#see i’m trying this thing where i post a sfw picture | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucienarcheron · 10 months

Text

Butter My Muffin [Nessian]

Prompt: Based on a post I saw about how Nesta is very soft girlfriend in private with Cassian combined with how I picture Drunk!Nesta. | Originally posted on 01.02.2018 Genre: Fluff/Humor Rating: SFW

The smell of something baking in the kitchen had Cassian pausing in the doorway of his townhouse. With a raised brow, he quietly shut the door and made his way down the hall and towards the kitchen where Nesta was...humming?

Cassian leaned against the doorframe, watching as his beautiful mate and girlfriend stood in the middle of their kitchen, whipping something in a bowl and humming to herself.

Nesta didn’t cook.

She didn’t bake either.

She definitely didn’t do either of those things while humming.

The only reason she went into the kitchen was to eat the food that Cassian provided for her. He had attempted to teach her how to cook but Nesta usually distracted him enough that Cassian ended up doing everything himself.

Seeing her now, Cassian was very confused. Pleasantly surprised, but nonetheless confused.

“Nes?”

Her head shot up and Cassian bit back a grin at her expression. Flour was streaked on her cheeks, tongue sticking out in concentration and with the way she was holding the bowl, it seemed she was trying to tackle the mix rather than actually mix it.

Her hair was slowly coming out of the loose bun she had it in and she was dressed in tights and one of his shirts. She had never looked more beautiful.

“Cassian!” A smile blossomed on her face, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “You’re home!”

He smiled back at her and made his way over to her, surveying the incredible mess she had made; pots and pans scattered around, mixing utensils thrown about, and flour on practically every surface. His eyes landed on the three bottles of wine toppled over in the corner and everything suddenly made sense.

“Hey, sweetness. Been busy?” he asked, concern flickering across his face as she started cursing at the bowl.

“I’m making muffins!” she answered brightly then frowned again. “But the mix stopped working.”

She shoved the bowl into his hands then reconsidered, taking it back to shove it on the counter and practically tackled him, throwing her arms around him instead.

“I missed you.” she said, nuzzling into his neck. “You were gone for soooo long.”

Cassian chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist, fully aware that she had just covered him with flour. “It was only for a few hours at the camps...you uh, found the wine?”

Nesta pulled back and gave him another bright smile. “Yes! I don’t know why I didn’t like it at first. It’s really good. I opened a fourth one. It’s almost finished.”

His brows raised in surprise as he hoisted her up, seating her on the counter next to the momentarily forgotten bowl of mixing blob. “Four bottles of wine? Alone?”

“Mmm.” she said with a nod then smiled again. “And I’m making muffins!”

Cute was not a word anyone would generally use to describe Nesta. Breathtaking was one, devastating was another. Terrifying usually came up at times. Gorgeous, beautiful, and stunning were all words people could describe Nesta with but cute? Cute was not a common one. Neither was adorable but at this moment in time, Cassian thought she was absolutely fucken adorable.

Cassian wrapped his arms around her waist again and leaned against her, tilting his head up to look at her. Nesta immediately brought her hands up to run her fingers through his hair, shaking it out of the usual bun and spreading the flour further.

“Baking and wine generally aren’t a good combination, sweetheart.” he said amused. “Definitely not a safe one either.”

“Well. you’re home now so I’ll be safe with you.” she replied with a small smile and Cassian’s heart swelled.

“I love you.” he whispered and Nesta Archeron, the woman who had decapitated the head of the King of Hybren, giggled.

“I love you too.” she replied, kissing him on the nose then poking it. “Boop.”

Cassian laughed softly. “Boop? I like this side of you, Nesta. Drunk you is very adorable. Is this why no one has ever seen you drunk?”

“Mmm, it’s because I don’t like other people but I like you. I like your face. You’re like a puppy. I have to boop you.” she replied then poked his nose again. “Boop boop.”

Cassian laughed again then leaned up, claiming her lips and Nesta hummed happily, pulling him tightly against her. They kissed softly, sensually, as if they had all the time in the world. The way they always kissed in the early mornings when they woke up together and Cassian’s body heated at the way her scent intensified around him. Pulling away, he smiled, admiring how her cheeks were flushed and the way her lips always looked so damn kissable. How had he gotten so lucky?

“Do you need help cleaning up, love?”

“No. I’m not done making the muffins!” she replied, wiggling her nose. “I finished two batches. Go try one and get me one too!”

Cassian shot her an amused look then turned to find the two batches of mini muffins she was referring to.

Half of them were burnt causing Cassian to snort. As expected.

Picking off two that seemed edible, he brought one back to his mate who was innocently swinging her legs as she sat and he handed it to her. She beamed at him then promptly took a bite. Cassian watched her chew thoughtfully then lick her lips after she swallowed.

Cassian could watch her do the most mundane things all day and it would be utterly fascinating.

“The verdict?” he asked, his lips twitching.

“It needs...wine.” she replied with a drunken giggle and pointed to the open bottle across the counter. Cassian chuckled then obediently walked over, grabbed it and took a swing of it himself before handing it to her.

He watched her take another bite of the muffin then immediately drink from the bottle. She hummed happily and he grinned, watching her chew in this most absurdly childish way. Where were the others to witness this? Why was he the only one aware of the phenomenon that is drunk Nesta?

Probably because she’d murder everyone in sight if they did witness this. Gods, he loved her.

“Better?” he asked and she nodded with a grin then pointed with a delicate finger towards the finished batches of muffins again.

“Can I have another one, please?”

“Well aren’t you adorable using manners, Nes.” he teased, moving to bring the entire tray near her and she squinted at him, debating whether she should be offended or not. Instead, she crinkled her nose.

“I’m always adorable.”

“I agree.” he replied and watched with a satisfied grin as she tore into another muffin. “Is that one good then?”

She nodded then eyed the one he had left on the counter for himself. “Eat yours! Tell me what you think!” she urged him, waving her hands frantically in excitement as she chewed on hers. He chuckled and with a stupid smile on his face, popped his own muffin in his mouth, chewed, then immediately gagged.

It was disgusting.

Nesta blinked at him as he tried to swallow but dear gods, had she poured all the salt in the house into this one muffin?

Her face fell and her bottom lip immediately started to tremble as he coughed. He reached out and grabbed the bottle of wine to wash down the taste.

“Do you hate it? Is it awful? You hate it!” she immediately rambled and he shook his head.

“No, no sweetheart! It tastes perfect! It was just...so sweet for me. Almost too sweet!” he insisted even as his eyes watered slightly and Nesta looked at him suspiciously.

“So you like it?” she asked in a small voice that had him melting. He’d eat every single one of them if she insisted.

“I loved it, Nes. They taste so good.” he lied and attempted what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Satisfied with his answer, Nesta nodded with a sniffle and sat back, grabbing another muffin and popping it into her mouth. Cassian watched her, wondering if her tastebuds had ceased to function.

“What else did you do today, love?”

“I went with Feyre to the theater. Rhys came and they kept having eye sex so I cursed them out and left.” she replied, licking her lips. “I wanted you to be there so we can have eye sex and make them uncomfortable but you weren’t.”

Cassian snorted. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We can do that next time we have dinner with them.”

“Okay.” she replied and grinned at him widely, then wiggled her fingers for him to hand her another muffin. His brow raised in amusement but he handed her another one.

“Any particular reason you decided on muffin baking today?”

“Because they’re good.” she replied simply, taking another drink from the wine then pouted when she found it empty and held it out to him. “It’s empty.”

“Good.”

“No, I want another one.”

“I think that’s enough wine for today, Nes. You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow morning.”

“I bought black lacy lingerie when I went out today. You’ll like it.” she said, giving him a sly smile that wasn’t quite as sly with her eyes drunkenly glazed over and Cassian rolled his eyes.

“You can’t bribe me with lingerie when there’s a chance you’ll make yourself sick.” he replied, moving to grab a bottle of water instead and hand it to her.

“Mmm, maybe. You do prefer me naked.” she said, eyeing the bottle of water with disdain and handing it back.

“That I do.” He said with a kiss to her cheek, opening the bottle of water and giving her a stern look as he held it out to her again. She squinted at him then sighed, drinking half of it before handing it back to him.

“I prefer you naked too. You’re so hot.” she replied, pointing to another muffin. His eyes flickered between her face and the tray of muffins. Had her stomach turned into a black pit? Was this how she was balancing the wine?

“You sure you don’t want to pace yourself with the muffins, sweetheart?” he asked slowly, hesitantly handing her another one. She grabbed it out of his hand and popped it in her mouth with a shake of her head.

“I like muffins. I don’t eat them enough. They’re really good. I worked very hard on them.” she rattled off after swallowing, then gestured around wildly with her hands. “Look how hard I worked! Look at everything! I worked so hard on my muffins.”

Cassian’s lips twitched as he held back a laugh. Wine, he decided was a great drink for Nesta.

He smirked at her. “Can I butter your muffin, Nesta?” he asked, a question that would’ve surely gotten him punched had she been sober but drunk Nesta only looked at him funny. Her gaze went from his face to the muffin in her hand and she leaned back, cradling the muffin to her chest.

“Why would you want to butter my muffin? It’s mine! You can have your own.”

Cassian snorted. “Not the muffin I’m talking about, sweetheart.”

“That’s not nice, Cassian. You don’t have to be greedy, I made two batches. Go find your own muffin to butter.”

“But I would really like to butter yours.” he said, giving her his signature shit-eating grin and she paused. He wondered if she’d punch him then.

Instead, Nesta squinted at him and without breaking eye contact, casually moved the muffin tray behind her, away from him.

“If you touch my muffins, I’ll wax your chest while you sleep.” she deadpanned and Cassian blinked before doubling over in laughter.

Nesta stared at him in confusion as tears of laughter streamed down his face and he held onto the counter to stop himself from collapsing onto the floor. It took him longer than he expected to stop laughing.

“Oh Nesta.” he finally said breathlessly. “I think that’s enough muffins for tonight. Let’s get cleaned up, hm?”

She paused mid-chew and her eyes went to the tray behind her then met his eyes again. “You won’t eat my muffins?”

“Unless I want to wake up screaming in agony, I think not.” he replied and lifted her off the counter. Nesta popped the last muffin in her mouth and immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, settling her head on his shoulder as they made their way to the bathroom. “Tell you what, you can even have the muffins in the second batch too.”

“That’s really nice of you. You’re so nice, Cas.” she asked with a drunken smile, nuzzling into his neck and he chuckled.

“You do look really cute eating them.”

“I’m not cute, I’m powerful.” she mumbled, evidently exhausted from her baking.

“You can be both.” he mused, his lips twitching again.

“Mmmm, I could beat you up right now if I wanted to.” she said matter-of-factly, her eyes fluttering shut.

“I know.” He said with a laugh, kissing the top of her head.

As they finally reached the bathroom, Cassian realized why Nesta never got drunk in front of others. She rambled. She rambled a lot. An hour later, Cassian had scrubbed them both clean, braided Nesta’s hair and tucked her into bed and she had yet ceased telling her stories.

“I was reading this book the other day about a girl that’s an assassin and she kills people really well.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds interesting.” he said, kissing the top of her head as he pulled the blanket around her.

“I want to be an assassin. I could kill people.” she said and made stabbing gestures. “Thwup thwup!”

“You do remember the part you played in the war, right?” he asked, his brows raised but she ignored him.

“Another story I read was about a group of friends going on a dangerous heist together. Can we go on a heist? I want to go on a heist.”

“Sure, Nes. Whenever you want.”

“Okay. But Cassian?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have another muffin?”

“I love you, but no.” he replied and laughed when she pouted. “I’m going to go clean up and tomorrow morning, you can have all the muffins you want.”

“All of them?” she asked with an excited smile.

“Every single one of them.”

Nesta smiled sleepily at him and Cassian was overwhelmed by how much love he felt for her at that moment.

“Come here.” she whispered to him and he leaned forward. She gently cupped his face and kissed him softly on the lips then on his nose and then on both of his cheeks. “I love you. More than all the muffins in the world.”

He smiled at her softly, leaning in to kiss her lips. “I love you more than life itself, sweetheart.”

“And guess what?” She whispered again and he raised a brow.

“What?”

“You’re my favorite muffin.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, grinning. “Well, guess what?”

“Mm?”

“You’re my favorite muffin, too.”

#nessian #nessian fanfics #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar fanfiction #gfics #fic: butter my muffin

70 notes · View notes

feederandfeedee · 2 years

Text

GET TO KNOW US ✨ & FAQ

🧔🏽‍♂️Feeder: R, 28yo, California native and Feeder.

👩🏽 Feedee: Wilson, 26yo, Texas native and Feedee.

Met online, here on Tumblr in 2014 and been in a fat and happy feederistic relationship ever since 💗

(click on the underlined title to visit each website)

✨ Onlyfans: Here you can find our largest selection of images, videos and full length clips! New posts every single day! Feeding, eating, funnel, collabs, sex, masturbation, nudity etc & most of all lots of feedism content!

✨ Curvage: My official curvage page! Visit my gallery, forum page and browse 100s of safe-for-work clips!

✨ ManyVids & Clips4Sale: NSFW clipstores where you can purchase sfw & nsfw full length clips!

✨ SextPanther: Is it fat chat you seek? Click here to get access to instant messaging with Wilson 24/7 (almost). Fat chat, sexting, video chat, picture exchange, video exchange and even female feeder services available! *Messages we receive through social media don’t always get responses*

✨ Custom Requests: Do you have any fantasies you’d like me to make come to life? Want to see me do something specific or special that you may not find in my other videos? Place a custom request for a video here! Turn around is about a week and I offer competitive prices!

✨ Where else can you find me? Reddit has some nsfw photos sprinkled in here and there but I don’t post as often! I post on Instagram pretty frequently and you can always find me making stories about my day-to-day activities and food! Twitter has some really juicy content and previews to most of my clips! I’m almost always on Feabie interacting with the community!

———————————✨ F A Q ✨ ——————————

* I get a lot of the same repeat questions in my ask box and inbox so I’ve compiled a list of those questions and answered them here! Other questions and answers submitted by followers can be accessed by locking #askfeed at the bottom of this post*

What is your starting weight? 150lbs

When did you find out you were into Feedism? Ive always known since I was a kid that my attitude towards “getting fat” and “being fat” were different than the attitudes of people around me.

Current weight? My current weight is visible in weigh in and measurement clips available on all my paid sites!

Do you have a goal weight? Nope! I try not to focus on a number or a destination and enjoy the ride! Feedism for me is about eating, enjoying myself and freedom- not about goals and timelines!

Any bbw/ssbbw idols? I find beauty in lots of individuals online and in person! I see inspiration in everyone but I try not to compare myself to others! So yes and no but I do like to keep a few things to myself!

Are you a feeder or mutual gainer? Short answer: No. long answer: Being a feeder or a mutual gainer is definitely not something I identify with in my personal life. Neither are words that I would use to describe myself. That being said, over the years I’ve been approached by a few individuals requesting female feeder content and encouragement. And I love doing it! The best thing about being a feedee and taking on the role of feeder is the fact that I can tell you exactly what you need to hear to feel turned on and encouraged. That’s because I know exactly what it is that feedee’s love to hear! I get a lot of happiness from encouraging men to eat and become fatter and have successfully porked up a few chubsters. But that happiness comes from the joy I give my feedees by making them feel pleasured. I love doing it and I treat encouraging men to grow as a little hobby of mine. At the end of the day and after all those sessions and conversations, I’m happy to put the phone down and take my rightful place in my personal relationship as feedee.

Didn’t find an answer to your question? Send me an ask, anonymous or not, and I’ll get to it as quickly as I can! Or search through previously asked questions by clicking on the #askfeed at the bottom of this post- your question may have been asked recently! And if I don’t get to your question, don’t be offended! I get a lot of questions but I try to answer them all eventually!

#askfeed

224 notes · View notes

petrichorium · 8 months

Note

hi hi Pluvi……i have a fun question for you if you wanna answer. what kind of thirst trap pictures do you think the NRC guys would take? >.> hehe

Omg okay,,,,,, tbh I’m only gonna do the ones that rlly speak to me so we’ll see how many I do LMFAOOOO also some of these chars wouldn’t have a big social media presence (or social media is otherwise complicated) so I’m also kinda discussing pics theyd send u directly idk if those count as thirst traps 🤔

Cater — this is funny bc I think he unabashedly posts thirst traps but he also takes private ones too. The ones he posts vary greatly according to what’s trending but what he sends You is Very dependent on what ur interested in. Not opposed to stealing one of his sister’s skirts for a femboy mirror pic if u like one too many of those tiktoks.

Trey — you might think plu where r u going with this but I have two words: bread kneading. The first one was accidental and the rest are 100% on purpose. His forearms are so insanely drool worthy and he Absolutely Fucking Knows It. Evil man. Will send them directly to you without an ounce of shame. Often they’re videos too, with a little caption about how he can’t wait to feed you whatever he’s making…..

Jack — ENTIRELY accidental Jack Howl is NOT a slut he does not have a slutty bone in his body and he has no idea that his post-workout pics are thirst traps. But they are. They absolutely are. If anyone told him he would take a hammer to his phone in shame. These are not public he’s just trying to keep in contact with you 🥺

Leona — absolute. Fucking. Attention whore. No shame. He can’t be assed to keep up his social media but he absolutely takes the most jawdropping and purposeful pics to send to you just to make you short circuit. Little hints of taut stomach and a happy trail under a loose shirt that he lifts to wipe his face after practice; his arm stretching up behind his head as he looks at the camera w heavy-lidded eyes; his back and shoulders and that tattoo on his arm on full display in the mirror. Inhumane. Literally going to throttle him.

