father's opinion, then Daniel's, then Jack's. Each of them had a precise vision of what her life should have been, of what would have been the most logical path to follow. She had no doubt that Ahab was only behaving that way because he was worried about her and only wanted the best for her, yet it was something that always made her suffer. Daniel, then, had put his entire life onto her, his love for her but also his private dissatisfactions, his professional ambitions, his anxieties, his fears. He thought he knew her, but she had never been sure if he had really gotten to know the Dana of the past, he certainly couldn't have known the one of the present.

And then there was Mulder. That had respected her from the first moment, had always asked her opinion, had trusted her, had supported her in every decision she had made, had helped her save herself more than once, had seen the best and the worst of her, with whom she would even go to hell if he asked her to. With whom she had cried, laughed, discussed cannibalism in the middle of the water, spent sunday mornings in the office talking about flying saucers. With whom she had hoped to have something more and had managed to break the circle that she feared had chained them. She had tasted a passion and a light-heartedness in those months that she had never thought possible before. And with whom she had also lost so much. Even the possibility of a child.

She had always asked Mulder why he didn't stop, why he didn't want to a normal life. But maybe she was the one who didn't want a normal life. She remembered what she had thought during their first case together, as they trembled like leaves in the rain and he had convinced her of his supernatural theory: that she could do this forever.

Maybe the life with him wasn't the one she had imagined as a child. Maybe Ahab wouldn't approved, maybe if Daniel knew what her job really was now he would think she was crazy. But Melissa – God, Melissa. In that moment she missed her more than anything in the world – would have held her hand and hugged her and laughed with her, she was sure of it.

She was exactly where she needed to be. The back of Mulder's head rested against her hand as she caressed him, eyes closed, completely at the mercy of her touch.

He straightened his head and his eyes stared into hers, a faint smile on his lips. «What?» he asked softly, breaking her chain of thoughts.

She shrugged. «I love you» she smiled.

His eyes became serious and stared her for some time. Then the corners of his mouth curved up too. «Oh, brother.» he whispered.

She rolled her eyes, but they were both laughing. «Isn't that what I was supposed to say?» He took her hands in his. «I love you too.»

Scully's heart filled with warmth. She put both hands around his face and kissed him like it was their first time. She had known how Mulder felt for her for a long time, and he had known how she felt too. It wasn't a secret. They had said it silently to each other many times, they had proven it with their actions more times than she could remember at that moment. And just as many times Scully had held back on him, scared of how interconnected their lives were becoming, how much she was depending on him. She was tired of being afraid, she was tired of saying “I'm fine” when she wasn't fine. She wanted to wake up in his arms if she had a nightmare, have breakfast together at the bar, hug each other on the beach, dance with him when she heard a song she liked on the radio, make love all day like teenagers and not just for a few stolen moments.

Mulder returned the kiss and slowly they both entered under the blankets. They made love like it was their first time.

#txf fic #txf #the x files #mulder x scully #fox mulder #david duchovny #dana scully #gillian anderson #msr #txf all things #txf s7 #mulder and scully

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sashi-ya · 5 months

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The last week of "calm" in my country has just started. I honestly fear for the worst scenario. Argentina is facing a big dichotomy in which there are more than economic consequences; we vote for president and choosing has never been easier.

One of the candidates, Javier Milei, represents everything I don't want for my country (nor any country). A man (and team) that revendicates the worst time in our country, where genocide and torture occurred. A man who lacks from mental stability, and we are not talking about simple mental health issues, he is unable to guide the destiny of 45M of habitants. A man who despise women, and every minority; A man who has repeatedly promoted the free use of guns and the free market of organs and body parts (yes) as one of his main campaign promises. A man who has repeatedly promoted ideas of paedophilia. A man whose main strategy is to SCREAM, INSULT AND DENIGRATE others (specially women). He plans to eliminate the public health system, destroy the public educational system (we are praised because of those two, worldwide) and allow the rich to contaminate rivers, because he says water should be PRIVATIZED. A man who DOESN'T BELIEVE in GLOBAL WARMING AND CLIMATE CHANGE. A man who revendicates Israel outrageous genocide over Palestine. Let alone the devastating economical consequences over an already destroyed economy (mainly created by the ones who have ultimately allied with him).

The challenge now will not be being able to eat or prosper, it will be to stay ALIVE as a woman or a minority. Most of his followers are VIOLENT people. They HATE, they promote everything I am against to. I want more rights for the people, I don't want hate, nor misogyny. I don't want kids to be abused, nor killed at their schools. This is, unfortunately, a little description of our near future if this man wins the election this sunday. Therefore, I only pray for the people in this country to use their hearts instead of profound hate towards the others.

What am I trying to say with all of this? our world -not only my country- is in severe chaos. Please, don't let people like this have the power over our lives and the next generations.

#argentina #sergio massa #javier milei #MILEI NO

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thehollowwriter · 5 months

Text

Summary: Ace, trapped as an anenome, gets a new supervisor- Finn Clearcove. He's weird and awfully quiet, but Ace figures he can get him to lend a hand in this awful anenome situation. Surely nothing will go wrong, right?

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤)

The Quiet Octavinelle Student

Ace Trappola was not good at owning up to his errors. He was stubborn and headstrong, refusing to back down once he had made decision unless it was clear that it would affect him negatively.

Right now, though, was an exception.

Making a contract with Azul Ashengrotto was a mistake.

Ace let out a slow steady breath through his nostrils and closed his eyes. His heart would not steady in his chest, the dread and fear of being called to the VIP room for no specified reason overloading every other emotion.

Ace crossed and uncrossed his legs nervously, leaning against the cool black leather of the couch. It was so soft, so comfortable, and he would be sleepy if he weren't so stressed.

He glanced at the clock, swallowing. Azul should be here by now, dishing out a punishment for whatever stupid rule Ace had broken. Where was he? He had to feed the flamingos soon.

Regret pulled him deeper and deeper into an inky abyss of shame as he thought back on his previous life decisions.

Making a contract with Azul Ashengrotto for study notes was a mistake. His own dorm leader was the top student in the school and Trey-senpai had a miraculous way of helping others understand difficult topics

The help was right there. His salvation was right there.

Now he was stuck doing dishes, dealing with customers, cleaning the lounge or whatever other gruelling tasks had been set up for him and other anenomes.

Ace was just briefly beginning to consider getting up and running away when the door opened and Azul Ashengrotto entered the room with that swift but elegant stride of his. Ace gulped.

"Apologies for my tardiness, the dorm leader meeting took a lot longer than planned." Azul said matter-of-factly, taking a seat across from Ace.

