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sixosix · 8 months

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SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

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

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

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

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

“500,000!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She peers below, unworried—silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CRASH.

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

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

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

(His hands were shaking.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Generously,” Aether adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink. “Are you saying—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

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

“The hat’s empty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

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

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

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

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

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

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

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

“He did not.”

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

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, we want to see!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? It was empty!”

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

“Are you a magician, too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you trying to say right now?”

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

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

“I almost want to disagree.”

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

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

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

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

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

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Speak of the devil…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No tricks.

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

No strings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Missed me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

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

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

“Brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” you say.

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

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

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

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

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

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

“W-What—”

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

“I—I’m sorry—”

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

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

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

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

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

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

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

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

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

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

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #lyney fanfiction

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mieluscious · 3 months

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who cares. xavier

ෆ pairings : xavier x female reader

ෆ genre : drabble, smut, pwp

ෆ miel's note : so guys. unfortunately there aren't many fics about love and deepspace at the moment but here i AM so come aboard! i don't intend to let you starve.

ෆ warnings : mdni. switch!xavier, switch!reader, established relationship, couch sex, some teasing, riding, rough sex, unprotected sex, reader feeds him with her mouth, xavier is a cutie and a monster at the same time . . . ໑ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

"w-wait im thirsty-" you threw your head back and moaned xavier's name as you bounced faster on his cock.

"w-what?" you raised your head at his words and his hand came to rest on your hips, trying to slow you down as he blindly reached for a bottle of water on the coffee table next to the sofa you were both on. "fuck. baby we are fucking right now-" you squealed loudly as he raised his hips to try and catch the bottle, which was further away than he thought but still, he couldn't reach it. you put your hands on his chest and moved your hips slower against his.

"i know but.." he raised his puppy dog eyes to you and you couldn't resist him any longer. he opened his mouth and a little whimper escaped from between his lips as you placed your hands on either side of his head on the sofa. his hands slid down your back to grab your ass, making you fuck yourself harder on his cock. "please.." your teeth caught your lip to keep yourself from screaming as you felt his cock hit your g-spot. you leaned forward a little bit more to grab the bottle, without taking your eyes off xavier.

he smiled between moans as you felt him tremble between your thighs at the sight of you licking the bottle cap erotically. your other hand, which was still on his chest, slid to his nipple, which you pinched with a grin. xavier arched his back against the sofa with a loud mewl, your heart melting as you watched his ears redden. you finally opened the bottle and brought it to your lips, while he took the opportunity to pinch your ass in return, almost knocking the bottle out of your hands. you crushed your pelvis against his and raised an eyebrow as his teeth caught his lip.

"say sorry baby." your thumb pressed again against his swollen bud, making him thrust his hips up.

"ahhh... i'm sorry.." you leaned in to kiss his forehead and little whimpers escaped from between his lips with each of his thrust as he watched you straighten up to put water in your mouth. you leaned over him again and placed the bottle back on the coffee table.

"open your mouth." he opened his mouth and your gaze dropped to his collarbones, which were visibly reddening. you put your forearms on either side of his head and your lips caught his, making him tremble beneath you as he timidly swallowed the water you finally gave him. a trickle of water escaped from between your lips and xavier arched his back, moaning prettily into your mouth as he felt the cool water running against his ear. when he had finished drinking all the liquid in your mouth, you licked his tongue before letting go of his lips and you pressed your forehead against his. "f-faster baby." you straightened your upper body a little and your fingers entwined his soft blond hair. he tilted his head to the side and kissed your forearm without taking his eyes off you.

"everything you want." he tilted his head back slightly with a cute whimper and your moans started echoing against his living room walls as he started to thrust his cock deeper into your dripping cunt. his hands moved up the small of your back before getting back to your ass, which he slapped hard, making you bounce even faster on his cock, fucking him back roughly. "f-fuck. you're so wet..n'tight-" one of xavier's hands slipped between your breasts to grasp your throat and you threw your head back as you cried out louder.

a streams of yes’s escaped from your glossy lips as the doorbell suddenly rang throughout the apartment. you tilted your face back towards xavier, who was moaning with his mouth wide open and his cheeks more than flushed. he didn't seem to have heard and you tried to warn him, but you mewled when his hand, which was on your ass, slipped onto your hips before putting his arm around them, and you started to rub your clit harder against his pelvis. he pressed his arm down on your waist, making you lean your ass back to let him fuck you rougher. your grip on his hair tightened and you fell on top of him as he struck you with a thrust that was stronger than the others, your delicious breasts pressed against his chest made him blush even more. you looked up at him and opened your mouth to try to speak again, but seeing your face so fucked made him even more excited, you flushed as you could hear the lewd squelching and skin slapping against skin noises getting louder.

"b-baby....ahhh.. d-door-" the doorbell rang again and xavier smiled between two moans.

"it's the delivery guy-" he slipped his hands under your thighs and pushed you more against him, arching your back. you could feel your wetness trickling down to his fingers. you also smiled and licked his chin before biting gently, making him whimpers.

"ahh- let's keep..fucking then."

#xavier love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace #love and deep space x reader #love and deep space x you #love and deepspace smut #anime smut #drabble #smut drabble #one shot #xavier #xavier love and deep space #smut #xavier x reader #xavier x you #xavier x y/n

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m0nsterqzzz · 2 months

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Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination.

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand.

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That’s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.”

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.”

“Always?”

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!”

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

#clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #fluff #valentines day #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #cats #don't call my bitch the lightning theif percy!#what was that ending?#11 days late lol #valentines gifts #valentines day fic

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rodolfoparras · 3 months

Text

“What are you thinking about?”

Thinking about Price whose body is covered in dark blonde hairs, hairs that almost appear golden when the sun shines on them, appear so bright they outdo his dog tags, or appear a shade darker when soaked in sweat, blonde damp strands that lay matted against his belly button but curl at the base of his cock, thick blonde pubes that stretch down his thighs stopping just at his tan lines that he’d gotten from standing so long in the merciless sun

Thinking about Price sprawled out on the bed, naked and with only a thin white sheet covering his waist, eyes closed and chest rising and falling at a steady pace.

He’s recently showered, smells just like your body wash, blonde hairs appearing a shade darker and sticking to his body .

He feels relaxed, at ease but there’s one thing missing.

You.

You were still at work and wouldn’t be back home til much later, no matter how much Price had begged and pleaded for you to come earlier, had even sent a couple of racy shots to get you out of the office.

Long gone are the days where he’d be bashful about his wishes and his desires. You’d made him into an insatiable monster and he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed.

So of course he had messages you, sent a pic or two. However you were adamant on finishing up your work for tonight, told him to be good if he wanted you to take care of him at all.

And Price planned to do so he really did, planned to read a book of or even go to sleep, and let your cock pull him away from his dreams but then he looked at the pics he had sent you, and memories from yesterday flooded his head.

The two of you had spent all day in bed, with you taking him in every and any way you could, pulling orgasms after orgasm from him and leaving marks and bruises on his skin, and all of a sudden he feels himself getting hard, unable to suppress the desire bubbling up in gut.

Maybe he had some time before you got home, could swiftly get himself off and hide what had occurred.

And even if you were to find out, he’s sure that he’d enjoy the punishment just as much,

A contented hum escapes his lips as he drags a hand over his belly, calloused finger carding through golden strands of hair, that in the light appear just as bright as the wedding band on his hand.

He doesn’t need much, just the thought of you -his husband - is enough to get him going and before he knows it he’s got his thick pink cock fully hard and weeping between his thighs, thumb dragging over his slit and collecting the precum.

It doesn’t feel as good as your touch but you have yet to come home and Price settles on burying his face in your pillow while stroking his cock.

And that does the trick, deeply inhaling the smell of your cologne that’s sticking to the sheet as he inches closer to his release.

Once again he wishes you’d be here , to have your face buried in his crotch, mouth full of his cock, telling him how good he tastes, how good he smells, to be able taste himself on your lips after he cums.

But again he settles on having your pillow next to him as he tips over the edge, feels himself practically melting into the sheets, while milking his orgasm, and chanting your name til it feels like he’s running out of air.

“John?”

#call of duty #I just wanted to talk about prices body hair and it turned into this #john price x male reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #dom male reader #top male reader #bottom male character #sub male character

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 4 months

Note

Hi! I really like your writing, and I was wondering if I could request a Yandere!Platonic 1st Years (+Grim) with an Eri!Reader?

How would they feel learning of her abused, trauma, and her unfamiliarity with general society and social norms? (Who’s looking murderous when they see just the scars littered around her arms and legs when her bandages are removed?)

Though it’s a whole different story when she says she sees her power as nothing but a ‘curse’, and her existence a ‘burden’ that only makes others suffer? All because of the man named ‘Overhaul’, the one who did this so her? (Who’s about to go feral when she admits she doesn’t remember how to smile?)

But she starts to become more positive thanks to Grim and slowly the others (She likes Grim and is very sparkly eyed because he talks, breaths fire and thinks he’s amazing)

Imagine when she says she made a friend all on her very own who’s ‘like her’, though they lightly chastise her that she shouldn’t talk with strangers (It’s Malleus, they’re both lonely, have horns she has 1, while Malleus has 2, have an incredible power that’s very dangerous, and they’re unfamiliar/slow with society)

Eri Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’ve been through so much….so you’ve been told. The pain, the heartbreak, the constant voice in your head that has guilt weighing on your little heart. Your transportation to Twisted Wonderland couldn’t come at a better time. They’re going to welcome you cage you to this new world more than willing to spoil you to your hearts content:

Grim

“Oi oi servant they all think we’re monsters!”

“...yeah?”

“Yeah! So we gotta show them we’re gonna be the greatest mages in here!”

“Oh….okay!”

He’s the perfect chaotic companion

He teaches you to allow yourself to do what you want

Granted his guidance isn’t all knowing

No matter how tasty Heartslabyul’s tarts are you shouldn’t eat them everytime you visit — especially without permission

Either way you’re learning to forgive yourself and allow you to have fun

And leave it to Grim to say whatever snarky thing you’d like to say when your big-brothers get in the way

“Nyeh! You won’t be able to do anything against my flames, nyah!”

Ace Trappola

“Hey if I catch you moping about that plague doctor guy, I’ll sock ya in the head!”

“Ace?!”

“I-i-i won’t!”

In a weird way you’re so used to being bullied (by kai) that you tend to take his bully-affection to heart

You know he cares, he just won’t tell you often

He reminds you of a certain blonde…

It also makes you more privy to his very willing desire to steamroll over anyone he deems a problem for you

“I think he meant that as a joke, Ace…”

“Joke schmoke, I warned you, you stain! I’m putting you in the medical wing.”

“Ace, please!”

Deuce Spade

“(Y/n), did you eat today? Are you feeling well? Do you need me to carry you!”

Mother hen of the group

He’s hovering close behind even when you don’t see him

Always making sure you’re safe and happy as can be

He’s teeming with anxiety if he’s not watching you himself

Even worse if you get hurt accidentally or on purpose

Now he’s Mama bear totally bearing the claws to protect you

He’s not going to leave you to defend yourself

Especially when your abilities hinge on your mental state

He’s trying his best

“Are you doing the breathing techniques Crewel recommended? Where’s your paper bag?”

Jack Howl

“Hello little one.”

“Hi.”

“Would you…like to sit on my shoulders?”

“Yes!”

Your #1 guard dog

Doesn’t have to worry considering Deuce is freaking out for him

He’ll be the sane voice of reason because Ace isn’t anywhere close to reliable in his eyes

Naturally he entrances you with his tail and overall dog-like personality

But don’t forget he’s got the bite force of a wolf that he’s not afraid to use if he deems fit

“Pup, don’t stop yourself from having fun or being…young. I–we will keep you safe.”

Epel Felmier

“You’re so pretty.”

“...Thanks.”

You’re the only one who can get away with calling him that

And he loves nothing more than escaping Vil to find out what other sweet makes you smile sweetly

He’s also one of the first to join Ace as part of the self-proclaimed protection committee

He’s also one of the first to suggest taking it further than a mere beatdown

Anything for his new little sibling

“If there’s no body…there’ll be no problems.”

Sebek Zigvolt

“TINY HORNED HUMAN! WHERE IS YOUR DIASOMNIA PIN!”

“Uhm…Ace took it from me…said it was unfair.”

“THAT FOOL. COME CHILD I SHALL BESTOW UPON YOU THE PIN AGAIN.”

Is definitely apart of a brainwash committee of his own and is insistent you become Diasomnia’s new mascot…under Malleus of course

His loudness sometimes scares you off but he means well

And will no doubt join the others if a few heads need to roll

“Rest easy, child. On my watch, no one will harm you.”

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wileys-russo · 6 months

Text

childhood sweethearts (7) II a.russo x reader

series playlist part one part two part three part four part five part six

another flashback, and some fluffy little firsts for our star crossed lovers childhood sweethearts (7) II a.russo x reader

eleven years old; the (sort of) first kiss

"did you see charlie and lily today at lunch?" you asked your best friend scrunching your nose in disgust, her head resting beside yours as the two of you lay on her bed, currently overcoming food comas after gorging yourselves on movie snacks all night.

"they looked like they were trying to eat others faces." alessia agreed before making a weird noise and attacking you, pretending to be some sort of monster as you shoved her off you with a grin.

"is that how you're supposed to kiss someone?" you asked curiously, the two of you looking up at her ceiling as the girl beside you shrugged. "i've never kissed anyone, how would i know?" alessia sighed, a brief pause of silence falling between the two of you.

"have you?" "what? kissed someone?" "yeah."

"lessi do you think maybe i'd have told you if i kissed someone, idiot." you laughed, shoving her head to the side as she rolled her eyes and sat up. "everyone makes a big deal out of it. seems gross!" you pulled a face, not loving the idea of swapping spit with anyone.

"super gross. charlie looked like he was trying to do laundry in lilys mouth." alessia joked as you gave her a look of confusion. "you know, cause his tongue was like a washing machine-" she sat up and demonstrated, aggressively swirling her tongue around and licking the air like a dog making you let out a loud pelt of laughter.

"rory said the other day apparently people practice on their hands." you remembered the words of another one of yours and alessia's mutual school friends. "their hands?" alessia frowned deeply and you nodded.

"yeah they do this-" you made a fist. "-and then they like pretend this bits the mouth-" you pointed to the small hole on the side of your hand where your fingers didn't quite meet. "-and then they practice kissing with it." you shrugged.

"have you been doing that?" alessia grinned as your face blushed bright red, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "no!" you pushed her over so she fell onto her back beside you again. "rory just showed me." you rolled your eyes as alessia hummed, still grinning.

"i haven't!" you protested, smacking her shoulder and now being the one to sit up. "you're the worst." you grumbled, flicking her ear as she whined and swatted your hand away. "then why are you with me all the time." alessia mocked.

"don't have any better options yet, i'm on the market for a new best friend." you shrugged, now the one to grin as the girl let out an offended scoff and launched at you, the two of you rolling around wrestling.

"girls!" you both paused, you teetering on top of alessia with your knees pressed into her stomach as she tightly held your balled fists in her hands, both your heads turning toward the door where an amused looking mario stood. "its nearly nine, go to bed or keep it down." he warned with a smile as you both nodded and he left with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

"first to get ready for bed wins, go!" alessia challenged, shooting up from her bed as you hastily followed, diving onto the floor and rummaging through your overnight bag, with a glance over your shoulder you saw you were losing and internally groaned.

however as alessia tried to jump into her pyjama shorts her clumsy nature betrayed her and she tripped over her own feet, crashing down onto the ground as you yelled time, having just finished.

"i win! loser." you stuck your tongue out at the blonde who huffed, pulling her shorts on properly and sitting beside you on the bed. "go on." alessia groaned, holding her arm out expectantly for the usual punishment from your bets.

"how do you do it again?" you frowned, attempting to give her a chinese burn but really only twisting her arm around without any success. "like this." alessia grabbed your arm and you yelled loudly in pain as she successfully gave you one, the blonde smacking a hand over your mouth as you both looked to the door, silent for a moment but breathing out once neither of her parents appeared.

"i didn't mean give me one!" you scowled, rubbing your arm with a huff. "don't be such a baby." alessia rolled her eyes, kissing your arm apologetically before getting up to turn the lights off.

"hey! you're supposed to get one, you lost." you protested, alessia only shrugging as she grabbed the remote for her tv. "you tried and failed, you're the loser now." the girl teased, ruffling your hair as she jumped into bed, both of you settling under the covers.

"i repeat; you're the worst." you sighed with a shake of your head, alessia only shooting you a grin and grabbing a half eaten block of chocolate off her side table, taking a piece before handing it over to you.

the two of you sat in silence as you finished the movie you'd paused earlier, the princess diaries. to your surprise alessia didn't fall asleep, her eyes normally slipping shut as soon as the lights were off after she'd played a full ninety minute game earlier today, but the blonde seemed just as awake as you were for once as the end credits rolled and she flicked off the tv.

"do you ever think about kissing someone?" alessia asked, the two of you laying in the dark, the only sound filling the room the faint gunshots from the other end of the hallway where her brothers were playing xbox in their own room.

"not a lot but sometimes i guess." you shrugged, not really sure how to answer. "would you kiss someone?" the girl asked again, uncertainty present in her voice. "i think i'd be scared i'd be really bad at it." you confessed honestly with a small sigh, your best friend agreeing.

"we could kiss, tell each other if we're bad or not." alessia suggested as you both sat up, backs resting against the headboard. "that's weird. don't you save your first kiss for a boyfriend?" you replied hesitantly as alessia again shrugged.

"it's not like it will mean anything. just to test it out for when we do it for real!" alessia added on as you thought it over. "okay. but no washing machines!" you stated firmly as alessia grinned. "no washing machines." the blonde held out her pinky, the two of you linking them with a nod.

"ready?" alessia asked as the two of you shifted to face each other and you nodded, leaning in a little. "go." you ordered, the two of you quickly pecking lips. "how was it?" you asked with a frown. "fine i guess?" alessia also frowned, both of you unsure what a kiss was actually supposed to feel like.

you stared at one another for a minute before bursting into laughter, sliding down into the bed and grabbing onto one another, bodys heaving as your eyes squeezed closed and you were both gasping for air, clutching your stomachs which began to hurt.

"girls!" the door suddenly flew open and light flooded the room, your hand moving over alessias mouth as you gave carol a guilty smile. "it's eleven thirty. go to bed, now!" the woman warned as you apologized, elbowing a still laughing alessia as carol gave you both a stern look and closed the door.

you both settled for a minute, laughs turning into quiet giggles. "well at least we aren't washing machines." alessia commented into the darkness, setting the both of you off again as you covered one anothers mouths, desperately trying to muffle the sounds of your amusement.

"girls!"

thirteen years old; the first boyfriend

"hey! how did it go?" you quickly shot to your feet, raising an eyebrow as your best friend wandered over, playing with the straps of her book bag.

"they said yes, but i just have to keep up with the work while i'm away and if i'm struggling to stay up to date i have to get a tutor. if my grades drop more then i'll have to miss out, they've agreed to a couple of months trial." alessia explained as you squealed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"this is amazing! my best friend, future lioness." you smiled proudly as alessias arm slung over your shoulder, the two of you making your way out of the office and back onto the school grounds to enjoy what was left of your lunch.

"i wish you played football! then you could come with me." alessia huffed in annoyance as the two of you sat down in your normal spot with twenty minutes left until the bell.

"you've seen me play football lessi." you shook your head as you grabbed out your lunch, rolling your eyes and giving half to alessia who'd eaten most of hers already at your morning break.

"yeah, maybe i could have them trade you to another team? like a really really bad woman on the inside, i'll even get them to make you goal keeper!" alessia teased as she bit down on her half of your sandwich.

"pass on that one. but your first national camp, it'll be so fun! you'll probably meet a load more girls who actually like football." you spoke a little quieter, moving your eyes to stare off into the distance which alessia didn't miss.

"hey, you're my best friend. no one can ever replace that! who else lets me kick footballs at their head and shares their lunch, i'd starve if we weren't friends." alessia grinned, shoving your head to the side playfully.

"so you keep me around for target practice and free food? great. thanks a lot less!" you rolled your eyes moodily. "that's not all you're good for. with your stimulating conversation, good looks and your enormous brain!" alessia knocked teasingly on your forehead as you smacked her hand away.

"speaking of. did you study for our math test?" you questioned sternly, having been on her back all week about it much to her disdain. "yes! sort of." alessia smiled sheepishly as you sighed deeply, used to this kind of response from the blonde.

"sort of?" "yeah, see."

with that the girl lifted up the edge of her uniform skirt, your eyes widening seeing several equations scribbled on her leg in marker. "alessia! cheating?" you hissed as the girl dropped her skirt with a shrug.