Jade — SO cunning about it. Obviously. Lots of stuff that u might not think is purposeful; primo pics of the lounge but he’s in the back w his sleeves rolled up chopping veggies or reaching up to grab something from the top of a cabinet. Sends you little daily pics that are equally as subtle but then when he sees you after he gives you a little smile and asks if you liked them and u Know what he’s doing

Floyd — sporadic. You’ll get nothing for weeks at a time and then a slew of them. Usually random shit. Him absolutely drenched w his uniform shirt all see-through putting his chest and shoulders on display (“fell in a fountain LOLOLOLOLOL”) His teeth bared in an open-mouthed grin (that’s a mer thing, you realize days later) Blood? Splattered across his cheek? Is he flexing his jaw? (“Don’t worry it’s not mine”)

Vil — ofc he posts thirst traps but DO NOT call them that. And to his credit they are very tasteful, kinda artsy; always met with droves of comments drooling over him. But he sends you special ones. It’s a testament to how much he trusts you that he sends them at all (that’s a lie. They’re charmed to delete themselves if you ever showed them to anyone else). Very oddly sensual body parts—his hand holding a flower, the corner of his eye as he’s drawing his liner, the slope of his collarbone—and sent with a cheeky little excuse for sending them. He’s not fooling you at all.

Lilia — yes he takes thirst trap pics. I don’t think I can even describe them accurately bc they r absolutely dependent on you personally. He knows exactly how best to make you lose your mind and tbh accompanies them with a caption that’s subtle enough nobody but you would get but is borderline obscene to you specifically. Yk? Gets explicit in your texts though. He’s basically sending you nudes but he’s fully clothed and it’s arguably entirely sfw………

Malleus — sends you one photo. It’s blurry. It might be his ear? You can’t tell. A day later a massive portrait of him sitting on a throne in full princely regalia appears at your front door. It moves and talks; it professes its undying love for you every time it sees you. You have to cover it with a cloth to get it to shut up.

#ask.🌧#mydiluc #I hope this isn’t too long bc I do not want to put a readmore on it KDNFKENF

11 notes · View notes

yautjalover · 2 years

Text

This isn’t getting the love it deserves, so I’m putting this Scar/Lex fic here for everyone to see. Please reblog if you like it! I’ll post the next part when I’m not busy with work.

Apologies for the formatting. Pasting writing on here is so hard to get the formatting to be consistent. I just don’t get it. I tried to fix it. :/

SFW. No content warnings necessary.

Word count: 4,142

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

Bouvetøya (Pt. 1)

1/2

"Again."

Lex climbed on her feet, ignoring the sweat that poured down her face. The mat beneath their feet had somehow absorbed the secretions each time she had hit the mat. Down and down she went, again and again.

Her body was sore. There was no part of her that had been spared. Bruises peppered her skin in varying shades. The muscles in her arms were sore from taking the brunt of blocking his attacks.

He telegraphed them so carefully, but she still missed them when he would change tactics without warning. His moves were fast even though he had slowed down his attacks considerably.

"Time out!" She groaned when he delivered a well placed swipe at her legs.

Lying on the mat, she closed her eyes and tried to take in deep lungfuls of air. It didn't seem like she could get enough.

Scar was an amazing teacher but he didn't know when to take a break. He was like a living machine. He could go on for hours and hours. The...Yautja...as she had learned he was...had ten times the energy she would ever have.

He appeared above her with his arms folded across his wide chest. His muscles bulged with the simple action and she had to focus on his face, that familiar coil forming in her lower belly.

It was new.

This reaction to him.

Instead of picturing those hands on her when they sparred, she had begun to see them exploring her body in a more...carnal activity. She began to wonder how it would feel to have that hard muscular body on top of her. This was...not right...but so right somehow.

It was just another thing that didn't make sense in her new life living with aliens.

"What?"

He had said something but her mind had been in other places.

"That is all for the lesson today." Those yellow eyes stared at her with irritation.

"I'm doing my best, Scar." He huffed a breath of annoyance. His real name was jibberish to her still, so Scar it was. The scar on his forehead was another reminder of what Lex had been through almost a year ago. "I'm sorry for disappointing you."

His expression softened as he helped her to her feet. Her breath hitched slightly when his rough hand patted her on the shoulder gently.

If he had noticed her reaction to his touch, he was pretty damn good at ignoring it. "In time you will improve."

His English was rough and hard to understand, but she was grateful for his attempts. She met him half way with, "I am trying."

"Try harder."

"I'm at my limit."

"If only you could see what I see." Those were his parting words as he turned to leave, clearly not having broken a sweat.

Watching him go was a sight she liked to watch. The muscles in his back flexed with every step, showing off how built he was. For an alien, he sure reminded her of one of those old marble statues.

An image of muscled perfection.

Pretty soon she was alone in the training room. The others on the ship were busy with some sort of banquet for the return of the newly blooded Yautja. Scar had pulled her from her lonesome spot for a training session.

His nearness made her heart stutter in a good way. She also had come to enjoy his company. When he wasn't being so uptight, he made a good companion.

Perhaps that was where her attraction for him bloomed. Or...it was Bouvetøya.

Just thinking of that damn island brought back the memories of those screeching black things.

As she gathered her water skin and made her way to the public showers, she remembered the harrowing experience of trying to get out of that pyramid. Scar and her had barely made it out alive. They had been lucky, and quick enough. Together they had worked to kill the bug Queen.

Scar called it a candy amedha. She still couldn't quite grasp the syllables but to herself she called them the bugs. That's all they were. Black beetle-like bugs that dragged their victims off into the darkness.

Everyone who had been in there with her had died. Everyone but her and Scar.

Somehow, one of those spider things had infected him and he had barely survived the surgery. It had taken just a few days of recovery, however, and he was back on his feet. His "clan leader" had tasked him with her training.

She was now his burden.

The more she grasped his difficult language, the more it became apparent that his fellow clan members saw her as a pet. She had helped to kill the Queen, but their pride wouldn't accept it. Even he barely mentioned it. His refusal to do so was wearing on her mentally.

Maybe she was a pet after all. She hoped for the sake of her heart that he didn't see her like that.

As crazy as it was...she wanted him to see her for the strong woman she was slowly becoming. Lex knew she was already strong, she knew that from years leading expeditions in polar and isolated regions, but she wanted him to actually see her. Wanted him to look at her the way he would when a female Yautja showed him attention.

He would puff his chest out like a preening bird and posture to make himself bigger. Many times he had interrupted their training sessions to go show off for a female with wandering eyes.

She snorted, remembering how hard he tried once.

It was downright comical. He didn't need to do anything but stand there and impress Lex. There wasn't a single thing that didn't impress her about him. These females were missing out.

Sorely.

They didn't see what she saw.

Lex reached the public bathing room and had just entered the dark, steamy entrance when she froze in her tracks.

There, standing in all his naked glory, was the muse of her thoughts. He had just removed his loincloth and was crouched low to test the water with his fingers. His long tubular black dreadlocs fell a little past his shoulders and shined even in the low light. Seeing his sculpted body on full display made that heat coil in her lower belly.

Just as he began to turn around she fled the room. She practically ran and headed in the direction to her tiny quarters. On the way out she collided violently with the edge of the doorway in her rush to escape.

Doing without a shower right now would have to make due, despite how gross she felt. Anything to avoid letting those carnal thoughts further take root. When some time had passed, she would go and clean up, and hopefully by then the bathing room would be empty again. There was no way in hell that she would get naked around him.

She hoped to God that he couldn't smell her hormones. Surely they were screaming that she wanted to have sex with him. Hopefully none of the Yautja could smell it, but she was beginning to lose hope about that. In her peripheral vision she would see them turn to look at her and scent the air, their mandibles spreading open.

It was truly embarrassing.

If they could smell it then he could smell it.

Lex was a grown woman and felt like a horny teenager all over again. If her mother hadn't passed a few years prior, then she likely would've been scolding her for avoiding the alien man rather than being direct and telling him she wanted him. Her mom was a very forward and blunt woman, so she would've nagged her about.

Oh, how she missed her. She missed her dad, too.

Thinking of family helped to ground her in the present and not get swept up in the process of falling in love with an alien. An alien who likely would never return those sentiments. She was small compared to one of their females, so she'd likely get hurt in the "mating" anyways.

After only being on the ship for two days she had walked on a couple beating the crap out of each other. The male managed to force the female into submission and that was when she left.

The sight was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Their version of foreplay was a display of strength and power. That was something she never could do. Scar would always be stronger than her, sure, but would he think to be careful with her if it ever came to it? Would he be gentle as he had been in their training sessions?

Getting fingered was totally out of the question with those claws of his. Just thinking about them shoved inside was both thrilling and worrisome. There was a lot of delicate tissue down there!

Lex spent her time pacing around her tiny room until she made the trip back to the bathing room. Seeing that it was safe and clear, she disrobed and sank into the pool-sized tub.

A good soak solved everything.

~❤️•❤️•❤️~

Lex's muscles worked hard as she pulled herself up to set her foot on the closest foothold. A quick glance down showed that she had to be at least two stories high by now. The room was still empty so she was able to freely concentrate.

She needed it.

Free soloing was dangerous.

There was no margin for error. Every move had to be precise and carefully executed. Utter patience was vital. Many years had passed since she had free soloed.

The last time had been El Capitan in Yosemite National Park in 2001, prior to the events of that September. After that, it was difficult to get around by plane for obvious reasons, so her travels to various places around the world to climb or lead expeditions had been limited.

After the day's events...Lex needed this.

She was sluggish and awkward in combat but this was where she shined. Her skills were mountaineering, ice, rock climbing, and navigating dangerous terrain — not fighting. The fact that the Yautja even had a rock climbing wall was exciting. It was a chance to push herself to the limit in a familiar setting.

Yautja were huge compared to her, so the placements of the foot holds were wide apart, but she never backed down from a challenge. As a young adult she had scaled mountains people dreamed of.

This was just another challenge to tackle and overcome. A challenge was forcing her to use every ounce of her ingenuity and skill with climbing. There was no safety harness, no clips, no helmet, and no chalk. It was entirely on her own strength to scale it.

If only Scar could see her doing something she was actually good at. Maybe then he would look at her the way she looked at him...

Sighing to herself, she focused on the task at hand. A wandering mind could mean death with no gear. There could be no fuck ups.

Her hand found the next closest hold and then she quickly found the next hold for her foot. Up she climbed, her blood singing with the challenge. The muscles in her body ached, but it was a good ache. That kind of ache that she craved. She needed it.

Anything to distract from Scar.

"That blind alien can shove it where the sun don't shine." Lex muttered out loud. "I'll show that blind asshole. I'm like Beyoncé. I don't need any man or anybody!"

The anger and hurt bubbling within rose higher and higher, fueling her strength. All of her mixed emotions pushed her to keep going. Her body sang from the intense workout.

"As my dad always said, 'Instead of worrying how hard it gets, climb that mountain. Overcome it!' I may not ever get the attention from him I crave, but I will endure." Higher and higher she climbed, fast approaching her destination, the top of the climbing wall.

At last, she propelled herself up and onto the top, turning to survey the huge training room. The lights were dim due to the night cycle, the warm air slick on her skin, and the scent of victory hanging in a cloud above the woman. Lex stood tall and smiled to herself.

"There is no mountain I cannot climb, for I will come out on top of it."

As someone had once told her, the best view comes after the hardest climb.

For a while she sat on the wide black top of the wall, letting her body rest up for the climb back down. She had climbed the wall in her sports bra and underwear since the training room was always a bit hot and she needed to be able to move freely. Doing it damn near naked had made it much easier.

It was in the middle of the "night" so the ship was quiet and the majority of activity was minimal at best. No one trained at night, so she would take the opportunity to slip in extra training.

Losing a bit of sleep sucked but at least she could push herself to prove she was worthy of Scar's attention. Nighttime had also always been when she was most productive. This time of day was relaxing and there was no one to bug her.

Peaceful was the night.

Deciding that she had rested long enough, she pulled the rope she had brought with her from the clip at her waist and attached one end securely to a hook near the edge of the wall while the other end fell freely to the floor. She got a good grip of the rope, a thick black material, and began her descent. It was slow and a long way down but eventually she got to the point where she ran out of rope.

Below her was seven or so feet of free fall. Such a drop was sure to potentially hurt her ankles, but she took the chance and kept going until the very end of the rope.

Taking a deep breath, she angled her body at the right angle and let go. For a few seconds she fell, the ground quickly rushing up in her face. At the last few moments she rolled and landed in a tuck & roll where she was able to pop up in a squat on the ground safe.

"Nailed it." Breathed Lex in relief.

She yanked the rope and sent it falling in a heap; the knot she used easily undone when pulled a certain way. Once she had it wound up and neatly tied, she placed it back on a shelf where she had found it.

To make the most of her time she moved on to practicing the maneuvers Scar had been drilling over the past week and a half...or was it two? Time was difficult to tell with no clocks and only her busted up watch. The days had started to blend together. Most of her time had been spent training and learning the language. Free time was typically nonexistent during the day.

Over and over she slowly went through the right motions, making sure she had them absolutely right.

Scar had frequently told her that in a real fight for her life there would be no margin for error. Much like when free soloing, every move had to be carefully calculated.

~❤️•❤️•❤️~

A while had passed as she practiced the moves over and over again. Her body was nearing its limit. It felt like the more she repeated the moves, the more she struggled. Eventually she found herself too tired to go on and after gathering her water skin she made the long trek back to her quarters.

The ship's hallway was dimly lit, strips of red lights near the floor casted weird shadows.

After surviving the pyramid on Bouvetøya she hated the shadows and what they could hide. Even with her being on a spaceship full of Yautja, literal experts with killing them, she could still hear the hissing. Sebastian had been dragged to his death by those things.

Every last one of them.

Gone.

Because of those things.

Those...kiande amedha.

The serpents.

As if her mood wasn't bad enough, as soon as she rounded the corner where her room was, Scar was waiting by her door. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossing over his chest, watching her approach.

She couldn't help the flutter of her heart at the sight of him. Like always he looked magnificent. No part of him that wasn't bulging with muscle. A simple black loincloth covered his groin as her only saving grace of having to wonder what he hid under there.

"H-Hi, Scar." Lex keyed in the code for her quarters, glancing up at him as he loomed over her. She motioned inside with a wave of her hand, "Would you like to come in?"

He had yet to say a word, nodding. And so he followed as she entered the room, the futuristic door sliding shut behind Scar.

She felt bad that she only had her bed for him to sit on. It also unnerved her that he had never seen her so...naked. Damn near nude! The clothing she wore was minimal and scant.

Those yellow eyes of his lingered on her form as she moved items around for him to sit. He said some words under his breath that she didn't understand when she told him to take a seat.

"Back on Earth, I'd be able to be a better host, so my apologies."

Scar cocked his head to the side in question, "I do not understand."

Right...his customs are way different than my own...

Tentatively she sat next to him, wrapping a fur around herself to cover her scantily clad body. "Well, on Earth, in the...uhh...clan I'm in...we would offer a drink or something to eat for guests. It's considered polite to make your guests feel comfortable. That's why I apologized. It's...habit." She worked to comb her hair, now down to her shoulder blades, and brought it into a ponytail.

He was silent as he soaked in her words. After a few moments he grunted.

He was a man of few words.

"Yautja offer c'ntlip, an alcoholic beverage." His deep voice was rough around the edges but she didn't mind. It was him.

"Ah, well, humans only offer alcohol when we want to have a good time."

Another grunt.

"What's on your mind, Scar?" Being careful with his claws, she took his large hand in her small and intertwined their fingers.

The sight was almost comical since his hand dwarfed hers by a lot, but she liked the difference. It was unique and something she had come to not mind so much. Such a size difference didn't matter.

A few of his long black locs fell forward over his broad shoulders as he leaned towards her. His body was angled towards her as he reached out to stroke the mark on her cheek, the very same one he had placed there.

Gentle purring rumbled in his great chest as he inched closer. The nearness of his body to hers when they weren't sparring made her blood sing with happiness. Whether he noticed or not, he didn't show. He continued to stroke her cheek gently, his finger trailing down her jaw and delicate neck. Left behind in the wake of his touch were goosebumps.

Lex held her breath as he leaned ever closer.

"Despite what you think, you are improving. You have come a long way, Alexa." For some reason his voice sounded like a purr, deep and growly. Her body reacted just as expected, that coil tightening in her lower belly.

Scar continued to speak, his eyes widening so slightly that she didn't notice. "You will never be as strong as Yautja, but your strength lies in your cunning and small stature. Learn to be confident in that and you will go far."

She wanted to ask why he continued to openly flirt with females if he thought so much about her.

Why do you ignore my want for you in the favor of them? Am I not good enough after all?

"Perhaps...one day I can compete with the females of your kind."

Ha! Take that, Scar!

The big oaf drew back and turned his gaze to anywhere but her. There was a slight tinge of green to his concave cheeks, his hand tugging free of hers so he could scratch as his crest. She had known him long enough now to notice he did that when he was nervous or feeling awkward.

A few times during training sessions, he had pinned her down in...intimate positions. Per usual, her body reacted sexually and her hips had grinded against him much to her embarrassment. His reaction had been to freeze, his body pressing against hers for just a moment before he backed off. Naturally, she wanted to tug on his long locs, the few that had fallen over her shoulders, and bring him closer.

The thought was gone in a flash, however, when he removed himself from the situation. There had been a lot of apologizing and lying about it being a "natural reaction for human females". Any white lie she could think of to save the embarrassment.

