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festivalsofmargot · 1 year

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Pining in Potions Class {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: Sebastian Sallow is forming a huge crush on you, and it’s hitting him all at once in a very annoying way. Something as simple as not being partnered with you in potions class eats away at him. Gotta love some jealous Sebastian. Takes place after MC has met Anne and before completing his final mission. Some levity to enjoy being students with crushes.

Word Count: ~ 2,600

Warnings: None really, just some Hogwarts students crushing on each other from afar.

Author’s Note: You ever get in trouble with a teacher in class and look at your friend who’s trying not to laugh then you struggle not to laugh? That’s exactly the experience I was thinking of writing this haha. Come on, Sebastian Sallow and MC are the next Ron and Hermione, you can’t convince me otherwise. (Though I really head cannon over Sebastian and a hufflepuff) I wrote this so it was gender neutral and non house specific.

Songs (if interested):

Hold Me Tight - Berlinist

She - dodie

WACKY - Matt Watson

Lady May - Tyler Childers

That day in potions class, Professor Sharp had told the students to partner up for the day’s brew, the focus potion. You and Garreth Weasley, being near each other already, looked at one another and gave an innocent shrug of your shoulders, agreeing to partner up.

Sebastian had partnered up with Natty and couldn’t help but glance your direction. He felt a pang of jealousy when he saw how close you and Garreth were standing when reading over the recipe in the text book. Quickly convincing himself he wasn’t bothered, he looked down at his and Natty’s station, trying to focus.

But he was bothered. You had still been around to help whenever he asked, but he couldn’t help feeling this distance starting to grow between the two of you. He had found himself coming up with any and every excuse to get you to help him with something, otherwise he didn’t think he’d be able to see you outside of class. He noticed you had a lot of assignments to do that required you to leave Hogwarts so he’s offered to go along to help. But every time he did you turned him down, saying you understood how busy he was with his research and would ask Poppy or Natty if you needed anything.

Today’s missed opportunity caused him to tap his fingers on the desk in annoyance as he looked over the ingredients. He wished he had some sort of a heads up if they were going to need partners in any of the classes they shared together. That way he could be proactive with where he sat next time.

“The reason I’ve partnered you up today,” Professor Sharp began, “is not because of the difficulty of the potion, the potion’s ingredients are few and very easy to keep balanced. The real challenge lies in the preparation of the ingredients. It will be strenuous work squeezing the juice from your dugbog tongues." The class made a collective sound of disgust which brought an amused smirk to the Professor’s face.

Among the class’s sounds of repulsion, Sebastian heard you trying to stifle your giggles. His envy only grew when he realized your laughter was a response to something Weasley had whispered to you.

“Now, a slimy dugbog tongue will work fine, but a dried up tongue will make the potion not only more effective, it can last longer as well. Use the tools I’ve given to you to dry out the tongues, your arms will get tired so let your partner know when you need them to take over. Begin.”

Sebastian and Natty gave each other an inquisitive look, unsure of how to get started.

“I guess we’ll start with the rolling pin?” Natty suggested, grabbing it and then making work of squeezing the juice out of the tongue. It was much harder than she expected. The more she rolled, the tougher it felt. “Whew! This is going to tire me out fast, be ready to switch, Sebastian.”

“Right.” Sebastian said. While he waited for Natty to finish her round, he couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering your way. He found it cute how you were trying to stand on your tiptoes when rolling out the dugbog tongue, hoping gravity would help you out if you were able to get more of your weight on it.

“Woah, Garreth.” You said, letting out an exhausted breath, feeling the burn in your arms. “Would you mind going to hang up my robes while I do my turn?” You asked as you shed the garment. You weren’t a stranger to physical labor, you knew when you were going to work up a sweat.

“No problem.” Garreth said, taking your robes and shedding off his own as well. “Was going to do the same myself. Not my first dugbog tongue, unfortunately.”

As Garreth walked off to the back of the class to hang up your robes, you rolled up your sleeves and got back to work.

Sebastian had a slight longing it was him who you had asked to hang up your robes as his eyes roamed up and down your backside. He didn’t think the school uniform fit anyone quite as well as it fit you. Realizing what he was doing, he mentally chastised himself and snapped his attention back to his table. At that point, Natty was holding out the rolling pin to him. He took it from her and she began shaking out her arms, seemingly too worn out to tease him if she had noticed his staring.

“Go as long as you can Sebastian, I might not have paced myself very well and overdone it.”

“Don’t worry, Natty. I got this.” Sebastian assured her, but as soon as he began rolling out the dugbog tongue he understood why everyone said it was so difficult. There was barely any squish to the thing! It was like trying to get orange juice from an orange made of marble. He poised himself, took a deep breath, and leaned forward, beginning his rolls again.

It had been a good few minutes of rolling when your laugh broke Sebastian’s focus, stealing his attention again.

“Garreth, stop it!” He heard you jokingly chide among the class’s chattering voices. While forcing himself to keep rolling, he looked over to see Garreth laughing with you, trying to get his hands on the roller while you were still giving a go at the dugbog tongue.

“Alright, we’ll do it together then if that’s what you want.” Garreth quipped. Sebastian’s stomach dropped when he saw the red head put both of his hands over yours on the roller to help put more force on the dugbog tongue.

“You’re a piece of work, Garreth.” You snickered, pulling away and playfully smacking his arm. Garreth shot you a sly smirk as he got into a better position to start his rolling.

“Don’t even try to hide it, you love having me as a potions partner already.” Though you shook your head at him, Sebastian noticed the amused smile gracing your lips.

Getting more fed up than tired, Sebastian stepped back from rolling and looked at Natty. “Alright, your turn.” He said with a huff. He took off his robes as well and offered to take Natty’s.

Sebastian tried to catch your eye as he walked to and from the back of the classroom but to no avail, you were too focused on the dugbog tongue and Garreth’s jokes. He returned to his station and took the rolling pin back from Natty, his annoyance fueling him.

“You take over.” Garreth said, handing you the rolling pin. “I’m going to snag some dittany leaves.”

You let out a sigh at both beginning your rolls and what Garreth had just told you. Dittany leaves were not on the ingredient list and you both knew it. “Please stay here.” You pleaded.

This time, it was Sebastian who started to crack a smile as he eaves dropped on the two of you. Maybe Garreth can turn your oh so hilarious potions class into a nightmare.

“Trust me, it’ll be a simple hybrid of a focus and wiggenweld potion.” Before you could protest further, Weasley had already darted towards the ingredient shelves.

You, not having the energy to call after him again, groaned and continued rolling. When he returned with a goofy smile on his face, you couldn’t fight back your guffaw at his ridiculous antics, letting out an adorable snort. “Garreth, I’m going to kill you.”

“Relax, I’ll take the blame if things go wrong. Just act like you didn’t know I added the leaves.”

Just as quickly as his smile formed, it vanished from Sebastian’s face. That was his move. He had taken the blame for you when you two got caught in the restricted section in hopes to impress you a bit. Surely taking the fall in the library was a lot more impressive than taking the fall for a potion mishap.

“Alright class, time is up on drying out the tongues. Go on and place all the ingredients in for your focus potion.” Professor Sharp instructed.

Sebastian and Natty put in their ingredients and began stirring, and sure enough, the pot turned the right shade of blue they needed.

Suddenly, a whizzing noise came from yours and Garreth’s pot, grabbing everyone’s attention in the class including Professor Sharp’s. The whizzing noise grew louder and louder. The two of you looked at each other in panic, then out of the pot burst a small, smelly black cloud, giving a pathetic poot noise.

The whole class burst into laughter, including Sebastian. He couldn’t see your face because you were hiding it behind your hands, but he could tell you were laughing as well due to your shaking shoulders. Professor Sharp limped his way over to you and Garreth, the exhausted look on his face implied he knew it was more Garreth’s doing than yours.

It was then you finally looked Sebastian’s way, your face turning to a mix of hilarity and pain as you grabbed the side of your stomach from laughing too hard. You gave him a helpless face, hoping to convey to Sebastian how absurd working with Garreth was.

Sebastian gave you a smug look and began clapping his hands, “Well done.”

You gave him a small smile and an oh well shrug and brought your attention back to Professor Sharp.

The class had quieted down at the seriousness in Professor Sharp’s tone. As you and Garreth were getting a good scolding in front of everyone, Sebastian noticed you were biting the inside of your cheeks to prevent yourself from laughing further. He had to quickly look down to his feet, sealing his lips together as tightly as he could to stop any chuckles of his own from coming through.

As much as he didn’t like the idea of getting in trouble with Professor Sharp, he couldn’t help but want to be in Garreth’s position. He wanted to be the one that made you laugh like that. He wanted to be the one who’s arm you playfully smacked. He wanted to be your partner in crime.

You made him feel a levity he hadn’t felt since Anne got cursed. Something about you drew him in and he found himself at ease whenever you were around. At first he didn’t like it, convinced himself you made him lose focus on finding a cure for his sister. But after everything you’d done so far to help him, realizing his sister had just as much fun around you as he did, and witnessing how willing you were to go into the unknown, he realized you were progressing things more than anything.

“Let’s be grateful it was only dittany leaves you added, Mr. Weasley.” Professor Sharp reprimanded, then turned to make his way back to his desk. “Well, with that rather exciting end to class, you’re all dismissed.”

As everyone made their way out of class, you and Garreth stayed behind to clean up the mess he caused.

Sebastian kept an eye on you in his peripheral vision as he and Natty gathered their robes and slipped them back on. He took this chance to grab yours and bring them over.

“Aw thanks, Sebastian. You shouldn’t have, I really appreciate it.” Garreth wisecracked as you and him were scrubbing the table.

“Shut up, Weasley.” Sebastian said with a chuckle, handing him his robes, then held up your robes so he could help you into them.

Your scrubbing slowed to a stop and a blush creeped up your neck. Sebastian had never done anything like this before. You tried to calm yourself as you turned and let him help you get your robes on.

Shrugging them on, you turned and thanked him. You met his expectant gaze and, after a moment, realized he was waiting for you to finish up so you could walk to your next class together. “Oh, um... you may have to go on without me. It might take us a while to finish up here.”

You also needed a second to yourself to breathe because Sebastian’s gesture had thrown you for a loop. He needed to be careful doing things like that, because you’d look too much into it and convince yourself he liked you back. The thought of burdening him with your feelings seemed so selfish. He had a cursed sister to help, he didn’t need some new Hogwarts student pining for him and making his life more complicated. He was already taking time out of his day to help you catch up on spells, no way you could ask any more of him.

Sebastian couldn’t help but feel disappointed, and it showed on his face. “Alright.” He rocked back and forth on his feet awkwardly. “I suppose I’ll... catch up with Ominis and see you in charms then?”

You gave him a smile and simple nod of your head. “See you there.”

He forced a smile back then slowly made his way out of the potions classroom, kicking the dirt at his feet as he went.

You got back to cleaning with Garreth, who was staring after Sebastian. Then he looked to you, “Well, that was downright awkward.”

You could only cringe. “Sorry, Garreth.”

“No need to apologize to me. It was Sebastian’s heart you broke back there, not - ow!” He was cut off when your elbow jammed into his ribs.

“Shut up and help me clean.” Deep down you were hoping it was true that Sebastian was disappointed he couldn’t walk with you to class. You wanted to live in that fantasy even just a little. But, realistically, he probably wanted to update you on what he found in Salazar Slytherin’s spell book since he couldn’t speak about it with Ominis.

The blush made its way back when you began to think about his forearm muscles flexing as he was rolling out his and Natty’s dugbog tongue. You were extra thankful you partnered up with Garreth, there was no pressure and he had made it fun. If you had partnered with Sebastian, you would have been a bumbling mess, unable to focus on the assignment. Probably would have had to reread the ingredients a few times over even though there were only three items. Merlin’s beard, you were hopeless.

Lately, it had been difficult for you to be around Sebastian. He had been making you so nervous, it was beginning to get frustrating. You wish you could go back to how it was when you first met. You were so overwhelmed trying to catch up with the other fifth years, you couldn’t overthink things when you were together even if you wanted to. But you’ve been getting the hang of things and excelling in your coursework, wielding magic became second nature. You didn’t need to put all your focus on classes anymore, so that freed up a lot of room in your mind for Sebastian.

With a defeated sigh, you and Garreth finished cleaning up your potions station. You grabbed your books and waved goodbye. As soon as you left the classroom, you looked up to see Sebastian leaning against the wall. He had decided to wait for you after all.

He pushed up off the wall and walked up to you, a smile spreading across your face. He took the quickest glance at your lips, catching himself before he could linger. Without warning, he grabbed your books and began walking away.

“Shall we?” He asked over his shoulder.

You pursed your lips as you watched him. Surely nothing to get your hopes up over, right? Right, surely nothing. Then you moved to join his side.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow angst

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rottingpirate · 1 year

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Gaz x Tall! Male reader where they are secretly married and 141 see their rings but think they are married to someone else

Secretly married || Gaz x Tall M!reader

Warnings: implied cheating, kissing

Hope you don't mind, but I wrote this as only Gaz having the ring on his finger and the reader having it as a necklace that's not exactly visible.