"it's not cheating, i'm just giving myself a little helping hand." alessia justified with a grin. "hey! isn't that oliver?" her smile dropped as she nodded over your shoulder with a frown. "uh yeah, why?" you glanced at the boy and back to her.

"isn't he your boyfriend? and he's over there snogging grace!" alessia scoffed in disbelief. "not anymore. he had mason come and give me a note breaking up with me this morning." you announced with a shrug, not seeming all that phased as your best friend looked at you with wide eyes.

"he did what? i'm gonna go break his arm, i told you not to go out with him!" alessia fumed standing to her feet as you hurried to tug her back down with a shake of your head.

"no you won't. we only went out for like two weeks less and we only spoke about five times, he's actually really awkward." you laughed, rubbing her shoulder in appreciation of her protectiveness.

"plus, he was not a good kisser." "washing machine?" "washing machine on a rinse cycle!"

fifteen years old; the first confession

"so there's a party tonight." alessia announced with a suggestive smile, flopping down on your bed as you hummed, head buried in your textbook. "i said, there's a party tonight." alessia repeated, yanking your book out of your hands and tossing it on the floor, her head instead coming to rest in your lap.

"and?" you huffed, smacking her forehead lightly for the mistreatment of your textbook. "and, we should go!" alessia grinned up at you, wiggling her eyebrows. "don't you have an early game tomorrow?" you sighed, playing with her hair like you knew she liked as she shrugged.

"so? we don't have to stay late but it would be fun. come on book worm, your textbooks will be okay left alone for one night!" alessia pinched at your cheeks with a mocking pout, squishing them together.

"are you asking me, or telling me?" "both? i told rory and emily to meet us here at seven." "alessia!"

it was a several hours later and you had to admit you actually weren't having a terrible time. well, you weren't at first. "no way you cheated!" you shoved rory who doubled your score at pinball, the two of you taking turns.

given that the host of this party was easily the richest boy in your grade there were all sorts of fun things to play around with. you'd not seen alessia in about an hour but you weren't too worried, the girl much more so the social butterly than you, you had no doubt she would be around mingling. you however were content so long as you had at least one of your friends by your side throughout the night.

oh how wrong you'd been to leave her on her own.

"hey y/n!" you looked up with a smile as you beat rory again, the girl punching you in the arm as another one of your friends amelia appeared. "um, it's alessia." the girl played nervously with her hands as you raised an eyebrow.

"what's alessia?" you questioned, gesturing for her to continue. "she's sort of...well, just come with me!" the girl grabbed your hand and dragged you off as you grabbed rorys, the redhead trailing after you as amelia lead the two of you upstairs.

"some of the boys brought vodka and they offered us some and well..." amelia winced, opening the bathroom door to reveal your best friend slumped over in the bath tub, emily crouched down by her side.

"she's drunk?" you asked in disbelief, the three of you shuffling into the bathroom and closing the door. "oh my best friend is here! hello you." alessia slurred, perking up happily at the sight of you as her head lolled to one side.

"how much did she drink? lessi how much did you drink?" you squatted down beside emily, grabbing the blondes hand who shrugged as her head thumped back down into the bath tub.

"dunno, few sips." the older girl shrugged as she closed her eyes. "why would you let her drink! why would you drink?" you shoved emily who looked down guiltily, rory sending you a pointed look and rubbing the brunettes back.

"sorry em. can she walk?" you apologized softly. "kind of?" emily winced as you stood, grabbing alessia's hands and trying to pull her up, the girl instead pulling you down as you landed half on top of her in the empty bath, head smacking back into the tiled wall.

"oh fuck!" you hissed sharply, clutching your throbbing head and squeezing your eyes closed. "oh god i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry." alessias eyes widened as she slurred through multiple apologies and your head began to pound.

"shit are you okay? how many fingers am i holding up? can you see one of me or two? do you feel tired? sleepy? you can't sleep if you have a concussion, wake up!" rory shoved her hand in your face. "three fingers rory, and i'm not concussed jesus!" you pushed her digits away from you with a huff.

"my mum is supposed to pick us up in an hour and if she finds her like this we're both dead." you groaned, smacking away alessia's hands which tried to cradle your sore head, still slurring apologies. "your sister, brother?" emily suggested as you shook your head, the girl in question having just lost her license for a few months for speeding, your brother still on his learners permit.

"what about alessia's brothers? god they're fit." rory suggested with a lovesick sigh, emily smacking her on the leg with a warning glare. "worth a try." you sighed, your friends helping you to your feet as rory stepped out, returning with a bottle of water as they coaxed alessia up into a sitting position, having her take small sips as you called gio first.

"short stack. to what do i owe this phone call interrupting my friday night?" the boy sighed as if annoyed but you knew he was only messing about with you, hurriedly rambling out what had happened.

"hey hey slow down. she's conscious right? she can breathe? speak?" the boy tried to calm you as you confirmed the above. "then it'll be okay. just make sure she's drinking some water and isn't left on her back in case she throws up, she could choke. text me where you are and i'll be there soon." the boy promised as you let out a sigh of relief.

"thank you."

"oh wow." the middle russo's eyes widened as it took all three of you to balance the tall blonde between you, who was really not able to walk. "come on less." gio grunted, taking her into his own arms and helping her into the car, buckling her in as she mumbled all sorts of gibberish.

"do you two need a lift home?" gio asked rory and emily who shook their heads, explaining rorys mum was already on her way to get them. you hugged them both goodbye and thanked them for their help before getting into the back next to alessia who'd already passed out.

you winced as her head slumped down onto your shoulder, the girls breath reaking of vodka and vomit as no sooner had the three of you helped her up had she released the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

"did you drink too?" gio asked somewhat firmly, giving you a stern look through the rear view mirror as you shook your head. "no i promise. i didn't even know there'd be alcohol there, and if i had i wouldn't have let less drink. i shouldn't have left her by herself!" you sighed, sparing a glance to the drunken girl beside her.

"hey what she does isn't your responsibility, you can't fix everything for her for the rest of her life. but she's lucky she's got you, even if she is a bit of an asshole to you sometimes." gio cracked a smile which you returned.

"i think the gentle bullying is just her way of showing love. you've seen how she gets when anyone else tries." you chuckled as alessia stirred, crossing her arms and sighing, still continuing to sleep on your shoulder. "mm it's very much so she can pick on you but no one else can." gio laughed quietly as he pulled into their driveway.

"are your parents still up?" you bit your lip nervously as the boy sent you a smile which said it all. "wait here a second." he slipped out of the car and headed inside. "hey lessi." nudging your shoulder up and down as the blonde let out a quiet groan.

"time to wake up, we're at your house." you encouraged softly, shaking her lightly as her bright blue eyes fluttered open. "how'd we get here?" she slurred tiredly, eyes slipping closed again as you sighed.

gio returned with luca in tow as you unbuckled her, again shaking her and helping her to sit up as she rubbed her eyes with an incoherent mumble. "oh lessi." luca sighed with a disappointed shake of his head as he and gio helped the girl out of the car, slinging her arms over their shoulders as she stumbled.

you shrunk as carol awaited your arrival in the doorway, tapping her foot and sighing as the four of you arrived. "hi mum!" the blonde slurred with a lopsided grin, head slumping back onto gio's chest. "take her to bed. i'll deal with her tomorrow!" the woman sighed tiredly, the boys nodding and doing as asked.

"you, come here." the woman beckoned as you hung back, nervously playing with your fingers. you followed her inside and to the kitchen, sitting down at the bench as she instructed, bouncing your knee nervously.

"tell me what happened, the truth." carol handed you a mug of tea as you sent her a small smile and took a sip. you sighed before filling her in on the whole night as best as you knew, unable to fill in the gaps where only alessia was present and responsible for her own actions.

"so you didn't drink?" carol asked firmly as you shook your head quickly. "nothing. i really didn't know anyone would have alcohol, i don't even know how they got it or how much she had." you admitted with a sigh, wishing you could rewind time and have kept a better eye out.

"come here." the woman opened her arms with a sigh as you hugged her, appreciating the warmth that always accompanied an embrace from any of the russo's. "you did the right thing calling someone but next time just call me or your mum, or even mario! i know he's lessi's favourite." the woman rolled her eyes as you cracked a small smile full well knowing your best friend was indeed the epitome of a daddys girl.

"are you gonna call my mum and dad?" you asked nervously, hands twisting around the now empty mug as carol nodded. "tomorrow yes. not tonight, go and get some sleep love." the woman nodded for you to head upstairs as she took your empty mug.

"are you angry with less?" you questioned, hovering in the doorway as carol sighed. "i'm more disappointed in both of you than angry. but she'll get her own talking to tomorrow, don't you worry about that! off you go." and with that you sighed, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of your stomach at the woman you considered a second mum being disappointed in you.

"hey, thank you for tonight." you hovered in gio's door once you'd headed upstairs, the boy giving you a hug and ruffling your hair before you headed across to alessia's room.

you had to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the darkness, closing her door again and stumbling over toward her cupboard, huffing as you waded through the piles of clothes which littered her messy floor.

grabbing out some of her clothes you slipped into her bathroom, changing and brushing your teeth before flicking off the light and padding over to the bed. alessia was also changed and sleeping peacefully, mouth slightly ajar and blonde hair sprawled messily all over the pillows.

"move over less." you sighed, slipping into bed beside her and rolling her over with a grunt. the sudden change of her body had her stirring though as she groggily lifted her head, rubbing her eyes.

"where are we?" "your room lessi." "how the hell did we get here?" the girl slurred though it was much less now some time had passed since her last drink. "you're welcome. goodnight!" you turned onto your side facing away from her.

"go to sleep!" you kicked her as you felt her cold fingers tracing shapes on your back over your top. "no. i need to tell you something, turn over!" alessia demanded as you gave in with a sigh, rolling to face her and raising an eyebrow.

"you're gonna laugh at this, trust me." alessia giggled, clearly still a little drunk as she struggled to keep her head up and her eyes open. "go on then." you gestured for her to continue.

"well...i have a cruush." alessia sang out, poking your nose with a smile. "who?" you perked up, now much more interested in what she had to say. "you might know them." alessia smiled cryptically.

"who?" "you!" alessia revealed with a giggle, head slumping back onto her pillow as she sent you a drunken grin and poked your nose again.

"i think you're the best. you're also really fit and cute and ugh when i look at you sometimes i just wanna-" alessia made a grabbing motion with her hands, laying on her back now as you stayed perfectly still beside her, eyes wide and unable to move as your body tensed.

"-grab you and kiss you properly. take your breath away and make you love me like i love you. but you're my best friend and you like boys, so doesn't matter!" alessia gave you a lopsided smile, staring at you through half lidded eyes, the alcohol pumping through her blood stream like a truth serum.

"goodnight." she sighed suddenly, eyes closing properly as she settled, her breathing evening out within seconds as you remained frozen in spot, unsure how to even process what was just said.

it was safe to say you hardly slept a wink that night.

though if you were tired it was nothing compared to the disgustingly new feeling of alessia's first hangover.

you'd shot up awake as you heard her violently throwing up in the bathroom. a quick tap of your phone showed it wasn't even seven in the morning yet, barely twenty past six.

feet hitting the floor you left her room, padding quietly downstairs. grabbing some water and paracetamol and heading back to her, knowing where everything was as if you lived here.

you gave her a sympathetic smile as you entered the bathroom to see her slumped in the corner, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth and fingers massaging her temples. "here." you offered her the water and pain killers which she took with an almost inaudible thank you.

last nights confession was fresh in your mind as you helped the taller girl to her feet and back to bed. "what the fuck happened last night?" alessia croaked out, burying her head in her pillows as you lay back down beside her and filled her in, conveniently leaving out her little eleven pm confession.

"jesus christ i thought it would just be a few sips, i'm such an idiot. my parents are going to kill me!" alessia moaned into the pillow. "your mum said last night she wasn't angry, just disappointed." you revealed as she rolled onto her back. "really? thank god." alessia sighed in relief now causing you to frown.

"you're happy about that?" "well yeah? she isn't angry, that's a relief." "she's dissapointed alessia that's worse!" "lower the volume please, and don't call me alessia you never call me by my full name it's weird."

fast forward and you never brought up her confession, unsure how to go about it at all, or how you felt about any of it. alessia however also clearly didn't remember it, not mentioning it much as you'd provided opportunities.

instead the blonde chose to focus on the pounding pain in her head as her parents forced her to still play her match that day, and it was safe to assume she more than learned her lesson about pairing football and a hangover.

you'd just assumed it had been a moment of drunken stupidity, her words holding no truth or meaning, deciding to push her confession deep deep down and do your best to move on as if you'd never heard it.

four months later; the first move

"are you nervous?" you asked, fingers expertly working their way through alessia's freshly dyed blonde locks, tugging and pulling with soft apologies as you braided her hair.

"no. i don't really get nervous about football, it's just another game. the girls are all lovely and training's been going well, i think we can win." alessia answered confidently, sat on the floor between your legs as you finished the braids, tapping her shoulders.

"these look wicked!" alessia grinned as she hurried to the bathroom, checking herself out in the mirror. "wicked?" you laughed, moving to cross your legs on the hotel bed with a raised eyebrow. "i think i've been hanging around tooney and stanway too much, they say it heaps." alessia rolled her eyes playfully.

"you should get back to your room, you'll be called down to warm up soon." you reminded as you checked the time. "shit i didn't realize it was after nine! thank you, saving my ass as always." alessia sighed, opening her arms as you stood to hug her.

"thank you for coming." the blonde whispered, you having accompanied her parents and brother to her first qualifying game with the under 17's lionesses team for the junior world cup, something you'd have not missed for the world.

"i won't have a clue whats happening but i'll be cheering for you." you grinned as she pulled away, rolling her eyes and kissing your cheek as she grabbed her stuff and slipped out of the room.

the kiss was nothing unusual, you'd both always been affectionate with one another, however ever since the drunken confession each little intimacy lead you down a windy and steep path of overthinking every little thing.

"-so why is she getting to just kick it?" you asked mario with a confused frown as one of alessia's team mates had earned a free kick.

"well you saw how number four was pushed to the ground?" the man moved closer as you nodded. "well she was tackled dangerously, something called studs up." he continued as you hummed.

"know how lessi's boots have all the little bumps on the bottom? those are studs, and when you tackle someone studs up it's illegal because it can lead to serious injuries. which is why she got a yellow card after, which is like a form of penalty. if you get two yellow cards that means you get a red card and you have to leave the pitch right away." mario explained as you let out a small ohh and nodded again.

"i just love our little football chats." the man chuckled, pulling you into his side in a warm hug. "sorry! less has been trying to teach me forever but it just goes in one ear and out the other." you apologized as he waved you off, gio and luca returning and handing you a hot chocolate as you smiled gratefully.

the girls came away with a 3-2 win and you couldn't be prouder of your best friend who bagged an assist and a goal of her own, being sure to point up at you and her family as she did before celebrating with her own team.

"hey a few of us are gonna have a big team sleepover in ellie and anna's room. you're gonna come right?" georgia asked alessia hopefully as she packed up her kit bag in the locker room. "she probably wants to spend some time with her girlfriend stanway leave her be!" ellie grinned as alessia frowned.

"she's not my girlfriend. she's my best friend, we've known each other since we were like five we're just really close." alessia corrected quickly, the smile dropping from her team mates faces.

"sorry! we just, well we assumed. sorry." ellie apologised as alessia nodded, sending them all a smile and promising to join them for a team breakfast tomorrow, leaving the change rooms with a weird feeling in her stomach.

"here she is, the next top striker of england!" gio cupped his hands over his mouth and announced loudly as alessia finally joined you all, having been kept busy with her team and the debrief and celebrations for around an hour or so.

she made her way around, hugging her family before stopping in front of you. "i am so proud of you! that goal was something else." you beamed, trying to hug her as she side stepped you, sending you a grateful smile and nodding for the two of you to catch up with her parents who were going to drive you all back to the hotel.

you brushed it off to her being tired, the car ride home filled with a lot of football talk you only pretended to understand, humming every now and then as your attention remained on the view outside, watching the world zip by quickly in blurs of green, grey, brown and blue.

though you were so fixated on the world outside that you entirely missed the pining looks constantly sent your way by your best friend beside you, who couldn't help but admire your side profile.

a soft smile settling on her lips as she watched your dimples appear and your nose scrunch every time you'd smile at something, the blonde finding both things absolutely adorable.

it was safe to say by the time you'd gotten back to the hotel and changed, then sat through a long dinner with her parents, then gone out for ice cream, alessia was shattered.

having been sharing a hotel room with her brothers you now had the room to yourself as they'd headed back a night early having plans with friends back home. so alessia opted out of her sleepover invite, ditching her team mates in favour of spending the night with you.

"god i think i'm gonna be ill." alessia moaned as she clutched her stomach, sinking into the soft mattress of one of the beds as you laughed. "i told you that second ice cream was a terrible idea and you'd make yourself sick. plus you ate your dinner, the starter and half of mine!" you shook your head, hands on your hips as you smiled down at her.

"i ran off a lot of energy today okay i was hungry! and you should know by now that i don't ever listen to a word you say so you should have found another way to stop me!" alessia groaned, her stomach gurgling.

"if you stink up the room as that all comes out the other end i'm sleeping in the hallway!" you warned, kicking her playfully and laying down beside her on the bed, both your legs dangling off the edge.

"please you love the smell of my farts, you've copped enough of them on your head over the years." alessia looked at you with a teasing grin as you gagged, shoving her away from you.

"urgh you're so gross sometimes. i can see why your mum says she basically had three boys!" you rolled your eyes mockingly. "please we're best friends we're supposed to share everything together, no matter what end it comes out of." alessia winked as you shook your head, gagging at her again.

"so i'll be sure to let your new team mates know you wet the bed till you were nine?" you grinned, knowing where to hit her to make it hurt as her jaw dropped. "that is such a lie! it was one time after we watched a scary film." alessia grumbled, sitting up and glaring down at you unappreciatively.

"but will they believe that? i don't think so, golden girl." you mocked as alessia's jaw dropped further and you barely had a second to roll away before she grabbed a pillow and tried to smack you with it.

"aren't footballers supposed to be coordinated?" you grabbed the other one, standing up on the bed with a challenging grin. "oh just you wait." alessia laughed as she stood up across from you, the two of you staring the other down, waiting someone to make the first move.

when she didn't make a move you lunged first, swinging the pillow with a war cry, collecting her right in the face as the two of you bounced around the bed like children half your age, smacking one another as your laughter filled the room.

you squealed as alessia suddenly tripped, grabbing onto you and practically tackling you down on the bed as she landed on top of you. the two of you couldn't contain your laughter as alessia laid her taller form down atop you, both your chests heaving and lungs burning with laughter until you eventually both began to settle.

as alessia sat up slightly she found her gaze pulled down to admire your flushed features. the way the corners of your mouth curled into a soft smile, the mischievous twinkle in your bright and alluring eyes, the curvature of your jaw and the way your ears stuck out a little from your head, something she constantly teased you for but actually found rather adorable.

now she was thinking about it there was a lot more about you alessia found so charmingly alluring it began to make her head spin. your eyes meeting hers as they shamelessly roamed your face, drinking in every single little detail, burning it into her mind so that if she never saw you again she would always be able to see you in her head.

catching the look in alessia's own face you pulled your head up slowly, the two of you staring each other down for a moment.

the older girls eyes couldn't help though to be drawn to your soft cherry pink lips, feeling the most overwhelming urge of curiosity wash over her at thinking of what they might feel like pressed to hers.

suddenly, but slowly, you both began to lean in as if compelled by some unknown force you were unable to stop.

then a pause, your faces so close that if alessia even just slightly turned her head, her nose would brush yours.

the blonde's eyes seemed to search your face as if silently asking permission of the younger girl beneath her, another pause passed before you nodded, both your hearts hammering so hard in your chests it felt like they could burst at any moment.

and just like that alessia leant in that little bit more, closing the final gap between the two of you as she finally captured your lips in her own.

butterflies exploded in their stomachs as the kiss grew longer and sweeter with every fleeting second that passed. alessia's breathe hitched slightly as she felt a warm hand slide into her own, you intertwining your fingers with hers as your other arm wrapped around her neck.

and in that very moment, everything felt right.

both of you eventually needed to pull away for air, alessia rolling off of you as you both lay in silence, hands still tightly intertwined in the small space that sat between you.

"go on a date with me?" alessia asked suddenly, cheeks bright red as she nervously awaited your answer, unable to hold back her true feelings toward you any longer.