"Yautja females are..." he continued in his native tongue, possibly trying to find the right words.

Once again Alex tried to meet him halfway by speaking in his language to the best of her ability.

"Larger?"

"Sei'i, but there is another word I seek."

"Scary? Mean? Attractive? Funny?"

Scar growled in frustration, his mandibles twitching and causing his tusks to make that familiar clicking noise.

"They are complicated." His broad shoulders sagged in relief and finding the word he wanted. "You, Lex, are not."

Complicated? What's that supposed to mean?

Lex racked her brain for what he could possibly mean by that and was about to ask him but he stood up abruptly. His face looked...tense? Flustered?

She was still learning how to read his face. The way he and his kind showed emotions was subtle and different than she was used to. Closely watching his face for the subtleties helped to solve that.

Understanding him better was why she had found herself falling for him. He and his kind were so much...deeper than she had thought. This large alien that was both sure and unsure of himself was adorable in his own way. She couldn't help finding his sudden nervousness cute. He was like an overgrown cat.

Aloof.

Scar quickly made his way to the door. His hand was over the door panel to open it when she stopped him, her hand catching his hand. He paused to look down at her, chittering in question.

"Wait, you don't have to leave. You just got here!" Lex smiled, running her fingers gently across his palm.

The large alien turned to chirrup at her, his eyes bright as he stood there. "It is late. I must rest."

"I would be happy if you stayed with me for the night, hun."

His purred like a giant cat as he stood there weighing the options. He chittered to himself with words she didn't know, talking to himself it seemed. She was hoping he would stay for the night so she could snuggle with him.

Too bad he disappointed her by ultimately saying no, his long black locs swishing back and forth as he shook his head.

"I cannot. Sleep well, Lex." He waved his hand over the access panel and swiftly made his exit.

Lex sat on her bed with a defeated sigh. She had been so close to enjoying his company a little longer, but like usual, he turned her down and made his great escape.

His words had her questioning if maybe she was misunderstanding his actions. If he had such nice words to say about her, then what was he doing trying to get the attention of female Yautja and ignoring the obvious signs she wanted him? Was there some cultural divide she wasn't aware of? Surely, that had to be the issue.

She normally was great with men; all except this one.

An alien man.

Groaning in frustration, she lied on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She decided to sleep in what she wore and snuggled beneath the large fur pelt that acted as a warm blanket. Sleep was in order before she could solve the mystery of Scar.

#alien vs predator #avp #scarxlex #scar and alexa #yautja #predator #yautjalover #fanfic #monster romance #interspecies romance #teratophillia #monster fucker #alien

79 notes · View notes

simon-x-billy · 9 months

Text

Simon x Billy

Year of the OTP: June

Chapter 6: Where’s the helipad?

June prompt: Soulmates

AN: Enjoy the sweet sweet sounds of helicopter blades slicing through the air. I love the helicopter scene so much. It is happy-making. It just makes me love both of them for each other. (Let's ignore the fact that I wrote it.)

We are so close to the sex, guys. So close. This is the last SFW chapter for a while. Bask in the virginal dude-bro vibe, and let people know that you read the chapters before they were cool.

TW: Rewrites. Mystifyingly late posts. Drunkenness. If alcohol is triggering for you, no need to read the last teeny section after we first meet Barry. Rest assured that Simon gets home safely and says cute stuff, then happily goes to bed.

Masterlist || ao3 || Prev || Next

————/Simon/————

I am trying to stop thinking about falling to my death. Give me a minute.

Ok, so this is…………This is a long flight of fucking rickety, wind-blasted wood. Not like that metal set of stairs with all the switchbacks I was complaining about last time I encountered stairs. I take all of my complaints back about that place. That was the height of stair-building technology by comparison. This place is just…..language fails me, like I’m picturing the stairs failing me any second now.

Shush, I need to concentrate.

————/-/————

Oh my fucking god. I can’t breathe. Metaphorically kissing the ground due to sheer survival has become a feature of my stay here. Just cuz I survived. So much ground kissing happening in Italy. Especially near stairs.

So from the size and schmanciness I’m guessing this place was either for a huge schmancy family, or hardcore party animals needing lots of bedrooms (the olden days version). This coastline has been a summer getaway spot for centuries. Scratch that. For millennia. What, like maybe three thousand, four thousand years?

But actual beaches are rare here. Anybody with two inches of it will stick a beach umbrella in it. So imagine owning an entire beach. Right? Beside the hotel, the only other possible access is from the water. And there are a lot -- I mean a lot of yachts around here. They will never, ever look normal to me. But they’re starting to look like a normal thing around here. And I’m told these aren’t even the big ones. Fuck me sideways.

Both shots are from the website of the actual Hotel La Tonnarella, which is the hotel I based my fictional hotel on. Yes, it really looks like that. Yes, I did stay there. Totally worth going into debt. Best decision I’ve ever made. You can faintly see the stairs, at left. It’s that pale diagonal line down the cliff from the hotel at top left down toward the beach, crossing right in front of that ruin in the middle, halfway down the cliff.

Anyway, we’ve seen the (only) road and there’s definitely no place for me to do my morning run. It doesn’t even have a shoulder. I guess if I can’t run without going airborne off a cliff, I could do the steps when I wake up. Better than nothing. It’s just-

Well, we’ve seen that I hate stairs. Steep stairs. Cliff stairs.

Fuck. Besides being terrifying, it was tiring just getting down here. What am I going to do when I have to go back up?

Anyway, Billy’s working down here today. And I really feel like disrupting his job well done.

“Will yeh take a look at yer man now. Down the beach, explorin,” he calls, as I approach the hotel’s tiny beach bar. “You didn’t take the stairs, did yeh?”

“Um, yeah? Certo. I wanted to see the beach.” Obviously.

“Why didn’t yeh take the lift?” he asks me.

I fix the man to his spot with a very frowny, very deep, “Would you mind repeating that, Billy?” Exactly like if Kronk was playing me in the movie. I can barely see through my eyes that have now narrowed to slits of disbelief and distrust and discomfort. “There’s an elevator?”

“Well, yeah man. How else are people meant to get down here? The cliff’s a dangerous way down, innit?”

It’s ok, Lewis. You can incorporate this new information without flipping out. Just be proud of yourself for facing your fears. You descended steep, unsafe stairs. Good job! And you were only vaguely terrified the whole time. Good job!

“Is the cliff so dangerous that they should close it down due to the mounting death toll? Or is it only dangerous in an inoffensive, cute way?”

He huffs out a quick laugh, then returns to slicing up lemons.

“Billy? That was an actual question. Care to provide an answer?”

“Meh, it’s safe enough,” he says. And that, ladies and gentleladies, is all I need to convince me I can indeed use this as my new Italian Morning Exercise. 1. Cliff, 2. Coffee, 3. Cliff, 4. Vomiting coffee. Perfect.

————/-/————

I’ve spent all this week forging a grudging relationship with the beach stairs.

I’m getting a little more accustomed to it. I have a few specific stones and broken twigs I’ve chosen as landmarks, whenever I require reassurance that I am indeed climbing down the right cliff. And if I’ve survived it the last four mornings, I can survive it a fifth time. Flawless reasoning.

Behind the beach bar, Billy spots me and gives me a wave. “You packed, man?”

My insides instantly start fizzing. I am so fucking stoked. I got us an airbnb in Naples for the weekend so we can check out Sabina’s gig tomorrow night. Billy could not say yes fast enough. He’s a social guy, and there’s not a lot of nightlife around here. I have no idea how he’s managed it all this time. Oh wait, that’s right. He’s managed it with women. Lots of women.

Over the last week, I’ve come to the realization that management does not mind a guest hanging out at the bar distracting their employee all day, because while that guest is distracting the employee, he is also ordering drink after frothy fruit-based drink, and healthy fruit-based foods. It’s like they’ve realized that my distraction of Billy might actually be lucrative for them. I even have my own barstool. Officially.

I have an announcement to make. “I have come to a decision,” I announce. “We need a convertible.”

“Sorry?”

“A convertible. We need one,” I repeat.

“Yeah, mate, heard yeh.”

“What, it’s a convertible!”

Billy remains unmoved. “Why can’t we take the train? It’s simplest-”

“We are not taking the train.”

“But I quite like the train,” he claims.

“Because you’re insane and don’t like convertibles.” J’accuse!

“See now, I never said I don’t like convertibles. I-“ he begins.

But I totally interrupt him. “I need to go do something.” Because my brain just exploded with potential.

“What?” He might be alarmed.

Whereas I’m enthusiastic. “Be an Ugly American.”

“Er, that sounds terrible,” he says.

“If you’re gonna be American, you might as well own it. Watch me own it, Billy, watch me.”

Oddly, Billy still looks wary. “That sounds-”

“Awesome.”

“-terrible. You’re not plannin to wear one of them caps with straws into beer cans, are yeh?” He snorts at whatever he’s picturing. “Actually, I might pay yeh to do that.”

“Nah. Not my brand,” I say, sliding off the barstool. I snag an olive and pop it in my mouth, to avoid grinning like someone who grins because they’re about to do something awesome. “Ciao, Beelee.” I wave behind me.

I’ve got the phone out and I’m already dialing before I’ve even reached the stairs. And then I remember I can also take the elevator.

———/-/———

Billy has finally met up with me at the fountain by the hotel entrance. Thank god, cuz I really don’t want him to miss the arrival of that Ugly American thing that required a phone call. Ever notice there’s an ugh in ugly? Just occurred to me.

“There you are, Delaney. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh! Prepare to hear the sweet sweet sound of helicopter blades pulsing through the air. It’s done, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“Simon-”

“So where’s the helipad?” I inquire.

“The what now? Mate, it’s not that kind of hotel. Why are we taking a helicopter to Naples?”

“The correct response would normally be ‘because we can’-” Obviously. Certo.

“That is not a normal response.” Billy looks mystified, yet still amused. So that’s a thing.

“-but not this time,” I finish. “That’s not the real idea.”

“Oh, so you’re tellin me this is a superfluous helicopter. That is ugly.”

“No! It is most definitely not superfluous.”

“Your carbon footprint’ll be spendin all eternity in hell, man.”

“Billy.”

“Simon.”

“Stop talking. And just enjoy the mounting anticipation. The mellow sense of horror, or at the very least a nasty case of creeping dread. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhh!”

“Stop it, mate. You’re gettin evil genius all over my uniform. And you know how I feel about laundry.”

“Just a little bicarbonate of soda. Gets out even the most organic of stains. MWAH hah ha ha hahhhhh.”

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“Stop talkin. Like an evil genius. We’re gettin complaints.”

“Are not.”

“From me. I’m complainin.”

“What am I going to wear?” I ask. It’s a fair question.

“Simon. Oh my god.”

“I’m serious! I packed for Italy in ten minutes. It’s all socks and shorts.” And sunblock. And chargers.

He’s shaking his head at me. For some reason, this makes me happy. In my tummy. How novel.

“Is that the fire alarm?” he asks.

“Huh? I mean, MWAH hah ha ha haaaah, oh no. What you’re hearing is the sweet sweet purring of a helicopter bearing my booty.”

“You didn’t think that one through, mate.”

“Oh, but yes, yes I did. This booty is worth baring. Can you feel it? The heady excitement of anticipation? The mellow terror?”

“Yes. I feel the terror,” he says blandly. He finds my terror bland.

Wait. “That would be the best cologne flavor ever. Mellow Terror, by Simon Lewis. Pour homme.”

“Are you manic right now?”

———/Billy/————

I was joking, but Simon just went very still. I’ve put my foot in, haven’t I?

“I am a bit manic, am’nt I?” he offers, tossing off a fake laugh.

“Somethin wrong with your shoes, mate? Simon, man, my eyes are up here.”

“Just wait til you see what I’ve done,” he says sheepishly, eyeing me from under his furry eye caterpillars.

“Simon. Should I be worried?”

“Oops?”

Oops? I haven’t a clue what to do with oops.

He grabs me excitedly by the forearm and starts dragging me toward the hotel gates.

That’s…Wait, is that-

“Simon. Did you buy a Mini Cooper?”

“A convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But why?” I ask the reasonable question.

“Because I can!” He’s practically vibrating. I can tell he wants to do his jumping-clapping thing by the way he’s currently bouncing on his toes.

“Simon.”

“Billy.”

“You bought a Mini Cooper. Convertible,” I swiftly add. “You’re in the land that built the Maserati, the Lamborghini, the Ferrari, and every other sports car that ends in i-”

“Not Audi.”

I huff in annoyance, “-and you bought a convertible Mini Cooper. And had it airlifted here. Because you could.”

“I’ve always wanted a convertible Mini Cooper.”

“But not a convertible Ferrari,” I clarify.

“No.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m awesome,” he answers, because he’s Simon.

I decide not to mention that we could have skipped the car altogether and taken the helicopter to Naples.

This is so childish, and impetuous, and reckless, and I refuse to find the actions of a grown man adorable. Jaysus.

“Oh my god!” he squeaks. “They were driving Minis in The Italian Job!!!”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head. “Did you have them airlift in some clothes, too?”

“Shit! I totally should have!” He appears to actually mean that.

“You should see your face,” he hoots. Feckin hoots, all half bent over from laughin.

And now he’s ignoring me. Suddenly I’m not even here. He only has eyes for his Mini. “Oh my god it’s so kawaii.”

His smile is kawaii.

“Go away,” he flaps a hand at me. “I want to fanboy freely and without judgment from a judgy Irishman.”

“Fine. I need to pack anyway.”

And off behind me I hear him call, “Wait! What am I gonna wear?”

Shaking my head. Just shaking my head.

————/-/————

I’ve gathered my gear, and I can see Simon out by the car park. I’m hitching up my pack, so it isn’t really until I’ve cleared all the foliage that I realize Simon is humping his Mini Cooper convertible. “All right?” I ask, tryin to keep a straight face.

“Oh, yes. All is definitely right,” he purrs.

“Have you turned her on, too?”

He slides off the car til his Converse hit the pavement with a slap.

Now he’s draping himself over the boot. I can’t help it that I’m laughing. Sometimes he hits me just right to set me to belly laughin. Doesn’t happen often with Simon, but when it does, he wears the greatest surprised happy face I’ve ever seen. This time there’s giggling. Off to a good start, which is good. Yes. Good.

I hesitate. “Look, mate. Will this thing actually fit us?” I eyeball the car. “I am quite seriously concerned that we might actually need the top down to ride in this thing. How tall are you, anyway?”

“Six feet. Why? How tall are you? Mate, get off the boot so I can shove this in there and we can go.” He does, and I do.

I have to say it, “Thanks for not getting the red, white, and blue one.” There is a god. Thank you, Poseidon.

“They were out of orange, white, and green, too,” he says with regret.

“You asked about the tricolor, did yeh?” Alright yes, he’s got me laughin again. Simon Lewis. Driving the Irish flag.

“Fuck out of the driver’s seat!” he’s suddenly roaring.

Blimey. He looks proper angry. I may have just flinched. “Don’t you want a car and a driver? No, serious, don’t yeh want me to drive, since I know the way?”

“Get the fuck out of the driver’s seat, Billy. Now!”

“Alright! Fine, fine. You’ll be usin GPS then, will yeh?”

“Si si si, certo.”

I groan. “This is all about to go so very-”

“Awesome,” he declares. “This is all about to continue to be awesome. Be the change, Billy. Be the change!”

“Oh my god Simon.”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes from here,” he says from behind the boot, which he slams shut a little too hard. I feel it in every moving piece of this tiny automobile. Bigger than a SMART car, so I suppose I shouldn’t be complainin.

Well, here’s hoping he’s still so enthused about it at the other end. “Gotta say, mate. I’m surprised you’d want to drive at all.”

“Why not?” he’s askin.

“Because mate, it’s Italy, innit. Famous for frightenin foreign drivers.” He has to remember what the drivin was like on our three other trips down this road. “Well,” I sigh. “At least you get to drive on the ‘right’ side of the road in Italy.”

—--/-/—--

“See? I told you you’d fit.”

“Alright man, you did,” I admit to the muppet.

“Come on, give it up…”

“What?” I’m not laughing, I promise. “Is she a smooth ride? I don’t know, man, why don’t yeh start her up ‘n find out?”

“Well there is that. So yeah,” he says as he pulls out of the car park and up to the mouth of the hotel driveway. “It’s to the left, right?”

“Em, yeah. Yes, the city of Naples is still in the general direction of left. Like the other three times we’ve done this road together.”

He rolls his eyes, and all is right and well with the world. Until the moment he pulls out onto the road. Then I’m brought up quick by the realization that between us we know fuck all about the convertible Mini Cooper. “Wait, where’s the GPS on her, for the flat’s address?”

“I dunno, check the screen thing.” So helpful, yer man Simon is.

“Do you even have an Italian driver’s license? Or insurance? I love this guy. How’ve yeh managed to live this long?” I pause for an answer, but none is forthcoming. “I mean, fucksake, Simon. You called someone to buy you a car and suddenly you’re on the road to Naples. Do you even know where the directionals are? Or like, the wipers? Should I be concerned for my safety?”

“Shoosh. Don’t jinx us,” he sternly admonishes me. “Do you need to have registration in Italy? Or insurance? I don’t know. Italy doesn’t really strike me as a big insurance-y type of country.”

“Fair point. But I take it you have….whatever, I dunno, papers and all that?” How is he like this?

“Don’t know. What’s in the glove box?” He makes a flappy gesture in the general direction of my knees.

“How are you like this? Were you actually born like this, or did it come with fame and wealth?”