The whole shitshow started when Price sat silently at his desk, a burning cigar hanging from his mouth. It has been a quiet day so far, maybe because it’s still pretty early in the morning and most of the base was still sound asleep. He had completed all the paperwork that needed to be done, so he picked up a random magazine that sat at his desk, that he didn’t even know where it came from.

It was a white magazine with a bold yellow title and a picture of some model in the middle. It looked like something teenagers would read. He flipped it open at a random page which was a recipe page, Chocolate-covered cherries, sounded pretty okay but as Price wasn’t exactly the cooking type, he skipped a few pages until he found something rather amusing. ‘5 Tell-Tale signs that your coworkers are dating’. He was sure that no one in his squad was dating, but oh well, it wouldn’t hurt to read some stupid assumptions as he had nothing better to do.

‘1. They’re Always Talking To Each Other.’

Damn, at first you’re talking and then you’re suddenly married.

‘2. They Go To Lunch Together. All The Time’ ‘3. They Bring Each Other Coffee.’ ‘4. They Look At Each Other – A Lot’ ‘5. They Tease Each Other.’

His initial thought was Soap and Ghost, but it switched to you and Gaz real quick. You two were always together causing some trouble. Where there was one, the other one was close by. Gaz basically lived in your room for fucks sake.

Do you two always talk together? Yes. You two were best friends, inseparable you could say. Conversations, jokes, gossips, teasing, bickering, random debates, etc. But it could also be the fact that you were the youngest ones in 141, with almost no age gap.

Do you two eat together? Yes. Breakfast, lunch and dinner was always spent with you two sitting next to each other. Sometimes you wouldn’t even talk, just enjoying each other's presence. Other times you two would throw food at each other and laugh together.

Do you bring each other coffee? Yes. Usually in the mornings, you made coffee for each other. But then again, the coffee was for the entire squad so…

Do you look at each other? Also yes. Small glances here and there and looking at each other when you thought no one saw. Even when one of you would be having a conversation with someone else, your eyes would somehow meet.

But with all of these signs there was one problem though, Gaz was married. Price didn’t know to whom, because it never came up before, but Gaz did have a nice little silver ring on his ring finger.

Price decided that it was enough of reading and put the magazine aside. What he didn’t know was that he unknowingly and accidentally started paying attention to you two a lot more. How you two would interact with each other versus how you would interact with the rest of the 141. How sometimes Gaz would slightly brush his hand against yours. How you would rest your chin on top of his head and hug him close. How you would affectionately call him ‘Kyle’. How he would jump on your back from time to time and something Price never noticed before was that Gaz often wore your clothes. After basically spying on you two for a whole week he decided to tell Soap and Ghost.

“You think they’re fucking?” Ghost leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, while Soap stood next to him with a confused and slightly scared look on his face. “Gaz doesn’t strike me as the cheating type though.” Soap continued looking at him, glancing at Ghost before turning back to Price. “He doesn’t, but somethings going on with those two.” Price tapped the table, trying to figure out what to do. Should he even be worried about this? Well it sure would suck for his poor wife, who has no idea that her husband was cheating on her.

“Maybe we should just talk to them. Figure out what’s up.” Ghost was the voice of reason. He didn't want to jump into any conclusions. His stomach twists uncomfortably though. He wishes that it was just a misunderstanding.

After a good twenty minutes they decided on confronting you at the bar that all five of you would be going to tonight, hoping that maybe you’d be drunk enough to confess to whatever the fuck was going on.

In the evening, 10 minutes before you all were meeting up and leaving, the trio was heading towards your room where you and Gaz usually hung out. Maybe they could find some answers while also praying that this all was just a huge misunderstanding. Thankfully, your door wasn't fully closed and what they saw was horrifying. Yep, their suspicions were correct all along. Soap nearly dropped his wallet “Are you seeing this?” You two were kissing. Price pulled both men farther away from the private scene, suddenly scared to do anything.

They looked horrified, truly scared.

“But Gaz is married!”

With a gruff reply, Price said “That’s not good,” he bit his lip, a million thoughts crossing his mind.

“Should we do something?” Soap asked as he looked back at the other two. He was feeling sick all of a sudden. You and Gaz were his friends, and it really wasn’t their business what you two did behind closed doors, but it was just wrong. They had thought that Gaz was happily married. Did you know that he was married? Well, you had to right???

A moment of silence before Ghost speaks up.

He shook his head, “What can we do? It’s really none of our business what the two of them do behind closed doors together.”

“It’s still wrong,” Soap said, all defensive.

Price grabbed them and dragged them along, farther away from you two. “We’re not doing anything. Not now at least ”

You noticed a change in Soap over the next few days and grew concerned. He was acting standoffish with you and Gaz had said that he had noticed the same thing. You asked around, but it seemed like you two were the only ones that he was like that with.

He was your friend, you wondered what was going on with him. Did you do something wrong? “We should ask him,” you told Gaz that night as you laid in your bed with him cuddled up next to you. “I want to get to the bottom of this because I’m worried that we did something to offend him. Did we do something wrong? Is it because I accidentally spilled coffee over him?”

Gaz ran a hand through your hair, smiling lazily at your stressed expression, “It's probably nothing, dont worry about it.”

You frowned, “Well, I am worried.”

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Well, whatever it is…I’m sure we can figure it out tomorrow. Now, go to sleep. 'm tired.” He murmured, before closing his eyes and after a while you did too.

So the next day you and Gaz cornered Soap in the hallway. He stood near the wall, and he wouldn’t look either of you in the eye and you could tell he was really frustrated. He was irritated the entire day and wouldn’t even spar with you. You glanced at Gaz and then back at the mad Soap.

“Soap, we’ve noticed over the past week that you’ve become a little hostile toward us,” Gaz started. “We wanted to know why that was? If you don’t mind telling us.”

“Did we do something to offend you?” You asked, your voice softer. “Because whatever it is I’m sure that we can work it out.”

He finally looked at you, “How could you cheat on your wife?!” He shouted, looking at Gaz specifically.

The outburst left the two of you startled and you looked at one another. Gaz was about to say something, but you cut him off. "Gaz isn’t cheating on his wife, Soap" You were hesitant and confused.

“Price, Ghost and I saw you kissing one another. You’re married, how could you do that to your significant other?! We- I thought you were happily married.”

You were still a little confused. You were pretty sure Gaz told everyone that you two were together. Unless he didn’t. "I thought they knew." You said while not breaking eye contact with Soap.

"Didn't you tell them?"

"I thought you did…"

oh…

Then it all hit you. You laughed a little, pulling out your chain, it had a silver ring on it that was identical to the one Gaz had on his ring finger. "He doesn't have a wife. He has a husband actually and he isn't cheating on him either." You said with a sheepish grin on your face.

He was shocked. “No way…” Soap shook his head, not taking his eyes off the dangling ring. “Holy shit.”

You chuckled and shook your head, “If you're wondering, we’re very much in love and not cheating.”

“Then how come no one knows that the two of you are married?”

“I guess we never told anyone,” Gaz told him, scratching his head.

“Oh,” his cheeks heated up. “’m sorry. Bloody hell, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Fuck, It’s okay Soap, but next time talk to us about it instead of giving us the cold shoulder. We were confused to say the least..”

He nodded his head, “Kay, promise.” He nodded, a small smile creeping on his face. “Fuck, wouldn’t of guessed that you two would be married. Guess it makes sense the more I think about it.”

You all laughed about it for a good minute before deciding to come clean to the rest of the squad. The embarrassment on their faces was too clear and twice as funny.

#kyle gaz garrick #call of duty modern warfare ii #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #gaz x male reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #cod x male reader

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bloodynectarine · 2 years

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Pants are for the weak, and I'm strong af

MC refuses to wear pants. Chaos ensues.

tags. male mc, amab reader, shameless mc, mix of crack and fluff, slightly suggestive content (a healthy dose of horny grip), all the brothers.

notes. this is my first fic ever and my debut post, oof, sweats. what does one says. open up? enjoy the meal? come back soon?

After everything you've been through since your arrival at Devildom, including (but not limited to) a murder (yours, to be precise), you've slowly but surely carved your own way into the brothers' chaotic life.

Every time you wake up tangled in Mammon's arms and legs, you simply snuggle in, even when you were pretty sure you went to sleep to an empty bed the night before.

Walking around school holding Satan's arm feels as natural as breathing, and if you end up close enough to lay your head on his shoulder, so be it.

Whenever Asmo crosses the room to fix your hair or touch your face, rambling about how long your lashes are, how soft your skin feels, you lean in and bask in the attention.

Naps with Belphie are an everyday thing now: you let him lay on top of you, hide his face against your neck and snuggle anywhere between fifteen and forty minutes.

You already know every single one of Beel's eating habits. You can tell when a 108 seeds salad will do the job, and when you'll have to phone Barbatos, asking for his Bloody Terrine recipe.

Anime binges with Levi have introduced you to so many new series you love, and the amount of inside jokes the two of you share is probably a bit unhealthy.

If Lucifer decides to make eye contact with you from across the table at dinner, you have no problem to hold it, and if you let out the secret smile here and there, you're rewarded with an identical one.

They love it. They indulge in the way you let one wall down after the other, relishing in your company, constantly wondering, how close can they get? How much can they take from you before you stop them?

And still, when yet another wall crumbles down, and you show up late for breakfast one fateful Sunday morning with nothing but a long white t-shirt on —rubbing your eyes, tumbling in, clearly more asleep than awake—, the silence is loud, deafening.

“Legs” is the first thing that Asmo blurts out, immediately shutting up at the glare he gets from Lucifer. Nothing and no one can stop him from looking though.

“What? What leg?” You ask, voice low, slow, and drowsy as you sit down on the only available seat, between Levi and Beel.

Not even half a second later Levi gets up, muttering something about someone please switch places with me, do you want me to die, is that what you want, a shitty otaku like me isn't built for this, this is one of my favorite tropes--.

On cue, Mammon and Satan get up and rush to take the now free seat. The winner is Mammon, “That should teach ya!! Taste the power of the second born! THE Mammon!” he shrieks, loud but uncharacteristically evasive, face and neck as red as they get whilst holding intense eye contact with Levi's cereal bowl.

You laugh, as you always do, no longer surprised by their weird antics. “What's with that? Already fighting, so early on?” Elbow on table, cheek on hand, and the oversized t-shirt slides down, flashing an incredibly soft-looking shoulder.

While Levi chokes up with his own saliva and Beel reminds him he needs to breathe, Belphie sighs and shakes his head, unfazed, biting into his toast “Humans are pretty oblivious, uh? So dumb”, and if he moves his chair a little bit closer to try to get a better look, it's no one's business but his.

“Calling me dumb as soon as I get here? Mean”, you halfheartedly complain. Belphie might be onto something this time though: you have no idea what's going on.

Beel resumes chewing as he puts down a half-eaten cookie in front of you, “Saved this one for you”, which gets him a smile. In the next breath, Asmo puts two cookies (unchewed) on your plate “And I saved these for you, honey”, which gets him an even brighter smile.

Before everything gets out of control —he can already see his brothers wrestling until filling up your plate to the brim—, Lucifer decides it's time to intervene, “MC. Where are your pants.”

It's not a question, you notice. You scratch your neck and tilt your head, suddenly overly-conscious of your attire (or lack thereof) “Well. In my room. I hope.”

That gets you an exasperated sigh. Weird, that was even faster than usual. “Let me ask once again, and this time answer accordingly. Why are you not wearing your pants.”

“Oh. Haha. Actually, it's super funny” It's not. “But, you see, back in the human world I used to do this all the time.”

“This as in… Walking around naked?” Satan is the one asking, but while Lucifer sounds every bit of judgmental, he sounds playfully curious, his voice carries an obvious smile, even as he tries to hide it behind his mug (it's the one you got him, with cat ears, and a heart-shaped tail as the uncomfortable-looking handle).

“Not naked” How ridiculous would that be? You roll your eyes, reaching for your own mug (the one that has “Why be a demon hunter when you can be a demon kisser?” in bold red letters) and stopping halfway, thinking. “Surely I'm wearing boxers right now.” And to corroborate that you are, in fact, not walking around naked, you look down and lift the shirt. Just to be sure.

You've barely got a glimpse of black fabric (great, you didn't forget, that could've been embarrassing) when Mammon comes back to life, reaching out with both hands and pulling down to cover you once again, with more than enough strength. “Oi, oi, oi! W-w-what do ya think ya're doin'?! Are ya really that stupid?! Don't go around lettin' them s--”

A glimpse of your left nipple as the t-shirt slides even lower is apparently the straw that broke the demon's back, if the multiple gasps and squeals, delighted giggles (pretty sure those are Asmo's) and Lucifer's loud groan are any indicative.

“Enough. From now on, pants and t-shirts that actually fit are mandatory in and out the house.”