"i'd love to lessi."

sixteen years old; the first date

alessia nervously drummed her fingers on her thighs as she spared a glance at you across the table from her, your eyes drawn down to the menu in front of you as the striker shakily exhaled.

"you alright?" you asked softly, sending her a smile as she quickly nodded, picking up the menu and covering her face which she was certain was bright red.

the action made you smile to yourself, this nervous, awkward and very clearly flustered side of alessia not one you'd really gotten much insight into over the years. instead you'd always been stuck with the cocky charmingly over confident blonde who seemed to all but disappear tonight.

the two of you were out for dinner, for your first official date since the kiss just a week and a half ago. since then you'd celebrated your sixteenth birthday, finally again the same age as your best friend, the two of you celebrating with your families.

things had been a little different since the kiss, you both danced around your feelings and interactions as if they were all suddenly new again, trying your best to navigate the obvious shift in your relationship with one another.

though aware that it was her who asked you on a date alessia had spent far too long overthinking what to do, eventually deciding the two of you should just get dinner at paradiso's.

the restaurant was frequented by your families often enough that it wouldn't raise any alarm bells the two of you going together, you both establishing on that same night as the kiss that you wanted to keep this between the two of you for the time being.

"are we ready to order girls?" john, the server who'd known you both since you were kids came over with a kind smile, alessia looking at you who nodded. the two of you made your orders and john disappeared to get them started.

"so, how was training?" you asked with a polite smile, having been trying all night to get the conversation flowing but each time something seemed to halter it, things fizzling out as soon as they started.

"yeah good, fine. the usual." alessia nodded, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants which didn't go unnoticed, none of her out of character behaviours did.

"lessi, hey." you called out softly, gaining her attention as you grabbed her hand under the table, squeezing it gently and interlocking your fingers. "why are you so nervous? it's just me." you whispered, the blonde nodding.

"i know, this just feels...so different." alessia sighed as you had to hum in agreement, things did feel a bit forced and awkward and you weren't really sure how to address it. a few moments of silence passed as you held on tightly to the strikers hand.

and then, everything suddenly clicked.

"can i say something?" you blurted out, gaining alessia's attention which had wandered to counting how many red tiles there were on the mosaic wall in the corner. "of course." alessia assured with a nod.

"i don't think this is going to work." you admitted quietly, alessia frowning and snatching back her hand. "no no sorry! gosh i could have worded that better." you blushed realising how it was coming across to her.

"not this-" you gestured between the two of you. "-this!" you instead gestured around the restaurant. "i think we know each other too well to do the whole conventional first date thing." you smiled as alessia visibly de-tensed, nodding firmly in agreement.

"do you want to just get the food to go? go back to mine and watch a movie?" you offered as alessia agreed, turning in her seat to gesture toward john.

within half an hour you were back at your family home, your dad having picked you both up, stealing a piece of pizza as his payment for the ride before leaving you both to it, your mum and siblings out for the evening.

once the two of you had eaten and decided on a movie you excused yourself to the bathroom, grabbing some clothes to change into and encouraging alessia do the same.

when you returned she'd donned one of your hoodie and a pair of her football shorts she'd found laying around which she'd left here before. "wondered where that went." the blonde laughed seeing you exit the bathroom in her shirt, which hung down just above your knees.

"you left it here, it becomes partially mine." you shrugged with a smile, causing the blonde to roll her eyes. "i'll keep that in mind." she teased as you sat back down next to her, clicking play.

it only took a few minutes before alessia's hand found yours, intertwining your fingers with a shy smile as you kissed her cheek. another twenty or so minutes passed then alessia started to move around a bit, seemingly restless.

"you alright?" you asked, glancing to her as she stopped. "would you maybe want to..." she gestured between her legs as now you smiled shyly, nodding. the two of you moving around a little you found your back resting against her front, caged in by her long tanned legs either side of your body.

"is this okay?" alessia asked quietly, snaking her arms around your stomach and resting her chin on your shoulder. "it's perfect." you promised with a soft smile, settling into her hold, your hands coming to rest on top of hers.

"you know..." you spoke up around a half hour later, growing quite bored of the movie you'd both picked. "mm?" alessia hummed as you turned to look up at her. "if this is like a date, we could maybe kiss a little." you suggested hesitantly, unsure if you were going a little too fast.

"yeah?" alessia asked, features filling with surprise as you nodded. "if you wanted to." you corrected, cheeks blushing slightly making the taller girl smile. "i do." she promised, squeezing your hands and leaning down a little.

"may i kiss you please?" she asked gently, breath ghosting your lips as her eyes roamed your face for any signs of discomfort, coming up empty as you nodded.

"yes you may."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part eight

#alessia russo x reader #engwnt #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #alessia russo

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stave-writes · 9 days

Text

Scruffy! (Various Dungeon Meshi Men x GN!Reader)

Summary: Your boyfriend really needs a trim of his stubble, and he's asked for your help :)

Word Count: 1711

Laios Touden

We all know Laios does NOT like being scruffy, especially when Falin tells him he looks like their father. So, it's a lovely thing when he asks you to look after him and help him shave.

Laios had been a little finicky lately, ever since leaving the dungeon he was a lot more conscious about himself. Mainly, his appearance. Rubbing at his new stubble and brushing his blonde hair that had grown out in places. Irritation was plainly visible each time he felt the slight scratch of stubble against his fingers, even a slight huff to his tone afterwards. "Hey, could I ask a favour?" was his innocuous question, head tilting back over the edge of your sofa. After an inquisitive sound of acknowledgement from you, a slight smile rose on Laios's face. "Mind helping me shave? I also want to cut my hair but can't see the back."

This is how you ended up sitting on the edge of your tub, scissors working away at the tufts of hair against the nape of his neck. Each little brush of your fingers against his skin caused a small giggle or shuffle from Laios, if he were a dog, his tail would be smacking against your leg so hard it'd hurt a little. A smile was visible on his lips every time you'd lean over to peek at him, and he'd look up at you eyes full of love.

"Did you know that tons of monster species use grooming as a form of intimacy?" Of course, you did, you're dating Laios Touden, if you didn't you'd have amnesia. Instead of an eye roll, you gave a little smile and nod.

Reaching his hand up, a pat against your leg was a signal he hadn't just passed out between your knees while you worked at giving him the cut he liked. A quick kiss pressed to your lips was a thankful gesture, nuzzling into your face before moving to work on shaving his stubble to save you from the beard scratches.

Chilchuck Tims

I see Chilchuck as the type of guy to have some time dedicated to a little self-care, although shaving isn't a big problem considering the half-footer's ageing span. But! His hair does still grow, so some help may be needed there.

It'd been a week since Chilchuck asked you to remind him to go get a haircut, and he still hadn't gone despite your near-constant reminders. Post-its on the counter, on his lockpicking tools, hell you once stuck one on his face for him to see in the mirror. At this point, it was getting ridiculous that he hadn't even gone to try and get it done.

"You're going to cut my hair...? I can just go get it done in town-" He huffed a little at you, rubbing at the back of his neck with a small frown. Your adamance had his stubbornness outweighed almost tenfold, so you rolled up a stool behind his chair and began to figure out how to trim his hair.

Hair was scattered everywhere by the time you were done, and Chilchuck's ego was only a little bruised by the number of grey hairs you saw while trimming it. He didn't seem to mind it too much though, the presence of a wagging tail that was usually hidden away under his clothing batting at your leg. At least his hair was finally trimmed, and a thankful kiss was pressed to your knuckles as you got up to sweep away the leftover hair.

Senshi of Izganda

Senshi doesn't particularly care for shaving or even washing his beard but knowing the kind of bacteria facial hair can carry (and after a lecture from Marcille) he's willing to have you help him with that beard the size of Cousin It from the Addams Family.

"Ah, I suppose Marcille's nagging finally got to me, that's all. I hope you don't mind helping me wash my beard, it'll take a while." Senshi muttered slightly, looking aside as he asked you for just a little favour. It was hard to ask such a thing from you, especially with how much you'd done already for him by just being with him. He felt absurdly lucky when you agreed, setting his helmet and upper armour aside to clean off his beard and hair.

It was a nicer experience than usual having a loving touch working at his hair first to wet it, then lather it and working slowly to get all the dirt out. It took a long long time to finish the first round of washing the hair and beard, alongside the several other scrubbing and washing rounds. It was an intensive process, but being able to smell clearly the soap in his hair was a good bonus, alongside the lack of a helmet.

Letting him dry for a few hours was the best idea you'd had this entire time, able to bury your face against the wall of fluff you called Senshi for a long while. The smell was great and the warmth was greater, you could've honestly slept there if you wanted. But, you had a plan! Readying a comb, boar bristle brush and your sanity, you began braiding Senshi's hair into long thick plaits and tying them off once you were done. It was tenuous but an enjoyable closeness, as you pressed your face into his back slightly. You couldn't help but marvel at your work when you were all done. The happy expression on your face made it hard for Senshi to resist placing a kiss on the crown of your head, a soft look in his eyes.

Toshiro Nakamoto

A large part of the teachings Toshiro lives by is to exist as a convenience to others, not asking much and not putting his needs in the forefront. So, when Toshiro comes to you asking for help looking after himself? It's a sign of trust. He knows you.

"You...would you help me?" Toshiro's voice is quiet and soft as he addresses you, a slight crease in his brow as he looks towards you. It's hard to be vulnerable around you even if you're adamant in your love for him. Even as you assure him it's not a bother to help him and that you're here for him, it's still... nerve-wracking. It's hard for him to settle himself as he eventually moves first to sit down on your bed, having you brush out his hair and praise the length and colour of his locks, he's still worried.

He's guided towards your bath and urged to get into the warm water, leaning his head back so you can scrub away any remaining dirt and eventually, he peeks an eye open to see your face as you work at making sure he's sparkling clean. The slight furrow in your brow, your intense posture and a huff finally as you finish cleaning his hair. He can't help but smile at your effort to look after him especially as Toshiro can feel the exhaustion melt away at your careful consideration of him.

Before he knew it, he was basically asleep in your tub, head leant back with your fingers working at his hair and scalp. The feeling of safety was all he needed from you. When it was done, he dried off and changed into some comfortable clothes he'd left with you before curling up beneath your duvet, head resting into the crook of your neck.

Mithrun of the House of Kerensil

Mithrun struggles with self-care due to his lack of desires and is used to being looked after by others. With you, though, it was different. Your touch was imbued with love, and you didn't choose to look after him because someone ordered you to, just...because you wanted to see him cared for.

Looking after Mithrun sometimes could be a lot, making sure he ate and bathed and slept all while making sure he kept his mana up enough for his work with the canaries. So, it'd been easier to devise a schedule for all the things that would need to be done by day and then by week. Three baths a week, each one day apart. Three meals a day, four hours apart except for dinner which was at 6pm on the dot. A good schedule helped you and Mithrun look after yourselves, but you hadn't quite yet accounted for trimming his hair.

It had gotten longer than you had thought before you remembered to check the length of his hair, playing with the silver locks that framed his face and moved to cover his false eye a little. With a slight curl at the ends and parted just along the side, it was an easy style to maintain, especially for someone so consistently fatigued. So, when it came time to trim it down, an afternoon was allocated and Mithrun was given a book to entertain him while you worked.

On the floor, resting on a pillow was the middle-aged elf who you were looking after. Tilting his head forward a little, you brushed through those light-coloured locks and parted them into smaller sections before taking them between your middle and pointer finger, working to even it out and take a little length off. This process was repeated for each section of hair, fingers lightly brushing his face at one point which caused a little startled jump to come from Mithrun, looking at you with his good eye almost inquisitively. In the end, though, you finished off trimming it all quite quickly, evening it all out and even taking some longer strands from the front and braiding them like he'd done when he was much younger...before the dungeon.

Even if it was hard to see, a little smile played on his lips as he embraced your touches, leaning back after you proudly announced you were done. His face squished into your thigh, a little bump of his against you like a cat trying to get their owner's attention. Taking advantage of your curiosity at this action, your hand was brought to his face and he snuggled into it slightly, enjoying the reaction it spurred from you. He may not desire much, but he knows how to love you.

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urfavoritegirlkisser · 3 months

Note

You fake your own death and hide because someone is after you and you want to keep abby and lev safe, but abby doesn't believe you're gone and she finds you. Can you write about the moment she finds 6ou and confronts you and you guys reunite?

an - Breaking my own heart with this one, half of it was inspired by "I bet on loosing dogs" by Mitski and the other inspiration was that one scene in httyd 2 where stoick sees his wife again, hope you like it!

Tags: fucking sad man, there is hurting and there is comfort dw, girls loving each other (we love to see it), fem!reader, lightly proof read because I'm out of my adhd meds and my inspiration went with it

"You're As Beautiful As The Day I Lost You" - Abby Anderson x Reader

You were told that you’d never be found.

You knew this meant giving up Abby and Lev, but it was to keep them safe, and you would rather them to be safe then cost their lives by being selfish.

It’s been a quiet life in this isolated place, those monsters couldn’t find you, that group of rouges couldn’t find you. You had learned to live with it, and have done so for five years now.

That doesn’t mean you ever let your guard down, so when you were washing dishes in the sink and heard a creak in the floorboards behind you, you wasted no time pulling the hidden gun from under the counter and quickly aiming at the intruder.

But this wasn’t an intruder…this was the one person you would never even dare to harm.

Abby…

You take in a shaky breath as you slowly lower the gun, staring at her as she does the same with her own.

“Abby” you say while examining her, already reciting the apology you have wanted to say for years but thought you’d never get the chance to.

“I know I left you alone, and I’m so sorry, I had to keep you and Lev safe.” your words don’t come out as confident as you want them to under the blonde’s unwavering stare, “I didn’t have a choice with those rouges coming after me and I knew if they ever found me then I would loose both of you and I wasn’t going to let that happen”

You didn’t realize that you were crying until you felt a tear roll down your cheek, you look at Abby as she still says nothing and simply looks at you.

“Abby…say something, anything, shout and scream at me, just say something” you start to plead as you watch her walk forward and you back up until you are pressed against the counter with her slightly looming over you.

She stays quiet and brings a hand to your cheek, “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you” Abby says and you finally notice the tears in the corners of her eyes.

It finally hits you that she’s standing right there, you can feel her touch again, and it hits you hard enough that you crumple into her arms.

Abby sinks to the ground with you in her arms, holding you as tight as she can while you grip onto fistfuls of her shirt to ground yourself.

“Please don’t let me go” you say through sobs as every emotion you have stored away these last few years finally break like a dam.

“Never…never again” Abby murmurs into your hair as the two of you finally hold each other once again.

an - sorry if this is short! writers block has been kicking my ass and school is a whole other monster, hoping to get back into routine soon!

#abby anderson #abby tlou #wlw fanfic #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fanfic

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kieranscaren · 2 months

Text

i do desire we may be better strangers

i wanted to write bsf abby but just where she's so codependent. like reader is her first everything and vice versa - she can't sleep with out kissing them, without grinding into them like a dog. n reader is just so obsessed w her, just blabbering on. ⤥ tags abby x reader dt; @faiththrupain homoerotic bff! abby, sub! abby, top reader, language of flowers, shakespeare refs, abs cant sleep without kissing her bff, needy abby but whos surprised, slight?? masc reader - just not fem idk, scissoring/tribbing, light dry humping sorta, spit kink (fork found in a kitchen), religious symbolism/references. got lowkey distracted writing this... was supposed to be a drabble. mostly fluff with smut at the end.

౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ

the stars were still kissing the clouds goodnight as you crept up to her room. autumn had been sweet kicking up leaves under your dusted combat boots once you’d left your apartment late; roommate raising a knowing brow before mumbling ‘don’t do anything stupid’. you’d tripped on your way down the stairs.

she hadn't seemed to tire of this routine. you’d been children when it had started - abby’s blonde short and twining through your little fingers, forming mermaid braids up her crown. “princess,” you’d coo into her ear before she’d succumbed to sleep.

twenty and still sneaking out like a schoolgirl to ensure she’s rested.

your knuckles clang a familiar beat against the wooden door to the nook abby had called her apartment. manny had tired of this faster than the blonde had - away, was he in the nights. quiet as a shadow he’d sneak into women around bases’ nighttime stories.

she answers with her eyes just barely fluttering open. the door opens a crack with dark strands framing over her puffy face, lips pink as her cheeks now with incoming morning and water cold on her breath as she leaned to peck your lips.

the kisses had started the same as her braid had. playground ceremonies and prepubescent poppies placed in her hair. the false reverend had declared you wife and wife - you’d pressed your lips to hers like you’d seen them do in fairytales.

"come here," beckoning you over as you slipped into the dark of her room. her lips hovering over yours once you'd fallen into the cold of her sheets, crisp air nipping at exposed skin. you'd still been in your sleep attire. stupid boxers with little green monsters on them - fading black on the waistband peeking through your fuzzy pajama pants, sweater half zipped without a shirt underneath.

abby isn't in much better attire. worn out boxers you'd gifted her like holiday candy in the dozens you'd found on patrol, her shirt is stripped off knowing she lives in your security come night, fading purple bra clinging to her small breasts, pink nipples pebbled up to the cold of her room.

you attempt to bury her into the sheets to consolidate for rousing her out of short-lived sleep to bear the cold. abby snickers and kisses you again, laying you back into her flat pillows on her side.

"hi." no reason for starting a conversation now but you do it anyway. fingers you'd forced warm by walking up here with hands stuffed into your pockets coming up to frame her face. sweet kisses returned against her lips.

"hello," she murmurs back, whispering your name against your lips before pulling away to curl around you properly. arms encircle your waist and incoming is her legs sliding into the space between yours.

"what've you been doing all day?" ditzy in the scent of her as you leaned into her chest. she cuddles up behind you like you're more of a teddy bear, the ones once surrounding her bed gone as adulthood crashed over her.

"free day." voice muffled into your neck as her teeth come to nip at it, sorrying kisses while she attempts to pull apart before she leaves a mark. her thighs squeeze around you before she continues.

"been so fuckin' lazy. napped my ass off and now," stopping just to sigh against your throat. her pouty lips not indifferent against your smiling ones as she'd leaned up to catch them. "i got you."

canterberry grin replacing the last. she's so simple like this, curled up to her favorite person - malignant shame not swallowing her whole for once while she's pouring out vulnerability. 'wolves', the scars had called her - you'd named her a back lying cat.

"you'll always have me." platitude slipped from your lips but your friend seemed not to care for anything apart from your lips. her own take the color from the flame of her insistence in pressing her lips to yours, "fuchia," you'd cooed into the expected kiss.

'the first kiss is where all goes wrong,' abby's father had started to quote from somewhere once. you'd still been nothing more of a girl then, adolescents still kissing your cheeks. 'greed will get you once you've gotten a taste." he'd finished.

insatiate, was abby swiping her tongue into your closed lips. midnight approaches soon and maybe you still wish to save something for dawn as you pull away.

god, she'd never stopped being pouty. saturnine when you wouldn't comply. you'll blame it on the tiredness seeping into her pretty blonde head.

"abigail," full name she'd only been comfortable with you using now. it'd been owen for a bit - he'd been a blot in the distance between you then. kissless by you and utterly greedy had been sleepovers. manny had teased her as a 'cheater'. what you had was different, you swore then. 'til death do us part,' the childhood vow would stay true.

"yes?" she mumbles it out against you. annoyance clear in her tone like you'd forbade her from touching you; she'd die if you did. her breath hovers over your top lip, pulling you to face her properly.

you choose to lay her down instead. she's sitting up to get at you - hovering over your frame with only her waist twisted into the little bunk she'd called a bed. you press your hands against her chest and down she goes into the flurry of stolen pillows. she takes it as an invitation to have you on top of her.

you land half in her lap, half slipping off into the bed. her fingers creep under your sweater and live under it. hobitting herself into your skin with her palms squeezing your waist.

"go to sleep, abby." she'd sooner tire herself to sleep than with the taste of you. blood stained carnations must've been swimming up in that head of hers. you bring a finger up to her crown like you're expecting it to start leaking flowers.

"what if i don't want to?" bratty only to the whim of her fading annoyance. she sits you up right in her lap, ruining it just as quickly. her legs part under yours, sliding a thigh beneath hers - setting you up like barbies scissoring.

"then you're stupid." you snicker back into her. blonde sliding between your appendages, tugging her face closer to yours. you'd memorized her face years ago. could count the freckles on her pretty face with your eyes closed and yet you still take the time to look now. pulling in for a kiss against her lips before landing on the bump in her nose. "you don't have infinite off days."

"i just-" interrupting herself only to whine against your lips. pulling in for another kiss like the millions before this had meant nothing more. you'd defended the affection between you both to her father in the same vain you had to manny. he'd been more questioning about it then, small liberties were taken to separate you both. you'd planted maidenhair fern under her pillow every night you couldn't be together.