“You mean, was I actually born a flaming asshole, or just become one?”

“Meh. Yeah ok,” I shrug. “We’ll go with that. So, what’ll it be?”

“Ow. Straight for the throat, Delaney.” His tone is recriminating as he protects his throat with both hands. “Uncool, man. Uncool.”

I’m flipping through the owner’s manual. Before long I’ve programmed everything, located the GPS, found Simon’s Only In Italy playlist, and even found the button to pop the bonnet. “There you go. It’s workin now.” I toss the manual in the glove box.

“What’s working?” he asks.

I shrug. “Everything, man. Everything.”

He barks out a laugh, the grumpy fuck, and I realize I’m laughing as well.

I plug in the address for the flat and immediately the voice pumping out the speakers is a woman speaking Italian. So I’m maniacally fumbling with it again, while Simon drives on in a fit of laughter.

“Aw, come on! Let’s see how we do in Italian,” he gasps out.

“Fucksake. See how we do in Italian.” Shaking my head.

“No, seriously. Let’s hear what she has to say, this ummmmm, what should we call her - Maria! Because obviously.”

“Certo.” That gets me another laugh.

“Santa Maria, Holy Madonna, show us the way, in Italiano,” Simon pleads in a truly horrendous Italian accent. “I am so happy right now.”

He says it with a laugh. Such a thing to so easily roll off the tongue. Fella I met a few months ago, I never would have pictured bein happy, let alone noticing it, naming it, declaring it. Nice to see. Unexpected, know what I mean?

“I don’t trust you when you’re quiet that long, Delaney.”

“Hm?”

“Exactly.”

Am I missing something?

“Ok, so.” He clears his throat. “We know who I am. Who are you? Let’s hear it. Who is Billy Delaney?”

Aw, man. Serious? “How long we got?” Please don’t make me.

“How would I know?” he shrugs. “Maria’s speaking your language, not mine.”

“Fair enough.” I hit play, hoping the music will make the conversation trail off from there. But of course it doesn’t, because this is Simon. Si. Certo.

“What. Do you have some horrible second identity thing going on? Are you really even Irish? Truth time, Delaney.”

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?”

“Yeah, ok,” says the cheeky monkey.

“Oh,” I answer, not sure how else to dodge Simon’s inquisition. Uh, erm….. “Soooo, what mate? What do you want to know?” I ask, though truthfully I wish he’d just let it go.

“Is your name really Billy Delaney, and are you actually even from Ireland at all?”

“Yes.”

“Boring.”

“Brief,” I counter.

“Obtuse,” he counters.

“Si.”

“Oh my god, Billy. So where are you from?”

“Ireland.”

He looks around us rapidly. “Is she going to start speaking Italian? Cuz we just passed Ercolano.”

“Already?”

“Yeah! I know, right? Time flies when you’re torturing someone for information. So should I panic?”

“Nah,” I reassure him. “We've a bit more road before we turn aside. Maria can sleep on.”

“Alright. But I swear to God, Billy. If you don’t start coughing up some details, I'm serious, I will pull this car over. Do I have to pull this car over, young man?”

“Wow, that’s forceful.” Cos it is. “Ow!” I flinch when he swats my shoulder with a backhand. “Fine, ye bastard. My name is actually Lola, but I go by Billy Delaney. And I’m only mostly joking. One of the summer cousins I used to play soccer with couldn’t say William when we were little. So for a few months every year, I was Lola. There. Was that not juicy enough for yeh?”

“Charming. But from that I got these few details: 1. You have cousins. Conceivably fertile ground. We could continue that way. 2. You play soccer, and you call it soccer. Isn’t that illegal outside the US? No- don’t answer that. I’m not finished. 3. You go someplace where there are cousins to play soccer with in summer. Are we even still in Ireland?”

Em. I just sort of sit here and wait.

“And you really don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

“You are so easily distracted,” I tease. “No, but seriously, here’s some details for yeh. I’m 27. Left Ireland at 18, after graduating culinary school, and was sent out to do my apprenticeship. That was at a manor house near Galway,” I say, wrapping up the conversation.

“And…..”

“That’s not enough?” I thought that was a fair bit of information, to be honest.

“Do I have to turn this car around, young man?”

“I fear I might be missin some essential cultural reference here, mate.”

“Don’t distract me with your distractions, Delaney. Feed me.”

And that’s when Maria tells us to turn left.

—--/Simon/—--

I can’t fuckin believe that there are Irish pubs in Italy. Nor can I believe I’m in one. I mean, where do real Italians go to watch soccer? This can’t be right.

“All right?” Billy asks the bartender.

“Howeyeh,” says the man back to him, and Billy’s eyes go comically wide.

Next thing I know, I’m bored stiff, pretending to find the intricacies of European football interesting with a Welsh guy named Barry.

And whoa, turns out Billy’s day-to-day accent is pretty washed out in comparison to the thickness of his accent when he’s speaking to his new BFF. They’re speaking so fast that I can’t understand a word through their accents and grammatical errors. Welsh is so much easier.

That is, until I hear a voice disturbingly similar to Billy’s, requesting a Bud.

I swing back around in time to see Billy’s new BFF nod at him and begin turning toward the draft beers.

“No! Wait,” I wave. “He’s only joking,” I say, emphatically shaking my head no.

“Oh,” the Irish bartender looks back to Billy in surprise. “Were you?”

What, he thinks I’m lying? “Course he was! Certo.”

“Why ‘of course’?!” Billy turns on his barstool to face me. “What the fuck, Simon?”

“Sorry if I fucked up your joke, dude, but don’t drag it out, ok?” I say under my breath.

Disparaging other people’s beer of choice is like a national pastime in Brooklyn, because it frequently employs irony, and we are naturally good at it from birth. Don’t blame him, he’s new.

“I’ll take that Bud,” Billy reiterates. “Ta, mate.” The barkeep returns his nod and goes about the business of it.

“Billy? We’ve talked about this. You swore you’re Irish. Were you lying to me? Are you a lying liar who lies?”

“Why do yeh say that?”

“Because you can’t – you’re not – you’re not, like, allowed to drink bad beer when you’re Irish. Isn’t that illegal? Or fatal, or something?”

The big ape is just lazing back against the bar, sipping his pint of piss beer, looking at me in amusement.

“You’re like a caricature of yourself sometimes, Simon, d’yeh know what I mean?”

“Fuckin- What?! That’s not very nice! I’m outraged.”

“You should see yerself, mate. Yeh look like your face is about ready to split down the middle and outrage’ll start pourin out like lava from the fissures.”

I stop and cock my head at him. “That was both specific and descriptive. Nice one. But that said, how dare you! I demand an apology.” I’m trying really hard to keep a straight face. He has no intention of making it easy for me.

“Apologize? For what?” He gives me a cock-eyed grin. Oh look, his cock eyes are doing that twinkly thing again.

“You have offended my good taste and have let down your countrymen and native soil. Or water or whatever it is that makes all beer taste better in Ireland. The least you could do is the decent thing and apologize to your countrymen, and me, and then hide it in your jacket where no one can see you sneaking sips!”

He laughs because he thinks I’m joking.

“Do you just not like beer at all? And that’s why you don’t order the good stuff?” I prod.

“Simon, you are such a snob,” he says, and goes right on twinkling.

“Correct. And if you’re going to drink cheap beer, for god’s sake, order PBR and salvage at least some of your self respect.”

“Do you know this man?” the bartender asks Billy. “Is he harassin yeh?”

Billy is now laughing so hard that he’s almost fallen off his stool.

“We know each other,” I reassure the barkeep. “Don’t know how long that’ll last, all considered, though. Check back for updates.” I raise my pint of Guinness in respect.

“It’s czech. Budvar,” the man informs me.

“Ah, no! Why’d yeh tell him, mate!” Billy raises his hands theatrically. I’m telling you, theatre school. “Yeh just had to put him out of my misery, yeah?”

“And my misery,” says the man.

—--/-/—--

Ok, so what is it with the whole pub drunkenly singing “oh-ay-oh-ay” at the top of their drunken lungs, sloshin beer out of their pint glasses, whenever Europeans play soccer. Mebbe they sing it in Southmerica, too. Butwhatevercuz I don’ really care.

If you can’t – beat em then join em. Thassmymott, um, -o. Thassmy motto. Motto.

Where’s Billy? I can’t see him. If thissperson would get out of the frickin way. He’s all backed up against my face’n I can’t see. Anything. Nothin to see here, folks. Move along, people, move along.

Where’s Billy? Oyeah, right right right. Right here in my face.

I figure it’ll be easier to keep track of him if I hold onto his belt loop. Or a pocket or something. Yeah, I’m just gonna hang on to his pocket.

Pocket.

I like the word pocket. Lossa hard consnits that pop. Pop.

Pop.

I like the word pop. It sounz like it pops. And it’s the same backwards and forwards an’itsall about the lips. Pop ’ing.

What? Where’s he going? I’m trailing after him with my hand in his pocket. He keeps pullin it out and I keep puttin it back in. Oth’wise I’m gonna get lost and then where would I be? Huh? I wouldn’t even know!

“Oh! Now I know where we are! We’re on the block where we’re were where gonna sleep.” If make it up th’stairs. But Billy’s helping. He’s nice like that.

“You’re nice like that,” I say with a big smile. “And you‘re funny lookin.”

Wait.

“Oops! I mean yerlookin funny at me right now. Whass funny? ‘m’I funny? ‘r’Juss funny lookin?”

I crack myself up. Like in real life, cuz I’m laughing. Right now. Sometimes iss hard to stop laughing but I’ll be ok.

“Billy. Billy! Hey, Billy. What’re you doing? Tryin to get in my pants? That tickles! Oh, hey! Did we win? I mean, I don’really care - just wonren.”

Hey! Tickles! “Stop that! How’dyou know I don’t wanna wear those? I’ll take ‘em off when I feel like it. Prollymaybe take ‘em off tomorrow. Hey! I was wearing that! And that!”

He’s very pushy. “You’re very pushy. Stop pushing!”

I land on the bed and it’s like fluffy clouds of teddybears. “K, fine. I’ll go to bed, jeez.” Alls I wanna do is bury my face in pillow, but can’t breathe when I do that.

“Don’t close the door all the way, Ma. And leave the hall light on, K? g’Night, love you too.”

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || Prev || Next

————/-/————

7 notes · View notes

headingalaxys-spicy · 11 months

Note

I really liked your head canons with a black darling x Francis. Could you make some sfw and nsfw head canons for black darling x Allen. 💖

The pansexual bad boy that loves the diversity of his populous…even if he does go on murders rampages murders a few hundred people that unfortunately happen to be in his vicinity. Stay far away from him and the other 2ps during the blood moon or if he’s pissed about something.

The Strawberry Moon was out and hit him heavy. You were on your way home from work, grabbing a quick drink at your local bar; the sweat off your glowing melanated skin made you look like a budding firefly in the early evening sky. You’ve officially caught his attention.

Here is how your courtship went down.

Warning this is a spice post!

SFW

He will be suave and use his rizz, get you a drink, and introduce himself. He’s great at chatting you up as he lets his eyes roam your gorgeous body that was like a black pearl concealed by street clothing.

He will give you his number and IG handle where he’ll send you flirty texts, gifs, and memes.

He will offer you rides on his motorcycle.

“I know where some of the best places to chill are, babe. We can always go for a midnight ride.~”

He will definitely try to keep his hand on your waist like the 3 or 4th time that you encounter him at the bar.

You’ll essentially never have to pay for any of your drinks again because he steals your bill; even though you fight for it he’s very slick.

He will definitely ask what lotion you use that keeps your dark skin to be so silky smooth.

He will commonly rest his head on your shoulder to be nosey in your business whether you’re on your phone, sketching, writing etc.

“Whatcha doing babe?” It’s cute, and you know it.

NSFW

Has definitely had a fantasy in his head where he’s wanted to fuck you raw on his motorcycle.

Has wanted to mark your soft sensitive russet brown skin with a cigarette once he’s finished one of his rounds to mark you as his.

He sends you the song “Bed” by Joel Curry, RAYE & David Guetta when he wants to make love to you. ‘Babe, I’m lonely and I want to see you in that cute lacy teddy that I got from Savage recently I want to see your glossy sepia skin in it.’ He licks his lips at the thought of being able to rip it off only minutes after you dawning it. Not before he takes some pictures that he saves for himself for later so he can pleasure himself. He has a thing for liking to linger his nose close to your inner thighs. He loves inhaling the cocoa butter you covered them in moments before he’s removed your panties and goes down on you for 30 minutes at a time. You’ll be fucking SPEECHLESS when he’s done.

He enjoys handcuffing you to the bed and taking in your bare trembling form. He will trace his hands on your silky midnight skin all the way down to your perky breasts and play with your mounds of joy.

‘Hehe, they're so big, babe.’

It’s an obvious given that he’s into rough sex. So much in fact that you will bleed a little from down under for a little bit and you won’t be able to walk for a week.

“Sorry, babe but you’re just so gorgeous I couldn’t help myself.” As he places a few gentle kisses on your forehead as he wipes a few of your kinky curls from your face.

His favorite sex position would be the Face-Off. Where he gets to slide himself within you but also get a great view of your assets and he can stare at your beautiful face that is painted with pristine umber. It’s as if you’re art that came to life.

He cuddles you after all the sex is through and you’ll practically have to beg him to let you leave the bed if you have to go to the bathroom afterward. (Also you’ll need help doing so.)

#hetalia #hws #2ptalia #hetalia x reader #headingalaxys spicy #headingalaxys writes headcannons #2p america #yandere hetalia #spicy content #hetalia imagines #allen jones

12 notes · View notes

cognacandlilac · 2 years

Text

A Story of Opposites - Part 2

Silco x Fem!OC - AU/Fix It - Post-Cannon

Read on AO3 - Link to Part One

Nesrin realized that, unfortunately, the Eye of Zaun is really hot. Jinx discovers the chocolate fountains.

Tags: Silco x Topsider!OFC, First Person POV, SFW (for now), Slow burn (kind of), Fix it fic (kind of), cannon-divergent.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption. Minor physical injury.

Word Count: 7k

“Get Lia inside,” my mother hisses.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want her anywhere near him. Or you for that matter. I should send you both in.” The alarm in her voice is clear though she keeps her tone hushed and her radiant hostess smile in place. If anyone were to look our way, they would see a polished family engaging in an amusing conversation.

“You’re not sending me in,” I say. “You’re not sending Lia in, either. You told her she could stay until sundown and if you go back on your word, she won’t be gracious about it.”

“But that man-”

“Was invited,” I say. “And since he runs the new nation that’s now in our backyard, I don’t think we want to offend him by making such an obvious departure after his arrival.”

“Offend him,” my mother scoffs. “That’s rich.”

“Lia and I aren’t going anywhere,” I repeat.

She stares me down but the need to avoid a spectacle outweighs her need to keep me locked away from unexpected party guests.

“You are not to speak to him,” she says. “I want you on the opposite end of the terrace from him at all times.”

“I’m going to rejoin my friends.”

“That’s better,” she says quickly. “Keep Jayce near you. The utter nerve of that man for showing up here is beyond anything I’ve ever seen in my life.”

As quickly as I can, I extract myself from the conversation. It’s not difficult, considering my mother is still sputtering her disbelief at my poor father.

I make my way back to the couches where Mel, Jayce, and my sister still sit. They’re all watching me as I gather my train and settle back into my seat. The dull throb in my side catches me by surprise as I remember I’m supposed to be keeping my arm over the gap in my dress. I can’t slyly check to see the state of my bruises right now. Mel, Jayce, and Lia have me pinned under their gazes.

“I said I’d point him out to you,” Mel says with a chuckle. “You didn’t have to slam into him.”

“I didn’t know he was there!” I exclaim, careful to keep my voice low. “He doesn’t make any noise when he moves. It’s not my fault!”

“What did he say to you?” Lia asks, leaning closer. “I’ve never seen you look so…so…”

“I was taken by surprise, that’s all,” I say quickly. “And he didn’t say anything. He was kind enough to forgive me for smacking into him and that’s it.”

“Let’s hope this doesn’t create an international incident,” Jayce says with a teasing waggle of his brows.

“Get me a stiff drink or else I’ll show you an international incident,” I threaten, which only makes his smile widen.

“Oh, she’s ruffled.” He nudges Mel’s shoulder gently.

“I’m not ruffled,” I huff, but Mel’s attention has been pulled elsewhere. Her eyes narrow and a deadly expression takes over her elegant features.

“An international incident just walked onto the terrace.”

I follow her gaze, but the only person I don’t recognize is a young girl. She has to be near in age to Lia. Her blue hair is woven into an intricate braid that spills down her back, nearly brushing the ground. A smattering of swirling blue tattoos decorates one of her arms and shoulders.

She doesn’t look like an international incident. She looks like a kid. A lost kid, at that.

“Who is she?” I ask.

“Her name is Jinx,” Mel says. “Remember the Progress Day explosion? She did it.”

Try as I might, I cannot picture that young girl doing such a thing but Mel wouldn’t have said it unless she knew it was true.

“I don’t understand. I don’t think my mother randomly decided to invite a domestic terrorist to her gala.”

“She’s Silco’s daughter,” Jayce says. “Or something to that effect.”

Yet another curveball thrown into the mix. I follow Jinx’s gaze to the edge of the terrace where the Eye of Zaun is locked in conversation with one of my father’s business partners. She hurries across the terrace to his side, standing slightly behind him but close enough to wrap a hand around his upper arm.