"I suppose you are wondering why I called you here." He said, skipping the pleasantries. "And no you are not in trouble. This time."

Ace let out a sigh of relief and relaxed against his seat before straightening. "Then uh, what am I here for, boss?"

Azul shot him him a look and cleared his throat.

"You have a shift at Mostro Lounge on Sunday and unfortunately neither Jade nor Floyd will be there to supervise you. I am quite busy myself, so I have entrusted your care to another member of staff. My-" He paused, furrowing his brow. "Fourth in command if you will."

Ah. That.

One of the worst parts about being anenome, apart from his loss of free will and time, was the supervision.

Usually either Jade or Floyd, a pair of eyes would be on him at all times, watching him like a hawk and taking delight in punishing him if he messed up.

Ace shuddered at the memory of Floyd's wide toothy smile and tight suffocating grip.

Obviously whoever Azul had in mind to supervise him was going to be almost if not just as scary as those two and Ace was feeling queasy just thinking about it.

"H-Haha... okay. Sounds great..."

Azul's lips twisted into a smirk. "Don't sound so dejected. Finn Clearcove is far more pleasant than Jade and Floyd."

Okay. Ace had no idea who that was.

"Who?"

"Finn Clearcove." Azul pushed his glasses up his nose. "A second year. He's quite evasive so it's no surprise you haven't heard of him. I will introduce the two of you on Sunday and then we will go from there. Dismissed."

Ace scrambled to get up and bid his goodbyes, rushing to the door so he could get to Heartslabyul in time to feed the flamingos.

"Ace?"

Ace stopped and looked at Azul.

"Yeah?"

"Do tell the prefect to wash Grim more often, he's not a very useful sponge anymore."

Ace's heart jumped to his throat and he mumbled a shakey "y-yeah okay" and fled.

Ace arrived at Heartslabyul stressed, fed the flamingos stressed, told Deuce to shut up stressed, had supper stressed, and went to bed stressed.

He couldn't sleep that night. He couldn't sleep any night before a shift, but now it was worse because he... he had no idea who exactly would be watching over him tomorrow.

Azul said that Finn Clearcove was much more pleasant than the twins but... Azul was a strange guy with strange views on things. He couldn't be trusted.

Then again, he had also described Riddle and Trey as "pleasant".

Riddle... and... Trey.

Trey.

Ace's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright.

Obviously Finn was an Octavinelle student, so he was probably fairly shady, but if Azul lumped him in the same category as Trey of all people than surely there was a chance at mercy? A chance at... freedom, perhaps?

A grin crawled its way onto Ace's face and stayed there, even as he lay back down again.

"Yeah." He said softly. "That'll work."

***

Ace arrived at Mostro Lounge bright and early, partly to avoid punishment and partly to impress his would be saviour.

Azul was waiting for him near the kitchen entrance, his eyes widening in slight surprise at Ace's early arrival.

"Ah you're on time for once, I see." The dorm leader drawled. "Excellent. Ace Trappola, this is Finn Clearcove. Finn, this is the first year you will be watching over."

Azul gestured to his right and Ace's eyes locked onto what was possibly the tiniest seventeen year old Ace had ever seen.

He was smaller than Riddle by a large margin, despite being very chubby, with large amethyst purple eyes and fluffy seaweed green hair.

Ace bit his lip to keep in a short joke, though short probably wasn't good enough to describe this guy.

"Pipsqueak would be more accurate." He thought.

Finn nodded his head in silent understanding, avoiding Ace's eyes and gesturing for him to follow him into the kitchen.

He then waved his pen and the kitchen uniform appeared in his hands and he began to put it on.

Aha so they would be cooking today!

Well, Ace wouldn't be. He wasn't trusted with any cooking equipment or food unless he took the masterchef course and had an additional training and safety course from either Azul or someone else from Mostro Lounge.

"You will be on dishes duty today." Finn said suddenly, pulling Ace from his thoughts.

His voice was soft and gentle like a cloud, but held a firmness that gripped his attention like a vice. The pointed edges of his teeth barely poked from his lips. Ah, so he was like Floyd and Jade.

He gestured to the sink. "Work fast. We have a busy day today, we can't afford filth piling up." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't. Break. Anything."

Ace was sure that, perhaps to like a twelve year old something, Finn was plenty intimidating. However it was incredibly hard to take him seriously when he was craning his neck to look him in the eyes properly.

"H- yeah okay." Ace barely suppressed a laugh and sent a mock salute Finn's way. "On it, sir!"

Finn quirked and eyebrow at him and carefully removed a pair of headphones from his pocket, almost suspicious of his enthusiasm.

Wait were those even allowed?

Finn put them on his head and secured his skullcap over it, careful to keep his bunned up hair fully covered.

"What's that for?" Ace blurted, his tone far more forced and accusatory than intended.

Finn stared at him for a few seconds before muttering "Noise."

He glanced past Ace.

"Sink" he said, and turned to begin prepping without another word.

"Weird." Ace thought, before noticing the overflowing the sink. "OH SHI-"

***

The first half of the shift was long and boring as always, dragging on forever as more and more plates, glasses, bowls and so on piled up next to the sink.

Ace's skin was soggy and wrinkly now, looking awfully prune-like. Honestly he wished he was rather doing homework and getting paper cuts than dealing with this.

Finn was... quiet. Really quiet. He barely uttered a word apart from a command or comment in that soft lulling voice of his.

The rest of the staff didn't seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, they worked like clockwork, unperturbed by Finn's avoidance of their eyes and quiet demeanour as they worked the kitchen for Sunday lunch.

When their breaktime came Ace felt joy like nothing before, slumping against the wall with a sigh of relief.

There was not much time to rest, though, as now was the prime time to get up close and personal with Finn, who was currently disappearing out the door and into the fray of students.

When Ace found Finn again he was leaning over the bar, sipping a brightly coloured mocktail and fiddling with his phone. His headphones were still on, though Ace couldn't hear anything playing.

The card soldier marched up to the bar and leaned across it, grinning at Finn.

"Hey, can I borrow some of your time?"

No answer.

Ace frowned. "Hello? Finn?"

No answer.

Finn looked up and gazed at the fish swimming around outside with distant longing eyes.

Ace rolled his eyes and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Oh for the love of- Hey! Earth to Finn! I'm trying to talk to you!"

There was a sudden blur of movement and Finn grabbed Ace by the wrist and wrenched his hand away with surprising strength, making the ginger let out a cry of surprise.

He turned his head and looked into Ace's eyes, really looked, and the intensity of his gaze was so potent it made a shiver run up Ace's spine.