"want to be with my best friend, is that so bad?" muttered into your mouth now. dampening boxers pressing into your soft pants. down her fingers go to your pajama waistband - you let her strip them off.

"aw," kicking the fuzzy fabric off your feet, joining the puddle of clothes beneath the bed frame. abby only pouts at your coo - hips turning up to expose the damp spot indented in her briefs.

you catch her lips to shush her. thick walls and yet she'd never been particularly silent. you'd wondered how many more excuses you could use now - once, you'd both been teenagers curiously exploring each other. now it's just greed fueling her clit searching out your own through the fabric separating you both.

she'd stick her tongue out for your consumption - spit dribbling down her chin and catching against her chest. your fingers come easily in unclasping her bra, tracing your thumb across the pink of her nipple. she's too sensitive there, already drinking in the honey of your saliva, wet noises panted into your mouth.

"take it off." overzealous she'd been a minute ago and now a step from begging. her fingers claw at your briefs like she's nothing more than a cat at rope. how pretty she'd look strung up in the sept of your mind; weeds restraining her thick wrists and stretched out across the cross of your daydreams choosing.

the seraphites might've been religious fanatics but you figure they were on to something with the insistence of purity. white lilies, you'd planted in abby's hair on your last patrol. you'd choose chastity a million times over to feel her cunt against yours for the first time again.

abby is stripped down with less of a whisper. hair falling into her pretty face as she insisted on leaning her wetness up to your line of sight. 'for you,' her actions had spoken for her.

your sweater comes down. her fumbling fingers unclasping your bra, getting distracted as soon as she wandered too far down you torso. pleading look in her glistening eyes as you'd gotten off your briefs.

there's no point in dragging it out now. "cute." you'd murmured over her frame once she started grinding into you. reduced to her stupidest form as she'd fallen back into her pillows, hands squeezing your ass to press you further into her.

you fall into her frame. open mouth kisses across parts of her neck you could still reach - abby's free hand against your back. you'd started panting into her ear on purpose, she started rambling out praises towards you after.

"close?" you muse against her ear. cold sweat keeping her hair stuck to her neck, your fingers swiping down her throat as your lips had found her pulse point.

the gods had tested her enough, you'd thought. sweet disposition gone after your wedding night, a decade later and divinity takes it's consummation now.

ivory sticks you two together. abby had sworn to every god from saturn to jupiter while still grinding into you. cupid had struck you both with avarice-painted arrows.

she kissed you again nonetheless. your finger swiping up her cum, digit slick against your lips as you'd let your tongue clean it off. sentience seemed to be returning to her now, blinking up to meet your eyes.

"kiss?" giggled out like a schoolgirl in that pretty voice of hers.

"kiss." you’d accepted into her lips.

#abby x reader #abby anderson #i dont fucking know #i got a little carried away #sub!abby #bff!abby

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mortifiedatbeingknown · 8 months

Text

"Adoption"

Masterpost:

“As you can see, our policy clearly states, only one pet per customer. I’m afraid those are the rules.” Whumper gave them a wide, fake smile. “Now, what kind of traits would you prefer it to have? As you can see, we have quite the variety.”

With an even wider smile, the monster waved their hands towards the dimly lit hallway, lined with cells Caretaker would consider unfit for dogs. Each and every one was crammed to the brim with victims --The stench of waste and misery and the even greater amount of perfume pumped out to mask it only confirmed the fact-- but the prison was deathly silent. When he had made the mistake of peering through the rusty bars, the only thing to stare back were the shackles winked as they held on tight to their prey and sucked them dry of dignity and freedom. For the third time since their foot had struck the bloodstained concrete, Caretaker swallowed down bile.

Only one. They had been warned that this would happen, and had foolishly waved it off. These traffickers were sadists, yes, but he had assumed that their greed would make them compliant. Caretaker had the wealth to convince even the devil himself to retire from hell, and it still wasn’t enough. They sighed in defeat and stuck their hands in their pockets, initiating plan B.

“I want to see their eyes.” Caretaker finally spoke, taking care to mimic Whumper’s inflection: Cool and professional, with the slightest hint of sadistic glee. A voice any monster would relate to.

“I’m sorry, but we would recommend against that. None have earned the privilege.”

“I ignore your recommendation.” At the trafficker’s frown, they layered their voice in even more syrup. “If I don’t see the fear in their eyes, how will I know I’m getting what I paid for?”

Whumper still hesitated. “I’m… It’s just that not all are guaranteed to obey, you see. Some are still in the process of being broken in, and there are a few kept rebellious to suit the needs of the buyer.”

“Then I will wrangle them myself.” And with that, Caretaker knew they had succeeded.

“Eyes forward, pets!” the trafficker cracked their whip, and a sickening chorus of pleas and whimpers followed, each more pitiful than the last.

“Ignore the cacophony, if you would please,” Whumper said with a roll of their eyes. “The pets only wish to manipulate your decision by showing how well they can scream.”

Caretaker sniffed in disgust jamming their hands even further into their pockets lest they strangle the closest waste of air. What mattered more was leaving this hellhole with their cover still intact. “Are they collared?” They asked through gritted teeth.

“Oh, yes, they are perfectly safe to approach!”

“Then don’t mind me.” Caretaker turned his back on the conversation to stalk upon the first cage. The being inside was a blonde scrap of matted hair, bloodied flesh, and tattered wings. Before the poor thing could even gasp, Caretaker had grabbed onto her collar and yanked them forward, until their foreheads practically touched through the cage bars. They made a show of studying the pet’s eyes, all the while their hand attached, secured, and activated the tracker. It was a strategy proven tried and true: Either the collars went with the pets to their new owners, and the agency was able to track them down and arrest a new criminal, or the collars stayed with the traffickers no matter how many times their compound was relocated in an attempt to remain hidden. Caretaker faked a grunt of disapproval, and moved on, already latching onto the collar of the next slave.

All the while, Whumper hovered by their side like a buzzing hornet, a constant reminder that Caretaker couldn’t afford to mess up. Practice alone kept his hands steady and his movements fluid. They made a show of poring over the braver ones, pretending to ponder. Tracker after tracker, cage after cage, and they were still going strong. Even still, with three rows per column and more than a hundred cages on the right side alone, Caretaker had to face the grim reality that he could tag only so many beings. Even with a generous overestimation, they couldn’t have imagine how big this ring was, nor how many were suffering.

As his supplies dwindled, Caretaker was forced to take up the facade of a rapidly uninterested browser, picking cages at random and tagging the strongest, the most rebellious, or the most disassociated specimens, beings who had the least likely chance of ratting the whole operation out. The trackers were far too small to be spotted in the darkness, and thin enough to disguise their presence as a roughness in the leather at most, but they could never be too careful. They avoided the eyesight of all those they couldn’t help now, mumbling apology after apology under their breath.

“Oh, dear, does nothing interest you?” Whumper asked once the trackers had run out. “What a shame. I had told my pets to be on their best behavior today.” With a single glare, every slave was cowering.

“It’s not their fault.” Caretaker said, before they could stop themselves. “I’m sure they could please any normal master just fine, but I crave a challenge.”

Whumper’s eyes glinted. “A challenge, you say?”

They hesitated ever so slightly before replying. Why not? If I leave empty-handed, that’s one life I could have rescued. “Tell me, Whumper, what do you find more exhilarating? A disobedient mongrel who needs to be taught respect, or a broken pile of bones who needs to be reminded how to properly scream for their master’s pleasure once again?”

Whumper took a moment to answer. “My job requires the former far more than the latter, sadly. I find that nothing stirs up creativity than a pet who’s felt everything. When you finally unlock their agony after they’ve only pretended to whimper for so long…” They snapped their fingers. “Oh, you’ll find there’s nothing like it.”

“I assume you have the perfect specimen of that sort for me, then?” Caretaker asked. “I expect nothing less from your compound.” “But of course! Follow me, I have just the thing.” Whumper took out a key ring and unlocked the trap door Caretaker had noticed upon entering. They followed the monster to the depths of its lair, where the only light was Whumper’s own flashlight, and the only sounds were the endless, maddening drips of water supplied from overhanging buckets.

“You’ll have to forgive the mess.” Whumper said as Caretaker smashed their shin against an exposed pipe. “This is where I work on cases not yet fit for purchase, and as such is not usually available to the public. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

“What gives me the honor, then?”

Whumper turned back to flash them a wink. “Let’s just say that I know an experienced hand when I see one. I have no doubt you’ll be able to handle even the most difficult of mongrels.

Caretaker’s heart leapt to their throat. That wink… how he had specifically mentioned his hands… Had Whumper found him out? In the basement, there would be no better place to entrap them… they had willingly walked into a trap! Caretaker’s hands hovered indecisively, unsure of what to grab. The knife, hidden in their boot, or the cyanide pill on their sleeve?

“Ah, here we are!” Whumpee’s voice made them flinch, and they promptly bashed their head against the low ceiling. “Oooh, watch your head! The toys are right over here.”

Sure enough, each locked in sensory deprivation and each rendered immobile in some way or another. One silhouette hung from the ceiling, forced into perpetual tiptoe, while another lay crumpled on the ground, kept eternally submerged in a pool of murky water. Whumper pulled them along enthusiastically, calling “This one, this one! Oh, she’s my favorite!”

“She,” Turned out to be a young humanoid, chained against the wall, with a tangle of curls that hid her face, but could not conceal her sawn off horns.

“She’s a tricky one to crack alright, but I think I’ve almost got her,” The Headmaster continued, their hyena-like laughter echoing throughout the chambers. “I’ll let you figure out the answer though. Oh, what fun you’ll have!”

“Indeed…” Was all Caretaker could say.

“So, will you take her?”

I can’t believe I’m doing this… Perhaps they wouldn’t be able to, had her eyes been open or if her face hadn’t been obscured or if her voice had begged him. But as it was…

“No. I have someone else in mind.”

“Oh? Who, pray tell?”

Caretaker had promised to themselves that if it came down to it, they would rescue the one who had needed it most. And Whumper had offered up his “favorite” just a bit too eagerly. If they had to guess who in this dungeon was truly the most in need of him, his guess would have to be…

“This one.” Caretaker pushed aside Whumper to enter into the cell they had been hurried past. The resident inside lay kneeling on the ground, their hands chained behind them. A blindfold and a pair of headphones kept them from reacting to Caretaker’s footsteps as they approached. “They seem like an interesting challenge.” “W-who, Whumpee?” The trafficker scoffed. “I was just about to send it upstairs, in fact. Trust me, there is nothing to look at on that front.” “Is there?” Caretaker crouched down and took off Whumpee’s blindfold. Instantaneously, they leaned forward and kissed the tops of Caretaker’s boots. The detective gagged.

“P-personally, I think… I think they are just what I am looking for. And since they’re about to go upstairs, they’re practically for sale, right?”

Whumper didn’t answer; Caretaker had backed them straight into a corner. “I didn’t say they were ready… we still have a few tweaks to work through..”

“I’ll work through with them myself.” Caretaker promised. When Whumper didn’t budge, he pretended to lower his guard. “Please… give me this one, and you’ll have a regular customer on your hands. I have enough to make it worth your while…”

“Oh...alright. They will cost a bit extra, just to warn you.”

Caretaker leaned over and took off Whumpee’s headphones, using the action as an excuse to hide their smile. They did it! The tiniest victory was gained, but it was a victory nonetheless. “Consider it a deal. I’ll sign any necessary paperwork.”

“You want them now?” The trafficker whined.

“Of course! They’re my property, aren’t they?” Caretaker made their tone a threatening growl. “You don’t mean to scam me, do you?”

“No, no, never! It’s just that.. Well, that pet is currently in punishment. Quite severe punishment, in fact. A break in their routine like this may render it’s conditioning ineffective, as it will be rewarded for bad behavior, see?”

Caretaker turned to face Whumpee as they made the tiniest of moans. Huge, terrified eyes blinked up at him. Caretaker stared back, suddenly wishing that they had kept the headphones on as the next words were forced to leave his mouth.

“Oh don’t you worry. I am the worst punishment this mongrel could possibly imagine.”

#whump #whump drabble #whump writing #pet whump #caretaker new master

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creativiburst · 10 months

Text

The Urge to Protect

Zoro x f!Reader Fluff

Tags: First kiss, Fluff, Romantic fluff, Internal Conflict, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, confessions, Budding Love

The urge to protect.

That's what Zoro felt every time he saw you in battle. You could fight, fight pretty damn well in fact. Yet, he still got in the way of enemy attacks.

'I've got this one.' He'd say, letting you off the hook with almost every enemy.

Everyone thought it was just the urge to fight more, but no. It was something about you. You weren't a fierce warrior like him or a goofy idiot like Luffy. You weren't a liar like Usopp or a witch like Nami. You… were you. Sweet. Beautiful. Everything he thought he never wanted.

His one eye drifted to the sky, thoughts of you roaming as he tried to understand what exactly he was feeling. He understood rage, fear, hatred, and pain. He understood happiness as that's what he felt as he chugged a bottle of sake at dinner. Yet… a similar happy pang hit him when he looked at you.

It tingled in him differently. His body warming up, his cheeks and hands sweating. Stomach churning as you thought about being close to you. Heart beating faster and faster after a small chat with you.

It made him avoid you. Yet he couldn't for long as he longed to hear your voice. Feel you near him as he trained. You were turning into his booze addiction.

"Marimo!" The nickname shot his attention towards the dog, eye furrowed on the blonde cook. Holding a plate of onigiris, he raised them up.

"I said I would take them Sanj!" You popped out from behind the cook, Zoro's expression immediately softening.

"A beautiful princess like you shouldn't have to be so close to a drooling monster. I can-"

"Sanji. I'm not helpless." You had shushed him with a finger, taking the plate out of his hand. The blonde had swooned, heart shapes puffing off his cigarette.

"Ahhhh! My dear Y/N! You are too kind!" Sanji cried, returning to his kitchen. Zoro watched you, onigiris in hand, as you walked down the stairs. A smile plastered on your face as you came closer.

Zoro didn't move as you offered the plate, setting it on the grass terrain below the two of you. What he didn't expect was you to sit down next to him, taking one of the onigiris and munching on it.

"Hey-" Zoro began to protest before you put up a finger to shush him.

"I helped and you didn't take one at first. So I'm having one." Your cheek was still full of rice, making your words come out weird. Zoro scoffed, grabbing a new one off the plate.

Both of you sat in silence, the presence of you being next to him making his mood improve by the second. The rice tasted sweeter with you near him, or perhaps that was the air.

"You haven't trained all day."

"Haven't felt like it." Zoro responded, woofing down the rest of his onigiri.

"Doesn't sound like you."

Zoro looked over, seeing you frown at him. He hated that frown. He hated any concerning look you had. You looked better with a smile, or staring blissfully at something.

The fact the concern was over him made it worse. He felt he should just start training to make sure you were happy. Yet, he tensed as he stopped all movement.

"Just tired." He grumbled, fighting off that urge to jump up and start swinging. Perhaps flexing on how strong he was... No! He wasn't like that!

"Perhaps I should convince Nami to get you a better bed." You tapped your chin.

"She wouldn't spend a penny on me. Besides, the hammocks are fine."

"But it could be the reason you're so tired."

"I'm fine."

"You've told me you've never missed a day of training. Why now?" Your questions were starting to pester him. Even you had some annoying qualities and Zoro, never liked being questioned.

"I don't want to right now. Get that through your thick head." Zoro gritted his teeth, closing his eye as he tensed up.

"Sorry for being worried I guess." Hearing your voice laced with hints of sadness, his attention shot up to see you leaving. He wanted to call out and apologize. Have you sit next to him and enjoy the ocean breeze with him. Yet he didn't.

Biting his tongue, he stared down at the last onigiri. He felt too sick to finish it, leaving it on the plate.

Dinner rolled by, Sanji yelling at him for the wasted onigiri. Zoro didn't feel like fighting with him, ignoring his insults. Walking out of the kitchen, he still felt sick. Hands rolled over his face, letting out a heavy sigh. You were weighing too much on him, the guilt of him even slightly making you upset was eating away. His stomach turned and turned as he held his head in his hands.

"Skipping dinner?" A voice asked from behind. Zoro looked seeing the blonde raising a curly brow.

"What does it matter to you?" Zoro hissed.

"Just not wanting to waste anymore food. Can't believe you didn't finish your onigiri! Y/N put their effort and time into those! They wouldn't let me touch one!" The cook complained, puffing out smoke from cigarette. Zoro hung on every word, feeling even worse. So you had made them... you had made the thing he loved most and didn't even let the cook touch one. Guilt poured over him.

"I just wasn't that hungry." Zoro answered, starting down that the wood that supported his weight.

"You need to see Chopper then. It's not good that your eating patterns have change so drastically." Sanji spoke.

"Don't tell me what to do." Zoro cursed, stomping away from the door. Sanji had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Zoro wasn't sick! He was just.. conflicted. Could the greatest swordsman... be conflicted? Could they have these feelings about others or would that be a weakness? Questions kept appearing, being unanswered as he fled up to the lookout.

A work out would help. It would get you off his back and get him to stop thinking.

Yet it did the opposite. His mind roamed, remembering how he first met you. How he was taken aback on how you well you fought the first time you both were in battle together. How you both had once gotten lost on an island, having to camp under the stars. How you told him your dream and how you were going to fight for it. That smile as you told him you'd support him through his dream. You were too good for him.

"There you are!" your voice called out of the blue, causing him to drop the weight was lifting. It shook the floor, Zoro staring at you with shock. You had snuck up on him, standing on the ladder to the lookout. Wearing a big grin, finally climb all the way up.

"You didn't show up to dinner so I was worried. Sanji then told me you weren't hungry so I got even more worried, but... seeing you working out puts me at ease." you explain yourself, placing your hand over your heart.

"You don't need to worry." Zoro said, turning to continue lifting the weight.

"You're my friend Zoro. I'm going to worry. Besides, you can't be the best if no one is looking out for you." you laughed softly, walking over to sit on the couch that lined the wall. Sitting down, you smiled at him. Zoro stared, letting out a small sigh exhale. Forgetting about the weight, he ploped down next to you.

"I feel sick." Zoro said, leaning his head back. He could feel you staring at him, waiting for him to say more.

"Yet... the thing that makes me sick also brings me joy. I can't stop being with this thing, and I don't want to.." cursing, he furrowed his brows. He was terrible with words. He just knew that you wouldn't never tell anyone, that his thoughts were locked securely in your mind.

"It sounds like nerves Zoro. It's completely normal, especially if this thing is so new or the joy from this thing is. I'm sure it can be distracting, but you'll master it. You're great at blocking things out! Don't let this waver you." your kind words melted him, seemingly all worry was thrown from his head. You had fate in him and that made him feel so much better. Yet...

"I don't want to block it out. I want.. I want... something." his mind trailed off as he continued to let you in, hands tapping on his knee as he did his best to search for this answer.

"Don't rush it Zoro. You'll figure it out." reaching out a hand, you patted his shoulder softly. The touch had him reeling, making him test his mental strength as he held back from grabbing it. Holding your hand in his, seeing the difference in your shape, size, texture. He wanted to know you like he knew his blades.

When you hand didn't leave, Zoro glanced over. You were staring him with a look, unfamilar to him. Soft eyes gently drifting to his face as your lips perked up slightly. He couldn't understand what you were trying to emote. You hand rubbed his shoulder gentle, causing him to shiver slightly. You noticed the shiver, unsure on whether you should pull back or push forward.

"Hey, mind giving me a massage? I'm feeling stiff." he tried to seem cool about it, as if that touch had given him the idea. Nodding in agreement, you watched as he slowly shed his top. Green sleeves fell to his hips as he made his way to sit in front of you. Your eyes burned into him, Zoro knowing you were indeed cheeking him out. You always have and he didn't mind. Slightly flexing, he could hear the soft inhale from you as he sat down. Back faced towards you, he let himself be vulurable to the only person he wanted.

Hesitant, your first touched were gentle. Fingertips barely grazing his skin, tracing the muscles that laid under. They mapped out the different sections, as if diseccting what part to focus on. Zoro meditated on your touch, feeling how his skin prickled at your fingertips. When you started to pressed into the muscles, he lowly groaned at the relief. He was so tense and didn't even realize until you started to work it out.

You clearly knew was you were doing, each movement made perfectly to rid him of the tension. Knots that had form washed away with your touch and he melted into place. His head wandered as your hands dug into him, some of it emitting a slight pain. He dealt with it, happy to just have your attention. Perhaps that's what really made him happy.