“Thank you, but no, thank you. I can't go back to wearing pants, they're suffocating. Also, it's only inside the house, so it should be okay, right?”

“It wasn't a question, this isn't about you agreeing or not, it's regulatory, and--”

“I say, if my darling doesn't want to wear pants, let him be, maybe it's a strange human tradition? We should join him!”

“That can't be the case, I haven't read anything like that before.”

“C-couldn't you at least wear a longer t-shirt? I'm going to pass out, it's exactly the same as in the second episode of I Turned Into a Bat Thinking My Childhood Friend Wouldn't Care But We Ended Up Married in The Afterlife where the protagonist--”

“It looks comfortable, MC. You probably can eat a lot in that.”

“And naps in a long t-shirt are the best, right? We should test it out. Right after breakfast.”

“Oi!! No! It's a no-go! Don't ya think I don't see ya lookin' at my human all over! Do I need to remind y'all who his first man is--”

“I don't see why it is such a big deal”, you mumble, pointedly not looking in Lucifer's direction, finally biting into a cookie as you let the t-shirt slide and move as it pleases, feeling snug and comfy in its embrace. So soft. “Aren't we all guys? There's nothing that I have that you don't.”

You continue chewing, eyes widening at a sudden realization “Or there is?” you ask, mouth full of cookie, trying to recall your limited knowledge in Demon Anatomy. Not your best subject, if you're being honest.

And thus a new round of shouting and squealing starts, so chaotic that getting a word in is impossible.

Or, at least was, until the ringing of the bell stops everyone in its tracks. Getting a few crumbs off your hands with the help of your very controversial t-shirt, you get up, walking towards the door with all the confidence of someone who's actually wearing pants.

It seems like ages since the last time all seven siblings agreed on something, but right now, they all scream in unison “Don't open the door!”.

ao3 ― writing tag

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incorrectbatfam · 1 year

Note

The 'Batfam on Reddit' post was fun and I won't mind another one! (I have nothing specific in mind besides more sibling shenanigans)

Going down the list, here's Jason

———————

Posted to r/AmITheAsshole by user local-zombie

AITA for changing my grandpa's cookie recipe?

Earlier this week, one of my (22M) sisters decided to fill my rifle with purple glitter. As revenge, I swapped the salt and sugar before she made her waffles this morning. Prank worked, yada yada, that's not why I'm here though.

See, like a dumbass, I forgot to switch them back. I've been running on 4 hours of sleep and I'm not even home half the time, sue me. It didn't really hit me until I was watching my grandpa make his signature chocolate chip cookies.

This was some cinematic shit, I tell you. Everything happened in slow motion. Before I could say anything, he dumped an entire cup of salt into the batter followed by a teaspoon of sugar and started the stand mixer. It seemed then that all was lost.

Out of nowhere, my dad—and I can't believe I'm saying this—descended like an angel from the heavens and asked my grandpa to help him with his hair. And lucky for me, I'm the only other person trusted to be in the kitchen. My grandpa told me to put the cookies in the oven before he went upstairs.

This is where I might be the asshole.

I needed to fix the dough immediately, so I added extra sugar and chopped up some caramel candy to (hopefully) turn it into some halfway-decent salted caramel chocolate chip cookies. Then I scooped them out, threw them in the oven, and prayed harder than the goddamn Pope himself.

Apparently God had a high call volume though, because as soon as the plate hit the table, my ENTIRE family knew something was up, like a bunch of fucking detectives or some shit. And they immediately blamed me. They're not wrong, but the fact that that's their first reaction is totally unjustified.

Anyway, now my family's pissed off and my dad thinks I should've just told gramps, but I think trying to fix the situation should count for something. So, Reddit, AITA?

Comments

bluebirdz: Did they taste good? |— local-zombie: Not like the original, but a solid 7/10 |—— bluebirdz: All's well that ends well. NTA

redrobin: yta |— local-zombie: At least provide some reasoning |—— redrobin: no

starfire: NTA but next time give them a heads up |— your-tired-librarian: Also voting NTA but OP should've fessed up from the beginning. |—— thatpurplething: I'm saying YTA for the waffle part |——— orphanized: not relevant |———— thatpurplething: It is to me

i-am-the-darkness-i-am-the-light: NTA for the way you handled it, that was pretty smart. YTA for tampering with food as a prank tho :/

notmysecretanimeaccount: You are indeed the donkey cavity for the poor setup and execution. |— local-zombie: Dude just say ass |—— notmysecretanimeaccount: Ass cavity. Happy? |——— local-zombie: Not what I was thinking but I'll take it |———— lesbian-premium: Congratulations on the worse conversation the internet's ever had

kyle-rayner: YTA. Just in general

assenal: nta. your family is overreacting

dickwings: soft yta. how would you feel if you were expecting one thing but got blindsided by something completely different? |— local-zombie: I'd just deal with it instead of whining like a pissbaby pretty boy |—— dickwings: nvm make that a hard yta |——— local-zombie:🖕

kitty-central: ESH. You for what you did, your family for how they reacted |— pennyworthy: At last, a sensible answer.

official-batman: YTA. And grounded.

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ranimotia · 1 year

Text

╭┈◦❥ • "Those eyes"

"Stop staring at me with those eyes"

"What eyes?"

・❥Pairings: Jamil Viper, Neige Leblanche, Jade Leech x reader

・❥Content warning: Jade being Jade, affectionately being called stupid, mentions of being shrunken and trapped in jars, POC friendly, GN! Reader, disgustingly sweet, character's are probably ooc.

・❥Authors note: Yes I know Jamil is a brunette canonically but him having black hair makes more sense in my mind, should I make this a series? VERY LATE EID MUBARAK!

Neige loves the concept of love, Neige loves you.

He loves everything about you! From the shape of your nose, to the way your eyes crease when you smile, he loves how softly you look at him- everything about you had him entranced, drawing him in like a moth to a light.

He can't help but stare, eyes overflowing with overwhelming adoration. All his life he's wanted nothing more than for his one true love to come and sweep him off his feet- and here you are! Just looking at you makes him feel all giddy and warm.

"Neige?" You said, eyes not leaving the pages of the recipe book as you spoke his name.

You and Neige were baking a cake toghther in preperation for Toby's birthday- such a domestic act had him feeling dizzy with affection. He was tasked with whisking the batter, however his mind and eyes were preoccupied with somthing else; you. You had your frilly apron on, sleeves rolled up and eyes concentrated on the instructions written infront of you. Neige couldn't wait to do this with you when once you're married.

"Yes?" He responded to your call, voice laced with warmth and tenderness.

"The batter." You glanced up from the recipe book to look at the doe-eyed boy then back down at the batter with a smile.

His face instantly reddened upon realising he had been caught red-handed. Breaking away from his haze his attention was brought down to the neglected bowl of ingredients, a spurge of apologies were sputtered out as he quickly got to mixing the contents. You giggled at his flustered state- you too, couldn't wait to spend the rest of your lives together.

It's no secret Jamil is a stoic guy.

However, what was a secret was how soft he became when behind closed doors, in his own way atleast; if anyone were to see how gently Jamil handled you, they would have assumed you'd switched the raven haired boy with an imposter. (ඞ)

Jamil is diligent with his timing, he stares only when he knows you're not looking, knowing that if you ever caught him staring you'd never let him live it down; he prefers to keep you humble. Though, when he does stare his eyes hold nothing but adoration and care- you two would be considered exact opposites, but you fit each other perfectly.

The room was silent with the exception of soft snoring.

Jamil took pity on you seeing you struggle over Professor Trien's homework so he being the kind boyfriend he was, decided to help you. Jamil was in no way an idiot, far from it actually. He was incredibly smart, that was one of the many qualities you appreciated about him- from his great cooking to his amazing dance moves, to how comfortable his broad shoulders were to sleep on.

A sigh escaped the vice-dormleadee however his perceived annoyance wasn't genuine. He closed the text book infront of him and sat in silence, his eyes were no longer fixed onto the pages of the book instead now focused on your unconscious form. His stonefaced demeanour came crumbling down as a soft smile found its way onto the his face.

His eyes studied your face, from the drool leaking from your mouth to the hairs you missed when plucking your eyebrows- no little detail went unseen and he loved each one equally.

Safe to say you weren't getting that homework done anytime soon.

Jade loves keeping you on your toes.

One minute he's shrinking you and turning you into a mini exhibition in one of his terrariums for his own sadistic amusement, the next he's fastening a bib onto you and spoon feeding you his best dishes- all the while his signature smile practically printed on his face.

Jade watches you with amusement, your facial expressions and dense nature has his drawn like a moth to light, though he's nothing but gentle even if he's a little (very) deranged.

"There's nothing in this.. right ?" You spoke, eyes staring down sceptically at the box of cookies neatly presented infront of you.

"Of course not, I'm simply trying to repay you for all the assistance your given me with my garden" Jade replied, giving you his signature closed eye smile.

Though you didn't trust him, it was free food- and free food is free food even if it comes with the risk of mutation and causing you to grow 3 extra toes. Picking up one of the chocolate cookies your stared at it, looking for any kind of suspicious features: strange colour? Nope. strange smell? Nope. Were the chocolate chips actually rabbit droppings? Nope. They were definitely chocolate.

Whilst you were having a stare down with the cookie Jades signature smile didn't falter even for a second, however his eyes were open and didn't share the same politeness as his smile. In his eyes pooled a dark sort of amusement, watching eagerly as you hesitantly took a bite out of the pastry.

A surprised but pleased exhale left your closed mouth, you honestly weren't expecting the cookies to actually be edible, let alone enjoyable.

Stuffing your face with a few more of the cookies you failed the notice the almost sadistic glee that peered through the eel's eyes.

Did he mix mushrooms into the cookie dough? Yes, will he tell you that? No.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #genshin impact #neige leblanche #neige leblanche x reader #Jamil Viper #jamil viper x reader #jade leech x reader #Jade Leech #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland

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skz317cb97 · 1 year

Text

Making a Mess

Felix x Female reader

Word count: 2.6k (drabble)

Synopsis: You come over to help Felix bake his revenge for Seungmin and things get a little sticky.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! Okay so I don't know who wrote this.... wasn't me... nope... definitely not me...👀 BUT if you enjoy reading please do reblog, comment, like, shoot me an ask your feedback is my bread and butter! As always warnings and SMUT under the cut! 5/8

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, lots of dirty talking (again), slight voyerism, mentions of anal sex, mentions of cuckolding, mentions of three way sex, mentions of double penetration, cum eating, hair pulling, food play, protected piv sex, MC dom/Felix sub dynamic (they switch back and forth but MC is mainly dominant), pet names (mainly Felix being called angel, good boy, bad boy, etc), praise, oral (m&f receiving), begging, face riding, deep throating, breath play (kinda), slight degradation (kinda not really), I think that's all but if I missed anything (was their anything to miss lmao) please do let me know and I'll add it immediately!

You and Chan showered together, to save water, definitely not just to make out. You finally got out and when Chan saw the beads of water dripping down your body, he bent you over the bathroom counter and fucked you hard, then you both showered off again. When you got out the second time he stood behind you and started kissing your neck.

“If you keep this up you’re going to run out of hot water.” He laughed against your skin and it gave you goosebumps.

“Sorry it’s just those sweet little sounds you make kinda make me crazy.” His fingers ghosted down your side and it tickled you as he tried to bury his face into the crook of your neck. You laughed loudly and pushed him off.

“Well then add a strait jacket to your wish list psycho. I have to leave before any of the guys get home.” Chan relinquished and let you dry off while he grabbed a t-shirt and pair of shorts for you to wear home since your clothes were scraps of fabric on the workout room floor.

“Oh my fucking god the workout room.” Chan pulled you close.

“Don’t worry about that baby girl, I’ve got it, kinda my mess anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you pinched him.

“Ow! Hey...”

“Sorry.” Chan leaned down; his nose gently rubbed against yours.

“Kiss it better.” You closed your eyes and leaned in to kiss him and he kissed you sweetly. You turned to leave and he grabbed your hand.

“Next time you wanna do pilates... definitely call me.” You nodded, both of you laughing and then he let go so you could head out.

It was the Sunday before board game night and you were over helping Felix do some baking. What was on the menu? Sweet... well salty revenge. Felix was setting up all the ingredients with a small pout on his face.

“What’s wrong Lix? This is payback you’re supposed to be enjoying it.” He let out a small sigh.

“Do we have to ruin the whole batch with salt? Can’t we do just a couple and let the other guys have the rest?” You smiled and were endeared by how sweet one man could be.

“That is a great idea Felix! They’ve defiantly earned some cookies.” You said without thinking.

“Oh? What did they do?” Your cheeks started heating up and you shrugged.

“Uh well... I mean don’t you think they have? You all work so hard.” Felix nodded in agreement.