"Usually when someone is wearing headphones it is a sign that they do not want to talk." Finn said slowly. His voice was still soft, but it danced on the edge of sharpness in a waythat made Ace gulp.

Finn's fingers tapped rhymically against the bar counter and he let out a breath through his nose and smiled a close-lipped smile.

"What can I do for you?"

Ace let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Okay, rocky start, but we can recover. It's fine."

"Look uh- Finn, you seem like a nice guy-"

"Really?"

"Yeah! I was wondering if you'd be willing to do me a favour."

In true Octavinelle fashion, Finn's eyes lit up in sudden interest.

"Is that so?" He asked, tilting his head head to the side. "What is it?"

"Would you be willing to put in a good word to Azul for me?" Ace spoke as carefully as he could manage, trying trying choose the best words possible. "You seem pretty chummy- ah, I mean close with him. Maybe he'll remove my anemone early? I'll do whatever you want if you'd be so kind to your junior. How's that sound, Finn?"

Finn sat back and stared at Ace before chuckling softly.

"Mister Trappola, I am one year your senior. I would advise showing a little respect before trying to garner favours from me."

Ace laughed nervously, sweat beading at his forehead. "Uh, sorry, senpai."

Finn let out a soft hum and nodded.

"Firstly." He said suddenly, peering at Ace. Those glistening amethyst eyes seemed... off somehow. Not quite right. "Before I do a favour for you- and decide what you will repay me with- you must earn mine."

Ace blinked. "Wha-"

"I'm not asking for much." Finn cut him off abruptly with that sweet gentle tone. "I would like you to do a few small jobs for me whenever you have the free time. Cover my waitering shifts, go on grocery runs, fetch me books, that sort of thing. How does that sound?"

That... wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Ace nodded slowly in agreement.

"Okay. You... also gonna take like my basketball skills or something?"

Finn blinked at him, surprised, before shaking his head. "No, I am not Azul. I cannot take skills or magic... at least not like he can. But I can do this. Here."

He took hold of Ace's right hand and linked it with his left in a firm unmoving handshake. Then he removed his pen from his pocket and tapped his wrist once, twice, three times.

A small dark purple pentagram flickered to life around their wrists, glowing faintly in the dim lighting.

Oh. So it was one of those things.

"So this is what you Octavinelle guys do if you don't have Azul's unique magic? Is this a second year spell?" Ace breathed, eyeing the magical symbol wearily.

"Oh no." Finn shook his head. "You will not learn that here. This was taught to me by my father. It is an ancient binding spell."

"Oh-"

"So here's the deal." Finn continued airily. "You do whatever favour I call in for me within the time frame I give you. If I'm satisfied I will consider granting you that favour, and you will pay me in return for questioning my own dorm leader for you. Is that clear?"

Ace paused and took a moment to think.

This was gonna be taxing.

This was gonna be a painful.

This was probably gonna be the second worst decision of his life.

But anything was better than being trapped here as a slave.

Ace nodded and wearily shook Finn's tiny hand, feeling very uneasy. He watched as the symbol glowed purple and dissipated.

"Senpai... what happens if I break my promise?" He asked, stomach churning. "I don't have a lot of free time in the day. I don't know if I'll be able to... to do it in time."

There was a beat of silence.

Finn smiled at him.

Then leaned forward.

And opened his mouth wide.

"I assure you it is worse than any punishment you can possibly imagine."

The words barely registered when the sight of Finn's mouth blurred out every other little thing.

Ace's eyes widened and he nearly threw up. Finn's teeth were... they weren't like Jade and Floyd's at all.

They were like needles qnd there hundreds of them, if needles were jagged,uneven, ong and horrendously sharp that is. If he were honest, it crossed the line of scary and went straight to ugly.

And horrifying.

"C-Cool cool cool." Ace's face had long since drained of colour. "I uh- gotta go to the bathroom. So you after the break-"

He got up and bolted for the bathroom, nearly tripping over himself and other people on the way. He ran into a cubicle and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

"Oh god." He whispered. His breakfast threatened to come up his throat. "Oh god oh god oh god what the hell was that? What hell is he? That's- that's not mermaid teeth. It can't be mermaid teeth, there's no way-?"

He was shaking, sweat dripping down his forehead and running down the back of his neck.

Why was he so afraid? Finn was a pipsqueak and had barely done anything apart from flash those creepy teeth.

Something, something about him seemed so... wrong. Unnatural. Was it his voice? Nobody talked like that. So softly. Like he had a sore throat.

"M-Maybe he was just... upset that I interrupted him and was trying not to yell at me.." Ace thought. "And I'm not used to non human students yet. Yeah, that's it. It's fine. It's all fine."

He forced a smile onto his face.

"I'm going to get rid if this anenome. It'll all be fine."

***

Back at the bar, Azul Ashengrotto got up from his seat on the other end of the table and made his way over to Finn with an amused smirk on his face.

"So you can finally perform form your father's spell, then?"

Finn turned to look at him with a grim expression, his face set dead serious. Then he barked a soft, high pitched laugh.

"Hah! No, of course not! It's a spell from the abyss. The midnight zone, as the humans call it. Ancient. Powerful. It's for too advanced for me, Papa is just exceptionally talented."

Azul shook his head, laughing as well.

"I see. Well, now that you've made your 'deal', how long will it take for the poor card soldier to satisfy you?"

"Oh..." Finn flashed another toothy smile at his boss. Azul didn't even flinch. "Most likely never. I am quite excited to see how long he can go before he slips up. Oh. And by the way-"

He raised the hand he used to grab Ace's wrist, smiling even wider

"-I have a new voice now~"

-End

......................................

A/N: I hope you guys and enjoyed learning and reading a bit more about Finn! Ace continues to suffer at my hands :)

Tagging: @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00 @jaylleoo14 @whspermy-name @the-banana-0verlord @minteasketches @azulashengrottospiano @distant-velleity @kitwasheree @cynthinesia @elysia-nsimp @theleechyskrunkly @twisted-wonderland-but-gayer @boopshoops @cyanide-latte @ramshacklerumble @jovieinramshackle @casp1an-sea more of the boyyyy

#finn clearcove #ace trappola #octavinelle #heartslabyul #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #quinn quips #writing

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wisecrackingeric-2 · 6 months

Text

In Sickness And In Health

Summary:

Luis comes down with the flu, and hasn’t eaten all day. Luckily, his boyfriend Leon is there to make him a warm meal and help him feel better :)

Basically just sweet tooth-rotting fluff from start to finish

Fic below cut!!