Not even realizing what you were guiding to, you moved to push him towards you. His head laid on your legs, eye opening to see you looking down at him. The sweet smile stretched accross those lips, eyes gazing almost lovingly down at him as your thumbs rolled gentle circles over his cheeks. Zoro didn't move, drinking in everything from you. You were his new alcohol and he wasn't going to waste a drop.

"Better?" you whisper, caressing his face.

"Yeah." It was almost inaudible, Zoro too relaxed to care. With his response, you brightened up. A full smile errupts on your face as you giggle with glee. He smiles back, happy to see you in such a state. A hand raises towards you, Zoro acting on instinct. Softly leading you down with a hand guiding you, he doesn't even realize what he's doing until your lips meet his. The kiss is gentle and long, neither of you moving away from each other.

Yet when you do, fear strikes him as he realizes what he had just done. Yet your face says nothing but joy, hands still on his face as you gaze down at him. Cheeks flushed and lips slightly glossy.

"Who knew you could be so soft?" you giggle at your own words, staring down at Zoro for a reaction. He's slow, but a smile approaches his lips at he chuckles.

"Guess you're the first one to figure out." he answered.

"I better be the only one after this." you laughed, bending down to place another kiss to his lips. Zoro relished in this, almost beaming with joy as you returned his affection. All the stress seemed to melt away with your touch, the sickness gone as you held him. You were the cure to the sickness you had caused. What sweet irony.

Weeks had passed by after that kiss, neither of you ready to tell the crew of what your relationship had evolved to. Besides, neither of you knew yourself. All Zoro knew is that if he wanted, he could kiss you. He could be near you and when you two were alone, he would hold you. Arms protective over your figure as you curled into him. It's all he wanted, yet he was still scared.

Scared that his feelings towards you had turned into a weakness others could exploit. You could kick ass, but the guilt from putting you in that situation wouldn't leave his mind. It wasn't something he could easily put into words, even if he took his time to explain it to you. It would just sound like he was finding an excuse to not be with you.

His swords swung, eyes furrowed on the imaginary enemy attacking him. Feeling the heavy swing of his sword, he continued meditate on the feeling.

You. You stood there, smiling at the swordsman. His blade stopped, body tensing as he stilled. The image of you staring at him had his legs go week. Blade at the neck, you didn't move.

"Mind if we talk?" you said, making him realize you weren't a figment of his mind. Pulling his blade back, he watched you with a careful eye. You had full trust he wouldn't hurt you, that he would catch himself from swinging his blade at you. Swords slid into the sheaths as he sat down on the wall closest to him. You followed, humming as you slid down next to him.

Both were quiet, your hand grazing his own. Zoro had to control his breathing as to make sure he didn't alert you to his thumping heart. Soft hands curled around the one that laid next to him, fingers feeling his calloused hands. He watched as you stared down at your hands, a smile perked onto your lips.

"I enjoy our times together." you said, looking at him with a soft glow. Zoro nodded in agreement. He stared intensely as he drank you up with his eye, completely enamoured by your looks. How your hair was done, your lips pressed into that smile, how your face seemed to glow with beauty.

"I just worry... am I going to be a distraction?" Zoro wanted to punch himself in that moment, your face growing into worry. Your sweet smile withering away. He wanted to just grab you and kiss you, to place that smile back again. Yet, he didn't.

"That's a stupid question." Zoro grumbled.

"It's important to me." another strike to his heart. God... you knew how to get through to him. He stared at you, eye studying how your smile was gone. Your eyes begging for his answer. Pulling away from your intertwined hands, he brought it up to your cheek. His thumb rubbed it gently.

"No." his voice was soft as he answered, the tension in the air fading. Seeing your face light up made his heart leap. Before he knew it, you were kissing him. Zoro relaxed, holding you close to him. Arms wrapped around to pull you close. It all felt unreal that he would be kissing someone such as yourself.

"I'll protect you." he mumbled into your lips, feeling he needed to say something more. His eye studied your face, gauging your reaction to his words. Eye flew to meet his gaze as your lips briefly hung on each other.

"I know. You always have." pressing another kiss to him, he felt your body press further into his. A hand wrapped around your waist and one on the back of your head, Zoro and you continued the soft moment without distraction. He loved you and how gentle yet rough you could be. It always amazed him how you have this talent.

He held those soft tender moments close to his heart as the days went on. He would often steal you from your bed as he was on nightwatch, having you sleep in his arms. Zoro felt better with you, knowing that if anything were to happen he'd be there within seconds. On your nightwatches, he'd sleep in your lap. The best sleep he'd ever gotten honestly. Hands stroking his hairs and rubbing soft circles on his pecs. Kisses before he slept or before you slept. It all felt so personal and dear to him. Like something he'd be yearning for, but never knew.

Yet... you both still had no idea what to label yourselves. Zoro found himself up late at night staring at the ceiling, thinking about this. You clearly were his, stopping Sanji from his flirtaious advancements almost everytime. The blonde had grumbled in confusion, but accepted that you weren't wanting anymore of his intentions. Zoro relished in this feeling, as if he won a fight.

Did you want him back though? Did you want his destructive tendencies in your life? How he would spend his days, sleeping, drinking, and training. Where would you go? He scoffed at himself. Where you always went, next to him. Whether he was doing any of these, you were by his side. Doing your own thing or joining him. He didn't care as long as he could see you.

If you both were to become something official, the crew would know. That would mean they'd stick their nose into the relationship. He'd slice them down if they tried. No patience for some of the actions his crewmates do. If together as in.. together, he would be able to hold your hand more. Be able to sleep whereever and hold you without judgement. Be able to kiss you before you went off to sleep in the girl's room. Or hell, find a spare room and steal it for the both of you. Ideas and thoughts roamed his mind as he played on the idea of making you his.

He felt so selfish as he laid in bed with these thoughts, feeling as if you had no say in what you both were tempting to become. He could just ask but, words weren't his strong suit. You had the patience to know this, asking him direct questions. Using body langauge more than words at times when words weren't enough.

Sleep that night escaped him, finding himself to the crow's nest. He was in shock to see you up there, no Robin in the nest. You waved at him, smiling ear to ear.

"Thought it was Robin's night?" he asked, a yawn overcoming him.

"I couldn't sleep so I decided to let her get some rest." you shrugged your shoulders, offering him a seat next to you. He took happily, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek as he sat.

"I couldn't sleep either. Thinking too much." he explained, wrapping his arms to pull you close to him. It was easy to just yank you to him, but he didn't, letting you come towards him. Your back against his chest, you chuckled softly as his words.

"What could you be thinking about?"

"You." He noticed as you looked up, raising a brow as you waited for some explanation. Zoro tensed, tapping his finger against his hand as he did his best to find the words to the thoughts. They felt like a jumbled mess as he sorted through it in that moment.

"Just.. you and how... we do this." he motioned with his body, squeezing tightly as to emphasize his point.

"Is there a problem with us doing this?"

"No. I just..." he grumbled, burying himself into your shoulder. Words weren't his strong point. A hand began to pet his head, you doing his best to relax him.

"Well, I like this. I like sharing my affection with you and only you. I enjoy spending these moments together with a man such as yourself. How you don't have to say a word for me to know that you care about me." you explained your feelings with ease, Zoro almost jealous about the ease of your words coming out. Pressing a kiss against your neck, he pulled you closer.

"I like it too. A lot." he mumbled, snuggling into you. "When it's you, I feel... happy."

"I'm glad I can make you feel this way Zoro." you whispered back to him, the room becoming silent as he held you. He stared out the window, seeing how you quickly drifted off in his arms. Pressing small kisses to your head, he decided in that moment he wanted everything about you to himself. He didn't care about what the crew did or thought about it. He'd find a small room for the two of you. He would make this work.

He'd become the greatest swordsman and you would be by his side.

#one piece #x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #writing

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

Can we have some more omegaverse stuff pretty please? (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)

This is sfw, but just an idea I had rolling around in my head...the last one was a little alpha dom heavy, so this one is a little omega dom heavy

Alpha (Jagger) x tough omega female

Word Count: 2.5k

W: omegaverse fluff, threats and descriptions of violence, implication of nsfw at the end, but sfw

“I’d point your nose in another direction if I were you, alpha,” you said, cocking the shotgun you’d bought specifically with rounds that would take down an alpha for this reason. It was also the reason you lived in this far out location, in a cabin in the woods, away from people and anyone who could give you up to someone who would try to take you captive. You were an omega, but you weren’t just going to be someone’s pet.

The blonde alpha limping up to your porch covered in blood panted a little and leaned on his knee at the base of your porch. Your five bull mastiffs, Biscuit, Waffle, Cake, Toast, and Cookie were barking their heads off but staying where they were trained to stand in front of you.

“Come on doll face,” he said, flashing you a smile, surprising for his condition, “can’t I come in for just a minute for a cuppa water? I’m a little outta sorts here.”

A red trail followed behind him. You clenched your jaw and shook your head.

“Stay right there,” you said, “the dogs are trained to maul you if you move after I turn my back.”

His eyes got wide, looking at them and he nodded. You hurried inside and gathered some of your precious medical supplies. You weren’t cruel, you weren’t going to leave him to die, but you were sure as hell not letting him in your house. The last thing you needed was alpha pheromones fucking your head all up.

When you got back outside he looked a lot paler, the pool of blood around him growing. The dogs were getting triggered by the blood, starting to tap their paws.

“Sit! Stay!” you told them and they obediently stopped barking and sat at attention, watching you for your next command.

You groaned as, with a massive thunk, the fucking alpha collapsed on your front lawn.

“Motherfucker,” you cursed, dropping your shotgun against the side of your house.

The guy had to weigh 500 lbs, so when you’d patched up the deep wounds riddling his body, all you could do was use your truck to drag him into your barn. Your lady goats that were milked and in their pens for the night didn’t like his intrusion anymore than you did, bleating their displeasure.

“Chill out girls,” you hollered at them, not that it helped any, “he’ll probably be dead in the mornin’.”

His presence worried you. Two people knew you were out there, the omega butcher you sold the goats and milk to and her alpha mate. You didn’t believe they would give you up, but without asking him you couldn’t explain the alpha’s presence here or why he was all cut up.

Whoever had worked him over was having fun with him. They weren’t jagged, random wounds from a fight. The cuts were clean and precise, in places that would bleed heavily but not immediately kill him, the worst ones right across his cheeks, marring his pretty face. You were starting to think he’d been dumped out here to die.

While you looked at him passed out in the hay, you couldn’t help but notice how pretty he was for an alpha. Most of them looked like monsters with giant teeth and wide jaws, but this one had more of a pretty look to him, even though his jaw was still wide. His lashes were long and his lips had a nice bow, like a young Vincent Price. You wondered if the two nasty slices running diagonally across his cheeks to take up the most space possible had anything to do with that. Seemed maybe a little intentional.

You tried to sleep in your own bed after the sun set and you’d eaten dinner, but you were too anxious, wondering about the alpha. What if he died? What if he lived? What were you going to do with his body? Drag it out to the road and dump it? It’d take you days to dig a six foot hole big enough to bury him. The morbid thoughts kept you up and you found yourself in the barn with your shotgun at your side watching him.

He was still breathing and he stayed like that for the next day and the next. Each night you set yourself up on a barrel of hay and fell asleep watching him with your gun at your side and the dogs piled around you.

The third day you woke to the dogs growling and you instinctively snatched your gun and cocked it, aiming at the alpha who was sitting up on his elbows smiling at you.

“Morning doll face,” he said grinning, “looks like I lived motherfuckers! Hahaha! Cock suckers can’t kill me! Jagger’s back from the graaaaave!”

You had no idea what he was so happy about, he looked like shit. You’d cleaned the blood off of him, but he had hay stuck all over him and his face was half stitches.

“How are you smiling right now?” you asked.

He grinned even wider which had to hurt.

“I’m lookin’ at the prettiest face I’ve ever seen, babydoll,” he said, “I’ve never been happier to be breathing!”

You blinked at him, for once, unsure what to say. Your cheeks warmed just a bit and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to brush it off.

“What’s your name, alpha?” you barked.

“Jagger,” he said, “what about you?”

“You don’t need to know,” you said, “you’re not stayin’. When you can walk you’re carryin’ your ass outta here.”

He put up a hand, schooling his features.

“Yeah, okay. The pretty lady with the gun is the boss, I get it,” he said, “you got any food around here?”

He glanced at the goats.

“Preferably not still moving,” he said, frowning at them.

“Watch him,” you told the dogs and they took the stance they’d been taught, eyes laser focused on their target. If he moved, they attacked. That’s what you’d trained them to do.

“Motherfucker!” you growled as you carried a bag of food back to the barn.

All five of your vicious dogs, who could and had mauled and killed two alphas before you’d moved out here, were belly up around the alpha getting pets.

“Hey! Attention!” you snapped at the dogs and they reluctantly hopped up, sitting dopily next to him with their tongues hanging out.

“What’d you do to my dogs?!” you snapped.

He smirked and shrugged.

“Everyone loves me,” he said, “it’s a curse, honestly.”

You rolled your eyes back in your head and counted to five.

“I brought you food,” you hissed, tossing him the bag, “and obviously somebody doesn’t like you very much. Wanna tell me why you’re half butchered?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, as he shoved the sandwich in his mouth and chewed.

“It was all a big misunderstanding,” he said, “I had a very brief, but fiery relationship with an elegant woman and when I happened to be out of town with some of her belongings, she misinterpreted the situation and thought I seduced her and robbed her.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Which you didn’t do,” you said.

He shrugged.

“It’s really a matter of perspective,” he said, “it was a torrid love affair and she said what was her’s was mine…so…I took her word for it!”

“What belongings, exactly?” she asked.

“Nothing special…just some baubles…jewelry and the like…I think she was a bit more upset at how our relationship ended than exactly what I took. When she found me I happened to be with another woman…for purely platonic reasons. She didn’t see it that way.”

You rolled your eyes. So he was a con man.

“So she had you sliced up and tossed in the woods to die, huh? Sounds like a lovely lady,” you said.

He shrugged.

“Well she didn’t cut off my cock,” he said, leaning back on his elbow, his blue eyes sparkling at you, “so it’s not that bad, really.”

You shook your head at him.

“Look, I don’t like people knowin’ I’m out here, so when you go, keep it to yourself, alright?” you asked, “if I see you again, I’ll shoot you on sight.”

He smirked at you and pet one of your dogs.

“But the pups would be so upset,” he said, “they like me.”

You rolled your eyes, and called your dogs to you.

“I’ve got things to do,” you said, “stay here.”

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, babydoll,” he said, putting arms behind his head and laying back in the hay.

—

Click. Click.

You pulled the pieces of your gun apart as you cleaned and oiled them, your legs hanging off of your back porch.

“Even when the sky comes falling, even when the sun don’t shine, I got faith in you and I so put your pretty little hand in mine!” you sang to it.

“Do you really sing to your gun? You’re too pretty to be lonely, doll.”

You jumped a foot into the air and spun around to find the alpha behind you.

“Anybody ever tell you not to sneak up on somebody holding a gun?” you snorted, catching your breath.

“If you can assemble that fast enough to get me before I get you, I deserve to die,” he chuckled, sitting down next to you.

“I thought I told you to stay in the barn,” you grunted, putting your gun back together quickly and loading it.

“Wanted to see if you needed help with anything. Should probably pull my weight if I’m gonna stick around here,” he said.

You frowned.

“You’re not staying here,” you said.

“No?” he asked, looking at your five dogs, totally not trying to intimidate him at all, playing on the lawn, “dogs like me. You like me. Don’t see why I can’t.”

“I don’t like you,” you pointed out, “you’re a con man and I’m going to shoot you.”

He shrugged.

“Can’t be worse than my last girlfriend. At this point a clean shot is probably better than getting sliced and diced,” he grinned at you, “and you do like me, I can smell you.”

You knew you were putting off omega pheromones. That’s why you’d wanted him to stay in the barn, away from you.

You lifted your head as your dogs drew to attention. Someone was approaching your farm.

“Stay behind me,” you snapped at the alpha as you followed your dogs to the front lawn, where you found a beautiful, tall woman exiting an expensive car.

You raised your gun and your dogs formed a defensive line.

“Who are you?” you snapped, “this is private property! No trespassers!”

She scoffed, glancing behind you at your alpha companion.

“Jagger!” she crooned, “there you are! I was worried you’d died or something. I didn’t find you where I left you…have you learned your lesson? Ready to come back home?”

A snarl escaped your lips as the omega part of your brain, drenched in Jagger’s pheromones went nuts. Your body was already attaching yourself to him, drawing the two of you together. You instinctively cocked your gun.

“I told you, no trespassers, lady,” you snapped, “you’ve got five seconds before I start shooting.”

She frowned, her eyes focusing on you.

“I’m here for my boyfriend,” the beta woman hissed.

“You cut all your boyfriends up?” you asked.

She snorted.

“Only when they misbehave,” she said innocently.

“Well you dumped him on my property, so he’s mine now,” you told her in no uncertain terms, kicking yourself even as the words left your lips.

Behind you Jagger made a noise of approval.

Underneath your clothes, your skin was starting to burn as Jagger’s pheromones sank into it. As annoying as the sensation was, you were getting more and more agitated. Your omega instincts offended that she was trying to approach your alpha.

You knew wealthy beta women like her liked to keep the strapping alphas as pets…as long as they could manage to and the thought enraged you.

“Jagger…” she hummed, turning her attention back to him, “you and I both know you’re not going to stay here with this…farm girl…you have expensive tastes. Let’s get you cleaned up and into a proper set of clothes…”

Without another word you fired a warning shot close to her feet and she jumped.

“Your five seconds are up,” you snarled.

She glared at you, refusing to move.

“You don’t want him,” she spat, “he’s sneaky…don’t you want to know why he got his punishment in the first place? He needs to be kept on a short leash.”

“Don’t care,” you said, firing another shot to the other side of her, careful to miss her tires so she could hurry up and go, “find yourself another toy.”

She huffed, angry she wasn’t gaining any ground.

“Fine!” she hissed, “keep him! He’ll run out on you just like he ran out on me!”

She gave you the finger before she got into her car and peeled off, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her.

By this point your need for your alpha was making your mind hazy. You knew you weren’t thinking straight, but your biology couldn’t be denied. The damn woman had sent your whole body into a state of frantic need.

“That was amazing!” he beamed at you, his eyes filled with stars, “I’ve never seen anyone talk to her like that before!”

Your eyes locked onto him and you swung your gun around to him and his hands shot up, the look on his face draining to concern.

“Strip!” you growled, “and then go inside!”

His eyes got wide and he hurriedly took off his clothes.

You marched him into your bedroom and nudged him onto your bed with the barrel of your gun.

“You’re mine now, alpha, you do what I say when I say it,” you snarled, “run out on me like you ran out on her once I've taken your bite, I won’t bother cutting you up…it’ll be a bullet to the brain. Got me?”

He blinked at you and a smile formed on his lips as he leaned back on the bed. Jagger had no intention of ever leaving you. You were the most impressive little omega he’d ever come across. He was in love.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, his eyes practically forming hearts. You couldn’t help but notice his rather large cock was growing.

“Good,” you snapped, dropping the gun, stripping off your own clothes, and stalking across the room to do exactly what alphas and omegas were made for.

#omegaverse fluff #alpha x omega #alpha x reader #x reader #monster x reader #alpha man #soft yandere #female omega #omegaverse

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sidekick-hero · 2 months

Text

(steddie | teen | 2.7k | tags: animal shelter workers Eddie and Chrissy, platonic stobin, background buckingham, Idiots to lovers | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him by @starryeyedjanai | AO3)

This was all Robin's fault, Steve decided as he sneezed violently, his eyes burning and his throat itching. He was just trying to be a good friend to her, supporting her in whatever crazy ideas she had after her breakup with Vicky. Because that's what friends do, right? Support you in your pain and later help you clean up the inevitable mess when you come to your senses.

So when Robin asked him to drive her to the nearest animal shelter, he didn't hesitate.

Okay, maybe for a minute or so, but he quickly caved when she explained that she was clearly doomed to die alone, so she needed to go all in. Become the crazy lesbian cat lady she was so clearly meant to be.

Hence, the animal shelter to acquire said cat.

Steve expected to drive her there, look at some cats, and drive home because some helpful shelter attendant would explain to Robin that getting a cat was a bigger deal than she thought. He expected Robin to be sad and maudlin for a while, but ultimately glad because Steve loves her, but they both know that not even her potted plants survive more than a month.

What Steve didn't expect was to meet the man of his dreams.

They arrived early in the evening because they both had to work, and the shelter was surprisingly less busy than they had expected for that time of day. The waiting area of the Visitor Center was blissfully empty, which was a relief to Steve, who had been dealing with noisy customers all day and could feel a headache coming on.