“You’re right! Okay so only two salty cookies for Seungmin and the rest for everyone else... well Seungmin can have ONE regular cookie. Just one though.” You were completely endeared by this sweet angel of a man. You both started mixing the ingredients. You had to make both the cookie dough and icing, the icing being what you planned on salting so you didn’t throw off the cookie recipe. You put the first batch of cookies into the oven and started making the icing, you would scoop a little into a small bowl to reserve for the salty cookies. Felix was mixing the powdered sugar and milk and making more of a mess than the kitchen already was from making the dough.

“Lix sweetie you’re like a tornado, let me help mix it.” He giggled as you took over mixing the icing. He dipped his finger in some that had dripped on the counter and smeared it on the side of your cheek right by your mouth. You stuck your tongue out and licked it laughing and whining.

“Lixiiiie what part of you’re making a mess did you not understand. We gotta get these done before Seungmin gets home.” He smiled at you and watched as you mixed the icing more.

“Why are you helping me do this?” You looked over at him and smiled.

“Because Yongbokie, you’re an angel baby and no one messes with my Lixie, not even Kim Seungmin.” Felix smiled and looked down; his freckled cheeks turned pink. He swiped his finger in the bowl of icing this time and you looked at him incredulously

“y/n, I’m not always an angel you know?” You looked at him a little surprised.

“Wha-” Before you could say anything Felix swiped his finger coated in sugary icing across your lips and kissed them. He pulled away licking the remnants off his own lips and now you were blushing.

“Lixie! What’s gotten into you?” He leaned close to your ear.

“I heard you and Channie hyung.” He whispered, his voice was low and washed over you and your eyes went wide.

“Wha- but no one was here!” Felix smirked and cocked an eyebrow at you.

“I came home and grabbed dance gear after the studio. I peeked in the workout room to say hi to you and Channie hyung and all I saw was ripped up workout clothes and a puddle. You and Channie hyung were in the bathroom.” How did this keep happening to you? You were either the dumbest or luckiest woman on the planet you weren’t sure yet, maybe both. He was still standing so close to you but not touching you

“Wh-what did you hear?” Felix smiled sweetly but there was something in his eyes you had never seen before.

“I heard Chan hyung bending you over the counter and fucking you real hard.” You could feel your arousal in your panties already just from Felix’s words and the depth of his voice.

“Would you really let him?” He asked suddenly. You looked at Felix confused by his question. He got very close again, his breath fanning across your skin and his voice rumbled in your ear again.

“Would you really let him fuck your ass?” You clenched and you went wide eyed again. Chan had made mention more than once that he’d love to fuck you in the ass while he railed you in the workout room and bathroom.

“How much did you hear exactly Lixie?” He smiled and ran his fingers down your arm.

“Well I was being a little bad y/n I can’t lie. I stood out there the whole time Chan hyung was fucking you, squeezing my cock trying not to cum in my pants. I really wish I could have watched.” Your whole body was on fire and Felix had only traced his fingers along your skin and talked.

“Lix?!” He smiled.

“Does that surprise you?” You nodded.

“A little... so... you would want to watch Chan fuck me?” Felix closed his eyes and bit his lip.

“Oh fuck yes. I’d love it.” You hummed.

“And you would want to watch Channie fuck my ass?” Felix scrunched his eyes, his hand finding his cock over his sweats and squeezing.

“Oh my fucking god yes. I’d cum so hard all over myself seeing him take your asshole the first time. Would you like that? To see me make a mess of myself while Channie hung fucked your brains out.” You nodded.

“Would you lick me clean after?” You nodded again. Felix whipped his shirt off, pulled down his sweats and briefs, and stood there his firm body on display completely naked. He swipped his finger in the icing again and rubbed it down the shaft of his already throbbing cock.

“Get on your knees and show me how you’d clean me baby.” You did as Felix requested and got on your knees, his cock dripping sweet icing in front of your face. You opened your mouth and looked up at him.

“Show me and I promise I’ll be such a good boy for you.” You put your hands behind you, stuck out your tongue and started kitten licking the icing off of Felix’s dick. He gripped the base of his cock and held it steady for you.

“That’s it clean it all off.” You took Felix’s cock into your mouth and started sucking him off. His hand found your hair and pulled, the delicious sting shooting all the way to you wet cunt.

“Ffuck y/n yes! Suck it harder.” You started sucking his dick harder.

“FUCK HARDER SUCK ME HARDER PLEASE!” You started sucking on Felix’s cock so hard the tip turned angry and red.

“Oh god yes fuck yes.” Felix pulled your hair pushing you up and down his dick a few more times before pulling you off.

“Take off your clothes, lay on the floor.” You weren’t used to Felix being so assertive. You took your clothes off quickly and laid down on the floor. Felix got on his knees and spread your legs apart before reaching for a spoon, dipping it in the icing and drizzling it all over your pussy.

“You’re going to want to sit up and watch this.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as Felix’s face disappeared between your legs and started cleaning the icing off you. He came up for a breath and you saw his chin coated in icing and your arousal.

“Fuuuck Lixie, you look so pretty covered in my juices, be a good boy and clean me up good.” He dove back in slurping, drooling, and eating you out as if he was starving for you.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum Felix!” The lowest growl you had ever heard rumbled from Felix’s chest and he doubled his efforts, making an absolute mess while he devoured your cunt and sent you teetering over the edge. You came hard and grinded your hips into Felix’s face riding it as your hands found his fluffy blonde hair and shoved him further into your pussy.

“GOD YES LIXIE GOOD BOY! SWEET ANGEL FUCKING EAT MY PUSSY BABY!” Felix slurped and pull off you when your back finally stopped arching and hit the ground again. Felix sat up between your legs, sweet eyes looking down at you as you tried to catch your breath.

“Can I fuck you?” You looked up at him and smiled. You sat up and pushed him to sit with his back against the cabinets.

“You just wait right there angel I’ll be right back.” You ran butt ass naked through the apartment and into Minho’s room. You knew he kept condoms in his bedside drawer. You quickly grabbed one and ran back to Felix. When you got to the kitchen you saw him sitting there legs stretched out, tugging on his leaking cock.

“You want my pussy baby?” Felix looked up at you with those angel eyes of his nodding.

“I do, please fuck me, use my cock however you want just please FUCK ME!” You knelt in front of him and took his dick from his hand. You ripped open the condom and rolled it down his cock slowly, he bit his lip and moaned as you did then you straddled Felix’s lap, lined his cock up with your slick cunt and sank down onto him.

“OH FUCK Y/N!” You cooed at him.

“Mmm I know! Lixie baby you feel so good inside me.” He groaned and grabbed a hold of your hips. You rolled them forward grinding on his cock and his hold tightened.

“Yes so fucking tight! How are you this tight after Channie hyung pounded your little cunt hmm?” You moaned and started bouncing on Felix’s cock as you played with your nipples pinching and tugging them. Felix grabbed the bowl of icing and dumped almost all of it all over your tits. The icing dripping down your body. Felix pulled you close and started to lick and clean all the sticky liquid off your breasts, sucking hard on your nipples. He popped off with icing coating his face. You cupped his cheeks and licked icing off his face before shoving your tongue in his mouth. Your warm wet walls hugged him so tightly he pulled away cussing.

“Fuck! Yes! I’m such a bad boy y/n. I wanna see Chan hyung take your asshole so bad, you’d let me fuck your tight pussy while he filled your ass? Hmm?” You clenched so hard around Felix’s cock he couldn’t help the whimper that came out of him.

“God you are a bad boy Lixie! I’d still let my sweet angel fill my cunt while Channie took my ass!” Felix aided you as you continued bouncing up and down, your slick pussy slapping into his lap over and over.

“Fuck you’re so wet! Thinking of me and Chan hyung fucking both your holes gets you this wet?” You could feel your orgasm fast approaching. You held onto Felix’s shoulders and started riding him like a fucking porn star. You didn’t know what came over you but words just started coming from your mouth as you climbed closer and closer to your climax.

“FUCK! Beg me angel! Let me hear you loud and clear!” You and Felix were both sweating, icing covering your bodies, wet and sticky.

“Please y/n PLEASE let me watch Channie hyung fuck your ass!” You continued bouncing on his cock, your pussy squelching every time. You started rubbing your clit hard.

“Oh angel you can do better than that! Come on, be a good boy and beg me to let you watch Channie destroy my ass! Beg me to let you eat his cum from me while I suck his cock. BEG ME TO LET YOU CUM DOWN MY THROAT ANGEL FUCK!”

“OH PLEASE PLEASE GOD YES Y/N PLEASE LET ME WATCH HIM FILL YOUR ASS I PROMISE TO BE A GOOD BOY I’LL BE A GOOD BOY AND CLEAN IT ALL UP JUST LET ME WATCH FUCK!” Your cunt was a vice grip as you came hard on Felix’s cock, you could feel your arousal gushing from you. You bounced and the wet sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. You were grinding in Felix’s lap as you came down. You leaned forward cooing in his ear. He had tears in his eyes.

“Aww good boy, my sweet sweet Yongbokie. Are you gonna blow for me? Hm?” Felix nodded quickly.

“You were such a good boy, you sounded so sweet begging like that. Now angel, do you want to cum down my throat?” Felix’s eyes went wide.

“Can I!? Oh god please can I cum in your mouth.” You nodded and lifted up letting Felix’s cock slide out of you and slap against his abs.

“Stand up for me baby.” Felix did as you asked immedeitly. You rolled the condom off his dick.

“Okay angel now fuck my mouth and cum down my throat. You earned it baby.” You swallowed Felix’s whole cock at once.

“OOOohhh ffuuuuck!” Felix leaned over pushing your face into his pubic muscle and holding you down as he thrusted into your throat making you gag, choke, and drool. He pulled you off and you stroked him so hard you would think it would hurt but Felix loved it.

“That’s it angel that’s it, lose it for me, blow for me.” He shoved you back on his cock and pushed your head down all the way again.

“I’m go-gonna cum y/n fuck! I’m gonna.” The head of his cock twitched at the back of your throat and Felix’s salty cum mixed with the sweet icing filled your mouth. Felix pulled your hair pulling you off his cock and then smoothed it down gently. You looked up at him a whole mess, fucked out, covered in spit, cum, and icing then you opened your mouth and showed Felix his load of cum, you swallowed and stuck out your tongue licking off any remnants of his seed and icing from around your mouth.

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy @3rachasninja

“Mmm Lixie you taste sweeter than the icing.”

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee felix smut #lee felix yongbok smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤#skz smut drabble series

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

Text

First time for everything (modern!Aemond Targaryen, college au — part 2)

✨ part 1 — “All yours”

words: ~ 6900 (it’s worth it, though ;) warnings: a TON of fluff (is anyone surprised at this point?), smut (minors DNI), you may feel a little sad that he’s not your boyfriend (I certainly do)

author’s note: this was supposed to be mostly romantic headcanons but then something came over me... honestly, I blame it on the goddamn golden chain! can’t believe I wrote this, I’m drinking holy water as we speak

⋙ You think you should be concerned with how easy things are with him. With how fast he sneaks into your thoughts, and his hand effortlessly finds yours, and you relish in the simplest touch, in the feeling of comfort that he brings, and he knows all the right words, and the two of you fit like puzzle pieces.

With anyone else, you would’ve been concerned but Aemond gives you no reason to be.

⋙ Your first date comes in a week, and you’re not nervous about it but more so ridiculously curious — he only mentions that you should dress casually, and you think of dinner or maybe a picnic. But when the cab brings you to the city center, and Aemond opens the door for you — you find yourself standing at the steps of a gallery and you instantly know where he brought you to. It’s a three-week exhibition of Mexican artists, the one you’ve been dying to go to. You only mentioned it once and in passing weeks ago, frustrated that the tickets were sold out in 15 minutes, and since then you have long forgotten about it. But Aemond hasn’t. The realization that he remembered that little detail makes you stupidly sentimental, and you can’t utter a word. He brings you into a hug, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“We can get another Uber and go to my place and watch every rom-com you can think of if it makes you feel better.”

With your head nuzzled to his chest, you hear his heartbeat, the sound of it calming like a rumble of waves. When you shyly look up at him, the color of his eyes is dusted with scattered sunlight.

“Aemond, but you planned — ”

“I planned to spend time with you,” he hushes you with that same tone of gentle certainty. “Everything else is just decorations we can easily switch up.”

His reassurance sounds more like a promise, and you have it engraved in your memory, along with him, looking at you like this. And you think he should make some memories, too, so you take him by the hand and lead the way.

⋙ You opt for an audio guide since both of you aren’t keen on following crowds, and you enthusiastically walk from one painting to the other, sharing the earphones, your fingers intertwined with his, and you can’t help but talk over the guide. Aemond doesn’t complain once. Every time you look at him, he’s smiling brightly at you, and sometimes he leaves a quick peck on the bow of your shoulder. Somewhere in between Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, you realize that you really want to kiss him.

⋙ Part of the exhibition is a screening of a documentary played in a small dark hall, and Aemond is naive to think you actually want to watch it. You drag him in, and the place is empty, only lit by the movie screen, and before he can ask a thing, you pull him down by the collar of his shirt and kiss him until you’re both out of breath. And then you tell him it’s the best date you’ve ever had.