Without breaking from his current conversation, Silco gives her a gentle, encouraging look that has a noticeable calming effect on the girl. The poor thing looks like a wire too tightly coiled, ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

My father’s partner excuses himself from the conversation. Silco dips his head just low enough to quietly speak into Jinx’s ear. I can’t imagine what he’s saying to her, but the worry melts from her eyes, replaced by a calm determination. She nods, but I can’t help but notice the way her fingers dig into his arm.

“And you’re sure she was behind the explosion?” I ask.

“Yes.” The steel in Jayce’s voice makes me flinch.

“Then how is she here?” I ask. “Why isn’t she in Stillwater?”

“Part of the negotiations,” Mel says. “Silco made it clear he would inflict as much damage as he could against Piltover should Jinx be brought to justice. And he was in a position to inflict quite a bit.”

Again, my mind struggles to align the words I’m hearing with the image before me. Jinx presses her cheek into Silco’s shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible. He brushes a loose lock of hair off her forehead, listening intently.

“Thankfully, he’s tightened his leash on her,” Mel says. “We’ve had no problems.”

“It shows he’s a man of his word, doesn’t it?” I offer.

Mel and Jayce fix me with stares of dismay and bewilderment.

“What?” I shrug. “They’re both in my house. I’d like to think neither of them are blood-thirsty monsters hellbent on seeking revenge against me and mine. You can understand that, right?”

“I guess,” Jayce mutters, still staring daggers at the pair of them.

As if he can feel it, Silco lifts his gaze. His good eye narrows into a cold glare. A warning directed at Jayce and Mel. I can’t deny that the look on his face sends a chill deep into my core.

That eye.

His gaze flicks to me and the glare softens just a fraction. I still feel the urge to cower as I hold his gaze.

Until I realize I’m staring.

I quickly look away, chastising myself for being rude not once but twice.

“I’m going to get something sweet to nibble on,” I say. I’m not particularly hungry. I just need an excuse to move my body. My skin hums and I’m feeling restless. I’m certain I’m imagining it, but I swear I feel eyes burning into my back.

Desdemona’s voice penetrates my swirling thoughts. Music wraps around my mind like a comfortable sweater. Lyrics float through my thoughts. I try to snatch one that will quiet my mind and focus my intentions. A trick I learned from an old theater director who came up with this tactic when I felt too untethered to do my job properly.

The only lyrics that come to mind are the opposite of calming and centering. All concealed blades and shadowy figures. The exact opposite of what I need to think about right now.

I make my way to a long table sporting not one, not two, but three chocolate fountains. White chocolate, milk chocolate, and dark chocolate. Surrounding the fountains are platters of fruits, tiny pastries, nuts, and anything else someone might want to douse in chocolate.

I pick up a small plate, select some nuts, berries, and one brilliant fat red strawberry, and carefully drizzle them with dark chocolate.

“Is this your house?” A voice beside me startles me, nearly making me drop my plate. Pain snakes up my left side as all of my muscles tense. I look over to find Jinx standing a little too close for comfort, watching me with wide eyes. I can’t help but notice how strange they are, wavering somewhere between pink and purple. There’s a strange glow to them, almost. Like something fluorescent shimmers beneath her retina.

“Yes,” I force myself to answer.

“It’s really big.”

“It is.”

“Why?”

Her question catches me off guard. “Why is my house so big?”

She gives a curt nod.

“I’m not sure,” I answer. “We didn’t build it. My mother picked it.”

That answer seems to satisfy her, for some reason, and she turns her attention to the fountains and the spread beneath them. She plucks a slice of sugared fruit and brings it to her nose, giving it a light sniff. She wrinkles her nose before putting it back.

“How are you supposed to eat this stuff? It’s weird.”

“Well, what do you like?” I ask, reminded of many dinnertime negotiations with Lia when she absolutely refused to eat whatever was prepared for her. “Salty? Sweet? Sugary?”

“Sugary.”

“Okay,” I nod. “You’ll probably like the white chocolate best, then. It’s the sweetest.”

Her eyes dart to my plate. “What do you have?”

“Dark chocolate, though it’s not dark enough for my taste. I like my chocolate bitter.”

She says nothing, keeping her eyes on my plate.

“You’re welcome to try something,” I say, pushing the plate a little closer.

A war criminal is in my home wearing a party dress and I’m offering her chocolate-covered berries. Despite the strangeness today has brought, I didn’t expect anything like this to happen.

She tips her head to the side as if I’ve just presented her with an impossible riddle.

“Nah,” she says abruptly, moving away to grab a small cup from the tea and coffee table. I don’t expect her to return and I really don’t expect her to stick the cup right under the torrent of white chocolate, filling it up to the top.

Speechless, I watch her take a long sip. A smile spreads over her face that’s so genuine it makes me want to laugh.

“That’s some good stuff right there,” she says before taking another long sip.

“I’m a little upset I didn’t think to do that first,” I admit.

“Why not try it? Get a cup of the bitter stuff.”

A straight cup of pure chocolate, even dark chocolate, is too sickly sweet for me. But if there were something to offset the sweetness…

My eyes travel to the bar. I did say I wanted a stiff drink. Why not try something new?

“I have an idea,” I grab a cup from the coffee table, fill it one-third of the way with dark chocolate, and make my way to the bar, keenly aware of Jinx trailing behind me, loudly slurping her ‘drink’.

“How can I help you, Miss Caris?” Asks the bartender. He’s worked for us before. A pang of guilt hits my chest. I can’t remember his name. I’m not sure I ever learned it in the first place.

“I need you to humor me,” I flash a charming smile. “Do you think you can turn this into a proper drink?” I show him the contents of my cup. His eyes light up and he clearly tries to suppress a laugh.

“Can’t say I’ve been asked that before.” He takes the cup from my hands and swirls the chocolate. “It’s not too thick. I think I can mix it well enough. Any preference?” He gestures to the rows of colorful bottles behind him.

“Whiskey,” I answer without hesitation. “Blackheart.”

“Hey, my dad likes that stuff,” Jinx pipes up.

“Your dad has good taste,” I reply.

She turns her sharp, shining eyes to the bartender. “Think you can make two of those?”

If he knows who she is, he doesn’t let on. “If you get the chocolate.”

“Deal.” Jinx darts away, weaving between party guests whose expressions range from bewildered to wary. Jinx returns with a second cup of white chocolate. “He likes sweet stuff,” she offers when she sees my curious expression.

I now know two things about the King of the Undercity. We like the same whiskey and he has a sweet tooth. Two very ordinary, very human things.

Honestly, I don’t know why I have him framed in my mind like he’s some sort of mythical being. He’s a person. Just a person.

The bartender doesn’t shy away from the challenge. He takes our respective cups and pours a shot of Blackheart whiskey in each before stirring them thoroughly. The white chocolate turns a pale amber color and the dark chocolate turns even darker.

“Here you are, ladies.” He slides the drinks toward us. “If they suck, it’s not my fault.”

I bark out a laugh. “Don’t worry. We know we’re playing with fire.”

“Try it,” Jinx urges. “If it’s gross, I’m not giving it to my dad.”

“So, I’m the lab rat?” I chuckle.

“I don’t like using rats, but yeah. Pretty much.”

Oh, that’s unsettling.

“Kidding!” She adds, putting her hands up. “I don’t like testing on any animals. It’s mean and surprisingly difficult to get insightful results.”

Oh, that’s worse. So many questions swirl in my head but I don’t think I want the answer to any of them. What I want is a drink.

“Here goes nothing.” I bring the cup to my lips and take a tentative sip. The smoothness of the chocolate blends with the burning whiskey into something dark, rich, and elegant. “Damn, that’s good.”

And potent. I already feel the whiskey wrapping around me like a warm blanket, loosening the tightness between my shoulders and soothing the ache in my side.

“Great!” Jinx darts off without another word.

“I’ll make sure you get one hell of a tip tonight,” I say to the bartender, who beams in response.

I turn my gaze to follow the path Jinx cut through the crowd. She’s found Silco, who is talking to yet another one of my father’s business associates. Coincidence or calculated? My father owns the largest shipping company in Piltover. Sixty percent of the airships coming and going belong to him. I can’t imagine the Eye of Zaun is ignorant of that.

Jinx waits for a break in the conversation, practically vibrating with excitement. When Silco turns his attention to her, she excitedly offers him the cup, her mouth going a mile a minute.

He’s clearly confused, but gets the idea. With an indulgent quirk of his brow that does something to my stomach I’d rather not think about, he brings the cup to his lips. His lips are thin and give the impression that they’re used to being turned down in displeasure. I can’t take my eyes off them.

He stiffens. His good eye widens until it’s almost as large as the ruined one. For a moment, I think the Eye of Zaun is going to spit out his drink, but he doesn’t. He swallows it and contemplates what has just happened to him. Jinx is talking. I see her look over her shoulder right at me.

Silco’s gaze follows, searing into my skin.

Unwilling to stand there like a gaping fool, I do the only thing I can think to do. I raise my cup, identical to his, and smile.

Understanding flicks across his face. The barest shadow of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He lifts his cup. In unison, we take a drink of our respective concoctions.

I’m still smiling when I make my way back to my friends.

“What the hell was that?” Lia asks as I settle down beside her.

“I’m playing alchemist,” I say.

“With Jinx,” she says with a sneer.

“Again, I don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to keep the potentially dangerous criminal in my house happy. Try a sip of this, if you dare.” I move my cup under her nose. She takes a whiff and damn near snarls.

“That’s nauseating,” she says.

“It’s better than it looks,” I say, taking another small sip.

Conversation returns to its normal flow, but I can't fully focus. My attention is constantly pulled back to the Eye and his strange daughter.

They remain close to the terrace edge. While he looks calm, controlled, and surprisingly at ease, Jinx is a nervous ball of energy. She fidgets and twitches. She plays with her braid and watches everyone like a hawk with those unusual eyes.

Silco's body is angled toward me as he casually leans against the railing. I steal glances at him, feeling more and more foolish every time I do but I can't seem to stop myself.

He's... magnetic. It's ridiculous. Lyrics swirl in my head like some kind of hellish mental whirlpool. Songs about poison and warnings and reckless abandon. Completely inappropriate and unwarranted.

My gaze drifts to him again only this time, he's looking at me. Feeling caught, I advert my gaze but I still feel his eyes on me. Like he's branding me.

Again, it's ridiculous.

My mind hums. A million inappropriate lyrics that will never pass my lips float to the forefront of my thoughts but I shove them down. Clutching my drink, I stand.

"Nesrin?" Mel asks.

"I'll be right back," I offer a winning smile that Mel will surely see right through and glide toward the farthest corner of the grand terrace.

One quality that makes my mother a spectacular hostess is her ability to plan for any eventuality. Prone to migraines as she is, the terrace is dotted with little nooks, hidden away behind walls of lush topiaries. The farthest one isn't just a shelter from the party, but boasts a narrow staircase that runs along the outside of our home, leading down to the kitchen.

I hurry down the steps and push in, grateful to find the staff in a lull between preparing trays.

Vera stands near the sinks looking positively haggard but she brightens when she sees me and hurries to my side.

"How's everything going up there?" She asks.

"He's here," I say. "He actually showed up."

Her eyes go wide. "What's he like?"

“I need you to come with me," I grasp her forearm with my free hand. "I want you to see him for yourself."

"Oh!" She shakes her head. "I-"

"Mrs. Hatley, I'm borrowing Vera," I say. "I'll have her back in less than five minutes. I promise!"

I yank Vera up the staircase before Mrs. Hatley can say anything.

"This better be worth the ire she’ll lob at me later," Vera grumbles, though I can tell she's excited and happy to be out of the stuffy kitchen. As much as she loves learning her craft, I don’t know how she stands the heat.

"I just need your opinion on something."

We reach the terrace. I arrange myself near a break in the topiary wall, keeping my back to the party. I direct Vera to stand in front of me, off-centered just enough to look over my shoulder inconspicuously.

"An opinion on what? I thought you wanted to point out Silco."

"Dark clothes. Dark hair with a streak of gray. Probably holding one of these." I lift my coffee cup.

"That does not smell like coffee," she wrinkles her nose.

"It's not. He's with a teenager with a long blue braid."

I know when she spots him. Her whole face changes from mild annoyance to something like awe.

"So, the rumors are true," she gasps. "His eye."

"What about his eye?" I fight the urge to look over my shoulder. Obviously, I know which eye she's referring to but she talks as if she knows something about it.

"Remember how I told you the Children of Zaun fell apart right when the revolution gained traction?"

I nod.

"The official story was that Silco betrayed the other revolutionaries and was thought to have been killed for his crimes."

"No one smart ever believes the official story." I drain the last of my chocolatey concoction. "What really happened?"

"No one knows for sure, but there are whispers, "she says. "People say that Silco didn't betray anyone, that he was the one who was betrayed. They say he barely escaped with his life and was horribly disfigured in the process."

"How awful," I can't stop myself from glancing over my shoulder. I immediately lock eyes with Silco. It's like he can sense we're talking about him. “Do you think it’s true?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s not really talked about anymore. It would explain that eye, though.”

Silco tilts his head to the side. Once again, I’m overwhelmed by the feeling of being caught doing something I’m not supposed to be doing. I make myself look straight ahead.

“Whatever the truth is, it sounds like a sad story,” I say.

"Yeah," she agrees, looking at her hands, completely unaware of whose attention we've caught. "Anyway, you wanted my opinion on something?"

"Yes, but it seems stupid now," I groan, pressing my fingertips to my temple. “Like, inappropriately stupid.”

"You dragged me up here. You have to ask."

"The Eye of Zaun. Silco. Is he hot? He’s not hot, right? But is he, though?"

"What?" She sputters, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter.

"I told you it was stupid!" My cheeks burn. "I ran into him. Literally. And he's just so – and he has this voice – and there's something about him that's just so –"

Gods, why can’t I make my mouth work?

"Yeah, he's hot," she agrees, benevolently putting me out of my misery. "He's got that natural aura of power that people find appealing."

"So, I'm not crazy?"

"You are, but not for that," she teases. I swat at her realizing too late that I'm very much in the line of sight of party guests.

"Go back to your sanctuary," I wave her off. I truly don't want to get her into trouble and I'd like a moment to stew in my embarrassment alone before collecting myself.

He's hot. He shouldn't be hot. I sure as hell shouldn’t find him hot yet here I am.

But why am I so thrown off by this? It's not like he's the first attractive man I’ve ever seen. I've seen plenty. There are at least a dozen attractive, eligible men my age milling about the terrace. Classically handsome men with easy pasts and matching eyes.

A dozen handsome men but none of them are like him. I don't even have to have a conversation with him to know there is no one else like him at this party or even in all of Piltover.

A refreshing breeze kicks up, cooling my heated skin and settling my confused thoughts. It draws me away from the topiaries, to the terrace edge.

Below sprawls the glittering windows and rooftops of Piltover. The sun hangs low in the sky casting its rays over the river Pilt. Its ripples and wakes shine like old coins.

Across the river, Zaun hunkers like a great sleeping beast. So much of the new nation is concealed within the chasm or cloaked by smog. I squint, trying to spot the area where I got my ass kicked only a few hours ago.

"That looks like it hurts." The sound of his voice sends a slow shiver from my core that radiates throughout my whole body. The dark shape of him, a slice through the brilliant blue sky, moves into my peripheral on my left.

It takes a full beat for my addled brain to process his words.

My left arm is extended to grip the edge of the terrace, leaving my side exposed. My bruises on full display. Nearly all of the concealing powder I applied has rubbed off and the color has deepened. The sun is at least an hour from setting. There's no way I can keep this hidden and I can’t afford to be asked questions I can’t answer.

"Use this." In one subtle, smooth motion, his hand hovers at my side at such an angle that no one on the other side of me can see. Something gold flashes in the sunlight. A thin, square compact engraved with an intricate linear design.

"It's good for covering up imperfections far more severe than bruising,” Silco says when I don't take it right away.

My gaze ticks up to his face. To that ruined eye. Until now, I didn't have a chance to take in the deep furrows that run from his brow all the way down to the corner of his mouth. I spot a telltale sheen of makeup. High quality, but not invisible.

"Thank you." I take the compact. I hope he knows that I’m thanking him, not just for helping me out, but for letting me in on what I assume is a secret.

I leave his side and make my way across the terrace and into the house. Lyrics and snips of songs flit through my mind until I've sealed myself in the grand powder room.

I open the compact. It's well used and the wrong shade for my skin, but it’ll work.

My mother has laid out trays and jars filled with cotton balls, swabs, and spongy applicators for the express purpose of reapplying makeup. I pluck a sponge from one of the jars and dab the concealer.

I tap it gently into my skin. The Eye of Zaun was right. This stuff is incredible. It's like a second layer of skin. There's just one pesky spot I can't quite get.

A rapid-fire knock on the door has me damn near jumping out of my skin.

"Just a minute," I call only to be met with more knocks like someone forgot they’re pounding on a door rather than tapping out a beat.

"Open up!" I recognize Jinx's voice immediately. I fling the door open and she breezes in like she owns the place.

"Can I help you?" I ask.

"I'm supposed to help you, actually," she replies, staring up at the painted ceiling where mermaids frolic in a silver mosaic sea. "My dad sent me in." Her eyes flick to his compact sitting open on the counter.

"Oh." I don't know what to make of that.

"He thought there'd be some marks you can't reach." Jinx grabs my shoulders with a surprisingly firm grip and rotates me. "Ah-ha!'

"How would he know where my marks are?" I ask as Jinx applies the cover-up with a gentle, expert hand. I know he saw parts of the bruises himself, but there is no way in hell he would have been able to see the parts where Jinx is currently dabbing.