Meandering up to the registration desk, they were greeted by a perky and really pretty blonde girl. Her name tag read Chrissy and she greeted them with a dazzling smile that Steve couldn't help but notice was directed more at Robin than at him. Either she immediately recognized which one of them was here to get a new pet, or she was smart enough to notice how amazing Steve's best friend was.

Steve hoped for the latter, which meant that instead of a hairy, clawed monster, Robin might be taking home the number of a pretty girl to help her get over her breakup.

"Hi, my name is Chrissy, how can I help you?" the woman chirped, and Steve had to nudge Robin's shoulder because she kept staring at Chrissy instead of answering.

"Oh, uh, hi. I'm Robin, this is Steve. We were looking for a cat." Then, realizing how that sounded, she hastily backtracked. "Or not we as in together, because we're not. That would be gross, he's like my brother. He's just helping me find a cat because he's my best friend, totally platonic with a capital 'P'."

Wow, Steve thought, he hadn't seen Robin ramble like that since before she started dating Vicky two years ago.

Fortunately, Chrissy seemed to find Robin's rambling endearing rather than off-putting, as her smile only brightened at Robin's explanation.

"Oh, you two are so cute. I totally get it. My best friend also works here and people always think we're a couple. Which we definitely are not." Chrissy told them before picking up the phone from her desk. "Speaking of which, I'm going to call him and tell him we have some potential pet owners who want to take a look at our cats."

She dialed a number from memory and it only rang twice before someone apparently picked up. Chrissy explained the situation and asked if they could take a tour before ending the call.

"Eddie will be with you in a few minutes. One of our dogs has taken a special liking to him and is demanding some extra belly scratches. Eddie won't admit it, but this dog has him wrapped around her paw." She laughs fondly at the thought. "Anyway, you can sit over there while you wait."

As they waited, Steve couldn't help but notice that Robin kept looking over to where Chrissy was typing on her computer. He leaned over to whisper, "Maybe you won't die alone with a bunch of cats after all."

Before Robin could answer, someone cleared their throat next to them, startling them both. They whipped around in unison to find a young man standing in front of them, and Steve could feel himself staring, but was unable to stop.

Because Jesus Christ, right in front of him was the prettiest guy Steve had ever seen.

Eddie, Steve guessed, had dark, unruly curls that he wore in a messy bun at the back of his neck, with strands framing his face. He was tall, at least as tall as Steve, maybe an inch or two taller, but more on the slender side, with legs that went on for miles and a tiny waist that Steve was dying to get his hands on. Big, dark, doe eyes looked at them with a friendly expression, and full lips curled into an inviting smile.

Steve was a goner from the start.

"Hi there, you must be why Chrissy called me here. I'm Eddie, nice to meet you," he greeted them, extending his hand to shake theirs. His hand was warm and Steve could feel the calluses on his ringed fingers. It conjured up images in his mind of those fingers wrapped around things other than his hand, dangerous thoughts.

"Hi," Steve squeaked, immediately wanting to put his hand over his mouth. It seemed that smooth had gone out to buy cigarettes and Steve had a suspicion that it wouldn't be back anytime soon.

When Eddie looked at him expectantly, it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize why.

"I'm, um, I'm Steve, and this is Robin, my friend. Best friend. Platonic friend."

Yes, smooth was gone, and it had taken his dignity with it. Great.

Next to him, he could see Robin suppressing a laugh at his flailing, the traitor. This was what he got for trying to be a good friend: Mockery.

Eddie looked like he was suppressing laughter too, but on him it just looked endearing.

"Okay, Steve, Robin. Follow me, to the kittens!" Like a man leading them to war, he marched off, clearly expecting them to follow. Looking at each other in silent agreement, they did.

They passed a large fenced area, and Steve could make out kennels at the far end of it. Following Steve's gaze, Eddie explained, "This is where our dogs stay. Most of them are allowed out during the day in the fenced area you see there, but at night they sleep in their crates."

Eddie leads them to a large, plain-looking house. "This is the cat house. We keep them behind glass walls because the little minxes would definitely climb through the bars and disappear. Come on in."

Inside, they were greeted with the distinct smell of several animals in a rather small space, but Steve was pleasantly surprised that the smell wasn't that bad or intense. Next to him, Robin immediately started cooing at the cats playing on the other side of the windowed rooms, which caused Steve and Eddie to share an indulgent smile.

Eddie was great, showing them all the cats and telling them stories about where they had come from as far as he knew, what they were like, what they liked and disliked, and was clearly very fond of his charges.

Robin and Steve were both hanging on Eddie's lips, but for very different reasons. For while Robin soaked up every word Eddie said, Steve soaked up every tiny movement of that pretty, pretty mouth, imagining how it would feel pressed against his. He kept nodding along, humming his agreement here and there, sometimes saying "yeah" or "definitely," as if he could hear any of their conversation instead of dreaming of kissing Eddie senseless.

That's the only explanation he has for why, after maybe thirty minutes of looking at cute cats, Steve and Robin both ended up with cats in their arms while Eddie prepared the adoption papers. At some point, Steve must have agreed to adopt a little fur ball, and now Eddie was all excited and happy, bouncing up and down as he explained that they were hoping to find a home for this set of siblings where they could still see each other. Apparently, Steve and Robin had promised to bring them together to play whenever possible.

"You can't believe how cool this is, we had almost given up hope that they would find someone. Chrissy and I had even discussed doing it ourselves, but Cerberus, my dog, doesn't like cats, and Chrissy didn't want to take two cats at once. But she loves Buttercup, so maybe she can visit her sometime? I know she would love that," Eddie adds with a wink in Steve's direction, and Steve begins to feel lightheaded. "And to be honest, I wouldn't mind seeing Buttercup and Tornado again either."

Was Eddie saying what Steve hoped? Robin seemed to think so, because she perked up immediately. "Oh, you two could come over this weekend and see how they are settling in. Since Steve and I are neighbors, it would be easy to visit them both on the same day."

And that's how Steve ended up with a tabby cat in his house and the worst allergic reaction he's had since Joyce brought home a stray cat while Steve was over for dinner and some cat hair got into his food.

When he knocked on Robin's door the next morning, Steve felt terrible, not only because his sinuses were shot to hell and his mucous membranes were rebelling, but because he felt like he was letting Eddie down. He knew he was allergic, but when he realized what he had unwittingly agreed to, he felt so stupid and pathetic that he didn't want to back out and explain why he hadn't said anything before.

"Steve, oh my God, you look awful! What happened?" Robin greeted him as she opened the door with Buttercup curled up in her arms. The cat was purring like crazy and Steve was happy to see that at least one of them was doing well with the whole pet adoption thing.

" I might have forgotten to tell you that I'm allergic to cats?" Steve said in a thick, congested voice. To be fair, he thought it wouldn't be an issue because he was so sure Robin wouldn't go through with adopting a cat. Or that he would.

"You're what? Steve! You just adopted a cat. What did you think was going to happen?"

Fair point. It looked like coming clean was his only real option here. It's not like Robin hadn't done stupid things when she had a crush on a girl, okay?

"I didn't want to adopt a cat! Hell, I never thought you would go through with it either, but I certainly never planned on bringing one home myself. I thought we'd get there, talk to one of the attendants, then go home and sleep on it and you'd realize you didn't really want a cat and we'd never go back."

Robin looked extremely unimpressed with him now, and even Buttercup had stopped purring and was looking at him with one eye half open.

"So what happened to change your mind?"

"Eddie," Steve said in a low voice.

"I beg your pardon?" She had heard him, but she made him say it again.

Steve sighed and repeated in a louder voice, "Eddie happened. I didn't even know what he was talking about because I was distracted by his mouth. I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late and I didn't want to disappoint him."

"You're such a Dingus, Dingus." Robin thankfully didn't sound angry or mocking, just exasperated and fond. "So what do we do now?"

"Keep the cat and hope it doesn't kill me?" Steve tried, already knowing that wasn't the answer she was looking for.

"Steve."

"Robin."

Putting Buttercup down and grabbing her keys from the small table next to her, Robin stepped forward and closed the door behind her. With a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder, she said firmly, "Listen, we have to get Tornado back. You look like you're going to keel over any minute."

"But Eddie -"

"Wouldn't want you to die either. He looked at your ass way too much to want you dead."

That made Steve perk up. "He did?"

Smiling indulgently at him, Robin nodded. "He did. So let's get you cleaned up and pick up some allergy meds on the way to the shelter."

That's exactly what they did, and by the time they got there, Steve was feeling a little better. Tornado was in his crate in the back seat, strapped down, and when Robin took him out of the car, Steve's heart broke a little at the sight of him. He really wished it wouldn't literally kill him to have Tornado living with him.

Chrissy greeted them as cheerfully as yesterday, if a little more confused.

"Hey Robin. Steve. What brings you back, is everything okay with Buttercup and Tornado?"

Explaining the situation to Chrissy would have been bad enough, but Eddie had to choose this exact moment to walk by and see them. He walked over to them, greeted Steve with a warm and dimpled smile, and Steve had half a mind to just tell Robin 'never mind' and go back home to his slow death by asphyxiation.

He would have done just that if Robin had not known him too well. When Eddie asked the same thing as Chrissy, she walked over to Eddie and gently placed Tornado's box in his hands. "Steve had a bad allergic reaction to him this morning."

It warmed Steve's heart that Eddie's first reaction was genuine concern. He took a step toward Steve before remembering that he was holding the cause of Steve's condition.

Setting the box on the floor, he closed the distance between them and placed a hand on Steve's arm.

"Oh God, are you okay, Steve?"

"Yeah, I'm fine now, we picked up some meds on the way and they've already kicked in."

Eddie's thumb traced his shoulder under his shirt and he wasn't sure if the lightheaded feeling was a lingering effect of his allergic reaction or just the way he was reacting to Eddie.

"So you didn't know you were allergic?" Eddie asked and Robin snorted beside them.

"Oh, he did," she muttered, and Steve wanted to kill her. The impulse intensified when Eddie raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Um, well, yeah. I kind of knew?" It sounded like a question, and Eddie's eyebrows had completely disappeared beneath his bangs. "I just didn't say anything," Steve added, aware that he was digging a deep, deep grave for his dignity if it ever came back from getting cigarettes with his smoothness.

"But why?" Eddie sounded genuinely confused, and Steve couldn't blame him. Saying it like that made him sound a little crazy.

"I was... distracted and only realized what I had agreed to when it was too late. You were so excited and happy that I couldn't bring myself to tell you that it was all just a small misunderstanding."

Even now Steve couldn't help but stare at Eddie's pretty and very kissable lips as he said this. Maybe he should see a doctor about this.

Or maybe not, because it almost seemed like Eddie was looking right back at Steve's now. "Distracted by what?" he asked, suddenly even closer than before, his eyes still on Steve's mouth. When did this happen?

Licking his lips impulsively, Steve felt a thrill run through his body at the way Eddie's eyes darkened as they followed the movement of his tongue.

"By...you," he admitted softly. "Your lips. They are very distracting."

A dimple winked at him as Eddie smiled at his words. "Are they?"

"Yeah.'"

They were so close now, breathing the same air as they talked, and Steve could feel Eddie's words as much as he heard them.

"Yours too, you know?" Eddie replied and why were they still talking?

Without thinking, Steve closed the last few inches between them and kissed the lips that had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He was willing to forgive Eddie, though, because by God the man could kiss, his lips as soft and supple as they looked, and his tongue warm and wet as it skillfully licked into his mouth.

They only broke apart at the sound of two people clearing their throats in unison.

Maybe Steve wouldn't take a cat home after all, but something told him he'd get something better to keep.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fluff #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #steddielovemonth #day 28 #Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him #my writing

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 8 months

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Babysitter (2)

Cookies And Cuteness

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 2- W/c 3.2k

Cookies And Cuteness Ringing the bell, you waited patiently outside the Maximoff's residence for Mr Jarvis, or Vision as Wanda had told you to call him despite what he says, to answer the door and let you in from the slight chill from the wind. After a minute or so, the blonde man appeared, dressed in another suit and ready to leave.

"The boys are inside," is all he says before brushing past you, walking towards his car and climbing in without looking back at you. You ignore his lack of greeting and make your way inside to see the twins sitting at the table, grumpily slouched over their work that's on the table.

"What did the paper ever do to you, Tommy?" you tease, noticing the scowl he was giving the sheets in front of him.

"Y/n!" Both boys cheer, jumping out of their chairs and sprinting over to you at the door frame, their small bodies colliding with your legs as they hug you. "Can we go to Mars now?" Tommy looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, his brother mirroring the look making your composure almost falter. "Please?" he tries again, your heart struggling to deal with the way they were looking at you with such hopeful expressions.

"Once you finish your work," you manage to say the right thing instead of giving into them and doing as they wish. You hear a noise of complaint from Tommy and merely give him a semi-stern look to make him not argue back. You sit with them as they finish off the last few questions, Billy finishing before his brother and trying to patiently wait, his body practically buzzing with excitement.

Tommy soon completes the last question, both of their heads snapping over to you with grins on their faces. A chuckle leaves your lips at the anticipation on their faces and wonder how a game could get two boys so easily excited. The sound of your chair moving backwards has them leaping out of their seats and into the living room, you following swiftly behind.

"Pshhht, this is your captain speaking again," your hand makes the same shape as it did on Friday, a fist that was supposedly supposed to be a radio thing to talk into. "Are you ready for the Mission to Mars?"

"Yeah!" they both exclaim, standing on either side of you.

"Taking off in 5..." you let them take over the countdown once again, watching how their faces light up.

"4...3...2...1!" This time you wrap an arm around both twins, lifting them up and spinning in a circle to make them squeal with excitement and joy. You walk around the sofa with them in your arms and gently drop them onto it, their bodies bouncing on the cushions while cute giggles spill from their lips.

"Oh no," your voice feigns worry, "There's a tickle monster on Mars!" you chase the boys who scream as they rush off the sofa, running around trying to escape you. You pull Tommy back gently, trapping him with one arm while the other tickles him relentlessly. Laughter tumbles from him as his body squirms in your hold, you eventually letting him go by dropping him on the sofa again with a teasing smile. Your attention turns to Billy, whose face momentarily pales, and walk towards him, face softening. "The only way to stop the tickle monster is to hug them," you whisper, him crashing into your body to stop you from tickling him. Cuteness overloads you as he clings onto you, hugging your leg and looking up at you with a grateful smile. "Ahhhh," you fall back onto the sofa, Tommy watching next to you as Billy falls with you, "You defeated the Tickle Monster!"

The two of them start to laugh as you dramatically act dead, them poking you making you laugh as well, poking them back until you hear the sound of a belly rumble.

"Seems like defeating the Tickle monster made you hungry," you tease Billy, who shyly smiles, his brother grinning at him.

"Can we make cookies, Y/n?" Tommy questions, Billy's eyes lighting up at the idea of food, especially cookies.

"Do either of you know how to make cookies?" you sit upright, back cracking slightly as you move from the awkward position the tickle monster died in. They shake their head at you with sheepish smiles, you trying hard to remember how your father used to make them with you. "I guess we're doing it the Y/l/n style way then," standing from the chair, you make your way into the kitchen, a small 'wow' leaving your lips as you properly take in the grand room.

With the gaze of two intrigued boys on you, you search the cupboards for the ingredients you would need before placing them on the kitchen island and finding the equipment you would need.

"Have you ever helped your mom make cookies?" you ask, turning your attention from the flour bag to the twins.

"We help..." Tommy says, Billy hiding his smile behind his hands as his brother tells a half truth.

"Oh really?" they both nod their head, "What do you help with?"

"We taste the chocolate chips and make sure they're ok to put in the cookies," Billy says, his brows furrowing when he can't see any with the other ingredients you've put out. "Where's the chocolate chips?"

"I hate to break it to you but there aren't any in these cookies," their faces drop at the news but you're quick to fix it, "But you get to decorate these cookies with icing, and we can cut them into shapes." Excitement reignites in their faces, and you chuckle at how cute they are.

"So, the first thing we need to do is preheat the oven and get the trays ready," you turn the oven on to 180 degrees and grab trays to grease and line with cookie sheets, the boys focussing as they watch you prepare the basics. "Now we measure out the ingredients," you help the boys measure out the ingredients on the scales until you have 225g of unsalted butter and caster sugar in separate bowls, along with 330g of plain flour in another.

Laughter echoes around the room as flour manages to get everywhere, Tommy ripping open the bag a little too enthusiastically resulting in you being covered in flour. Neither twin tells you about the massive streak of white powder on your face, deciding it would be funny to subtly giggle when you would look at them.

"Good job," you say when they manage to get everything done, "Ok, so now we need to beat the butter and the sugar together till it's light and fluffy. Then we'll add a splodge of vanilla extract and the egg."

"How much is a splodge?" Billy asks, turning to you when it's time to add the vanilla in.

"Uhh," you say, a little embarrassed as you're not sure how to describe it. "About a teaspoon?" he looks at you blankly as he has no idea how much that is. "I'll tell you when to stop," he starts to pour it in and when you consider it enough you stop him, Tommy then adding the egg while the food mixer beats it all together. "The next step is to put all the dry ingredients together," you watch closely as Tommy holds the bowl of flour still while Billy adds two teaspoons of baking powder with your help. "Now this is the important part," you say, them looking at you with concentrated looks, "We add the flour bowl into the wet bowl, but we have to do it slowly and not put it all in at once." Carefully, you get both of them to add in the flour and baking powder, the mixture becoming a dough.

"Why are you doing that?" Tommy curiously asks as you sprinkle a little flour onto a spare baking sheet.

"Putting flour down helps stop the dough sticking to the sheet when we roll it," you explain, him nodding in understanding, "We also do this to help with that issue," your hand sprinkles a little more onto the rolling pin before handing it towards them. "Who wants to roll the dough?" Tommy decides he'll roll it with your help while Billy searches for cookie cutters.

Within a few minutes, you have all the dough cut into various shapes, some simple circles while others are in heart or star shapes, one being a weird blob as it was the excess dough that wasn't enough to fill a cutter.

"While they're in the oven, how about you two draw some designs of how you want to decorate the cookies?" Their eyes widen in excitement, especially Billy, before they rush off to grab pencil crayons and paper. You watch with a smile on your face, remembering the many times you did this with your father. While you clean up all the dishes you've used, washing and drying them in record speed and moving to grab what you need for the icing, the memory of icing sugar getting everywhere when you made it with your dad invades your thoughts, his beard covered in a white dust while he would chase you, trying to hug you and get you covered in the powder.

Around ten minutes later, the oven beeps and you take the trays out, moving them to a cooling rack and ushering the twins back to the table to continue drawing after they leaped from their seats at the timer going off. You make piping bags out of plastic wallets, hoping Wanda wouldn't mind the fact you just cut the tips off two bags for the boys to use, and fill them halfway with the icing you made.

"Ok, so you each get a few cookies to decorate," you give them each an equal amount and watch as they start to try and copy a few designs. Billy adds a few sprinkles to his in an artistic way, your lips tugging up into a smile at how happy he looks while Tommy tries to add as many as he could to get a sugar rush, you having to give him a 'sprinkle ban'. Eventually, you end up with an array of...artistic cookies? Creative cookies? You weren't sure how to describe them, all you knew was that they looked good considering the age of the twins. When you looked over them once again, your eye caught a certain cookie that Billy had made.

"This is amazing Billy," the cookie was cut into a heart shape with the white icing spread almost evenly all the way across it, sprinkles spelling out 'Mom' while also lining the edge of the cookie. His face lit up at your praise, Tommy also looking at the cookie in awe of his brother.

"Thank you, Y/n," his voice quiet as he looks up at you, "I made it for mom, I hope she likes it."

"She'll absolutely love it Billy," your hand rests on his shoulder, squeezing gently before he moves to put it on a plate. The boys place all the cookies on a large plate, you clean up the mess while they wash their hands and try a cookie each. You hear them talking about how good they are, trying to ask for another but you put your foot down and say they have to wait for their mother. "No more," you repeat when they try and give you puppy dog eyes once again, "Go and watch TV mini Maximoffs." Billy's and Tommy's eyes widen at the nickname you've given them, smiling breaking out on their faces implying they love it.

You wash the remaining bowls that were used, the sound of keys in the door catching your attention. You hear the boys call out to Wanda, excitedly telling her to follow them to the kitchen. After drying the last bowl, you turn around to face Wanda, who is now being shown all the cookies, her face softening at the one specially made for her. When her gaze meets you, an adorable laugh escapes her, a nervous smile breaking out on your face as she chuckles at you, shaking her head slightly.