A/N: this one is dedicated to @mostlyghostly42 and @mooseonahunt !!!!!!!! You guys know exactly why. Thank you very much for making me laugh so hard my lungs collapse and thank you very much for putting me in your quote book I will forever treasure this inside joke <<<<333 What’s the inside joke you may ask? I fear I cannot tell you because I will be cancelled

Anyways!!!!! I made this fic because I had the flu. Fun!! And now it’s the 696’th fic in the Leon x Luis Tag on ao3. I Wonder if any of this has any deeper meaning or if I’m just tired

—————————————————————————

To say Luis was sick would be an understatement.

Sure, he was no stranger to pain; after all, getting a knife stabbed cleanly through your spine was bound to leave anyone with at least some chronic pain-

But this was just straight up dreadful.

Luis had no clue where he might’ve caught it from, let alone from who, because he’d rarely left the house all weekend- but like some kind of cruel twist of fate, he had come down with the worst flu of his entire life seemingly overnight.

Ok. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Luis had dealt with worse. Like, a lot worse. He’d fallen sick to his own creations and experienced pain no single human being should have ever had to go through more times than he could count on his own two hands-

But that didn’t mean the flu he currently had didn’t suck. And he sure as all hell made it known just how bad it was whenever he wasn’t in so much agony he could hardly talk.

‘Is this really all it takes to shut you up?’ Leon had joked one morning, earning him a weak but passionate slap across the shoulder. Luis had to bite his lip hard in order to not fall into a disarray of giggles at the mere sight of Leon smiling like a sheepish young boy.

‘ Maybe you should get sick more often”

“Maybe you should get off your ass and help me, Pendejo”

“Alright, alright!! Such a drama queen…”

That was, of course, all before Luis got really sick.

In just a matter of hours, Luis was left totally bedridden. He couldn’t stand (Actually, he couldn’t stand or walk, like, at all most of the time- having a hole on your spine does that to you) and his body just felt awful.

Luis’ head throbbed with what he thought was one of the worst headaches he’d ever experienced in his entire life- his brain thrashing around in his own skull like church bells on a Sunday morning- and his chest ached and rattled with every intake of breath he took. It sounded awful, and it felt even worse. At times he just felt like holding his breath for a few seconds just to alleviate some of the pain.

His entire body felt like lead and the ends of his limbs tingled with sharp, stabbing pins-and-needles; if he dared tried to move his head or god forbid stand up, his limbs and skull held him down like a fishing lure.

But the absolute worst part of it all were the cold chills.

Every few seconds, sharp, painful chills would Wrack Luis’ spine and leave him shivering cold- colder than he should have been inside of his and Leon’s warmed-up apartment. The chills felt like repetitive, stabbing, freezing knives crawling up his back every few seconds and goddamnit he just wished they would stop already. He’d had more than enough of knives in his back to last him a lifetime, after all.

They felt almost painful, and no matter how much he begged Leon for more blankets, he insisted on keeping just a single thin bed sheet over his back as Luis curled in on himself in an attempt to gather any semblance of heat.

“ You’ll overheat if I give you more blankets,” Leon had explained. The warm hand on Luis’ forehead checking his temperature feeling like a godsend.

“ And you’re already burning up. You’ll just make yourself more sick, dove”

“Mmmmcold…….” Was all he had the energy to reply with in the moment as he brought his wrists up to his chin and whined when another chill wracked his spine.

Leon gave an ever-familiar sympathetic sigh, “ I know, I know… it’ll pass, doll. I swear.”

And that’s more or less how Luis ended up in the position he was. Curled up with his knees at his chest and his wrists tucked under his chin, feeling simultaneously too tired to move yet too sore to fall asleep. If he dare try and move from the position he curled himself up into, his body would pull him back down into the bed again like a ball-and-chain. So all he could do was close his eyes, sigh, and wait for either sleep to come or for something to happen and grant him some relief.

Luis felt Leon slip into the bed beside him, his familiar weight sinking against the mattress and even though he could hardly open his eyes to see, Luis could just tell Leon had something in his hands.

“You feeling alright, dove?”

Leon asked, his voice soft and full of sympathy. Luis very rarely ever got to hear Leon be so quiet and gentle, so as awful as the situation was, he treasured it best he could.

Luis couldn’t say anything in response. He just gave a grunt-y noise from his throat to confirm he was still alive and went straight back to feeling like dead weight.

He physically cringed when another sharp, painful cold chill shot up his spine.

And Leon must’ve noticed, because in seconds, his hands were already carding through his long, fanned-out hair and scratching the temple of his head with repetitive and reassuring scritch-scratch-scritch-scratches. Luis’ hair has grown significantly longer since when they first met, and he was surprised Leon’s fingers didn’t get tangled in his curls.

The blonde's nails felt almost heavenly against the brunette's scalp and he wished he could fall asleep like that forever.

Luis didn’t even realize a moment had passed until Leon spoke up once more,

“I made you some dinner”

That got his attention. He peeled his heavy eyelids apart and blinked at the plate Leon held in his hands; too disoriented to make out what was on it.

“It’s just some cheese sandwiches,” Leon mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed. If Luis were feeling even the slightest bit better, he probably would’ve made a jab at Leon’s American-style dish and lack of cooking skills- but honestly? His heart felt like it was melting at just the thought of his partner cooking him something while sick.

Mierda, está locamente enamorado de este hombre.

“I know it’s not a lot, but…”

Leon continued on, picking up a slice and holding it up to where Luis lay with his vision half-swallowed by the pillows. The smell of warm cheese was oddly welcome.

“But, y’know, you haven’t eaten all day, and you need something in your body,” Leon’s tone was far from upset, but he was definitely trying his best to get his point across to Luis- who, right now, felt like doing anything but eating.

“‘Sides, I made these specially for yooouuuu…”

Luis huffed as much of a laugh as he could manage at Leon’s tone, a smile barely evident on his face- but it was enough of a confirmation for Leon to take the bait.

“C’mon, you know you want iiiiiiittttt….”

“ M jus’ sssso tired….” Luis tried to defend himself, every word that came from his mouth rung in his skull and only added to the already painful headache.

He tried his best to not seem even the slightest amused by Leon, but goddamn, was it hard.

“I know you’re tired, hun,”

Leon kissed Luis’ (rather sweaty) forehead and began rubbing circles into his back when the brunette shivered yet again. And Luis practically melted at his touch; grateful for even just the smallest bit of warmth against his skin. Leon was like a walking furnace most of the time, which only made Luis want to instinctively curl up to him even further.