"I dunno," she shrugs. "His whole thing is knowing everything about everything and giving long lectures about life and stuff."

I swallow a laugh. "Is that so?"

"The guy can monologue," she says as she finishes her task. She tosses the sponge into the bin. I close up the compact and try to pass it to her.

"Nope," she grins. "You give it back to him."

"He'll get it back faster if you just take it," I counter.

"But that's not as fun. Byeeeee!" She flees the washroom trailing blue hair and mischievous laughter.

I take a moment to make sure all of my bruising is covered before figuring out how I'm going to carry the compact around until I can slip it back to Silco.

I slip the compact into my dress, the cold metal pressing against the side of my breast, sending goosebumps over my skin. It’s precarious, but should be fine until I can get the compact back to its owner.

The chilly sensation makes my nipples harden beneath the fabric of my dress. I double-check the bodice to make sure nothing is visible. Thankfully, nothing is but as I walk back to the party, I'm keenly aware of how the fabric shifts across my already sensitive skin with every step I take.

I make a beeline for the bar, opting for something cool and light to drink. Pink sparkling wine flush with the taste of roses.

Desdemona has shifted to more upbeat music. People are dancing. My body responds to the music, wanting to dance but aching to sing. I want to rip the microphone out of Desdemona's elegantly gloved hands because I know I can do it better.

I have done it better. Only a few short years ago, I sold out theaters. People came from all over the continent to hear my voice.

And I miss it.

But I don't miss it enough to go back to being the family show pony.

I see Lia and Mel dancing, having so much fun. I want to join them but Silco's compact is digging into my breast. I scan the crowd for him and I find him speaking to none other than my father. No way in hell am I going to approach either of them.

"Nesrin!" My sister beckons me. I have no reason not to join her. The thrum of the bass is practically begging to be danced to.

Lia and I have been in dance lessons since we could stand on our own two feet. We know how to move together and for a crowd of onlookers.

The beguiling Caris sisters. Positively enchanting. The envy of Piltover. Two sparkling diamonds ready to be sold off to the highest, most eligible bidders.

I down my drink, praying it does enough to separate my mind from my body just a tiny bit more. If I'm too aware of my own mind, I'll have to acknowledge how very selfish I am. By refusing to marry any number of perfectly agreeable, respectable men. I'm knowingly pushing the duties of an eldest daughter onto my sister.

It's infuriating that we live in the most progressive nation on this earth. We make leaps and bounds on a weekly basis, leaving everyone else in the dust. Yet my sister and I are bound to the most archaic, outdated traditions for no reason other than to make us seem rare. Elite. Unobtainable.

I need to get this gods damned compact out of my dress but the suave bastard moves from one conversation to another, as slick as oil.

I try to dance, but I can't lose myself in the music the way I want to. Every time I shift or sway, I feel the damned compact press against my skin, and my thoughts snap to him. He might as well be touching me himself with how distracted I am.

Oh, why did I have to put that image into my mind? Now, all I can think about is what it would be like to dance with him. To feel his fingers glide over my skin.

Not good. Not good, at all.

Every time I find him in the crowd, he's locked in conversation. I never spot an opportunity to pull him aside and return what’s his.

I keep dancing, fighting the urge to belt out whatever song is playing. My skin feels as though it’s on fire despite the dropping temperature.

I need air.

Lia and I exchange a look. I gesture to the railing, indicating that I need a breather. She nods but shows no sign of slowing down. Why would she? She only has until sunset before mother sends her up to bed like a child.

I'll try to come up with an excuse to keep her at the party longer or I’ll just hope mother is too many drinks in to remember her rule. She hasn’t hounded me since she demanded I stay away from the Eye of Zaun and look how well that turned out.

I brace against the railing, leaning into the fresh, crisp breeze. It skates over my flushed skin, bringing instant relief.

I detect the faintest hint of salt on the wind. The breeze must be coming up from the west, bringing the scent of the ocean with it.

It's a clear day. Despite the brightness of the sinking sun, I turn my face to catch the breeze. The ocean is lit up by the low-hanging sun. A spit of pure gold on the horizon. The sight of it puts my heart at ease but also puts a deep ache in my chest.

"No one would ever guess you're sporting a rather impressive injury.”

Goodness, that voice. That damned voice. It’s all I can do not to let my head fall back at the sound of it.

My god, I'm more drunk than I realized. I glance at Silco from the corner of my eye. He's appeared on my left side again. Perhaps he means to shield my bruises from prying eyes but all he’s truly doing is blocking my view of the ocean.

"Jinx helped." I need to make sure the young girl gets credit where credit is due. "She somehow knew I couldn't reach every bruise."

"Did she?" The note of wry amusement in his voice nearly turns my legs to jelly.

"Yes, at your direction." I turn to face him only to have my breath stolen right out of my lungs. His profile is set aglow by the sun, perfectly haloed. His good eye, fixed on the city beyond us, bright with some kind of inner fire.

By some miracle, I find my words again. "How do you know so much about my injuries?"

"When Piltover's Songbird appears in my city and gets into a scrape, it's my duty to know about it."

I go stone still, unsure of what my next move should be so I go with honesty.

"You know who I am." It's not a question but a statement.

"I'm not as out of touch as you might think, though that's easy to assume.” There's a note of bitterness in his voice. Not quite hostile but it’s enough to make me bristle.

"I'm not in the habit of making assumptions," I reply. "It is only that I've put a great deal of energy into staying out of the public eye since my departure from the stage. Having someone, a stranger no less, call me by that old nickname took me by surprise. Perhaps, it's you who should be more wary of making assumptions."

I don't mean to say that last part out loud but it tumbles from my lips before I can stop myself. I suppose I should look apologetic or cowed but I hold his gaze in the same, unflinching way he holds mine.

After a long moment, his brow quirks in amusement.

"You're right," he says. "I did make an assumption. That was rude of me, especially since you've been such a gracious host. Never has an attempted poisoning tasted so pleasant."

I bark at a laugh. "Don't pin that on me. Jinx was the one who first put the chocolate in the cup. I didn’t make you drink it."

The silence that settles between us is not companionable, familiar, or even comfortable but it's lighter and easier than silence between strangers should be. It puts a prickle over my skin. I'm reminded of why I needed to speak to him in the first place.

"This is yours," I say tactlessly as I angle my body away from any potential onlookers, toward him. My heart stutters when I realize I'm going to have to reach into my dress right in front of him to retrieve the borrowed compact. I didn't think this through.

Quickly, I dip my fingers beneath my bodice. I'm quick but not graceful. I end up dragging the damn thing directly across my breast in my haste. The rippled engravings and the metal's refusal to warm to my skin send dueling sensations over my nipple that make my breath stutter, but I hide it well enough.

Or so I think.

When I offer the compact, I notice for the barest fraction of a second, his eyes are not on my outstretched hand but the low plunge of my neckline.

Before I can stop myself, I'm imagining his long, unfairly graceful fingers slipping beneath the fabric tracing the same pattern across my breast with a warm fingertip instead of cold metal. With a sharp inhale, he plucks the compact from my fingers and tucks it away.

"Excellent. Glad to be of service." The image of his fingers flees from my mind and I'm able to settle back into the present moment, though I feel a flush creeping around my neck.

From embarrassment, surely. Nothing more than that.

“You still haven't said how you knew the severity of my injuries."

"Haven't I?" He glances at me from the corner of his eye. "It's my job to know what happens on my streets. I'm very good at that job."

"You know that isn't a satisfactory answer," I press. "Were you on the street when it happened? Did you see?"

"I was in my office at the time." He turns his head to look at me dead on. His ruined eye burns like a dark eclipse. In total contrast to the bright, golden world around us. "But I have eyes everywhere."

"I expect as much from someone called the Eye of Zaun."

"Ah," he chuckles darkly. "You protest to being called by your moniker but readily call me by mine. Interesting."

Embarrassment stings my cheeks.

"Yes, that was careless of me." I lower my gaze. "But, despite the events of the evening thus far, we haven't actually been introduced. I don't know what to call you. Some call you a king. Do I call you your Highness?"

A chilled huff escapes his chest. "I'm no king. I don't claim any title."

"But you rule over a nation." I furrow my brow.

"I am a caretaker of a nation. A broken one at that." His gaze travels across the river as something dark creeps into his good eye.

"Do I call you Lord Caretaker, then?" I ask with a touch of forced levity. It's enough to draw his gaze back to me though it doesn’t quite banish that darkness.

"Call me by my name," he says.

"Silco." My tongue caresses each syllable. It’s not the first time I’ve said his name, but something about this time strikes me. It tastes like the beginning of something. Something tight and trembling takes shape deep in my core and tightens more still when his thin mouth curves into a ghost of a smile.

I return with a smile of my own and extend a hand. "I'm delighted to meet you, Silco."

His hand slides into mine then engulfs it. The roughness of his palm takes me by surprise. He has the hands of a laborer, not a politician.

"I'm pleased to meet someone who would protect one of my own without hesitation, Miss. Nesrin Caris."

"So, you do know my name," I grin.

"Of course. Not many would step between an angry ex-enforcer strung out on low-quality shimmer and their target. The moment I heard, I made a point to learn your name."

"Is that why you're here tonight?" I ask, tilting my head to one side. "Because of what happened earlier?"

"Your Council isn't pleased with my lack of social participation," he says, choosing his words carefully. "I figured I could remove a thorn from my side and satisfy my curiosity as well."

His hand tightens on mine. I hadn't realized our hands were still joined. A deeply instilled sense of propriety urges me to pull away, but every other part of me screams to stay just as I am.

"Nesi!" Lia appears at my side in a cloud of pink, her delicate features knotted with anxiety. Her gaze lands on my hand joined with Silco’s and only then seems to comprehend who I'm locked in conversation with.

I remove my hand from Silco’s grip and suppress a shiver as his fingertips glide over the back of my hand.

I turn away from him to focus all of my attention on my sister.

"What's the matter?" I ask, tucking an errant lock of her hair back into place.

"I need your help with something," she says, casting a wary glance at Silco.

He clears his throat and bends forward in a short bow. "Please excuse me, Miss. Caris."

"Of course," I cast a thankful glance over my shoulder before returning my attention to my sister.

Though she tries to hide it, I don't miss the smug tilt of her mouth.

"Lia, did you only come over to interrupt a perfectly decent conversation with one of our invited guests?" I arch a brow.

"Do you always hold hands with guests?" She fires back.

"It was a handshake,” I say, though I don’t even try to sound convincing. Lia’s no fool. "Mother sent you over here, didn't she?"

"No," Lia replies. "But Mel and Jayce have been saying things about that man. They think he’s dangerous and, from what they're saying, he's done terrible things to get to where he is now."

Vera said something similar. I regret not asking her to elaborate when I had the chance. Perhaps, I could sneak back down to the kitchen?

Mel's warning slams into the forefront of my mind.

He has this…way about him.

Understatement of the year.

He oozes charm, charisma, danger, and darkness and I feel like I'm on the brink of being pulled into his riptide.

Maybe it's a good thing Lia interrupted when she did. It wouldn't hurt to take a few moments to reacquaint myself with reality.

"I really do need your help with something, though," she says, all nerves again.

"What?"

"Viktor's here." she can't even say his name without smiling. "Will you introduce me?"

I can't imagine why Viktor showed up. This kind of gathering might not be his worst nightmare, but I'm willing to bet something like this is in his top three.

"I will." I loop my arm through hers and let her lead me across the terrace. with every step, I'm certain I feel the Eye of Zaun watching me.

#silco #silco arcane #silco fanfic #jinx arcane #jinx #silco x oc #silco x ofc #silco x female character #first person pov #my writing #arcane fanfic #jinx being chaotic #fanfic #arcane silco #eye of zaun

9 notes · View notes

cophene · 8 months

Text

05 || * • ° a simple game of croquet

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : ohshc x gn reader summary : perhaps no one at ouran is more qualified to deal with a broken heart than the host club. with a student’s heartbreak painfully obvious to everyone but themself, the host club takes it upon themselves to remedy that. all against that student’s better judgement. notes : multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 2.8k+

Even though there were a million reasons why you shouldn’t, you couldn’t stop yourself from going to his profile when the last bell of the day chimed. It was a sign of weakness, and you felt terrible for succumbing to it, but you hadn’t been able to rid the thought from your head the entire day. All of a sudden, you just had to see him again, look at his face, find out if you were remembering him right. It didn’t seem right that he could still exist if you weren’t there anymore.

It was a very, very bad idea. You followed the stream of purple blazers out of the classroom, barely aware of anything but your phone in front of you. He was still there. The same as ever, yet not somehow. His eyes were different. Wide and more animated. You stared at his careless hands, the way they slung over railings and shoulders and hips. His smile looked like a foreign entity. It didn’t belong on his face, but it beamed out at you like it did.

Why was he so happy?

You never used the word, but his profile genuinely made you feel wretched. An addicting kind of misery that you couldn’t get out of. Picture after picture after picture. You stared hungrily at everyone he posed with, trying to figure out who they were. Was it possible that someone could have taken your place? All of these people, who didn’t have a clue who you were. Him being the only thing you had common.

Except the him in your head and the him looking back at you were two different people.

He’d posted a video recently. At some kind of event with muted lighting and narrow black ties. You told yourself that you knew better and tapped play anyway.

Someone had recorded him giving a brief introductory speech. His hair was carefully styled and his suit was perfectly fitted, as always. He was calm. Confident. Self-assured. He smiled often and easily. It was more like he was talking to a friend than a room of over two hundred people. You were surprised at how much it hurt, seeing the small movements of his hands, the way they accented his sentences and helped them along.

“Do you like giving speeches?” You remembered asking him once. He’d wrinkled his nose.

“Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You’re so good at it. You never seem nervous about talking to anyone.”

“I’m just good at hiding things. I think I’m too good at that for my own good.”

“You could never hide anything from me,” you said archly. “I know you too well.”

He smiled then. “You’re right about that.”

So many things to regret, you realized. You shouldn’t have said anything to him. You couldn’t think back on any of your conversations together without shrivelling up.

You couldn’t bring yourself to wish you’d never met, though. You weren’t sorry about that. You didn’t think you could ever be.

“Hello? I didn’t know being heartbroken made you deaf too.”

Someone was snapping their fingers in front of your face. You hoped against hope that it wasn’t who you thought it was, but of course the universe would never be so kind to you as that.

“Hello to you too, Renge.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I was just on my way to the Host Club,” you replied feebly. You noticed that Renge wasn’t wearing the usual Ouran uniform. Instead, Renge had on a light dress with a brimmed hat and matching parasol. It looked faintly twentieth-century. Renge dug her fingernails into your arm and started dragging you—not upstairs, but outside.

“We’re changing things up today. The Host Club has a variety of events that they cycle through for their guests’ enjoyment. You’ll be lucky enough to witness one such event at present.”

“Events? What is that supposed to mean?”

You quickly found out. The Host Club had relocated to one of the lawns outside, tables and chairs set off to the side for the guests. Finger sandwiches and cool glasses of lemonade were served underneath wide blue umbrellas pitched for shade. The main spectacle seemed to be whatever game the hosts were involved in. You squinted at the multi-coloured balls and what looked to be hoops stuck in the grass. What the hell was this supposed to be?

“Ah, so glad you could join us, my poor heartbroken angel.”

Tamaki approached you then, tipping the brim of his hat in greeting. He was dressed in a white linen suit and spotless leather shoes. You wondered if the red ribbon in his hat and his red argyle socks was supposed to mean something.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“Have you ever played croquet? It’s a delightful game, especially when the weather is so warm.”

“Never heard of it,” you said flatly. “I thought I was supposed to do my other trial appointments.”

“You would be correct. I see no reason why that can’t happen over a game of croquet.” Tamaki extended his elbow. You stared until Renge hissed at you to take it. She gave you a pointed look before melting uncannily into the shadows of the surrounding trees.

The rest of the Host Club was dressed in similarly old-fashioned clothes. Honey looked absolutely adorable in white khaki shorts and a plaid sweater vest. Kyoya and Mori were wearing similar linen suits to Tamaki, only with blue and green, respectively. To your dismay, the twins were dressed identically in white polos, slacks and caps. The only thing marking them apart were their different coloured bow ties.

You looked around for Haruhi to see what her outfit was. You managed to find her chatting with a trio of girls, wearing a white blazer and striped trousers. She waved when she saw you, then had to reach up to right her hat when it nearly slipped off. You stifled a grin.

“Yay, you’re here!” Honey exclaimed. He ran over to you with a platter of finger sandwiches. “Do you want one?”

You stooped to take one, then whispered in Honey’s ear, “Is there any way you can get me out of this? I’m not even dressed appropriately.”

“Hikaru and Kaoru can help you with that,” Honey answered immediately. “They came prepared!”

“What do you mean—”

As if by magic, one of the twins pushed out a changing screen and the other a rack of white linen clothes.

“Worry not,” Tamaki said. “We have an entire collection of croquet attire at your disposal. The twins will be happy to assist you.”

Great, except that you weren’t happy to be assisted. Honey pushed you behind the screen where you were disconcerted to find both twins already there. They thrust a hanger into your hands and said together, “Wear this.”

You eyed the clothes, then looked at the twins. For a second, you all just stared at each other. Not that you would ever admit it, but the twins looked surprisingly good in polos.

“You want to take my clothes off for me?” you deadpanned.

With a shrug, the two of them retreated from the changing screen. Aware that you wouldn’t have much choice in the matter, you slipped on the clothes and went outside. At least everything fit pretty well, which made you wonder if that had this entire clothes rack specially tailored.