"Oh sweetheart," she sighs out softly, a smile gracing her lips as she walks up to you. Frozen on the spot, you watch as she stops just in front of you, the scent of her perfume invading your senses making your body buzz at how close she was. Her fingers delicately hold your chin, tilting your head up to look at her more clearly while her other hand grabs a cloth from the countertop. Your eyes take in her features as you're so close, gaze lingering on her plump lips a little too long before snapping back to her enchanting green eyes when you feel her press the cloth against your forehead, wiping the flour streak off your face. "There you go," she murmurs almost lovingly, her fingers brushing over your cheeks for a second before returning to her side.

"Thank you," you manage out, face red at the interaction. Wanda simply smiles at you before turning back to her sons, asking them about their day while biting into the cookie Billy made for her, a sound of enjoyment escaping her which implants itself in your mind.

"These are delicious Y/n," her praise makes you smile, a warm feeling bubbling in your chest at the way she smiles at you, nose scrunching a little. "And they are decorated so nicely," she grins at her boys, bringing them in for side hugs and holding tightly to make them laugh.

"We have one more cookie to show," Tommy says, wriggling his way out of his mother's arms and finding a specific cookie hidden away. "This is for you Y/n," he presents to you the blob shaped cookie, now decorated in an abundance of sprinkles and icing making you feel fuzzy inside.

"Oh, Tommy," you say sincerely, "Thank you so much." He hands you the cookie in a tissue, you wrap it up in another so you can take it home while the boys persuade their mom to let them have another one to eat. They run off into the living room, munching away, while Wanda leans against the countertop next to you, arms wrapping around her middle as she tilts her head slightly while smiling tenderly.

"You didn't have to clean up, you know?" her fingers twirl her wedding ring around while she speaks to you, the action reminding you of the fact she's a married woman and you shouldn't be enjoying her company as much as you were.

"I couldn't just leave them for you to do, you've been working, and I made the mess," your tone is confused as she shakes her head, smiling still gracing her features though.

"Your parents must really love you helping around the house," she teases, your mood dampening at the mention of you parents, a fake smile covering up the change in spirit.

"Yeah, they must do," your voice goes quieter at the end, Wanda not noticing though because the boys start to disagree on something in the other room. Both of you go to investigate, finding them bickering about which cartoon to watch.

"Boys," Wanda says, her tone switching to a stern mother as she places her hands on her hips and looks at them. They stop but scowl at each other a little, you chuckle at how they switched from playing with one another to being mad.

"Hey mini Maximoffs," you interrupt, Wanda's brows raising at the nickname, face softening from her serious state, "Don't start arguing with each other and being bad for your mom." They look down a little guilty, Wanda mouthing a 'thank you' before she tells the boys to find something they both like.

"I'm going to head off now," you say once everything is settled, Wanda walking you to the door and paying you a more reasonable amount than last time.

"Thank you for taking care of them," her body leans against the door as you step outside, body angled to look at her."

"It was no problem, Wanda, enjoy the rest of your night."

"You too, get home safely," the door moves to close when you start to walk away, Wanda staring at your figure for a moment longer before fully closing the door.

***

Keys rattle in the door as you finally get home, shrugging your backpack off and carefully taking your cookie out your coat pocket and laying it on the table. You wander through your apartment, the only sound coming from the Tv in the living room makes you head there first.

"Hey mum..." you let the words die in your throat when you see your mother, her body slouched on the sofa, wine bottles scattered on the floor as her hand falls limp at her side. You let out a tired sigh, walking over to her slowly, picking up the empty wine glass and bottles to take them to the kitchen before going back to where she laid passed out. "Come on mum, wake up," you gently shake her, her sluggishly waking up a little.

"Go away," she slurs, trying to hit you away but failing miserably as she can barely keep her arm up.

"No come on, we need to get you in bed," you don't bother hiding the annoyance or disappointment in your voice, tired of how much she'd drink. It wasn't even eight o'clock on a Monday and she was wasted.

"Just fuck off," her words mumbled, you let out a defeated breath and making your way out of the room. You grab her a blanket and return to cover her with it, guiding her head from its awkward position and letting her sleep on the sofa.

"Love you too," you mutter in distaste, ignoring the groan coming from her and making your way to your own room. You crouch down, hands sliding under your bed looking for a box before pulling it out. Carefully, you open the lid, revealing the money Wanda gave you last week and now today as you put it in, smiling at the little progress.

With the money your dad left you and the money you were now saving, it wouldn't take long for you to have enough to rent out your own place and finally leave this home once you turned eighteen. You loved your mother like any child should, you did, but you couldn't help the way you started to hate her, despise her for the things she'd do or say to you. When you were younger you two were much closer, not as close as you and your father, but you still loved each other deeply until the incident happened and everything changed.

Before you could drown yourself in the hurtful thoughts, you pushed your body back to its feet, grabbing the cookie and taking it to your room to eat while finishing off the rest of your schoolwork. You thought back to today with the twins, a subconscious smile taking over your face when your thoughts drifted back to a certain older woman; the way her green eyes would gaze at you caringly, the soft and delicate touch of her fingers on your face, the angelic laughter that spilt from her lips.

You couldn't get her off your mind, and if you were being honest, you didn't want to.

---

I totally didn't just take the cookie recipe from BBC food guides...

I'm not allowed in the kitchen, ok? I'll end up burning the house down.

I hope you enjoyed :)

Please leave any thoughts/comments, they're really appreciated <3

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #eventual smut #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda fluff #fluff #babysitter au #tommy maximoff #billy maximoff #baking #crushes #mommy issues #tw alchoholism

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months

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Comet Donati [Chapter 2: Story Of My Life]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, cryptic song lyrics, tattoos, motorcycles, pretentious veganism, the return of the Cookie Monster pajama pants.

Selected Chapter Quote: “I’m not interested in therapy. But I’m somewhat interested in you.”

Word count: 6.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @tclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927

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

Under the stars, under the canopy of incandescent string lights, you tilt a Salty Dog against your lips: clinking ice, rosemary, a wedge of grapefruit, salt on the rim. The indigo wind raises goosebumps on your arms. From the speakers flow notes muffled by car horns and ambient conversation: Coldplay, Life In Technicolor ii. The Missouri River is a snake in the distance, twisting and glimmering, silver scales built of reflected moonlight. It is one year before you fly to Rome. It is the prologue of a book you never thought you’d write.

“I hope you’re not cheating on anybody,” you say to Aegon. Your voice has that drowsy, unguarded honestly that follows good sex with someone you might have the capacity to love under the right circumstances. His does too.

Aegon snorts and shakes his head. There is sunburn on his cheeks like a stain of spilled wine; summer in the Lower Midwest doesn’t agree with him. It’s too hot, too primal. It’ll bite you if you’re not careful. “No. There’s no one.”

“Is there ever?” you ask. “I remember seeing paparazzi photos of Jace and Luke with their girlfriends, Aemond with Shelby, Cregan with…plentiful, interchangeable Victoria’s Secret models. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you attached to anyone.”

“Look, can I be honest for a second? I mean, I don’t want to offend you. But you seem cool, you seem like you might get it. Can I be real with you?”

“Yeah. Be real, I’d like that.”

“I love what we’re doing right now,” Aegon says. He takes a swig of his Salty Dog, your suggestion. His blond hair, nearly shoulder-length, whips in the night breeze. There’s something about Missouri that feels old, prehistoric almost, and you know because you’ve left it and come back: untamed, unrefined, brown recluses and black bears, copperheads and water moccasins, droughts and floods and tornados, humid and buggy like the earth the dinosaurs knew. “And I loved what I was doing last week in Boston and Philly, and I’ll probably love what I’m doing a few days from now in Houston. But if I knew I had to do it, I wouldn’t love it anymore, you know? That’s just how I am. It’s not a reflection on anyone but me. I can’t handle obligations, commitment, chains. I feel the weight of expectations settling on me and I run.” He rests his chin on his knuckles as he gazes at you like a distant constellation. “I don’t think my worth is determined by who or how I fuck. I don’t think yours is either. I think there are sluts who are angels and virgins who are demons. And I think to believe otherwise is not just archaic or puritanical or ignorant. I think it’s deeply, catastrophically harmful.”

You’re smiling; tears brim in your eyes. “Thank you, Aegon,” you say softly.

He is mystified. “For what?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Coldplay recedes from the speakers. Next—for no less than the fourth time this evening—is the Weeknd’s Starboy. Aegon groans and drums his Salty Dog on the tabletop. “Oh my God, this song again?!”

“They’re obsessed!”

“They really are.”

“It’s for you,” you tease. “You’re the big star. The boy band star. The Starboy.”

He takes your right hand, flattens your palm, and lays it against his chest. Through his t-shirt—Nirvana, grey, short-sleeved, from Target—you can feel muscle, bone, rushing blood. “Starboy,” he tells you, grinning. Then he presses his own palm to your heart, beating calm and slow beneath your dress the color of emeralds. “Stargirl.”

“Oh no. Wrong. I’m definitely a nobody.”

“You’re not,” Aegon says. And then again, to make sure you’ve heard him: “You’re not.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“So I only have to talk to two people?” Rhaena says suspiciously, like she’s waiting for you to pull the lever of a trapdoor.

“Exactly.” You take another bite of your carbonara, an Italian invention that would be at home in the Midwest: heavy, cheesy, lots of pork products. “At the meet-and-greet before the show tonight, I want you to pick two people. Just two. And they can be anyone you want. 13-year-old girls, frat boys, soccer moms, grandmas, whoever. And I want you to chat with each of those two people for two minutes. That’s four minutes total. And then you’re done!”

“I’m really done? You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Two people, two minutes. I can do that.” Rhaena turns to Luke, who has bits of lasagna all over his shirt and one wayward shred of a noodle in his dark curly hair. “I can do that, right?”

He nods encouragingly. “You can totally do that.”

Aemond is watching; you can see him on the periphery of your vision, short blond hair and a black t-shirt. He wears a lot of black, few accessories, like he’s trying not to be noticed. You look across the table at him. The band is enjoying a late lunch—everyone sleeps in until at least 1 p.m.—on the patio of a restaurant that overlooks the Palatine Hill. Intense midday sunbeams stream, in threads like tinsel on a Christmas tree, through the gaps in the pergola of grapevines, climbing roses, and ivy. In the daylight, Aemond’s scar is jarring—red, wrathful—and his sightless blue dreamscape of a left eye all the more peculiar. He fixes his gaze on you, daring you to flinch away, to be disgusted, to wilt like something parched and dying. You stare steadily back. Aemond sips his white wine, half-smiling, and twirls spaghetti onto his fork. You have white wine too. You keep choosing whatever drinks he does.

“You came all the way to Rome only to order the most basic, fifth-grader version of pasta imaginable?”

“It has marinara sauce,” Aemond replies. “I’m a vegan.”

“Uh oh,” you say. “For health reasons or the environment, or…?”

He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “I just feel that the world has enough suffering in it already without me contributing to the mass torture and execution of sentient beings.”

“Okay. Pretentious.”

Aemond chuckles, covering his mouth with one hand so he can chew his spaghetti with dignity. “What do your parents do in Kansas?”

“Missouri,” you correct, like a reflex.

“I know, it’s so confusing,” Aegon tells him. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses and a salmon-colored tank top that matches his sunburn. “It’s Kansas City, but apparently it’s in Missouri, not Kansas. But there is a different, smaller, much worse Kansas City in actual Kansas.”

“It’s confusing for your little hamster brain,” you say.

Aegon holds up a dark green bottle of olive oil that he’s been drenching his salad with: lettuce, tomatoes, black olives, skinless boneless chicken. “This is healthy, right?”

“Yeah, it’s really good for you. Antioxidants and anti-inflammatory properties.”

Jace snickers. “Dude, that has like 100 calories per tablespoon.”

Aegon frowns dejectedly down at his salad. “Fuck.”

Aemond asks you: “So what do your parents do in Missouri?”

“They have a farm just outside the city.”

“Oh. Nice.” Some apprehension now. “What do they raise?”

“Beef cattle.”

The rest of the table bursts out laughing. Aemond’s cheeks—one smooth and pristine, one cut in two by a rust-colored cord of bitter corporal memory like barbed wire—flush pink. He is happy in a way that he hasn’t been in a long time; you can see that in the warmth that glows on the others’ faces. He is alarmingly, breathtakingly beautiful. He has the sort of features that belong carved into marble, in myths, in museums. “I mean…I’m sure they do a great job.”

“You should visit one day. You can help brand the herd.”

“Absolutely,” Aemond quips.

“Nothing gets one’s deepest, darkest revelations flowing like hard labor.”

“I’m not interested in therapy.” He peers around the table for the basket of bread. “Jace, can you pass me some of that?”

Jace picks up a piece of crunchy Italian bread and lobs it through the air. It goes sailing right past Aemond, at least a foot from his fumbling, futile hands.

Aegon is exasperated. “Jace, bruh, you know he’s got no depth perception!”

“It’s fine,” Aemond says quickly, like he wants the conversation to be over.

“It’s not fine.” Aegon stands up and leans across the table to jab his index finger menacingly at Jace. “Have some consideration for anyone besides yourself. Have some fucking respect.”

Jace is more entertained than intimidated. “I’m sorry, I was under the impression that I outrank you now.”

“Yeah. And how’d you get there?” In the uneasy quiet that falls over the table, Aegon—quite tipsy already—lurches inside the restaurant to use their bathroom.

Daeron slides the basket of bread over to Aemond. Luke studies him sympathetically without knowing what to say. So much of what settles in us—accumulating like radiation, cooking malignancies into our bones—are things we cannot speak of. This is the great supposition of therapy. It’s what first inspired Sigmund Freud to get that fateful ball rolling in the latter half of the 1800s, before television or radio or record players, before airplanes, before Alaska or Hawaii were added to the Union.

Criston sighs loudly and stabs at his carne alla pizzaiola. Cregan stares indifferently out over the Palatine Hill: the Palace of Domitian, the House of Tiberius, the Temple of Apollo, ruins of gods and men. He slips a minibar-sized bottle of Absolut Vodka out of his sweatpants, empties it into his San Pellegrino, and gulps it all down. Jace has one arm slung across the back of his girlfriend Baela’s chair. She whispers something to him, clearly irritated. He replies briskly back. They have the look of a couple that has spent more time trying to claw their way back to a good place than they ever spent happy to begin with. Jace steals a glimpse of you, smirking. He turns away as soon as you notice him watching. His arms and chest, visible through his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, are a mosaic of tattoos: the Eiffel tower, cherry blossoms, Christ the Redeemer, an alligator, a pair of dice.

After a few minutes, Aegon returns to the table, noticeably more peppy. He starts collecting everyone’s silverware and piling it on a plate for when the servers clear the table. He sorts the utensils by type—forks, knives, spoons—and then by size.

“What is on your face?” Criston demands.

Aegon feigns innocence. Badly. “Huh? What? Face? Huh?”

“Your face. What the hell is all over your face?”

Aegon touches his fingertips to his nose. They come away dusted with white residue. “Um. Donuts.”

“What?”

“Powdered sugar donuts.”

“That’s what you were doing in the bathroom? Eating donuts?”

“…Yes.”

“Aegon,” Criston says sternly.

“They’re called zeppole here.”

Criston claps his hands together and rises from the table. “Okay, time for soundcheck!”

There are groans and complaints, but the band obeys, mopping stray sauce from their lips with cloth napkins and then heading for the black Escalades parked outside the restaurant…everyone except Aemond. He sips his wine leisurely, like he hasn’t heard Criston. You don’t leave either.

Criston regards Aemond with fatherly concern, a hand rested on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. We’ll catch up with you later.”

“Really?”

“If memory serves, you don’t need me for this part anymore.”

“Right,” Criston admits awkwardly. “Well one of the Escalades will be waiting out front whenever you’re ready.”

“Sounds good.”

Criston and the rest of the band vanish towards the front of the restaurant. You can hear the slamming of doors and Criston shouting: “Get in the car…get in the fucking car…put your seatbelt on…Aegon, right now, put it on—!”

Aemond takes a pack of Benson & Hedges cigarettes out of the pocket of his dark jeans, puts one between his lips, ignites it with a small square metal lighter—vintage? heirloom?—and then throws the glittery gold pack onto the table. “Okay. Go ahead.”

You smile at him, bars of shadow and sunlight across both of your faces. The restaurant speakers, breaking the spell of the ever-ancient Roman mirage, are playing Foster The People’s Pumped Up Kicks. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“I’m not interested in therapy. But I’m somewhat interested in you.” He exhales smoke like a dragon. “So go on, ask your questions so I can theatrically unburden myself and emerge from the wreckage like a phoenix, all shiny and redeemed.”

You gesture broadly. “How did this happen?”

“This?”

“You getting kicked out of Comet. Daeron being added to the lineup, Jace being promoted.”

He speaks nonchalantly as if discussing ancient history or the weather, like that’s just the way the world works, a morally ambiguous eventuality. Every once in a while a tsunami or a mudslide comes along and gobbles up a couple thousand lives, but the planet keeps on spinning. “The label made the call. An executive decision, they said. A boy band is a fantasy. It has to be light, fun, erotic without being scandalous or threatening. No one wants to watch some mutilated, half-blind guy strutting around a stage trying to reclaim some long-gone, better version of himself.”

You are at once immeasurably vengeful on his behalf, but you can’t show this. “That must have been difficult. To be treated mercilessly when you were vulnerable. To realize that something you poured your heart and soul into was so transactional.”

He shakes his head, smoking, not looking at you. He gazes out over the Palatine Hill instead.

“Aemond?”

“What do you want me to say?” he answers abruptly. “That I’m angry? I am. That I wish the accident had never happened? Yeah, I wish that. I wish it every goddamn day. But there’s nothing I can do about any of it. Of course I’m furious. Of course I’m resentful. I built this band. I got us together, kept us together, wrote virtually every hit we ever had. Comet was mine. It was my whole life, my past, my future, my legacy. And they took it from me. You want to know how I really feel about that? I couldn’t tell you in words. I’d have to hit something until my knuckles split through the skin.”

He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray with trembling hands, then he drags his fingers—long, uncalloused, dexterous, though you wish you could stop staring at them—through his hair. He glances at you, embarrassed. You look calmly back.

“Jesus Christ,” Aemond says shakily. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“The band was yours,” you agree. “So you’re the one who named it?”

“Yeah.”

“Comet Donati. The first comet ever photographed. 1858.”

He is impressed. “You’ve studied astronomy?”

“Well…I Googled it,” you confess, and he laughs. He’s relaxed again, he’s sunny like the sky. “But I really like it. A disproportionate number of astronomers are from the Midwest, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Because there’s nothing to do there, so people watch the stars instead.”

He nods, thoughtful. “Better than livestock farming or teen pregnancies, I guess.”

“What is it about the comet that inspires you?”

Aemond lights himself a fresh cigarette. His last name is etched into the side of the steel lighter, you see now: Targaryen. “It has an orbital period of 1,740 years. That last time Comet Donati clipped by Earth, Abraham Lincoln was watching it from the front porch of his hotel. It won’t come back until the late-3000s. I’ll never see it. You’ll never see it. But it’s always there. And to me, there’s something really beautiful about that. So many things in life are invisible, silent, unspoken, unacknowledged, unknown, misunderstood. But that doesn’t mean they’re not real.”

You recall the woman you’ve seen standing beside him in countless paparazzi photos: an actress and influencer, 20 million Instagram followers, California blond, Ibiza clubs and Met Galas. “Where’s Shelby?”

“Not around anymore, obviously.”

“She left you or you left her?”

He flicks away ashes, vague, evasive. “She couldn’t handle it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It isn’t, that’s clear. It’s marked him somewhere deeper than the flesh.

“No, Aemond.” You reach across the table to take his free hand, his left hand, in your own. “I’m really, really sorry.”

He’s watching you, but he isn’t just watching; he’s a little bewildered, and little captivated, a little impishly proud like he’s won a bet. When you release his hand, he says: “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want someone who’s repulsed by me. Or worse, someone who can only see me as something damaged and pitiful. I don’t want to be fucked out of pity.”

Oh no, you think, gazing helplessly at his face, his fingers, his wrists, the slope of his throat. Oh no, I don’t think pity would be anywhere in my mind, not even a whisper of it, not even a ghost.

Aemond notices. His lips pull up at the edges into a sly smile…and then he grows solemn again. “Are you going to ask me about what happened at the Budokan?”

“No. I don’t want to talk about the past anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I think what happened to you was horrible and senseless and unfair. And the worst part isn’t that you look different. It’s that you are different. You can’t ever unlearn how people treated you afterwards, what their true motivations were. People who discarded you, people who forgot about you. You didn’t deserve that. You were worthy then and you’re worthy now. I don’t want to talk about your past. I want to talk about where you’re going next.”