“You mean, the best so far,” he remarks cheekily — and trails for your lips again.

⋙ On the next date, you learn that he loves to cook. The man who can live off protein shakes and steaks actually owns cookbooks and lets you pick a meal but forbids you to help him, saying that you deserve a break. Still, you charm your way into the kitchen to assist him with making the sauce, and Aemond is unable to say no. You are a chaotic cook and he follows the recipe but somehow you make a great team — he’s good at cutting vegetables and measuring, you pick all the right spices and know what al dente is. He looks absurdly gorgeous in an apron, and you end up sitting on his lap while he lifts a forkful of pasta to your mouth. You bashfully confess that you’ve always wanted to re-enact the kissing scene from “Lady and the Tramp”. He grins at your confession — and gladly helps to make your wish come true. A couple of times.

⋙ You do go on a picnic — you feed him cherries and Aemond reads you his favorite book out loud, you wear his hoodie again and his perfume lingers on your hair. He takes you to the biggest library in town and you spend hours looking for that one old copy of Sylvia Plath’s book of poems, and he steals a few kisses from you in between endless rows of shelves. You go to a fancy french bakery and he buys you one of each kind of pastry, and you are both all sugared up — and in love.

⋙ When Aemond has to leave for a competition, it’s not necessarily tragic — since you knew it was coming — and it’s only for five days, but you get blindsided by the realization of how attached you’ve become. On the night before his departure, he invites you in for a movie marathon, brings you popcorn and makes you laugh to tears, and then you doze off in his arms. He moves you onto his bed and tucks you in, and you wake up when his side of the bed is still warm. You find freshly made waffles in the kitchen — and there’s a blue post-it note on the fridge that says: “I’m gonna miss you more. — A.”

He leaves you a spare key to his apartment.

Your breakfast tastes like tears.

⋙ The first day without him is pure misery, but you eat your waffles and follow the routine, and Aemond sends you texts every chance he gets. You make him a playlist called “Kick some ass” (he does), and you kick yourself for not coming up with an excuse to go with him. On the second day, you pull out his hoodie in a poor attempt to find some comfort but his scent had almost dissipated, and his seat next to you stays empty, and each class only reminds you of his absence. On the third day, you are up to your ears in studying and you miss Aemond’s phone call, and your heart all but erupts from yearning.

On the fourth day, Mr. Harrold brings up Marina Tsvetaeva’s love poems, and you think that must be some cruel joke. You spend half an hour pretending to be deaf, but then the professor quotes:

“to kiss the lips is to drink water,”

— and suddenly you are nothing but thirst, and you feel like you are about to burst into tears again. You don’t know how you manage to sit through the rest of it but as soon as the class is over you sprint out and buy a train ticket. You don’t bother yourself with packing, only picking up your toothbrush, a face wash and Aemond’s hoodie. And you know for sure that you’ve fallen hard for him.

⋙ You arrive by the time their morning training is over, and the guys are piling out of the locker rooms already. Aemond is one of the last to come out, his hair still wet and his t-shirt clearly not ironed, and his face is too sad for your liking. His best friend Cregan notices you first, elbowing your boyfriend with a smile. Aemond follows his gaze with indifference — and stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. A second later his face lights up. And then you do the cheesiest, right-out-of-the-movies kind of thing — you run to him, he scoops you up, you wrap your legs around his waist.

“I didn’t know that you would come,” Aemond is grinning ear to ear. “I would’ve picked you up to save you some time and — ,” you can’t stop yourself from kissing him, a tad modestly but with ardor nonetheless, and he forgets what he wanted to say. You card fingers through his hair and notice a shadow that spread under his eyes. You want to cook him dinner and pepper kisses all over his face and wrap him up in blankets so he can get some rest. Aemond bumps his nose into yours.

“Please don’t skip classes for me,” he entreats but his tone suggests that he’s delighted that you did. His gaze warms you up like sunlight.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve never done it before,” you lower your voice as if it’s a well-guarded secret. “But I was feeling adventurous.”

He plays along with a mischievous smile:

“First time for everything, huh?”

You two leave right after the awarding ceremony, and Aemond doesn’t bother to stay for the farewell party. He ends up falling asleep on your shoulder, with his hands wrapped around you, and some old lady on the train ‘awws’ at you. He naps in the cab, too, his fingers ensnared into your palm, and you’re overcome with emotion, wishing that the ride to his apartment lasted a bit longer. You order take-out while he’s still fighting off sleep but does so while cuddling you on his couch. There’s another, internal battle that he’s having as his face goes more somber than tired but your kisses and food seem to help.

That is until Aemond pulls you in bed, back into his arms, his breath tickling your neck.

“It was no fun,” he finally admits, “leaving you.”

You interlock your fingers with his, your lips graze his knuckles before you turn to face him.

“But it will get easier,” you promise — both him and yourself. “And I missed you, too.”

His lips melt into yours to seal the promise, and you breathe in a lungful of his scent. Aemond passes out in no time, and you watch his chest rising and falling, the steady rhythm of it eventually lulling you to sleep. Right before that, you think that it was your first separation out of many to come, but in the end, it’s all worth it when he’s the one you are waiting for.

⋙ Another thing you two are yet to cross off your list is, surprisingly, sex. Aemond is the one to suggest taking it slow, and it does make sense at first — with his competitions scheduled back to back and you being swamped with homework, both of you doing the bare minimum to help each other deal with exhaustion. He sends you reminders to take a break, you help him with meal planning and spend evenings reading together, most times with his head on your lap. Aemond leaves you snacks and post-it notes with his favorite quotes of Russian poetry, which brings some excitement into your studying — and you come to his training, being the supportive girlfriend that you are.

And that turns out to be a problem.

⋙ Watching Aemond train is quite a spectacle — enthralling at first, but also unspeakably arousing as you come to learn fairly soon. He is focused and fast, his toned body flexible and moving with energetic precision. He’s got a quick reaction and there’s a glint of threat in his gaze that makes some of his competitors feel uneasy. He’s not the one to rip t-shirts apart and flex muscles (much to some girls’ disappointment) but to you, it only fuels the anticipation that spills in your lower abdomen. But your lusting wanes when you see the weary look on his face, and you only snuggle up to him as closely as possible, deeming that enough for now.

One of these days Aemond comes out of the locker room with Cregan whose arm is draped over your boyfriend’s shoulder, his hold tight like a bear trap, but the intent is friendly.

“Y/N, you need to side with me on this one,” Cregan enthusiastically pleads. “I’m throwing a party and this monk doesn’t want to go! I was hoping you’d make him socialize.”

“I will not make him do anything,” you retort politely, and Aemond gives you a look of gratitude. “But we can negotiate once you stop holding him hostage.”

Cregan lets out a bellowing laugh, freeing Aemond with a pat on the back.

“I’ll never force our star boy to bear having a good time but I’d love for you two to join us,” he warm-heartedly explains. “Just think about it!”

He leaves you in the cooling stillness of the evening, and Aemond plants a kiss on your temple.

“We don’t have to go,” he immediately assures.

“Your friends can’t be that bad.”

“They get a bit wild when drunk,” he chuckles softly into your hair. “And Cregan is set on having a dress code each time.”

“Is it something wild, too?”

“No, mostly formal, and the guys usually end up throwing away the ties.”

“Doesn’t sound bad to me,” you draw circles on his palm. “Maybe we can have some fun,” your smile is a tad impish, and his looks surprisingly pleased when he agrees.

The sky is painted by the sunset, pink tones of it reflecting on Aemond’s face. You’d like to see him all dressed up. And then strip him of his clothing.

⋙ You hate shopping for dresses so your best friend tags along, and she dismisses at least a dozen of options before managing to fish out the perfect one — knee-length and with a deep cut on the back, it’s the color of a sea storm with a splash of purple. Once you put the dress on, she comments approvingly:

“He will fuck your brains out.”

“Arya!” you hiss at her but she looks unamused.

“What? I thought that’s what you wanted. Kinda surprised he hasn’t jumped your bones yet.”

“We are taking it slow,” you remind her while staring in the mirror. You try not to think of how easy it will be to take this dress off.

“Very PG-13 of you,” she huffs with a smile. “But I guess I should thank him.”

“How so?” you raise a brow at her.

“I fear, once you get a taste,” Arya gives you a suggestive look, “he will keep you in bed for days. At least for now I still have a chance to hang out with you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up at the mere thought of it. And you hope that’s exactly what happens.

⋙ Aemond comes to pick you up on Friday evening. He buzzes in through an intercom and you let him in, opening the front door in advance. You go back to your room to put on the heels, briefly stopping to fix your hair. Aemond walks in with no warning, his voice brimming over with boyish excitement:

“I was just thinking — ,” and then he falls silent, seeing you standing with your back to the door.

You look at Aemond over your shoulder, moving your hair away from your neck to expose more skin, and turn to him slowly.

“You, um... I-You — ” he clears his throat. Then does it again, eyes roaming over your body. “This dress looks really good on you,” he manages to say while you take him in.

The color of his suit is almost black and it sets off his dark blue shirt, crisp and carelessly unbuttoned. His jacket is an excellent fit, framing his shoulders and sitting tightly around his arms. But what catches your attention is the golden chain that snakes along his collarbones, part of it coyly hiding in the depths of the dark material. Your eyes fix on the shining jewelry — for a brief moment, you contemplate staying at home and undressing him to find out where the chain ends.

You blink that thought away, remembering that it’s time to leave as both you and Aemond hate being late. You walk over to him, running your hand over his jacket:

“You look quite charming yourself,” you give him a smile instead of a kiss. “What were you saying?”

Aemond seems startled and supposedly oblivious to the effect he has on you but you catch a twirl of darkness condensing in his gaze. In the depths of it, there’s a flicker of need, of hunger — and you wonder if he’s been ravenous this entire time, too.

“You should come over tonight,” he suggests, and you don’t need him to give you a reason.

“Sounds like a plan,” you move your hand away, suppressing a frustrated sigh so he won’t get the wrong idea. Or the very right idea that you try your best to push aside, at least for a couple of hours.

On your way out of the apartment, you can feel him gazing devouringly at you. You let him.

⋙ Cregan is a combination of a party animal and a homeboy — he pours drinks with one hand and threatens to rip anyone’s head off for leaving as much as a scratch on his family’s porcelain tea set. He jokes and generously compliments all the girls he meets but he also respects boundaries and makes sure to pay the same attention to his fiancee, Alysanne. She doesn’t mind, her black curls bouncing while she laughs and warmly greets the guests. You catch her eye in no time — she’s smiley, her gaze filled with curiosity.

“Everyone is dying to meet you,” she takes you under the arm and leads away to introduce you to a motley group of girls, and within a minute you are caught in the current of voices and faces. They bombard you with questions, chatty but not too prying, some already a bit tipsy and way more friendly than they would’ve been otherwise. But you let yourself enjoy the talks and gossip, mostly for Aemond to have some fun with his friends. And he actually does.

They talk sport, as expected, their arguing innocuous, followed by toasts and some banter. They play poker although half of them barely remember the rules so it’s hardly gambling but they do get rid of ties pretty fast. Cregan puts on some music, breaks a few glasses and calls for your boyfriend to join them for beer pong. Aemond has no intention to get wasted so Cregan takes it upon himself while your boyfriend throws the ball into the cups with ease. Other guys call it cheating, Cregan says it’s an allocation of duties.

Aemond laughs — sincerely, with his dimples showing, but you note that he never refills his glass of whiskey. And every time you throw a glance at him, his eyes are on you, and the golden chain seems to attract every ray of light in the room. You only have one drink — a watered-down gin tonic, but you feel like you can liquor up just by looking at him. In an hour, when they move to the pool table, Aemond slings his jacket over one shoulder and rolls up his sleeves — and you’re dazed, lust swelling in you, sweet and viscous like honey.

He aims the pool balls and makes the shots but each one echoes in your lower belly. You try to think of a reason to leave but you can’t think straight, and Aemond seems completely unaware of your torment but then one of his mates makes the wrong shot, and a ball falls off the table, rolling at your feet. You move to pick it up — as gracefully as your dress would allow it, and walk to them, and suddenly Aemond watches your every step. You only lean on the side of the pool table, with no intention to tease or bend over, yet his eyes scan over your whole body, his hold on the cue tightening.

“Earth to Aemond,” Cregan mutters with a smirk. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he musters in reply. “I think I’ve had enough socializing for one day.”

He stares at you, and you nod with a silent agreement that comes with a delectable foretaste.

⋙ Cregan walks you two to the cab, red in the face from all the alcohol but still good-humored. He gives you a big hug, politely keeping his hands at your shoulder level, and then embraces Aemond, too.

“I’m so glad you came!” he rumbles excitedly and then adds, “I was afraid I’d never live to see the day.”

“Man, we see each other pretty often,” Aemond laughs off.

“No, I mean this,” Cregan gestures at you. “Finally, you got the girl!”