Tamaki actually started tearing up when he saw you. “You look wonderful,” he said, with a sigh.

“Misery is the best accessory,” one of the twins said, and you had to bite back a swear.

Someone set a hat on top of your head. You glanced up to find Mori trying to set the hat straight.

“Thanks.”

Mori nodded.

For the next little bit, Tamaki painstakingly tried to explain the rules of croquet. There was a specific order to the hoops, the colour of the balls, the direction of striking and the mallets. To you, it seemed like a whole lot of nothing, but Tamaki was being so patient that you tried to humour him. Eventually, it was just easiest to hit your black ball whenever someone told you, scoring be damned.

Small bursts of applause sounded whenever one of the hosts got their ball through a hoop and they would wave and smile like benevolent princes. Unfortunately, the three hosts who should’ve been your fallbacks--Honey, Mori and Haruhi--decided not to participate in the croquet game, and spent the whole time serving lemonade and making small talk with the guests. You tried multiple times to sneak off to join them, but either Tamaki or one of the twins would firmly pull you back toward your mallet.

It turned out there were no trial appointments. It was just you trying to keep up a conversation with four different people and wondering why it was so hard to hit a ball with a mallet.

“So, do you have any hobbies?” Kyoya asked. It was stupid how easy he made croquet look.

“Not croquet,” you muttered.

“It’s not for everyone,” Tamaki said sympathetically. “Are you having trouble? Maybe you’re not holding the mallet right.”

“I’m holding it fine.”

“Honey told us you play volleyball,” the twin you decided was Hikaru said.

“Yeah, but I decided to take a break.”

“How come?” asked the twins.

“People take breaks,” you said evasively. “Is that a crime?”

“Breaks are always refreshing,” Tamaki said. “They can help you see things with new eyes. You might come back and do something you’ve never done before.” Or suddenly become disenchanted and wonder how you’d ever liked such stupid hobbies. That had happened to a lot of things after the break. Nothing had seemed quite as interesting anymore.

People’s interests changed, you told yourself. Nothing wrong with that.

Kyoya leaned on his mallet. “I heard you vacationed in Malta over the break. How was that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And who did you hear that from?”

“Honey.”

Honey was telling everyone your business, wasn’t he?

“It was nice,” you said, the noncommittal answer of everyone ever.

Tamaki’s face brightened. “Ooh, I’ve heard wonderful things about Malta from my father. How was it? You must have met so many gorgeous faces.”

You focused intently on your mallet. “None more than usual.” You had a feeling you knew exactly what bush the hosts were beating around. You had to turn things before they trampled the bush to the ground.

“So, what exactly is this event supposed to cater to? Do people enjoy watching you punt balls around?”

Tamaki looked offended. “This is a croquet party, darling. There’s nothing more refreshing than dressing in light, airy clothes and enjoying a simple game of croquet under the shining sun.” He extended a hand at the various other games going on, the coloured balls clacking against hoops and mallets. How was it that everyone was better at this game than you were?

“And you do stuff like this often?”

“Whenever the opportunity arises,” Kyoya answered. “We like to keep things entertaining. The last thing we want is for the Host Club to become stale. Perhaps a volleyball game would better suit your taste?”

It would. You could just imagine the looks on everyone's faces when you trounced them with a serve.

Kaoru’s next question was about as subtle as a semi truck. “What’s your opinion on physical displays of affection?”

Your ball went in the complete opposite direction you’d intended. Hikaru smothered a laugh and you glared at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that. What are you comfortable with?” Kaoru said.

“Do you like hugs?” Tamaki asked eagerly. “I give very good hugs.”

“Or maybe you’re more inclined towards hand-holding?” Kyoya said.

You were suddenly very aware of your hands. You clenched them into fists, embarrassed with yourself. “I would probably be alright with anything if I knew that person well enough.”

“So you’re alright with kisses?” Hikaru said, suddenly next to you.

“On the mouth?” Kaoru added from your other side.

“We met two days ago,” you said, shoving both of them. “Don’t get ahead of yourselves.”

“Oh, Tamaki!” a high-pitched voice trilled. Everyone turned to watch a pretty girl with a billowing white skirt cross the lawn toward you. A pout downturned her mouth and eyebrows. “I can’t get a ball through the hoop for the life of me! I must be too weak. If only there was someone who could show me how to do it!”

The syrupy texture of the girl’s voice made you cringe internally. Tamaki ate it right up, however, drawing the girl towards him with a congenial smile.

“Don’t give up hope, darling. Surely a beautiful girl could win an entire match if you put your heart into it.”

The girl blushed and bashfully led Tamaki off. The pair of them looked like a portrait against the lush grass and blue sky.

You shuddered. “I can’t score either, but you don’t see me moaning about it.”

“Well, since you admitted it yourself, you have been terrible at this croquet thing so far,” Kaoru said.

Hikaru nodded. “Mhm. It’s almost embarrassing how bad you are.”

You glowered at them from under the brim of your hat. “Why don’t I show you where you can shove those mallets?”

The twins only laughed, moving off to mingle with a different croquet game.

Kyoya’s face was carefully neutral. “You’re only doing poorly because you’re not focusing.”

“Are you sure these hoops are even big enough for a ball to pass through?”

“Quite.” All of a sudden, Kyoya was beside you. Not close enough to touch, but closer than you were expecting. Your heartbeat quickened just a little.

“First of all, this isn’t a golf club. You don’t have to swing it so far back.” Kyoya guided the mallet closer to your person. Professionally, you told yourself. Nothing intimate about it.

“Just swing back the mallet gently back like a pendulum, through your legs, and there you go.”

Your croquet ball rolled in a straight line through the grass and through the hoop, so easily it was a little insulting.

“Thanks,” you said, a little sheepishly. “I guess I was overdoing it.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Kyoya said. You turned to find that your faces weren’t so far apart. A tiny smile touched Kyoya’s lips and you liked how the expression looked on him, how unassuming it was. Kyoya’s eyes flickered to yours and he looked a little surprised.

He said, “I was meaning to ask—”

“Woah, heads up!” someone hollered.

You looked up, then nearly soiled your pants to find a croquet ball hurtling straight towards you. You scrambled back, but not fast enough to avoid the ball, which slammed into your forehead and immediately hurt like hell. You accidentally knocked into Kyoya and sent both of you sprawling backwards on the grass. Kyoya swore as your head landed right on his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Hikaru, or maybe Kaoru yelled, running up to you. Both twins leaned over you and Kyoya, their faces identically horrified.

“I’m so sorry,” Hikaru said in a rush. “I didn't mean to hit you!”

Kaoru shoved his twin. “I told you hitting the mallet like a bat was stupid!”

“You’re the one who suggested it!”

“You’re the one who actually did it!”

“What happened?” Tamaki rushed to join the twins. When he looked at you, his face turned dark before he exploded.

“You could have killed them!” he shrieked. “Look at that welt on their forehead! Whose bright idea was this?”

The twins pointed accusingly at each other. Tamaki’s face reddened. He looked between Hikaru and Kaoru, probably deciding on who to beat up first.

“Calm down, Tamaki. No one’s dead.” Haruhi placed a hand on Tamaki’s shoulder and all of the steam went out of him. He sagged against her and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.

“No, of course not. Please forgive me, Hikaru. Kaoru. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

Mori helped you to your feet, Kyoya groaning as you got off of him.

“Are you okay?” Honey said, his eyes wide. “Do you want me to kiss your forehead all better?”

You rubbed your forehead, wincing. “No. I should be fine. I think Kyoya’s the one who needs kissing.”

Kyoya refused Mori’s hand and got up himself, dusting off his suit and readjusting his glasses. If it weren’t for the unfortunate grass stains on his pants and the bits of grass in his hair, you would never have known he’d taken a tumble.

“Sorry about that,” you said.

“It’s quite alright,” Kyoya said, only sounding a little strained. “You didn’t mean to. The twins, however …”

A storm cloud seemed to descend over Kyoya’s brow. He grabbed each twin’s shoulder with one hand and steered them away from you, muttering to them intently. His aura seemed so dark and menacing that a collective shudder went through everyone still present.

“There goes a day,” Tamaki said, swinging his mallet in his hand. He looked at you and smiled. “Now that your trial appointments are over, do you have a second choice for your host?”

You looked straight into his eyes when you said, “I stand by my earlier assessment. If Haruhi’s not here, I’ll just go with Honey or Mori.”

Tamaki’s smile went brittle. “And what if they aren’t here either?”

You grinned. “I guess I just won’t come at all.”

Tamaki fell on his tailbone abruptly, looking shell shocked. “N-not come at all?” He started rocking himself back and forth, whispering to himself.

“I think you might have killed him,” Haruhi said.

“Whoops,” you said.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#ouran high school host club #ohshc #ohshc x reader #gender neutral reader #disceohshc

62 notes · View notes

beezhoney12 · 2 years

Text

Pro Hero!Shoto Todoroki X Bimbo!Reader

SFW Headcannons

i’m gonna make an NSFW one in like 30 minutes be prepared because i have like no shame 💀

You and Shoto are the complete opposite bf and gf dynamic. He loves you with all his heart but he has no idea how it started he has no idea how someone as serious and boring as him, got someone as Bubbly and cute as you.

you and him were in your second year of U.A when you met you were part of the general studies class assigned to shotos group for a school wide project, at first he found you a bit…concerning you were clumsy, dismissive, and couldn’t focus on a subject. But after spending one on one time with you he was head over heels he thought you were an actual angel 😭

He likes explaining things to you because you always tell him how cool he is for knowing that stuff also he finds it really funny to figure out how ur brain thinks

“so you’re telling me the bald man did not invent capitalism in america”

“yes my love jeff Bezos did not invent capitalism”

“then why does he have the bitcoin didnt he like make it”

“that’s not the same thing sweetheart” he said as he placed a kiss on ur forehead

He also loves watching you do like little fashion shows for him like you’ll come back from the mall to your shared home or apartment and walk in with like dozens of bags. “sho do you wanna see all the stuff i got” “of course let me make room”

He gets very excited and takes pictures of you trying on every outfit. He’ll do the same thing with your hair or makeup one time you asked him to curl your hair because your curler broke and he was so focused. and he loves making your sheet facemasks cold for you when you guys do skincare days

he is more then willing to do the facemasks with you and he even puts on one of those cute hair pieces and you take like a bunch of photos for your instagram 😻

When you have to go to like formal events with him he likes matching outfits with you like not so obvious matching but someone will probably connect the dots

When he’s like sitting down doing taxes or the mortgage you say you wanna help but he doesn’t want to frustrate you so he just lets you sit in his lap and watch him or once in a while read him some titles of things

you update his instagram for him because he never posts unless it’s pictures of you or you and him together

whenever you have to go run errand shoto always try’s to plan his days off to align with your errand days. he figured it’s better to accompany so you don’t get lonely (and so that he’s not so worried about you)

He figured out he needs to run errands with you one day after this guy at the car shop overpriced you for an oil change he showed up at the car shop after you told him about it and started yelling at the guy 😭

‘m sorry sho, should’ve known he was making me pay too much or something.” “no, no it’s not your fault baby i could never be mad at you for something like this, that bastard has no shame.” he said giving you a kiss

you guys have those subscriptions where they bring fresh food and recipes to your doorstep because you’re not good at doing things without really detailed instructions but y’all still need to eat so when shoto can cook he does but sometimes he’s super busy at work so you end up doing one of the recipes the subscription gives you

if you guys have any dogs or cats and they cause trouble you’re probably the one that gets them out of trouble with shoto every time. “no baby no don’t put him in his crate he didn’t mean it he’s just a puppy” you say to shoto while struggling to hold your dog in your arms. “it was just an accident right bubs it’s just an accident? say sorry daddy” you say speaking to your dog while kissing him on his lil head.

shoto gets very jealous if you have pets together 😭 you’re just a very loving person but he wants that only for him.

you try to have conversations with him on current events without sounding completely stupid and he really appreciates that you try but he finds the conversations more cute then philosophical or analytical especially when you try to pronounce big words the article said

tag list <3: @witchbettie

#shoto todoroki x reader #pro hero shoto #shoto fluff #bimbo!reader #shoto x y/n #shouto x y/n #pro hero shouto #shouto fluff #bnha fluff #bnha shouto #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto #shoto #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki #shoto x you

672 notes · View notes

ryukatters · 3 years

Text

Random (college) Eren headcanons (SFW and NSFW) Minors DNI

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x fem bodied! Reader

Warnings: breeding kink, NSFW content

Word count: .8k words

Author’s note: It’s 4 AM and I can not sleep. This is my first piece of writing on here, but I’m not sure if I’ll post some more since it’s not really my forte. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy!

SFW

- Will get into random cleaning moods. Will absolutely make sure everything in his apartment is sparkly clean when he’s in one

- Would skip his lecture just so he could attend yours with you. Would even try and take notes then try and introduce himself to your professor after class to talk about that day’s lecture. He’s embarrassing bye

- Hates hot coffee. Will drink an iced vanilla sweet cream cold brew even if it’s -20° out

- Tries to get the cars next to him to race when they’re at a red light

- Camera roll is full of pictures of you. Screenshots of your snaps, random pictures of you sleeping, eating, studying. Laughs at the embarrassing ones, but those are his favorite

- Insists on doing EVERYTHING with you. Buying groceries? Going to the library? Getting some boba/coffee? Painting? Going on a walk? Eren will be there. No questions asked. (Even if you didn’t invite him.)

- Which brings me to my next point, Eren will 100% show up where you’re at unexpectedly to hang out and annoy you. You two have each other’s locations, and he’s memorized your schedule so get used to him popping up out of nowhere cuz he has nothing better to do

- You like X band/show/movie/book? Eren will make sure to watch/listen/read at least part of it so y’all have something to talk about.

- If he recommends a show for you two to watch together, you bet your ass Eren will wait for you when a new episode comes out.

- Drives really fucking fast for no reason. He goes 30 over the speed limit and sometimes uses his knee to steer on the highway bc he’s too lazy to use his hands (not when you’re in the car though, will still drive fast but will not be as reckless)

- Speaking of driving, he has a Polaroid of you on his dash that he looks at all the time <3

- Let’s you paint his nails (he likes it when you two are matching)

- Lets you choose out his outfits and he chooses yours. Actually has pretty good fashion sense, and will make sure you’re wearing something that you’re comfortable with wearing.

- Gives you massages randomly so you could give him one back

- Steals your things. Scrunchies, fuzzy socks, pens, markers, any extra (unused) toothbrushes you have. Turns you into his personal convenience store

- Takes your phone when you’re not looking. Takes goofy pics and videos. Occasionally, he’ll record a sweet video of him telling you he loves you or how proud he is of you.

- A gentleman. Will open doors for you, drive you everywhere, give you his coat, etc. Carla Jaeger raised a respectful boi

NSFW

- H O R N Y 25/8

- This man has the highest fucking sex drive. You have no idea how. He can’t help it, you’re just so sexy he wants you every second of every minute of every hour 😪

- Gets off at fucking the living daylight out of you. Seeing your eyes roll back, brain turned to mush unable to form a coherent thought because of HIM is so satisfying to Eren

- will straight up ask for nudes/lewds. Compiles them in a secret album on his phone to look at later.

- Once you two became sexually active, he stops masturbating as much. Will wait until he can see you.

- This man will start to try and get freaky with you while y’all are cuddling.

- Lowkey (highkey) loves when you get huffy and puffy and bratty with him. Makes putting you in your place so much sweeter.

- A menace. Will watch you writhe and whine for him to put his cock in you and enjoys watching your expression once he does immensely.

- LOUD. Very very very vocal. Has the prettiest moans and groans. Encourages you to be loud as well. Anyone who happens to stumble past y’all fucking will think you two are pornstars

- A fucking fiend at dirty talk. Says the nastiest shit that makes your cheeks burn red while he slams into your tight pussy.

- Has a breeding kink. “Yeah? Does my princess want me to breed her like the little whore she is?”

- Likes to watch his cum seep out of your hole. Slaps your sore pussy if it gets on the bed/car/table/wherever y’all did it. “I thought I told you to keep it all in? Unless you want me to fill you up again.”

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost my writing without my permission.

#eren jaeger #attack on titan #eren aot #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren smut #eren fluff #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x you #eren headcanons #kat’s writing

798 notes · View notes

cafedanslanuit · 3 years

Text

chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter

✖ — summary: porco wasn't surprised when you called him at three in the morning because you were too drunk to drive back to your place. he would always be there when you needed, both as your best friend and the guy who was completely head over heels for you. and both of them were sure zeke jaeger was cheating on you.

✖ — pairing: porco/reader & zeke/reader

✖ — tags/warnings: so far it’s sfw but rating will change in future chapters, college au, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, unrequited love, cheating, toxic relationships, friends to lovers

chapter one: save your love

“Thanks for picking me up, Pock. You didn’t have to.”

“Tch. Of course I did,” Porco replied, putting his arm on the back of your seat on his car and reversing, getting out of the bar’s parking lot. You took your time observing him and noticed the bags under his eyes. You shouldn’t have been surprised. What were you expecting when you called him at 3 am asking him to pick you up from the bar because you were too drunk to drive home?

Porco rested his arm on the open window of his car, his other hand handling the wheel with ease. There were very few cars on the highway and the chilly air refreshed your body just right, making the ride home a lot more comfortable than you pictured. You closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of safeness you always felt whenever your best friend was around, plus the sweet dizziness on your head from the vodka and Porco’s cologne.

“What did the fucker do this time?”

It didn’t last long.

“He didn’t do a thing.”