“But you’ve gotta eat something. You’re just gonna get more sick if you don’t”

Luis made a noise that vaguely sounded like ‘I don’t care’, but it was far too muffled to realistically be considered English at all. If even just moving his head and talking was enough to have Luis’ skull feel like it was collapsing in on him from the inside out, he shuddered to imagine what eating would feel like.

When he heard Leon sigh in defeat, Luis mentally rewarded himself for winning their make-believe war of attrition;

Only to be stopped in his tracks when he heard Leon making…. Fucking plane sounds???

“ Bbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrr…….”

“ Leeeoonn…-“ ‘ ¿Qué carajo estás haciendo?’ Is what Lui s wanted to say, but he was promptly cut off when Leon continued;

“Uh, here comes the aeroplane…. Nyoooom…..”

“ Jesús maldito cristo- Leon!!”

Finally, finally- of all the goddamn things- that finally got a reaction out of Luis. He threw his head back against the pillow and laughed harder than he had in days. Was it painful? Oh, absolutely- his head felt like it was being slammed against a wall and his chest rattled like crazy;

But Luis would be lying if he said he wouldn’t trade Leon’s laughter alongside his it for the world.

“ You- Santa mierda- you can’t make t-those jokes!! Joder, you are a secret agent!!”

“ Special agent, actually” the ‘special agent’ smiled, clearly biting back his own laughter as Luis’ only grew more and more.

“That has- got to be- the worst joke you have ever made-“ Luis tried to make out a sentence inbetween his rattly coughs and sharp chills, but much to his dismay, Leon only continued.

“Damn, I guess I better step up my game then huh-“

“ Por favor no-“

“Ok, ok, how about this,”

Leon sat up on his haunches, finally taking the accursed sandwich away from Luis’ mouth.

“If you take at least a couple bites, I promise I’ll never make a joke that bad ever again”

“ Ever?” Luis croaked from his pillow, an eyebrow raised and his smile crooked. He could hardly make out Leon’s expression, but if he had to guess, it was probably one of dishonesty.

“I swear on my mother’s life I won’t”

“You don’t have a mother”

Now it was Leon’s turn to burst out into laughter; loud, uninterrupted and honest. Even through the pain, it was music to Luis’ ears.

“Just eat your damn sandwich, doll”

“ Mmmmmmonly cuz I love you cariño….”

Leon scratched the top of his head one last time and gave him a kiss on the forehead, chuckling breathily;

“I love you too.”

Luis managed to eat… most of the sandwiches Leon had made him. He’d gotten through two of them- conveniently leaving out the crust- before finally succumbing to his own need for sleep.

He was right in his theories, though; every single chew he took make his brain feel like it was being slammed against a wall, but at least the cold chills stopped- and everytime he swallowed, Leon gave a quiet, almost unintentional little ‘ good job’, from the back of his throat. Which probably shouldn’t have made Luis feel as warm as it did- but he didn’t have the strength to care. Or even begin to try and dissect why.

Sure, it felt rather childish to be fed like some kind of dying Victorian child- but there was something undeniably intimate about letting Leon just… take care of him. Even if just for a moment. With no guilt to follow suit. Something Luis hadn’t experienced in a good long while.

Would it be strange to say it reminded him of when his Abuelo used to make him tomato soup when he was a little boy all the way back in Valdelobos whenever he was sick? Maybe that was a discussion for another evening.

The longer he chewed, the more tired Luis grew; to the point where he was literally falling asleep with food in his mouth half-chew. Head slacking and eyes dropping closed, Leon had to pull his hand away from his mouth and tap his chin or give his head a little scratch as a reminder to not fall asleep with food in his mouth.

“ C’mon, dove,” he’d whisper, his voice full of quiet sympathy and affection.

“ You’ve gotta finish it. For me?”

“Hhhmmphh…”

“You’re gonna choke if you don’t swallow..”

Eventually, though, Luis had to push Leon’s hand away and silently say ‘ no more’. Thankfully his partner could read him like an open book and was curled up by his side in a matter of seconds, continuing to rub his back in comforting, repetitive motions.

Their foreheads were inches away from touching, and it was very apparent just how rattly Luis’ breath was; but Leon didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“ Yyyoour’re gnna catch mmy fluuu…”

“ I couldn’t care less,” Leon chuckled at Luis’ sleepy tone, closing the gap between them with a kiss to his flush forehead.

“ ‘Just means I get to spend more time with you”

Luis could hardly open his mouth to complain before Leon already had a hand through his hair, carding his fingers softly against his scalp.

“ Go to sleep, dove,”

He whispered,

“ You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Luis didn’t need to be told twice. And so he fell asleep in Leon’s arms faster than he ever had in his entire life.

And despite his body’s attempts, Luis had somehow gotten one of the best night's sleep he had ever had in his entire life.

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totowlff · 1 year

Text

extra — bliss

➝ toto is grinning like a goofball. and it didn't go unnoticed.

➝ word count: 4,6k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s notes: this is, probably, my favorite chapter to date. you will know why.

The image on Toto's cell phone screen looked straight out of a dream. At the edges of the shot, his fingers were holding up a small glossy rectangle with an image printed in black and white. It wasn’t high-quality or high-definition, but it was probably Toto’s favorite picture on earth.

The subject featured a slightly elongated white blob, resting at the bottom of a dark oval. On the bottom of the picture, there were a series of lines in consistent peaks and valleys, depicting a heartbeat. It was the absolute proof that he wasn’t just imagining things.He was going to have a child.

“A child with her”, Toto thought, as he thought about the way Cassie smiled at him as she told him the news a few Sunday evenings prior. The memory of it made something feel warm in his chest.

While Toto was in Barcelona for the Spanish Grand Prix, he’d called Cassie to find out how her appointment went at the fertility clinic. She’d been scheduled for a blood draw and an exam that day ahead of their second try at IVF conception after a first attempt failed. While they were on the phone, Toto could hear a certain hesitation — maybe fear — in the tone of Cassie’s voice. His first thought was that something was wrong, but Cassie didn’t say.

It made the entire weekend drag on for what felt like an eternity. Despite his efforts to keep focused on his duties with the team that weekend, he felt internally consumed by anguish and anxiety. During debriefs, he found his mind wandering to what would happen when he would go to Cassie’s flat upon arriving back in Oxford. He feared the worst — that whatever caused their first attempt to fail was a bigger problem than expected and would prevent any future attempts at conception, putting an end to their shared dream.