Aemond looks at you — happy and proud, his hands finding your waist, and your heart sings with glee. You all but drag your boyfriend away as Cregan guffaws and waves you goodbye.

“He’ll stop his teasing eventually,” Aemond chortles once you get into the car, and it sounds like he mostly wants to reassure himself.

“Well, he does have a point — you took your time with me,” you giggle, straightening his collar. “I was kinda expecting you to kiss me in the locker room,” you jokingly pout.

“You mean, the place that smells like a bunch of sweaty men? Nope, that’s not how I imagined our first kiss to be,” he rebuts but then his face freezes, and you realize he didn’t mean to let it slip. You turn your head to him, and the reddening of his cheeks is visible even in the dim lighting of the car. He avoids your gaze — your tall, handsome, annoyingly hot boyfriend — because he’s clearly flustered. Every time you think he can’t get any more attractive, he somehow does.

You move closer, your arm bumping into his.

“Was it the only thing you’ve imagined us doing?” you ask quietly.

He looks at you in an instant, and when your eyes meet, you bite your lower lip, a twinkle of a smile in the corners of your mouth. You can only hope that he takes the hint — and, by the look on his face, he does.

“No,” Aemond gulps. “Definitely not the only thing.”

You place your hand on his knee and then leisurely move your palm higher, stopping at his upper thigh, letting your fingers slide to the inner side of it, all of that while maintaining eye contact. He’s holding his breath the entire time.

“Dare to share?” you lean in, putting your chin on his shoulder. “Or better... show me?” the question is only meant for him to hear.

There’s a shift in the air and your pulse skyrockets, and you feel like you’re ten seconds away from straddling him right here and now. But then Aemond covers your hand with his and says:

“Yeah, I can show you.”

⋙ You expect him to be all over you once you’re in the elevator but no, he’s the epitome of restraint. If only it wasn’t for his jaw clenched and his back tense — and him literally closing his eyes because there are mirrors around the perimeter, and he physically cannot avoid looking at you. He rushes out of the elevator but does his best to slow the pace as he knows you won’t be able to keep up with your heels on.

He unlocks the door with one turn of the key and then moves away to let you in first, you hurry in, he follows suit, the door closes with a bang. The apartment is dark, the street lighting shyly peeking through the windows, your heart is pounding so loud, you can barely hear a thing — and then your turn to Aemond, and he’s already looking at you. And the world stands still.

He takes a step toward you, one after another, shamelessly leering at you, and the sheer intensity of his gaze is enough for you to feel the all-familiar throbbing between your legs.

“I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” he rasps when you’re barely a meter apart. You can’t tell who closes the distance first but in the next second his lips collide with yours — as eager and vehement as ever — and your mind goes blank, your body overflowing with lust that spreads with blood and rages like fever.

His hand nestles under the angle of your jaw, his mouth avidly capturing yours, drinking your little sighs, while your fingers are tugging at his shirt — they accidentally slip down, and Aemond groans, his own arousal making his pants tight. He spins you around, your back resting against his chest as he lowers the straps of your dress — and rapidly pulls the upper part of it down. You are not wearing a bra, your bosom heaving with shaky breaths, and he inhales sharply at the sight. He moves to gently squeeze your breasts, hands full of supple flesh, and then he tentatively rolls your nipples between his fingers. Your head falls back on his shoulder, a low moan escaping your mouth, and you grind against him, desperate to feel more.

“You are so sensitive,” Aemond coos, his breath warm against your neck, your nipples hardening in his hands. “So beautiful.”

He goes for your zipper, pulling it down, and his fingers slide under the slinky material, raring to touch your skin. You wiggle your way out of the dress, and he helps to take it off, his hands following every curve of your body, stirring you up. Turning around, you claim his lips, your tongue finding his in a frenzy as you push the jacket off him, your shoes already lying around in the hallway, and he maneuvers you toward the bedroom. Aemond roughly swings the door wide open — and then he tenderly lays you down on the bed like you are his most prized possession.

He undresses at the speed of light and, at any other time, it would’ve made you laugh but it only turns you on more — the growing anticipation, the hunger he has for you, the all-consuming desire that fills you to the brim. Aemond strips down to his boxers — and he looks god-like, slim and muscled, and it feels like a blessing when he kisses you again. He hooks your panties with one finger and breaks the kiss to drag them down, his touch leaving a burning trail from your hip to your heel.

And then he gets on his knees.

Aemond places a hand on your ankle, massaging small circles there as he slowly pulls you toward the edge of the bed. Your breath shudders at the realization of what he’s about to do, and he grins — greedily, darting his tongue to wet his lips. Aemond moves you closer and puts one of your legs over his shoulder, leaving kisses up your calf. He uses his hand to spread you wide for him and hums with contentment upon seeing you glistening with arousal.

“I wonder who made you so wet,” he teases, fixing his gaze on you.

You intend to answer him but the six-letter word — his name — is stuck in your throat as he runs his thumb up to your clit — and, without a warning, repeats the movement with his tongue, licking a wide stripe and then diving right in. Your eyes flutter shut and you can feel him opening his mouth wider, his lower lip moving down along your folds, his tongue lapping at you with a voracity of a starved man, jolts of pleasure rippling through you within seconds. You have to cover your mouth with a hand to muffle a long-drawn moan, afraid that his neighbors will hear although you can’t even remember if he has any.

Aemond looks up at you, the lower part of his face obscenely wet.

“I feel that you are holding back,” he says in a husky voice, his eyes dark with lust. “But I can fix that.”

He gives you no time to catch your breath as he sucks at your clit and slides a finger into you, making you cry out loud, your hips unwillingly bucking upward. You really want to know how the hell is he so good at this but you can’t concentrate on anything but the feeling of his tongue, your body trembling in his hands like a guitar string. Aemond adds a second finger with ease, curling them both inside you, and then you feel a distinct vibration as he can’t hold back his own moan, seeing you like this, tasting you like this — and it sends you over the edge.

Aemond helps you ride out your orgasm, leaving soft kisses around your navel as you come down from your high, your mind hazy and breathing ragged but you keep your eyes focused on him. With a blink of an eye, he’s fully naked and with a condom on. He’s bathing in the moonlight that outlines his tense muscles, his face flushed pink but with no hint of shyness, and when he locks his gaze with yours, it flares up your desire all over again, and he notices it right away.

Aemond has a grin on his face as he hovers over you, lips contouring your jawline, and he presses his tip at your entrance but doesn’t push it in, instead coating it in the wetness that’s already pooling between your legs. But his teasing is short-lived as he lasts for barely a minute, sliding his cock up and down — and then his eyelids flutter, and a small moan leaves his lips. You wiggle your hips, clenching around nothing, and look at him, whimpering “Aemond” — and that’s all it takes.

He sinks in you in one swift motion, so thick and filling you up so perfectly, your mouth falls open in a silent cry.

“Fuck, I — ,” he sucks in a breath, not moving an inch. “I-I need to go slow or I will not last.”

He lowers his face, leaving a trail of kisses from your breasts up to your neck, and they burn like bruises on your heated skin. His hips roll against yours agonizingly slow, and you feel like your whole body is on fire, and you need him deeper, and you crave more of him, all of him. A glint of gold catches your attention, your eyes moving to the chain that dangles down his neck, and you pass the cool metal between your fingers. You lightly tug at the chain with your lips and then release it with a wet sound, looking at Aemond through your lashes. You feel his breath hitching, his gaze not leaving your mouth.

You part your lips, letting the chain slip in, and then grit your teeth, the gold glimmering between them. You push the chain out with your tongue, swiping it over the jewelry and sucking the chain back into your mouth. Aemond is so spellbound, he stills his movements, his pupils dilated to the rim. He brings his hand to your face, tracing your lower lip and then opening your mouth again to pull the chain out, his lips slanting over yours.

“Aemond,” you breathe out into his mouth. “I want you to fuck me.”

His restraint snaps and crumbles and dissolves completely. He pulls out for merely a second before slamming back into you, and the movement electrifies every nerve in your body, eliciting a yelp from you. Before you know it, he’s pounding into you at an ungodly pace, his hips harshly snapping forward, finding just the right spot, while his grip on you is still gentle, and you feel an overwhelming pressure building up, your moans turning into wails, your body going weak and pliable, aching for release.

“I-I am so close, I need... ,” you can’t form a coherent sentence, throat soar and voice strained. “I — Aemond... — please.”

He understands it perfectly and smiles breathlessly at you.

“So fucking polite,” he purrs, his teeth grazing your neck. “And all mine.”

His hand slips between your bodies, zeroing in on your clit, and then he starts tapping on it, the movement precise and fast, fanning your overstimulated skin, and it makes your whole body quiver violently as your orgasm washes over you like a heatwave, and you don’t care if the whole neighborhood hears you. Aemond’s eyes never leave your face while you come undone, your back arching as your walls tense and pulse around him, and he follows soon after, his moans muffled by the crook of your neck.

It takes a minute for you to come to your senses as he pulls out and rolls on his back, bringing you into his embrace. You both try to regain your breath, and the time crawls while you are in this bubble of intimacy.

“It’s the dress, isn’t it?” you break the comfortable silence, your fingers tracing a dash of moles on his skin.

“The dress is downright sinful,” Aemond laughs, “but no,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

There’s an unexpected pause, and then he speaks up with raw emotion in his voice:

“I want you all the time.”

You glance up at him, your hand moving up his chest, and you feel his heart beating erratically like a bird trapped in a cage.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to rush it. I knew that once we...,” he stutters, and your eyes dart to his lips, swollen and raspberry-tinted. “There’s no going back from here.”

He just made you cum twice and now he's stumbling over his words — and it’s the perfect combination, truly. Your tenderness clashes with something more primal, igniting the flames all over again, and his fingers already tighten the grip on your thigh.

“Then it’s a good thing that I don’t want to go back,” you murmur, and he lowers his head first to capture your lips with his, and you think that Arya was right. And then his hand slides between your legs and you can’t think of anything at all.

⋙ A week later, there isn’t a single flat surface in his apartment left that you didn’t have sex on. Aemond wants to know every way to make you feel good and he gets down to work with the diligence of a straight-A student. He’s eager to learn but he does take his time to practice — and you enjoy every minute of it as he maps your body and memorizes all the spots that make you weak. But apart from the ardent passion, there’s this caring softness of his that fills your heart with love even when you least expect it.

It happens one morning when he sits you down on the kitchen counter, his hand in your pants, fingers sliding into you, deep and rhythmic, as his mouth covers your nipple — and you sharply arch your back, risking hitting your head on a wall but Aemond manages to place his hand there and keeps it behind your nape the entire time.

Or on another day, when you two burst into his apartment after his training, your hands all over him as you hop onto the wooden shoe stand, unbuttoning his jeans, and he hikes your skirt to your thighs, pushing your panties aside, and fills you up, his mouth muffling your moans — and then his palm lands on the wooden surface and he breaks the kiss:

“This wasn’t made for sitting on it, I can tell.”

You honestly couldn’t care less but Aemond doesn’t wait for you to respond — he easily hoists you up, still hard and fully in you, and as you squirm and shiver with pleasure, he brings you into his room and lowers you on the bed.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he smirks, his hands skimming up your thighs.

You are not sure if it’s about the fluffy blanket or him instantly picking up the pace but you nod vigorously, pushing your hips up to meet his. He sucks on the sweet spot close to your ear and whispers:

“It’s about to get better.”

And it does.

⋙ He buys a new shoe stand the very next day. He brings it in and assembles it himself, and you watch him with a blip of guilt:

“The old one was fine, Aemond, you shouldn’t have bothered.”

He puts away the tools and, as he’s standing up, he places a kiss on your pajama-covered hip, following it by a peck on your lips:

“I did and I would’ve done it again, sweetheart.”

Aemond goes to his room to put down the tools, and you come along.

“I just don’t want you to waste your money,” you murmur, standing in the doorway.

And then he says without thinking:

“Technically, it’s not mine.”

You look at him confused, and Aemond sighs, pondering for a minute.

You never brought it up but sometimes it does make you wonder why he seems so careless with his finances. You know that he’s got a scholarship (as do you) and he doesn’t tend to throw money around but he also doesn’t count the costs and rarely looks at price tags. You don’t ask him for anything nor do you want to yet the topic looms on the horizon, and you don’t really know what to think of it.

It sounds like Aemond doesn’t like to discuss it so he keeps the story brief: as it turns out, the apartment isn’t the only thing their dad left them. He also set up an account for each of his children to get — as Aemond says, his voice cold and bitter, — “a great deal of money in inheritance”. He doesn’t talk much about his father, either, but from what you’ve gathered Viserys has never been a loving parent so you can’t blame Aemond for the resentment.

“Maybe you should save up that inheritance for something more valuable,” you come closer with a soft smile, cuddling up to him and thinking that’s the end of the conversation.

What you don’t expect is for Aemond to pull out his phone and open the bank’s app to show his account to you. It looks like a phone number, only a couple of digits shorter, and you stare at the screen for a second before it dawns on you.