“I have no idea. When I said the band was my whole life, I meant it.”

“You’ll figure something out. And maybe I can help.”

“Maybe.” He takes a long drag off his cigarette, intrigued. “What made you want to be a therapist?”

That nervous drop in your stomach; a sensation like falling. You disguise it expertly. “No no, I’m asking the questions here. I’m the one with the master’s degree.”

“Now who’s pretentious?”

You’re giggling, and then Aemond is too, like mirror images of each other: sipping white wine and averting your eyes—those so-called windows to the soul—towards the Palatine Hill before they can reveal too much.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Comet Donati performs now, Aemond isn’t on stage. But he never misses a show. He paces around with a black notebook and a white gel pen—Luke learned that from him, you realize—jotting down suggestions and critiques to share with the others afterwards. You follow him, trailing soundlessly like a shadow, through hallways and down aisles and across sky-high catwalks like ancient aqueducts. You’re wearing the only dress you brought from home: short, black lace, cold shoulders. Unconsciously, Aemond takes your hand to make sure you don’t fall behind. Wordlessly, he points out things that make you laugh: Aegon repeatedly slipping on a puddle of beer that he spilled, Daeron’s improvised dance moves (the Mailman, the Beached Whale, the Reckless Uber Driver, etc.), screaming middle-aged women flashing Cregan, Luke giving little crochet stars and planets and comets—handmade by Baela and Rhaena—to children in the audience. But Aemond rarely acknowledges Jace.

As you and Aemond lurk just offstage, the band is performing A Song I’ve Never Heard, the lead single off their first album and an enduring fan favorite.

“If you disappear, I’m going under

Telling you right now, there is no other

Who could ever replace you, no need to wonder

Your name is a song I’ve never heard before.”

“They’re really good live,” you shout, barely audible over the noise. You stand on your tiptoes and lean against Aemond’s shoulder so he can hear you. You are struck by the dormant power beneath your palms, his tense muscles, his radiating heat. You can’t help but imagine what sort of rhythm you might fall into together.

“Yeah,” he says distractedly.

“They’d be even better with you.”

Aemond turns, startled, then smiles. He passes you his notebook and gel pen so you can read his comments and add any of your own. You skim through his scribbled, pearlescent observations.

Cregan – Good smolder. Pay attention to every fan in the crowd, not just the fuckable ones. Thumbs up and high fives for kids. Fist bumps for dudes. Wear less clothes, maybe? If you’re cool with that.

Luke – Don’t be afraid to move around the stage more. Weave. Prowl. Pretend you are a shark.

Aegon – Wrong lyrics during Space-Time Continuum. And Lake Effect. And A Girl Named After A Car!! And The Worst Way To Be!!!! Please for the love of God the words are on Genius.com if you don’t know them.

Daeron – Really great overall. Missed verse during If You’re Summer I’m The Rain. Beware of handshakes with crowd, they could pull you in. Invent a new dance move, something inspired by Kansas City. The Tornado Watch? The Oppressed Beef Cow?

You write at the bottom:

Aemond – Cultivate at minimum one (1) hobby not directly related to Comet Donati. Or pretentious veganism.

You hand the notebook to him, and then he scrawls back:

Already have it. I’ll show you later.

When the concert ends, Aemond leads you backstage to reunite with the band, along with Baela and Rhaena who spent the past two hours dancing and shrieking in the front row.

“I did it!” Rhaena trumpets when she sees you, eyes alight and hands waving in the air. “At the meet-and-greet before the show! I talked to people for four whole minutes and then I got to sit in the corner and drink champagne all by myself and it was amazing!”

“That’s so great!” you exclaim, hugging her. “See?! We knew you could do it. But next time you have to talk to people for ten minutes.”

“Ugh,” Rhaena says, but she’s still beaming. She knows she’s capable of it. It might hurt, but it won’t kill her. And that’s true for a lot of things, isn’t it? The trick is figuring out which of our brains’ frantic doom-signals are misfires, exaggerations, genetic malformations…and which are warnings of something actually lethal.

Everyone piles into the Escalades for the short journey back to the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Rome Hotel. You and Aemond end up sharing a car with Aegon, Luke, and Rhaena. Luke sits right next to Aemond, wants to see all his notes, wants to rehash every detail of the night with him: Did you like this little move I came up with? Was I too extra when I did that? Am I too low in the harmonies? Did you see how psyched that one kid was when I gave him a stuffed comet? As you watch them, streetlights passing by overhead like miniature suns, it occurs to you that Luke is the only person who still treats Aemond like he’s an essential part of the band, not a progenitor to be paid occasional pennies of homage but a heart or a spinal cord, something that can’t be excised without killing the host.

Aegon is lying on his back across the floor of the Escalade and scrolling through his phone. “Oh my God, guess who else is in Rome right now!” he gasps.

“Who?” Rhaena asks, but she rolls her doe-like eyes in a way that tells you this happens a lot.

“Selena Gomez!”

“Great,” Aemond says. “I don’t think she wants to see you.”

Aegon is typing manically with both thumbs. “We’re about to find out.”

Back at the hotel, a force like gravity—stringless, unthinking—pulls everyone towards Jace’s suite. The lights are low, the air smokey, the drinks misty with condensation, the balcony door open as people—friends and roadies and label executives—drift in and out of the starlit night breeze, the music loud and rumbling, lots of bass, Lifestyles Of The Rich & Famous by Good Charlotte. Crowded together in one corner of the room, illuminated by an end table lamp, are Jace, Baela, Daeron, Cregan, and Criston, who is observing with arms crossed over his chest and an exhausted, long-suffering sort of disapproval. There is a tattoo artist getting set up on the coffee table, laying out the needles and ink cartridges, latex gloves, sanitizer, a squeeze bottle of green soap.

“Get the Pantheon!” Baela is telling Jace. She’s sitting in his lap on the white leather couch, his arms locked around her waist but his eyes roaming around the room. “Or laurels, maybe. Or an eagle.”

“Get a gladiator!” Daeron says.

Baela grimaces. “Please don’t.”

“Get the Colosseum!” Luke says as he hurries over to join them.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“He gets a new tattoo for every city we play in,” Daeron explains.

“Some are better than others,” Baela adds. “There were so many gorgeous possibilities for Miami and you chose an alligator?!”

“Every single city, huh?” you say to Jace. “You must have a lot of tattoos.”

He grins crookedly up at you through locks of dark, messy curls. He’s wearing a black and white striped shirt that is mostly unbuttoned. Aemond’s gaze flits anxiously between you and Jace. “I do. But believe it or not, we’ve never been to Rome until now.”

“Get the Leaning Tower of Pisa!” Aegon says.

Criston snaps: “Really? The one that’s in Pisa? Which is a completely different city? The one that’s four hours north of Rome? That Leaning Tower of Pisa? That one?”

“Well fuck, don’t let me inconvenience you with my presence!” Aegon thumps a fist against Cregan’s brawny shoulder and they disappear together, peering down at their phones, faces painted by the white-blue glow of the screens.

“What should I get?” Jace asks Aemond. It sounds like a loaded question.

“Julius Caesar. A usurper.”

Jace winks up at him, arrogant and taunting.

Baela rubs Jace’s bare, ink-adorned chest. “Baby, don’t.”

“I want the Pantheon,” he declares suddenly. “Right here on the back of my right hand. Prime real estate. I won’t be able to do anything without remembering this city, this show.” He turns to Aemond, victorious. “They were filming, you know. They’re going to make it a Netflix special.”

“I’m aware,” Aemond replies, flat, cold.

The tattoo artist is nodding agreeably at Jace. “Si signore, I do the Pantheon all the time. Tourists love to have a picture to take home with them. Nessun problema. You want it on this hand? You are sure? Va bene, place it here on the table. Si, si. I will clean the area and then we will begin.”

Soon the needle of the humming tattoo gun meets the skin: metal, blood, Jace hissing in pain as black lines spring to life across his metacarpals. Baela passes the time by chatting with you. She is clever and kind like Rhaena, but louder, tougher, beautiful yet barbed like a lionfish. She can talk to anyone and never drops her eyes. It amazes you how siblings, built of the same genetic Legos, can grow up to be so different: Baela and Rhaena, Jace and Luke, Aegon and Aemond and Daeron.

When Jace’s tiny Pantheon tattoo is complete and his hand bandaged, he goads you: “Now you’re getting one too, right?”

“Sure,” you say, and you are delighted to see the shock leap into his face.

“What?!” Baela cries.

“You’re joking,” Aemond says uncertainly. “She’s joking.”

“No, I really want one.”

“Get a gladiator!” Daeron bellows, jumping on top of the couch and flexing his muscles like Hercules.

“Get my name on the side of your face like Post Malone,” Jace says. And then, when Baela and Aemond glare at him: “What?!”

“I definitely don’t want that. But I do want something.”

“I will do whatever you like, signora,” the tattoo artist says, changing out needles.

“You’re actually serious?” Aemond asks. And what he means is: You don’t have to do this. It would be reckless. It would be permanent.

“Yeah.” You smile up at him. “I want to remember this little adventure. When I’m back in Kansas City…in a few weeks, or a few months, or whatever…I want to be able to look in the mirror and know that it wasn’t all something I made up. A fantasy, a dream.”

“You should get Comet lyrics,” Luke says excitedly. “Aemond’s lyrics.”

You tap Luke’s notebook: black paper, white gel pen, just like Aemond’s. “Absolutely. Help me choose them.”

Within ten minutes, you’ve settled on a design that Luke has sketched in starlight-colored ink and a location: upper back, equidistant between your shoulder blades, someplace you can easily conceal it when you’re working. It will be a small, minimalist comet—nucleus, coma, and tail—with cursive lyrics from a hidden gem off the band’s most recent album encircling it like the rings of Saturn:

I’ll come back for you if it kills me

Comets clip by again after eons and so can I

Somewhat clumsily, you manage to unzip your dress, shimmy the top part down to around the line of your bra strap, and then lie on your belly across the couch. Baela and Rhaena giggle at the way the men bashfully avert their eyes…all except Aemond. He is speechless, blinking, fascinated. He shakes it off and turns away when he realizes he’s been staring.

“I’m sorry, is this too unprofessional?”

“No, you were perfectly clear,” Daeron says. “You’re a therapist, but not our therapist. So feel free to walk around in just your bra anytime.”

“For real,” Jace adds.

Baela shoos him away: “Go, get us more drinks. Go! Bar! Now!” And Jace reluctantly retreats.

Using Luke’s rough sketch as a reference, the tattoo artist begins working once he’s thoroughly cleaned the area of perfume, shining perspiration, invisible fingerprints, tobacco, other remnants of life’s general untidiness. The pain is bad but not overwhelming, worst when the needle nears your spine. Aemond sits on the floor beside you and observes thoughtfully, sipping a rosy-pink Bramble. Aegon and Cregan wander back into the suite—white powder on their palms, more on their shirts, their pupils dilated and glassy—and are extremely amused by this turn of events. They stay for a while and then are gone again, forever both here and there, comets zooming around their elliptical orbits, Schrodinger’s cats.

“How’s it look?” you ask Aemond as he studies your back. You can’t see anything; you can only feel it.

“The tattoo, or…?”

You laugh and shove him away with your very limited range of motion; then, when you wince at the stinging pain, Aemond grips your hand in his. “I know I’m being pathetic. I know it’s not that bad.” Not compared to what you endured: blunt force trauma, partial blindness, your face stitched back together, your life’s work stolen from you.

“You’re not that pathetic. Louis Tomlinson probably would have cried.”

You laugh again, louder, and the tattoo artist scolds you: “Signora, per favore! Stay as still as you can, I beg you. We are almost done.”

Aemond’s iPhone rings and he glides it out of his pocket with his free hand. His ringtone is Mr. Brightside. “Oh. I should take this.”

“Go ahead,” you tell him. “Go, I’m fine.”

“Who is it?” Criston asks Aemond with curiously intense interest.

“It’s my mom.”

“Does she want to talk to me? To see how the tour is going?”

“No, Criston.”

“Fine,” Criston says testily. “I’m gonna go make sure Aegon isn’t on the roof or something.”

He departs from the crowded suite, momentarily parting the miasma of cigarette and cigar smoke like Moses split the Red Sea. Aemond goes out onto the balcony. Baela and Rhaena take his place next to the couch, fawning over your almost-finished tattoo and showing you their own: Baela has a ring of roses around one ankle, a quote from her grandmother across her ribs, and a compass on her forearm; Rhaena has a tiny L behind one ear for Luke. Even over the buzzing of the tattoo gun, the reverberating music, the chattering of new friends and perfect strangers, and the backdrop of traffic noises outside on the winding streets of Rome, you can hear chaos: yelling, banging, the pounding of sprinting footsteps.

When your tattoo is completed and bandaged, you fix your dress and follow the commotion out into the hallway. Several doors down, you find Criston in Aegon’s suite. He’s standing on top of the mattress and attempting to handcuff Aegon to the bedpost. Aegon, thrashing and yowling and shirtless for some reason, rips away from him.

“Give me your hand!” Criston roars. “Give me your fucking hand! You want to act like Motley Crue, you’re gonna get treated like Motley Crue.” He finally clicks a cuff around Aegon’s left wrist, fastens him to the bed, and then doubles over gasping for air.

You say from the doorway: “This is not what I, personally, would call effective conflict resolution.”

“Oh good, you’re here.” Criston wipes fat beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of one hand. “You talk to him. Meditation, yoga, hypnosis, a lobotomy, read him bedtime stories, get him a shock collar, I don’t care what you do, just give me fifteen minutes of peace. I need a goddamn San Pellegrino.” He stomps out of the room and is gone.

Aegon sighs listlessly. “I’d like to say I don’t deserve this, but I probably do.”

“Hey, Aegon?”

“Yeah?”

“What was up with your salad at lunch today? And the skinless boneless chicken?”

He smirks, an expression you can’t quite read. Nervousness? Cynicism? Shame? “I’ve gained like twenty pounds since last summer.”

“So?”

“So almost none of my tour wardrobe fits.”

“Can you not afford new clothes? Have you snorted that much coke?”

He chuckles, but his large blue eyes are sad, defenseless, watery. “The label doesn’t want a chunky popstar. Girls won’t spend thousands of dollars on tickets to see me anymore.”

“Yes they will. And I would too. In a hypothetical alternate universe where I was rich.”

He smiles, for real this time. “You wanna stay? I still have one hand free.”

“That’s a super tempting offer, but I think I’ll pass.”

He blinks up at you with groggy, drunken realization. “You got your eye on someone else, Stargirl?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He’s grinning, toothy, playful. “You didn’t have to.”

There is a knock against the doorframe. When you spin around, Aemond stands there. “Hey,” he says. “Found you.”

“How’s your mom?”

“Fine. Do you want to see something?”

“…Okay?”

“It’s outside.”

“Oh, no way,” Aegon tells him, still handcuffed to the bed, cackling. “No way is she gonna be down for that.”

“She might be,” Aemond replies evenly.

“You still got a second helmet?”

“Of course.”

“Helmet…?” you venture.

Aemond smiles, nodding towards the hall. “Let’s go.”

Aegon waves goodbye with his free hand. “Good luck, Stargirl. Hope your last will and testament is in order.”

“Like I’d leave you anything.” You set several bottles of water and a box of Nutella snacks on the end table where Aegon can reach them.

“Wait wait wait!” he cries when you are about to depart. “Bring me a trashcan too.”

You are puzzled. “Why?”

“So I can piss in it, obviously.”

“You’re an animal.”

He howls like a wolf, rolling around on the mattress. You supply him with a trashcan, as requested, and then follow Aemond out into the hallway.

“Stargirl?” he asks once the two of you are alone in the elevator and headed down.

“It’s a the Weeknd reference. It’s hard to explain.”

“And you and Aegon are…” Aemond raises an eyebrow, the scarred one, the one that’s cut in two. “Friends?”

“Yeah. Friends.” You’re worried your voice will squeak, but it is traitorously steady. Aemond seems mollified. And is that really such a lie? What would be closer to the truth? Yes, Aemond, your brother and I are friends. But we’re less than that, and we’re also more, because I’ve fucked him but somehow that was the very least of it. He looks at me and I feel understood like a language the rest of humanity has forgotten. I look at him and I see someone who I care for deeply, irrationally, who I could fall in love with in a slightly different world. But that’s not the world we live in. And in this world, the real one, you’re the person I’m falling in love with.

Aemond takes you all the way down to the ground floor and then out front to the entranceway, fountains, cobblestones, taxis, Ubers, stars. He speaks to the valet and within minutes, they ferry it out of the garage for him, growling and puffing like some kind of mythical beast, a dragon or the Minotaur or the Cerberus. The valet lowers the kickstand and then hands the keys over to Aemond.

“What is that?!” you exclaim.

“It’s a 1960 Gold Star, made by the Birmingham Small Arms Company.”

“Alabama?”

He is amused. “No, the English Birmingham. The original one.”

“Oh. Right.” The valet brings two helmets and two jackets. “You travel with a motorcycle?”

“It fits on the jet,” Aemond replies casually.

“You are so freaking pretentious.”

Aemond offers you a helmet and jacket, and he’s trying to keep the fear from his face but it’s there, because he keeps waiting for the spell to break, for the illusion of who he thinks you are to shatter like glass and reveal that all along you’ve been disgusted by him too, that you misunderstand or patronize or pity him. He surveys you with two eyes, one wary and clear and searching, the other a cloudy planet of misty blue like Neptune. And he waits for you to ask one of those fateful questions—Can you really drive this? Is it safe? Can you see well enough? Can I trust you?—and look at him with bleak, sympathetic skepticism.

Instead, you look at the motorcycle. There are extra mirrors on the left side, you notice, capturing angles that he would otherwise miss. He doesn’t need to be reminded of his maiming. He couldn’t forget it for a second. You don the helmet and jacket and say: “Are those leather seats, Mr. Vegan?”

He beams and straddles the motorcycle. “Shut up and get on the bike.”

You climb on behind Aemond, your arms around his waist, your lungs capturing pieces of him to absorb into your bloodstream: smoke, cologne, hair gel, gin, molecules that become your own. He starts the engine, flicks on the headlight, and steers his Gold Star out into the late-night traffic.

You fly through a nightscape of car horns and streetlights and babbling tourists clustered together on the sidewalks like prey animals, ancient landmarks whirling by like comets: the Piazza Navona, the Trevi Fountain, the Arch of Constantine, the Pantheon that Jace now has inked irrevocably to his flesh. The sky is freckled with constellations you couldn’t name. The moon is full and brilliant. There is a black limo cruising nearby full of hooting, half-naked frat boys and blaring Coldplay’s Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall. At stop signs and red lights, Aemond reaches down to rest a palm lightly on your bare thigh, just an inch or two above the knee—his wrist brushing against the black lace of your dress—but enough to pillage your mind of anything else, enough to rip the door to your skull off its hinges and build a home there in the web of neurons and flashbulb surges of electricity that we call memory, emotion, instinct, desire. When you close your eyes as the wind rushes by, you can imagine that you’ve always known Aemond and that you always will. When you press yourself against him as hard as you dare to, you can feel everything else dissolving away: pasts, futures, doubts, every other person on this planet, scars that mar the soul with jagged rifts and knots as red as blood.

In the abandoned, golden halls of the Anantara Palazzo Naiadi Rome Hotel, Aemond walks you back to your suite. His hands are in his pockets, his head down, his steps swift. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. Your thoughts are deafeningly loud with clattering impossibilities: Me? Aemond? Lust? Love?

You arrive at your door, swipe your keycard, and open it. You stand at the threshold, but you don’t vanish inside. You don’t want to be apart from him. You gaze up at him, dazed with longing, resting your head against the doorframe, fresh ink burning between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, Aemond?”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t fuck you out of pity.”

There’s satisfaction on his face, there’s pride, there’s hunger, but there’s trepidation too. He hesitates in the doorway. “Look, I, uh…” He sighs, resigned, perhaps warring with himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” But he doesn’t leave.

“Are you lost? Need a map back to your room? I can try to draw one for you. We could get one tattooed on the back of your hand.”

He laughs, marveling at you. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” He makes it halfway down the hall, glances back, shakes his head to himself, keeps walking until he’s disappeared.

You shut the door and say to your empty suite: “I don’t even like him that much.”

But I do. I do, I do, I do.

“Oh no,” you moan, covering your face with both hands. But you can’t stop smiling.

You take a shower, pull on an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants, then crawl into your hotel bed: scratchy comforter, a mattress that’s too firm, pillows that are too squishy. You turn on your laptop, open YouTube, and start searching for Comet Donati performances before Aemond left the band, scenes from a different lifetime under the same stars.

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