He also couldn’t bear the possibility of seeing Cassie in the state he’d found her in when he returned home from Bahrain. She had been devastated by the failure of their first try, in tears, talking about how big of a failure she was. Her sadness that night was like a knife in Toto’s chest, so profound was the heartache he felt for her, and for himself. He hoped he wouldn’t ever have to see her that sad again, he was sure of that.

He tormented himself by imagining every possible scenario for the entire flight back to the UK, and for the entire drive into her neighborhood in the north of Oxford. He steeled himself, fully prepared to see Cassie just as she was on that terrible night in April.

When she answered the door, though, all appeared fine. It eased his heart a bit.

— Good evening, Cassie — he said.

— Good evening — she replied, a peaceful expression on her face — Come in.

He stepped into the flat and took his shoes off by the door, glancing around the living room to see if it was like last time, with discarded tissues, empty wine bottles, and various forgotten messes. He was relieved to see that it looked neatly organized like it usually was, just a white box on the coffee table and an episode of some television series he wasn’t familiar with paused on the screen.

Toto heard Cassie’s footsteps behind him, and turned to face her.

— Well, I was going to stop by today anyway, but you said you needed to talk to me, so I decided to stop by before I went home.

— Yes, I needed… I need to.

— Well, I'm here.

His chest tightened at the awkward silence.

— Cassie, is there something wrong? Did something show up on your blood test?

— I think you'd better sit down — she replied, her voice thin.

Nobody ever said that unless they had bad news. Toto’s stomach lurched. “This is it. It’s all over”, he thought.

— Cassie, I'm not going to do anything until you tell me what’s wrong. Please, tell me.

Then, it got worse. Cassie's eyes filled with tears and her bottom lip started to tremble. Without a second thought, Toto took two steps forward and placed his hands on her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

It was painful to see her crying, but seeing her crying and not knowing why was even worse. After urging her to explain, Cassie took a deep breath, laying her hands on his wrists.

— There was… A change in the hormone levels on my blood test.

— What kind of change?

— The level of a hormone called ‘hCG’ is… Elevated — she whispered.

Toto had read a lot about the IVF process. He'd been with Cassie for almost every appointment since he'd cast his lot into this endeavor and had done his own research so he’d know exactly what Cassie was dealing with. He’d read more about hormones and the human reproductive system than he’d ever cared to and he knew she wasn't taking any medication or receiving any hormone injections for her body to reset itself before a new IVF cycle. He couldn’t ever remember seeing anything or hearing anything mentioned about a hormone called hCG, which made things even more frightening.

— Is that serious?

— Well, it depends.

— Depends on… What?

— How serious is a child for you?

Toto's heart leapt in his chest. Was she implying what Toto thought she was implying? He couldn’t have heard that right. She couldn’t have just said something about a child.

— What? — he managed to stammer.

— I'm pregnant — Cassie said, as more tears streamed down her face. There was no sadness in her eyes, quite the opposite. She had a wide smile on her face — We're having a baby.

Toto took a few seconds to process her words, his eyes fixed on hers, searching for any indication that she was kidding. After so much pain, so much fear, so many doubts, the last thing Toto wanted was for this to be a joke.

But Cassie had been to the doctor, had the tests done, talked to the clinic staff. She wouldn't say that if it wasn't true. She wouldn't joke about this. “It's real, my God, it's real”, he thought, as the smile grew on his face, his anguish metamorphosing into pure joy.

He took his hands off of her face and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off her feet, twirling Cassie into the middle of the room. He laughed aloud, the certainty that this was the happiest a man could be in his life growing inside his chest.

His dream had come true.

He was going to be a father.

Since then, everything in the world seemed a little more alive, more vibrant, more beautiful. All he could think about was Cassie and the way she smiled and laughed as he twirled her around her living room, happiness etched on her face. Any problems or unforeseen events at the factory did little to affect his mood, and apparently, his happiness was quite visible.

— Toto?

Casting a sidelong glance across his desk, he realized he was rambling about something while Ola Källenius was sitting in front of him, one eyebrow raised over her rectangular glasses.

— Yes?

— Is everything okay?

— Everything's great, why?

— It's just that you seem distracted today — the executive said, taking a sip of the coffee that was still left in his cardboard cup.

Toto flushed a bit in embarrassment.

— I'm sorry, Ola — he quickly responded, running a hand through his hair — It's just… I got some news yesterday and I'm still processing it.

The man's expression softened.

— Well, I hope it’s a good thing, you seem very happy.

— Yeah, it's really good. I think it's the best news I've ever received in my life.

— The best news, huh? Has Lewis decided to sign a lifetime contract?

— I'm going to be a father, Ola — Toto answered, without hesitation, before realizing what he had done. He and Cassie had agreed not to tell anything to anyone until a few months in, until after the risk for miscarriage or other had passed. However, Toto’s excitement had gotten the better of him. Ola grinned widely at him.

— This is fantastic, congratulations, Toto! — he said, reaching out to give his shoulder a friendly squeeze — Do you know the sex yet? Is it a boy or a girl?

— No, we don’t know yet, we haven't done any imaging or anything...

— Oh, so is recent?

— Yeah — he said, doing some quick mental math, trying to ignore the image of Cassie writhing in pleasure that filled his mind — A month, maybe a bit more.

The man smiled beside him.

— You were lucky to find out early, then. But, do you have a preference as far as the sex goes?

— Well, no. But, I think if I could choose, I’d like to have a little girl.

— I thought you'd like a boy to accompany you on paddock adventures.

— There’s nothing that stops a little girl from liking racing, right?

— Indeed — Ola replied, laughing.

The two talked a little more about parenting, with the executive sharing some anecdotes and stories about the children he had with his partner, Sabine. Hearing Ola talk about his children made a strange anxiety settle in his chest.

It wasn’t just the anticipation of finding out if they were having a boy or girl, it was wondering what the little person growing inside of Cassie would be like, in general. It was the anticipation of meeting someone that he didn’t know, but already loved so deeply. Would the baby be serious and driven like Toto, or would they be a free spirit like Cassie? Would they be more athletic, or more artistic?

There was one thing Toto was sure about, however.

“You’re going to be as beautiful as your mother”, he thought, smiling at the phone's screen, where the ultrasound image continued to glow, foreshadowing the entire life Toto and his child would have together.

— What are you looking at that has you smiling like that? — a man said, bringing Toto out of his thoughts. Looking up, Toto found Niki Lauda staring at him from the other side of the plane’s seat. His blue eyes shone with curiosity. They were on a plane, flying to the Azerbaijan Grand Prix in Baku. He usually did his best to avoid keeping his attention glued to his phone while he was on flights to and from races, to give himself time to decompress and let his mind wander, but all he could think about was Cassie and the baby she was carrying.