“O-oh,” you mutter.

His hand clings to your waist but he doesn’t say anything, and the silence feels weird and heavy like a wet coat.

“I rarely withdraw any money from it,” Aemond finally says. “But it comes in handy, like, once or twice a year.”

He wants nothing to do with his father, you realize, but that also explains his attitude toward money. Although he’s far from being spoiled, Aemond still comes from a privileged position, and you try to choose your words wisely before speaking up:

“Well, your refusal to depend on him is admirable but doesn’t it feel... wrong to have that amount of money and do nothing about it?”

Aemond unconsciously tenses up, lowering his gaze to you, an inkling of a frown on his face. You pull away slightly, too wrapped up in your thoughts as the words spill out of your mouth:

“Arya’s been volunteering at a dog shelter and they barely get any donations, she says the dogs are surviving mostly on leftovers brought by the neighbors, can you imagine? Also, I overheard Mr. Harrold complaining that the library roof is rotting and for some reason, the funding does not cover repairs — and, sure, we can just stop going there — but I think if you have the means and if you don’t really care about the money, why not use it to help someone out, you know?”

Aemond’s lack of response makes you turn to him, and you see him staring at you, his face expression unreadable.

“I mean, I’m aware that money doesn’t buy happiness and I’m not your financial advisor, obviously — do you even have one? ‘cause it seems like you should — and I won’t ever talk about it up again if you don’t want to and I don’t mean to overstep and — ”

The words roll off his tongue out of the blue:

“I love you,” Aemond blurts out.

You stop mid-sentence, looking at him in bewilderment, with wide eyes and lips parted, your train of thought completely forgotten. Your heart skips a bit — and then does so again, and you feel short of breath. Aemond doesn’t look away, his lips quirking in a smile as he gently tugs you closer but still leaves some distance as if he’s afraid you’ll want it.

“I love you,” he says again, without a shadow of a doubt. “And I know it may seem too soon, and you don’t have to say it back but I want to. And I want you to tell me anything and everything,” he allows himself a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “And there’s no one I’d rather talk to than you.”

You feel like someone set off firecrackers in your chest and they burst, loud and blazing, and your own smile blossoms. You cup the side of his face, sneaking a kiss against the underside of his jaw.

“I’m so glad you told me,” you whisper as your thumb settles next to his lower lip. “Because now I can say it, too. I love you,” you place a kiss on his cheek, “I love you so much,” — and on another cheek, right on his scar.

And then he catches your lips with his, and you both can’t stop smiling into the kiss, and you think that’s your favorite taste from now on: his laughter in your mouth. And you feel like you’ve never been happier in your entire life.

Aemond sprinkles your face with kisses then, only pausing to ask:

“What’s the name of that dog shelter?”

⋙ He buys way too much dog food — and water bowls and collars — and you help him pick the colors, and it feels kind of like a Christmas morning. The order is delivered in a few days, and you come by his apartment to help sort it out but Aemond greets you with a hand behind his back.

“I have something for you,” he grins mysteriously. “Turn around and close your eyes.”

You do as you’re told, curiosity bubbling in your chest, and something thin and cooling glides over the skin around your neck. You open your eyes to look in the mirror but find yourself at a loss for words. It’s a chain, a copy of the one he wears.

“I know you don’t like yellow gold so I thought a white one would be a better option,” he follows the curve of your shoulder with his finger.

“Aemond, this must cost a fortune,” your cheeks suffuse with pink.

“Na-ah, it doesn’t, not even close,” he places a kiss on the side of your neck. “I may be a philanthropist now but it’s only fair that I treat my girlfriend, too,” you catch the reflection of his smile and can’t help but smile back. You also can’t stop yourself from thinking of how to thank him, and an idea pops into your mind.

On the next Friday evening, when Aemond returns from his training session, he’s surprised to see a soft light coming from his room. He walks in — and then freezes in place, speechless: you are laying in his bed completely naked, batting your lashes at him and biting down on the white gold chain that glitters on your flushed lips.

“I think this gift calls for celebration,” you purr. “But you seem overdressed for the occasion.”

Luckily, he can remove his clothes at the speed of light.

Hours later, you’re laying in his bed, your body sweaty, aching and intertwined with his, and the first light of dawn is seeping through the curtains. Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, your fingers vine through his hair, and he runs his hand from the cleft of your breasts up to your chain, the warmed-up metal bright against your skin.

“This was my best investment ever,” he drawls with a tired smile.

And you can’t agree more.

• shamelessly inspired by the quote “Don’t ask her to moan, make her” • this is only the second time I wrote smut so please be nice? something tells me I will write more ehehe • there will be part 3 BUT it may take a while ‘cause I want to think it through. also, I’m trying my best to keep the chapters relatively short around 6-7k so there’s a chance I’ll write more than one part • I plan on including interactions with his family / some vacation time / moving in together — but maybe there’s something else you want to read about? don’t hesitate to tell me!

as usual, comments are VERY appreciated 🥺 (opinions? asks? PLS just talk to me)

tagging everyone who’s ever asked: @greenowlfactiffif, @kyuupidwrites, @pearlstiare, @i-killed-ramsey, @bellaisasleep

✨ my recent fic: “My first choice” (she’s Aegon’s bestie, inspired by “Little women”) 🔥 the first smut I wrote: “The object of my desire” (~6500 words, inspired by the famous scene from Bridgerton S2) 💌 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

#aemond targaryen #I JUST WANT IT TO SHOW IN THE TAGS DAMN IT #my stuff #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond modern au #hotd modern au #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut

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plussizefantasia · 7 months

Text

Domesticity Looks Good on You

Flufftober Day 6: Cooking Together

Spencer Reid x f!reader

Word Count 0.8k

AN: Hello again! This definitely isn't my favorite one I've written so far but I definitely don't hate it. Please reblog if you liked it and I'll see you all tomorrow!

divider credit @royallaesthetics

“What are you doing?” Spencer paused as he entered the kitchen of the apartment the two of you shared. He loved you with his whole heart, but he didn’t understand how you could possibly function like this. He was methodical, logical, and very precise. You were not, you liked to go with the flow, do whatever you thought would be cool, and experiment with almost everything in your life.

Especially cooking. While Spencer followed recipes and instructions, you threw things together and hoped that they tasted good. It confused him and amused him at the same time.

He had just gotten back from a very long case, two weeks away from home and you wanted to make him a nice welcome back dinner.

When he walked into the kitchen, however, you were concerned with the amount of chaos that was going on. You were blasting music from the speaker next to you, the counters were covered in dishes and half-chopped vegetables. Something was simmering on the stove and your head was fully in the fridge as you dug around looking for whatever you needed.

At his question though your head popped out of the appliance and a blinding smile appeared on your face. “Spence! Your home!” You ran towards him and pulled him into a hug, squashing your cheek against his chest and squeezing him. He let you hold him, wrapping his long arms around your waist and placing a kiss on the top of your head. When he pulled away he could clearly see the small pout that formed on your face but he was entirely more concerned with the mess that was in the kitchen.

“What are you making sweetheart?” he paced forward to take a glimpse at what was in the pot resting on the stove.

“I’m making stew Spence, what does it look like?” You placed your hand on your hip and cocked it out to the side.

‘I’m not sure you want me to tell you what I think it looks like.” He turned towards you and teased. “Do you need any help?” His question sounded innocent but you knew him. Knew that this was his way of trying to control the chaos around him.

You sighed and shook your head with a smile, “Sure Spence, I could use some help.” even though you really didn’t think you needed help, the way he lit up made you happy.

The two of you danced around each other perfectly, your creativity somehow mixing perfectly with his desire for order. When he would reach for something you were already handing it to him, being able to read him without him needing to say anything. The pot grew fuller and fuller the longer you two worked on it and you knew that you’d be eating leftover stew for at least lunch the next day.

The two of you cooked together and laughed together, Spencer snuck brief kisses when he wasn’t otherwise occupied. The both of you split the clean-up work while waiting for the covered pot to be done cooking. Spencer washed and you dried and the two of you fit together perfectly.

If you had asked Spencer what he thought his life would end up like three years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to conjure up anything that looked like this. Cleaning dishes with the woman he loved while music played loudly in the background. In an apartment, the two of you shared together.

You thought that moments of domesticity like this looked good on him. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and if helping you make dinner and clean up afterwards lifted up some of that weight you would do it every day for the rest of your life.

In the end, the two of you had made a stew that looked good, but neither of you knew how exactly it would taste, as you had switched up the plan about halfway through. Nevertheless, he dished up two bowls of the hearty broth and veggies and you both made your way to the living room to sit on the couch and eat together.

You were the one to take the first bite, Spencer wanting to make sure it wasn’t bad before he tried it. You let out a pleasant hum and went back for another spoonful which was his cue that it at least wasn’t horrible.

His bite had a very large chunk of potato in it, and it wasn’t entirely cooked all the way through, but all things considered, it wasn’t bad at all.

He would never admit it, but he actually liked cooking with you, even when you quarrel over what to make or how much of one thing to put in, he loved it. He thinks he might just love spending time with you, no matter what the two of you were doing.

You leaned further into his side and took your now half-empty bowl with you. Spencer adjusted himself on the couch to make himself and you more comfortable and the both of you relaxed into one another.

Your head was already spinning with what to make for dinner tomorrow night. With Spencer of course.

#plus size reader #plus size!reader #fanfic #fluff #x reader #drabble #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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circyexistforcontent · 1 year

Note

So um for the event my team has Childe, either Xiao or kusanali, Raiden and Bennett. Though Childe is a menance who will crit when he wants to but when he crits he will do it multiple times after the first one.

TEAM COMP: CHILDE, RAIDEN SHOGUN/EI, BENNETT, XIAO, FT. KUSANALI

♥ Poor Bennett, you left him on a dangerous. The boy is just on the sidelines trying his best to avoid the verbal fights his three team members start in hopes he will be spared from the lashing. Childe is comparable to a dog, obedient to his owner but bites at other people who get too close to him. In this case, it would be his team members. Except for Kusanali and Bennett, but he makes sure the kids know not to cross the line. The Raiden Shogun and Ei think that their team members are not worth your or their time and are inferior in their eyes. To the kids, they're just strict and advise them to not ruin the commissions or challenges. Xiao doesn't even bother with his teammates, though he gets jealous of how Childe is doing a better job at finishing off the enemy and by extension getting your attention. He will keep this to his grave, but he (copies) references how Childe fights on the field. In return, it irks Childe causing the two to verbally lash at one another. Kusanali just comforts Bennett since she's the most harmless platonic yandere out of all the Genshin Characters.

♥ Childe is wild and rambunctious, but also sly and cunning in his own way. With his thrill to fight and his drive to serve you, it turns into a recipe for disaster. His determination pays off and he manages to make a little glitch where he can crit a little more than he usually can. He can feel the jealousy his other team members have for him, members like Xiao and the Raiden Shogun would threaten him to spill his secret on how he did it. He would just smile and keep his mouth, if it ever leads to a physical fight Childe will be more than happy to oblige. Don't ask why Childe's HP is lower than usual, didn't you want to go to that one domain? Use him to your hearts content.

♥ The Raiden Shogun and Ei are honored that you brought them to your team, the two knew they were going to be in it one way or another. Who wouldn't want the electro-archon to be their ally? That being said, the two of them question why you would bring a child (N o t Childe), A cursed bound Yaksha, and an orange-headed maniac to be in your team. She respects Kusanali due to her prowess and her abilities being a great support for the team. For Bennett, she is a stern mentor and advice him that if he can't get rid of his bad luck he should either make a loophole around it or use it to his advantage against the team's enemies (which worked because when Bennett was kidnapped by treasure hoarders all of them was thrown off a cliff the next moment, of course, Bennett was included but he survived). For Childe and Xiao, she doesn't like them. Especially Childe. The two think they are more than capable of carrying your team alone. You don't need any of them.

♥ Bennett is scared of getting into the verbal (and even physical) fights that the Raiden Shogun, Childe, and Xiao get into. He prays to you every night that he won't go on any of their bad sides. Besides that, he believes his luck turned around when he got included in your team. Sure, rocks still get thrown at him and he still falls off cliffs, but it's all worth it to be next to you!

♥ Xiao doesn't interact a lot with his team, the only time he ever does interact with his team is if they start indirectly sabotaging your gameplay (ex. forcing themselves to not switch with other characters, Childe either Critting more than usual or not Critting at all) he will voice his complaints when another argument arises and will not hold back his words of judgment. When he gets switched with Kusanali often he feels a bit disheartened, but seeing as how Kusanali is an archon he understands. Still, he wishes you would him more often. Seeing Childe often glitch out to crit more he gets jealous, and more often than not, tries to mimic him. He will never admit to his actions, but everyone can tell he's lying.

♥ Kusanali pities Xiao and feels bad for replacing him, but Xiao denies her pity and claims that she should focus on serving their grace more. Out of all the characters here Kusanali is the only lucid yandere and does her best to control her obsessive tendencies. She supports the team as much as she can and does her best to land a crit as much as she can even if you build her as a support.