Porco scoffed. “Yeah, right. Are you really going to pretend you didn’t end up in that bar because of what Zeke’s ‘friend’ just posted on her Instagram?”

“Porco, please.”

“What was the caption again? Oh, right. ‘Movie night’, devil face emoji, fire emoji,” he recalled with a snicker, his eyes fixated on the road. “She even tagged him on it, her legs resting on his lap and shit. Was it the same girl he took to the cat shelter for some ‘volunteer work’ last week or another?”

You didn’t answer. You knew Porco already knew who she was.

“She’s very pretty,” you mused. “It makes sense.”

“Please, have you looked at yourself?” Porco asked, taking a right turn.

Jokingly, you took the rearview mirror and angled it towards you. Your mascara was a little worn off and there were only traces of the red lipstick you had put on before heading to the bar. Your hair was messy as well and you look like you desperately needed a bottle of water.

“I look like shit,” you laughed, putting the mirror back to its original place.

“Shut the fuck up, you look good.”

“Pock, look at me. Whatever is going on here,” you said, gesturing at your face, “ain’t good. If you think so, your taste is really lacking.”

Porco chuckled, eliciting a soft smile from you.

“I like to think I have really good taste.”

“If we’re being serious, you have way too high standards,” you yawned, extending your arms and feeling some cracks on your back.

“How so?” he inquired, arching an eyebrow.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since I know you, which is what— a year?”

“And?”

“And I’m starting to think you’re afraid of commitment. Maybe you’re just afraid of a relationship,” you shrugged.

“Are you done, Freud?” he teased, sparing a quick glance at you before looking back at the road again.

“All I’m saying is you’ve had both beautiful girls and boys at your disposition and you have never even tried to date them. Well, no, my bad, you did take this one girl on a date. And what happened next?”

Porco chuckled. “Look, it’s not like that, we just didn’t click and—”

“You told her you were better off as friends and to this day I haven’t listened to a solid reason as to why you would drop such a pretty girl like her.”

“She just didn’t have what I was looking for,” he shrugged innocently.

“See what I mean? Unbelievable high standards. None of us is worthy of the mighty Porco Galliard, the lacrosse team captain who can fit seventeen marshmallows inside his mouth.”

Both of you broke in laughter, not caring about waking up someone from the houses alongside the road. You looked around and immediately recognized the neighbourhood, your laugh ceasing immediately. You patted Porco’s arm, trying to get his attention.

“Can you turn left at the next intersection?”

“We need to keep straight to get to your place.”

“I want to go to Zeke’s for a minute.”

Porco’s face twisted into a scowl. “Why would you want to go to him right now?”

“I— he told me he was watching movies by himself. I just want to check on him, we don’t even have to step off the car.”

“Hey,” he said sternly, catching your attention. “Don’t do this. You saw her Instagram post, you know what happened between those two. Are you really going to believe him after you just saw fucking evidence?”

“I know him,” you insisted. “He wouldn’t just flat out lie to me, not like that.”

“And the photo from tonight? How do you explain that?”

You took a deep breath, a sharp pain in your head making you close your eyes tightly.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “Please, just— drive past his house. If his lights are out, then he must be sleeping after watching those movies by himself, just like he told me so.”

Porco scoffed.

“Porco, please,” you pleaded, squeezing his arm as you got closer and closer to the intersection. “Please.”

Rolling his eyes, Porco turned left as you asked him to and started driving to Zeke’s house, following your instructions. He didn’t try to come up with conversation again, instead, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he pulled up crossing the street, a couple of houses away from your target.

Your heart immediately relaxed when you looked at Zeke’s window: the lights were off. You let out a long, tired sigh, letting your forehead rest on the glove compartment of Porco’s car.

“I don’t understand you,” Porco sneered, resting his chin on his hand, his elbow pressed on the open window of his car. “Him having the lights off means nothing, he could—”

Porco turned to you as you sat back up, your eyes meeting his. He bit his tongue, silently cursing and looked at his wheel, setting both his hands on it.

“He could what?” you insisted.

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, passing a hand through his hair. “His lights are off. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you whispered, sitting back against his passenger seat and getting comfortable.

Right when Porco was reaching for his keys, a noise in the quiet neighbourhood startled you. Both of you raised their heads as a black car passed alongside them and parked in front of Zeke’s house. A tall, blonde girl exited the same house, accompanied by none other than your boyfriend. You recognized her as Yelena, who had begun appearing more and more frequently in his pictures at the same time he started posting less and less about you.

Zeke walked her to the car and you watched in horror as she pressed a kiss on the corner of his lips before getting in the car. He closed the door after her and patted the roof of the car twice before sending her off. Porco gripped the wheel tightly as Zeke stretched his arms and walked back home, dragging his feet without a care in the world.

Sighing, Porco turned to you, who were already dialling Zeke’s number.

“No, c’mon,” he said, trying to take your phone away but you swatted his hand away, putting a finger on top of your lips, asking for silence.

“Hey baby,” you greeted in your fake, cheery voice. Porco couldn’t believe after spending two years with you, Zeke couldn’t realize that when your voice got too high-pitched, it meant you were faking every word. “Yeah, I know it’s late. Sorry. Sorry. Yes, I just— I know. I know it’s too late to call.”

Porco could feel his blood boiling at every apology that came out of your mouth even after witnessing Yelena leaving his house not even five minutes ago.

“I just wanted to ask how you were doing? Were the movies fun?” you made a pause, your smile tight on your face. “Ah, I see. Wasn’t it boring to watch all by yourself?” you pressed and not even you could maintain your smile after hearing his response. “Mhm, I do know you prefer to watch movies alone. Anyway, it is quite late. Talk to you later, I love—”

You looked at the screen on your phone and noticed the call had already ended.

“Well, there’s that,” you mused to yourself before putting your phone back on your jeans.

Silently, Porco started his car again, driving away from the suburbs and heading to your place as he had intended in the first place. The comforting silence was now poisonous, his eyes flicking from the road every minute to check on you, who was looking outside the window with your eyes lost. your mind probably too full of thoughts that he couldn’t begin to understand.

It didn’t mean he didn’t want to, though.

He kept driving in silence until he reached your apartment, parking in his usual spot. He left the engine running, even if you knew he always waited until you entered the building to drive away. He unlocked the doors and let out a long sigh.

“Drink some water before getting to bed,” Porco reminded you, both his hands on the wheel.

You didn’t move a muscle, eyes lost on his glove compartment, the events of the night running around your head. Yelena’s Instagram photo. Zeke’s text telling you he was alone. Him kissing her goodnight at 2 am.

“Hey,” he called, startling you. “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth but then closed it, not knowing where to start. You pursed your lips and tugged at your fingers in discomfort.

“Talk to me,” Porco insisted.

“Can you stay tonight?” you asked in a small voice. “Annie is out and I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts tonight.”

Before you could finish your sentence, Porco was already killing the engine.

It was a silent walk to your apartment. You checked yourself in the elevator's mirror, realizing how awful you truly looked. Your eyeliner was smudged along with your mascara and the bags under your eyes were more noticeable than ever. As you inspected your face, Porco grabbed your cheek between his thumb and index, playfully pulling it from side to side until you were laughing, asking him to stop.

When you entered your apartment, you immediately walked to the bathroom, in deep necessity of a shower. Porco knew your apartment like the back of his hand, so after a quick detour to the kitchen, he made his way to your bedroom. He saw your laptop on your bed, messy sheets and clothes on the floor, probably how you had left it after seeing Yelena’s post on Instagram and decided to go to your favourite bar and forget about it for a while.

Porco took off his shoes and started picking up your clothes and put them on your spare chair, your laptop now on your desk. While he made your bed, he listened to you using your hairdryer in the bathroom and figured you would be out soon. He took out his phone from his pocket and looked at this schedule. It was already four in the morning and he had classes at nine. It was okay, he told himself. He had a hoodie in his car he could change into the next morning, and no one would say anything about him arriving in sweatpants. Well, no one that cared enough about their reputation to try and make fun of one of the golden boys of the university, at least.

You stepped off your bathroom already wearing your pyjamas, a tank top and small cotton shorts. Being friends with Porco for so long, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you in your pyjamas but it was truly the first time he saw you so small while wearing them. Maybe it was because of everything that happened that night, your tired eyes or the way you were standing, but Porco had to fight off the urge to put his arms around your body and protect you. From what? He wasn’t quite sure.

He handed you a bottle of water he had grabbed from the kitchen and you drank it all in one try.

“The only true secret to avoid being hungover tomorrow,” he reminded you.

“I know,” you smiled, leaving the empty bottle on your desk. “C’mon, let's get to bed.”

Porco had slept with you before, sure. You had travelled to the beach together with some friends and your sleeping bags were always put next to each other, which only prompted you to talk all night, telling each other embarrassing stories from your younger years. You had also fallen asleep in Porco’s dorm before, after a party that left you too tired to go back to your place. He would always let you crash on his bed and you slept soundly, knowing you were safe if he was around.

Zeke had never liked that. But Porco couldn’t care less.

He got into bed first, scooting to the wall and making space for you. You laid next to Porco, facing him and sighed happily when your head finally hit your pillow

“Thanks for making the bed, Pock,” you smiled.

“Why are you still with him?”

You averted his gaze, your smile dropping in an instant. “I love him,” you muttered.

“Do you? Do you really love someone who is lying to you like this?” he insisted. You felt a knot forming on your throat. “You understand he was fucking Yelena, right?”

You nodded softly, hugging the pillow under your head.

“Then why waste your time with an asshole like him? What are you waiting for, what do you want him to do so you finally leave him? What’s your tipping point, huh?”

Porco’s voice was gentle yet firm as he tried to get to you. He watched you as you laid still, not willing to answer any of his questions. He wondered if maybe you didn’t want to know the answer either.

“You’re smart. You’re— fuck, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Why are you letting him treat you like garbage? Why are you allowing him to hurt you like this?”

Once again, he was met with silence.

“You’re are fun, beautiful and yet you’re drunk at 4 am on a fucking Wednesday because your boyfriend is cheating on you and not only that— he’s fucking her and letting everyone know. Why are you doing this to yourself?” he inquired, his voice getting a little desperate. “You should be with someone who treats you right, who— fuck, someone who knows how much you’re worth. Someone who would never hurt you like this.”

You couldn’t suppress a cold laugh.

“Yeah, like who?” you scoffed, nuzzling your face on your pillow.

“Like me.”

You snapped your head to Porco, eyes open wide and lips parted, trying to form words.

“W-what?”

You looked at Porco, his eyes looking intensely at you. He opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, almost to himself, shifting on the bed and propping up on his elbow, his body still facing yours. “I said what I said. I… I love you. Have loved you for quite some time now,” he admitted. You watched heat rising to his cheeks, tinting them deep red.

“I— I love you too,” you said softly. “You know that. I always tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life and that I—”

“You know I don’t mean it like that. I don’t love you as a friend,” Porco muttered, rolling his eyes.

You stayed in silence, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your eyes scanned the bed sheets between both your bodies. Even if Porco was being crystal clear with his words regarding his feelings towards you, somehow it didn’t make sense in your head.

“Why?” you whispered.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why do you… well—”

“Why do I love you?” Porco asked, raising an eyebrow. He watched you nod softly. “Well, ‘cause it’s you. Ever since we met, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, your weird sense of humour and your irrational fear of panda bears,” he said, making both of you laugh, helping in releasing the tension both of you were carrying since his confession. “C’mon, you honestly thought I was so full of myself I didn’t think anyone was worthy of dating me? Fuck, I—,” he let out an honest chuckle, passing a hand through his hair. “I was just in love with you. And trust me, it’s not fun going out on a date with someone when all you can think is ‘Oh, she’d love this place’ or ‘I would be having much more fun if she was here instead’.”

“You really did that?” you asked in a small voice.

Porco smirked, cocking his head towards you. You knew his confession was playing a big part but you couldn’t stop noticing how handsome he truly was. Sure, you had always known he was good-looking, you knew this when you teased him for not going out with other people, but you never realized how truly beautiful he was.

Looking at him lying on your bed, the moonlight coming from your open window and hitting his face, it was as if you were looking at him for the first time, noticing the smallest details you had been ignoring for so long. Like how his eyes weren’t hazel but golden and that he had a few freckles on his cheekbones, decorating his slightly tanned skin. His lips also looked soft, even for someone who had woken up in the middle of the night to pick up their drunk friend. The white t-shirt he was wearing exposed his toned arms, making you feel the need to bury your face on his chest so he could put them around you.

You hadn’t realized you were moving forward until you felt Porco’s hand on your shoulder, preventing you from getting closer. You should have known you wouldn’t have been able to notice his freckles from afar. Porco’s eyes went from your lips back to your eyes and you sensed how bad he was rethinking his choices as he gently pushed you back on the bed.

“Listen, I—” he started, his blush only getting more noticeable, now making the tip of his nose turn red as well. “I’m not going to be your rebound, neither someone who you fuck out of spite or to get back at your boyfriend. Fuck, I don’t even know why I told you this,” he sighed, putting down his propped arm and laying his cheek on the pillow next to you. “Just… do better. For yourself. You deserve much more than that monkey man who hasn’t realized he’s a four dating a ten.”

You giggled at his remark and he smirked, proud of himself. Porco and you looked at each other’s eyes, a soft smile lingering on your lips. Tentatively, you reached for his hair, his golden locks feeling soft under your touch. Porco stayed still as you played with his hair, even closing his eyes as you did so.

After a few moments, your hand travelled to his cheek, making him open his eyes again. Your thumb gently stroked his skin, soft and tender under your touch. Porco’s eyes were fixed on your face as you caressed him silently. Your other fingers started running over his skin with a feather-like touch, entrapped in the sweet moment between the two of you.

Porco turned his head just enough for his mouth to meet your palm. He pressed a kiss on it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt your heart skipping a beat and a smile creeping on your face.

“Can I hug you?” you asked in a whisper.

Porco nodded, opening his arms for you. You scooted closer to him, sliding your right arm around his waist, bending your other arm and flushing your head against his chest. Your legs tangled together, not taking too long before finding a comfortable position.

Once you were settled, Porco’s left arm draped around your body, pulling you closer to him gently. He pushed his right arm under your pillow, loving how easy it felt to be like this with you. It was as if you were always meant to sleep like this, with your face against his chest and your hand on his back. He looked down at you and pushed some of your hair away from your face

“Are you comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, taking a deep breath and sighing contently against his chest. Porco’s cologne filled your senses and you couldn’t help but smile at the homely feeling.

He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Goodnight,” he whispered, closing his eyes. You imitated him and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

...

When Porco opened his eyes the next morning, he felt as if only a couple of seconds had passed since he had closed his eyes. He sighed. Well, it wasn’t the first time that he had sleeping problems but a part of him innocently hoped it would change after he got to sleep by your side. He looked at your sleeping face. It was way too innocent from him to think just because he got to rest by your side he would have had a good sleep.

He looked down at your sleeping face and couldn’t help but smile a little. He recalled the moment you leaned into him, searching for a kiss before he had to push you away. Porco exhaled, his eyes travelling to your lips. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to kiss the girl of his dreams— hell, he had dreamt about that for almost a year now.

But not like that. Never like that.

Porco took his phone on your bedside table and checked the time. Seven in the morning. He yawned, burying his face in the pillow. He hated his inability to go back to sleep after he had already woken up. His first class was in three hours and while you didn’t have any classes in the morning, he knew you would probably wake up regretting having drunk so much the night before.

Carefully, he pulled away from you and headed to the kitchen. You had mentioned Annie was going to be out and he figured either she hadn’t come home yet or she was asleep as well. Just in case, he tried to be extra silent while preparing coffee. He thanked Annie was the closest thing to a coffee connoisseur he knew, because he couldn’t help but let out a happy hum when the smell of coffee filled the kitchen.

As he watched the coffee drip on your mug, he leaned on the counter, his mind going back to the night he’d spent on your bed. How your fingers traced his hair, how your hand felt against his cheek and the way you looked at him when he kissed your palm. Even if he had stopped you from kissing him, somehow the tender moment you shared had felt even more intimate. Like it was always supposed to be like that: just you and him.

It wasn’t until several minutes later that Porco realized he had been smiling the whole time. He had told you he loved you. You hadn’t pushed him away after knowing how he really felt about you— not only that, you had shown him tenderness by cuddling with him the whole night. Even if Porco was aware things were far more complicated than that moment, he also knew it was a step in the right direction. He could almost see you sitting on the counter in front of him, morning light hitting your face and your legs swinging while you looked at him with a soft smile.

A shuffling noise made Porco snap out of his daydreaming. He peeked from the kitchen door, thinking Annie was back home but instead he found you stepping out of the room, wearing shorts and a big hoodie while you checked your phone.

“Thought you didn’t have class until later today,” Porco said, walking into the living room and startling you.

“Hey Pock— and no, I— Zeke called. He said he wants to talk, that he needs me, so I… I called an Uber, I’m going to his place now.”

“Are you serious right now?”

You looked into his eyes and immediately back to the floor, his glare too full of the truth for you to endure.

“The Uber is waiting,” you said in a small voice. “Thanks for… driving me home and staying. I have to go.”

In silence, Porco watched you walk past him to your apartment door and carefully close it behind you. A part of him wanted to think it was nothing but a joke from your part, that you would open the door any second now.

The song of the coffee machine turning off let him know he should have known better than to hope.

#snk x reader #aot x reader #porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #porco angst #porco fluff #porco galliard angst #porco galliard fluff #aot porco #snk porco #porco #porco galliard x you #porco x you

483 notes · View notes