Since he had joined the Mercedes operation, the former driver was usually at his side, during races, debriefs, and flights to and from races. Toto had always admired him both on and off the track. His vision and courage never ceased to amaze him. Despite Niki saying he didn't have any friends, Toto was proud to be the exception.

As Niki’s friend, Niki knew quite a bit about Toto’s life.

He was one of the few people who knew about the entire history of Toto’s love life. There had been a few times that Niki had teased him about still being single, and good-naturedly offered to introduce him to one of Birgit’s friends, but Toto had refused. He was fairly certain that a blind date set-up wouldn’t be the way he would find the right person, and had expressed that to Niki, telling him that he wanted someone who was looking to start a relationship with, not just a casual date or hookup.

One thing Toto appreciated about Niki was how understanding he was. However, he wished he had been a little more than usual when he told his friend about his plans to have a baby with Cassie. He had already mentioned her to Niki on enough occasions for the man to suggest that Toto should ask her out on a date if he was in such a mood to “dip his pen in the company ink”. However, when Toto told him about their plans to pursue IVF conception, Niki immediately shot the idea down, telling Toto that he thought it was a stupid idea.

“Is it so stupid to want to fulfill a dream?”, he remembered asking himself.

— I'm looking at a picture — Toto replied, containing his smile a little.

— A pretty picture, by the looks of it.

— The prettiest I've ever taken, I think.

— Care to show me? — Niki asked, smirking.

Toto turned his phone towards his friend, mentally preparing himself for his reaction, which could be anything between joy and absolute bewilderment.

The former driver leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he studied the image. The following silence was longer than Toto would have expected, causing anxiety to tie knots in his stomach.

— Is that a baby?

— Well, technically it's a six-week old embryo, but you could say that it’s a baby.

Niki looked up at him.

— It's yours? — he asked. Toto just nodded, which made a small smile appear on his friend's face — So you went ahead with your plan with that girl, what's her name again? Alexandra?

— It's Cassandra, Niki. And yes, we went ahead with our plan and had our first round of IVF…

— And you got a positive at the first time? — Niki said, cutting him off. He looked impressed — If I can say one thing, you guys were lucky. When Birgit and I decided to have children, we had to go through three rounds before we got the twins, and it only worked once she changed one of the medications she was taking.

Toto pursed his lips hesitantly.

— But, I remember that the feeling of seeing the two lines on the pregnancy test was incredible. I started to cry when I saw the result, even after so long. I realized that day that I hadn't lost my enchantment with the world...

— The first attempt didn't work out, Niki.

Niki looked at him, confused.

— Oh, so, it was the second, then…

— We, uh… Didn’t get the chance to go ahead with the second round…

A few seconds later, his expression lit up as he connected the dots.

— Did you fuck?

— Niki! — exclaimed Toto, exasperated. He felt his face heat with embarrassment. He didn't like talking about his sex life openly, not even with people who knew him intimately.

— Toto, you just told me that you went ahead with your stupid plan and it didn't work, but there's a picture of an ultrasound on your phone and you've been smiling like a goofball since you boarded this jet, so I can only assume that you two fucked or this Sandra...

— Cassandra — Toto said, correcting him quietly.

— Cassandra, whatever, is the new Virgin Mary, and this baby of yours will be the second coming of Christ.

Toto sighed, defeated.

— We slept together...

— I knew it — the ex-driver said, chuckling in satisfaction.

— But it was only once, at her flat, when I got back from Bahrain. I hadn’t heard from her during the entire flyaway, so I went over to check on her. Cassie was devastated that it didn't work out and I felt awful that I hadn't been there for her, that I hadn’t given her the support that I’d promised I’d give her in the beginning…

— So, you decided to give her your support in bed?

— No — Toto replied quickly, as he realized that was exactly what had happened. Cassie had said she needed him and he hadn't had the heart to say no to her — Well, not exactly. She started saying that the things her parents said about her were right, that she was useless, that she couldn’t even do the basic things expected of her, that…

Suddenly, it felt as if all of the emotions that Toto had dammed up had found a way out, and he couldn’t stop himself from telling Niki everything.

— I told Cassie that she wasn't useless, but an admirable, courageous woman, capable of anything she set her mind to. And I told her not to feel bad, that we could try again. I promised that I would give her a child. And after all of that, she just… Kissed me.

— And you kissed her back, I imagine.

— I — he hesitated for a few seconds — Well, I didn’t really mean it to happen that way. I didn't want to take advantage of a moment as delicate as that. She was sad, and frustrated, she hadn’t slept well in days. But she said she needed me, that she wanted me. I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

— So, you dipped your pen in the company ink.

— Niki — Toto muttered, in a scolding tone.

— You know I think that’s a bad idea, right?

— That’s funny, considering that you met Birgit when she was a flight attendant for Lauda Air, right?

— It was NIKI, but that’s beside the point.

— That’s exactly the point! You’d been dating less than a year before she gave you one of her kidneys, because she loved you and you needed one.

— No, the point here is that you had sex with Addie…

— For fuck’s sake, Niki, it's Cassie! — Toto grumbled. He was starting to get frustrated. Her name was so simple to remember, he couldn't understand why Niki was having so much trouble getting it right. It wasn’t as if Cassie was a stranger to Niki, that he’d never met her before.

— Okay, you fucked Cassie and got her pregnant on the first try. That’s pretty remarkable.

— Why do you think that’s remarkable?

— Because, I was with Marlene for almost ten years before we managed to have Lukas, and Birgit and I only had the twins after we had IVF ourselves. Three rounds, like I said.

— What about Christoph? — he asked. Christoph was Niki's third son, with whom he had no contact. The boy’s mother, who Niki had an extramarital affair with in the 1980’s, requested that Niki not be involved in his life. The affair eventually culminated in Niki and Marlene’s divorce.

— Well, that took a few tries, too, not that I was trying to get her pregnant. But, given that, I can assure you that… How do I say this… Hitting a bullseye with your first shot is impressive.

— Thanks, I guess — Toto mumbled. There was something strange about talking about it like he and Cassie ended up having a casual fuck at her apartment that resulted in an unexpected pregnancy.

The fact that they had sex was unexpected, but there was nothing casual about it, that was one thing Toto was sure of. He’d had brief flings with a few women that resulted in some no-strings-attached sex, but this didn’t feel like that. There was something different in the air, in the way Cassie looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she kissed him. It wasn’t just a casual fling. It was something Toto could neither define nor explain, but it was definitely unlike anything he had ever experienced in his life.

— So, does that mean you two are together? — Niki asked

— No, no. We are still friends, not...

Niki chuckled.

— So, you’ve convinced yourself that you’re still just friends with her?

— Yes, because we are friends, Niki…

— Toto, you clearly like her.

— Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't be building a family with her.

— Then it's more serious than I thought — he muttered, crossing his legs to left his right ankle on his left knee.

— More serious? What are you talking about?

— Toto, you love this woman.

The word knocked the breath out of his lungs, a shiver running down his spine.

Love was a strong word for Toto. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel love, or was shy about expressing it. He loved his mother, sister and nephews. He loved the friends he had known at different times in his life. He loved his team, his job, and motorsport. But Niki was referring to a different kind of love.

It was a kind of love he hadn't felt in a long time, not since… Julia.

Her name was Julia Hirsch, and she was the first and last woman that Toto loved. She had a degree in economics and had been working at the Vienna Stock Exchange for a few years when they met in 2005 through mutual friends. Toto was enchanted with her from the moment they met. She had dark blonde hair, a soft, kind face, and light blue eyes. They started dating, and it didn’t take long for them to fall in love, and for them to start talking about marriage and children.

A few years before that time, though, a friend of his asked him if he was interested in getting back into racing as a hobby, mostly rallying, but some GT and endurance racing as well. He found a way to make it all work together, and Julia was supportive, but eventually, he started taking racing more seriously, and found himself spending more time away from home. A distance grew between him and Julia, and Toto only realized how serious the situation was after his accident on the Nordschleife, in 2009.

He was attempting to break a lap record there for GT cars. When he regained consciousness at the hospital in Adenau, he was a little surprised to not see her at his bedside. Nobody had told Julia of the accident. The racing team he was with that weekend didn’t know that he was in a relationship. It was as if she didn’t exist in that part of his life.

He knew something had to change. After all, he knew he wouldn’t be able to play with race cars forever, and the experience of riding in an ambulance and trying to figure out if he could feel his legs or not hastened his decision to hang up his helmet for a bit.

He was transferred to a hospital in Vienna, and Julia did come visit him, furious and worried. It was then that he realized how close he was to losing her, and that his life needed a change.

They talked for a few long hours in his hospital room, both of them resolving to repair their relationship, but neither of them really knew how. Toto gave up racing, and Julia cut her work schedule back, and stayed in his penthouse to help him with his recovery. She never returned to her own condo. Six months later, after he was given a clean bill of health, Toto proposed. She accepted, and they started planning their wedding.

In time, Toto realized that he couldn’t stay away from racing altogether. He didn’t get back in a car again, but he had made a successful career out of investing and finance, so he married his interests and invested in a racing outfit called HWA, which managed Mercedes’ entries in the Deutsche Tourenwagen Masters Championship in Germany.

Then, an opportunity to invest in a Formula 1 team called Williams Racing came about, which eventually turned into a seat on the team’s executive board. He resumed his routine of traveling and spending a lot of time away from Vienna. Julia wasn’t exactly happy about it, but at least he still came home to Vienna, and to her.

The last straw was when he received the offer to buy a one-third share of the Mercedes F1 team, and for him to become the CEO and team principal of the F1 team. He would have to move to England, because that’s where their base was. It would also mean long hours of travel on race weekends, sometimes back-to-back.

Julia said that she couldn’t stomach the idea of starting a family with someone who was away so much, but asked Toto for a few days so she could think about whether she wanted to move to the UK with him. Toto, of course, told her to take all the time she needed. A month before the move, he returned to his penthouse to see Julia’s things gone, and her engagement ring in its box on his kitchen counter. That was her answer.

Julia had slipped through his fingers, without even saying goodbye.

That had been the last woman he had loved in his life. As he sat in his half-empty apartment with all of his things boxed up for the move, Toto realized that his plans had gone down the drain. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed, but he still loved her.

Julia was the one he was going to marry, to have children with, to spend the rest of his life with. There was no more Julia, but there was Cassie, and she made Toto feel something achingly familiar, an emotion that he hadn’t felt in a while, but was too afraid to put a name to.

He hung on to the ring for a year while he grieved, but after the team won its first championship under his ownership, he decided that he needed to move on. He sold the ring to a jeweler in London that gave him a decent price for it. He went on a few dates after that, none of them resulting in much. Eventually, he just decided to focus on work, because that made him happy, and that was enough for the time being.

— Niki, I think you’re imagining things.

— I'm not imagining anything, I'm just stating facts as I see them. You love this woman.

— I don't — Toto paused for a few moments. He couldn’t gather the courage to even utter those words — Look, I like Cassie. I like her a lot. She's my friend and, soon, she's going to be the mother of my child. We're going to have a family together, so...

— That, right there. That’s how I know you love her, Toto.

He blinked.

— What do you mean?

— The fact that you say that you’re going to have a family with her.

— But that’s what it is. We’re having a child together, that’s having a family.

Niki shook his head.

— If there's anything I've learned, it’s that having a child with someone is the easy part. Fuck some woman without protection at the right time of the month, and nine months later, you’ll have someone that calls you daddy and asks you to play peek-a-boo with them, but having a family is so much more than that.

Toto glanced out the jet’s window, thoughtfully. He wasn’t sure if he followed.

— Trust me, I’ve done both. I've had children with three different women in this life, but I’ve only had a family with Marlene and Birgit. It’s about more than just having a bit of fun, or even making a baby together. I was only able to have that with them because I felt a deep love for them. I still do, actually, and I'm sure they feel the same way about me. That's the big difference, Toto.

— Love?

— Exactly. Which is why, the moment you tell me you're going to have a family with Callie — Niki paused for a second while Toto opened his mouth to correct him — Cassie, I mean. It means you love her enough to face this challenge together with her and not separately, like me and Christoph’s mother did.

Something in those words carried Toto back to the day Cassie told him about her plan to have a baby on her own. Knowing more about the terrible relationship she had with her own family, he concluded that he had been right to offer to participate in the process. But Toto knew he had a deeper reason, one that didn't involve his own desires or the things that happened to him and his sister during their childhood.

He wanted to make Cassie happy. He wanted Cassie to fulfill all of her dreams. He wanted Cassie to see herself the way he saw her. He wanted Cassie to love herself as much as he loved her.

— You're wrong, Niki — Toto said abruptly, turning in his seat away from the older man — I like Cassie, we're friends, and that’s all it is. End of discussion.

#toto wolff #f1 x oc #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #formula one x oc #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula one fic #wlffog #collab #etlwlff

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