♥ Overall, the team is very dysfunctional and Childe got stabbed more than once while he was on the team. But if needed they work quite well together and will do their best to please you. Don't be fooled though, if possible they will find a way to kill one another permanently (except for Bennet and Nahida, they can't find it in themselves to murder another person)

#🍒sagau #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #genshin cult au #genshin self aware #self aware genshin #sagau cult au #yandere genshin x reader #self aware genshin impact #childe x reader #xiao x reader #ei x reader #yandere childe #yandere xiao #yandere ei #raiden shogun x reader #yandere raiden shogun

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genshin-impacted · 1 year

Text

Exchange of Rings

(Alhaitham x Reader - 3/?)

You and Alhaitham learn about each other while living together. Neither of you mind what you're seeing (or hearing). OR cooking + hobbies + singing

Word Count: ~3.5k

Notes: afab!reader, second person pov “you”, gn!reader, switches pov with Alhaitham, modern au, arranged marriage, fall first/fall harder, suggestive themes, slow burn

[Previous - Next]

Like most working adults, you and Alhaitham are gone for most of the day and home at around sunset. With your differing schedules, you don’t get to see each other for most of the week. Still, the two of you begin to develop a routine together with the awareness that you are no longer living alone.

It means making more food so the two of you can pack the leftovers for lunch. Having cooked at home for your family, you have less trouble adapting the portions to make enough for the two of you, but for the first nights Alhaitham made dinner, there was nothing to bring to work the next day. It wasn’t a big deal, but Alhaitham seemed inordinately upset, if only because he had believed he had made enough for four people and increased the proportion of ingredients appropriately.

You think you were partially to blame, considering you probably ate enough saffron rice for maybe two and a half people, and you tell him just as much. You were half-joking, but Alhaitham leveled you a look. Before you could get nervous and actually apologize, he nodded to himself.

“I’ll simply increase the proportions two-fold next time,” Alhaitham said. “I should have taken into consideration both of our individual diet patterns when calculating.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really,” you stammered, feeling your face heat up. “Your cooking is just really good. I don’t eat that much usually.”

Alhaitham had stared at you again, observing you, and it is now a feeling you have grown familiar with, though it still makes you feel the need to look away. It’s not as though it really bothers you; if it had, you don’t think you would survive in this relationship where Alhaitham is prone to thinking before speaking. (Sometimes, for a long time.)

In some ways, the way Alhaitham looks at you makes you feel seen. And that’s why it’s embarrassing, you think: you feel as though he can tell who you really are behind the polite pretenses and manners hammered into your psyche.

Just when you think he’s decided to drop the topic, he said, “There’s no need to be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with a big appetite. If you were worried about your diet or appearance-”

“Speaking about food,” you interrupted, voice a twinge higher, “is this your mom’s recipe? It’s really good!”

You can still palpate his desire to continue the previous conversation even as he graciously allowed you to talk about the subject of the day.

Living together also means waking up to an alarm and clicking snooze only twice– maximum. The two of you actually had a serious discussion about this, having apparently shared the scenario of an unfortunate roommate pressing snooze every five minutes for a half hour.

The two of you already worked out the chores; some things you do together (dusting, cooking, setting up the table), while others you take turns doing. The topic of laundry came up and Alhaitham is the one suggesting doing individual loads for the time being, justifying by saying that he probably will have to do it more often. Which is fair, you think, you take up twice as much closet space as Alhaitham, so that means he has less clothes to rotate through in general.

What he lacks in closet space, Alhaitham makes it up in the form of books. As promised, he moves in his bookcases, which line up the walls of the small living room next to the couch that he often sits at after dinner for leisurely reading.

As a reader of specifically non-fiction, you think Alhaitham must be well-read in all topics. You like to dabble in some topics from the sciences or humanities too, and it’s come in handy, helping along some of your supper conversations as they veer towards specific bits of knowledge that you’ve garnered throughout the years. While the last time you’ve really read an informative book was eons ago, Alhaitham is on a constant pursuit of knowledge, sifting through pages and pages of information and grasping at the ones that are pertinent– no matter how esoteric the knowledge may be.

You remember peering into his bookshelves the other day when it was your turn to dust (worst chore by far). You were hoping to pick up a topic that you could perhaps talk with him about, but some of the books you’ve seen are truly beyond your knowledge AND interest.

Especially with “Factory Mass Manufacturing and Warehouse Management,” you think absently, as you cut slices of apples onto a plate. Considering how Alhaitham is the secretary of a prominent business, you can somehow see the relevance. But even so, you can never imagine reading something like that just for fun.

You walk over with the plate of fruit, crunching on a slice before gently placing the plate on the arm of the couch next to Alhaitham. You peer over his shoulder to look at his reading material. The font is small, paragraphs thick and heavily informative almost like a textbook, but Alhaitham is close to finishing. Incredulous, you catch a glimpse of the title, and it’s the same warehouse management book you’d seen a few days before.

“You’re already almost done reading that?” You ask, bewildered. You look at Alhaitham as he pauses midway from picking up a slice of the apples you have cut.

“It’s not that long,” he replies, flipping to the last page. “Only about 400.”

‘Only,’ he says. You only nod. “Is it interesting to you? How do you choose what book to read next?”

“I don’t have a system, if that’s what you’re asking,” Alhaitham says. “I just choose whatever seems to be a good read for the time being.”

“Do you read just non-fiction?”

“Not always. I find that fiction and imagination can often explore various topics that reality cannot.” Alhaitham bookmarks his place in the book before shutting it. You blink when he turns to place his full attention on you. “Do you read?”

Fanfiction comes to mind immediately, but you aren’t planning to admit that right off the bat. “Nothing recently,” you say. He gives you a glance before standing up, and you follow curiously behind him as he sifts through his selection of books. “I also usually read fictional works over non-fiction, but…”

“Are you interested in the sciences?” Alhaitham asks, pulling out a book from his collection, “Or history?”

Alhaitham ends up giving you two of the thinner non-fiction books to start with, both about topics that you surprisingly do have an interest in. You don’t remember ever talking to him about the specifics, but you garner he must have gained some sort of knowledge about your preferences in the times you’ve talked. You don’t have it in you to turn down Alhaitham’s book recommendations even though you really doubt you can find it in yourself to finish a book let alone read non-fiction.

For one, you feel like this is a heaven-sent opportunity to bond with the man. Anyone can look at him and see how important books are to him, and you want to show interest in his hobbies, no matter how different they are from yours. And if you do end up reading, you get some more knowledge you can talk to Alhaitham about and- you try not to be too giddy at this– you might use this chance of reading to sit next to Alhaitham when he reads. (You believe they call it parallel play.) And two: you might get to understand Alhaitham just a little bit more if you delve into the books he cherishes so much.

And for that, you are motivated to see these books through to the end.

If you sneak a peek at Alhaitham over the pages of your book ever so often, you hope he does not mind.

You and Alhaitham begin to develop a routine together with the awareness that he is no longer living alone.

Alhaitham has had his share of roommates, has lived with his parents or grandmother for a period of time. But as an adult, he has the autonomy that regardless of where or who he lives with, he does everything on his own. It is different trying to live together with a spouse.

It means sharing the space in which the two of you inhabit. Alhaitham prefers to read on the couch before sleeping, and you always end up sitting on the other seat with the laptop, most likely browsing the internet. When glancing over, he can see you either shop online, scroll through social media, or play a game. It’s an open-world concept, you had explained to him when he asked once out of curiosity: Genshin Impact.

You had looked at him then with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation, on the precipice of saying something more. You probably wanted to elaborate on what kind of game it was, but then you seem to hold yourself back, smiling at him before going back to your screen. Alhaitham has never been interested in video games, but he almost wishes you had continued to talk, if only to get to understand the hobbies you’ve touched upon during dinner.

Small talk is terrible, but with you, he can tolerate it to a certain extent. Even when asking about your day, the perspective that you bring to the table so differs from his own that he imagines if he went through the same day as you, the two of you would create very different experiences.

Your hobbies, too, are very different from his own. His life has always revolved around books, while you have dipped your toes into whatever hobby suits your fancy at that time. Anime, gaming, baking, crocheting, embroidering, writing, photography: your interests are diverse and often fleeting, though some of those have stayed with you till now. Alhaitham is a learner- he has theories and knowledge filling his mind to the brim, and you are a doer, fueled by passion and creativity.

Alhaitham concludes by the end of the month that even with all your differences, there is at least one thing he knows the two of you have in common: curiosity. Perhaps that is why he finds it even pleasant to converse with you. He finds genuine interest in the topics you talk about, and you listen intently when he speaks upon his latest book. The reason why he knows you’re truly listening is because you said just as much.

“Why read books when I can just have you explain them to me,” you tell him jokingly as you wash the dishes that night. “You’re really good at teaching things, Alhaitham. Thanks for being so patient with me.”

Alhaitham is not unfamiliar with compliments, but he doesn’t remember the last time someone has commended him on his abilities to instruct. And for his ‘patience’? He’s more likely to leave mid-conversation than wait for someone to try and find a grasp on their words.

He can recall tutoring someone or other during his undergraduate years, but people are rarely as willing to learn or conscientious as you. Perhaps that is why he doesn’t mind taking his time explaining things to you. Some things are harder to grasp for you than others, but he commends you for the effort. And he knows you put the effort into understanding, if the look of disconcert with your furrowed brows and slow nods are of any indication. Your questions are pertinent; they show that you’re actually listening.

It’s much better than some other people he has tried to teach who have only wasted his time trying to ask for help with something that they have no intention to use. It must be why with you, he may seem more patient, while others have found him either curt or intimidating. (He could care less about what people think of him, and the less he interacts with them, the better.)

Alhaitham gives a simple ‘thanks’ before your attention is back on the dishes. He goes to sit on the couch as per usual to read, but once in a while, he glances up from the pages to look at you, the far more interesting thing in the room.

If you are by any way bothered by his looks, you don’t say.

Living together denotes exactly that– being under the same roof for an extended period of time. On days that both Alhaitham and you stay home all day, a rare occurrence, are days that he fully understands what it means to live in the same space as someone else.

It’s hearing you let out a huff of laughter after you see something funny on your phone. Or listening to the muffled music that comes from your headphones when the two of you are on the couch together. And you are often on the couch together, many times not speaking but simply doing different activities in the same vicinity, which Alhaitham finds he appreciates very much.

One of his distaste for married life was the idea that he would always have to be doing the same thing as his significant other. He understands the appeal of it, certainly; seeing you open one of the books he recommended to you as the two of you sit side-by-side has a small smile forming on his lips. But to be doing the exact same thing as his spouse all the time? He much prefers the way you and him complement each other, doing things while still being considerate of the other.

“Do you mind if I cook fish tonight?”

“I’m planning to vacuum in an hour; will that interrupt your work?”

“It’s a little cold tonight. Can I turn up the heater?”

And when Alhaitham works out in the living room, he notices you staring at him as you read.

His headphones are in, but when he pauses his workout, he pauses his music as well. “Am I bothering you?” He asks. He doesn’t think he makes a lot of noise when he exercises, aside from the obligatory breathes he has to take. Perhaps the constant movement in the corner of your eyes is distracting. He finds you frozen in place, mouth gaping open and closed as you try to answer him. He doesn’t particularly think it’s a very difficult question to answer, but he knows you often try to find the best way to word things so he waits.

Alhaitham does not expect the very simple and stammered “no” that comes from you and the way you scramble to bury your nose back into your book.

You’re embarrassed, he thinks. Why? He looks at you for a while longer, and you seem more determined to not meet his gaze, as though refusing to look at him- ah.

Alhaitham recalls that the first question you asked him was whether he found you attractive. You never provided an answer to him whether or not you found him attractive, but perhaps you didn’t need to, especially not now.

It’s a… strange feeling, to be admired for his looks. He isn’t exactly unfamiliar with them, but he never cared for how people viewed him– good or bad. Having someone like you look at him, on the other hand… He finds he does not mind the way you are flustered at being caught staring, yet respectful enough to not to purposely bother him and accommodating enough to let him exercise despite how obviously distracting he is.

It’s a little… endearing. And very amusing. If only you’d look at him now, you would catch him smiling even as his workout puts him through the wringer.

If you could go back in time to catch yourself before you started staring at Alhaitham– attractive, extremely fit Alhaitham who is working out in front of you– you would. You try not to make eye contact with him again after your weak response, and you feel his gaze on you for a moment longer before he goes back to his workout.

Pushups. With one arm. Sweat glistening on his forehead, breath heavy from effort-

You take a quiet deep breath in and think of less… distracting thoughts and back to the explanation of the downfall of the Byzantine Empire that you’re reading right now. It is unironically a riveting book to sift through, but it’s just that you have something else more entertaining in front of you. Respectfully, you avert your gaze.

“I can cook dinner after I shower,” Alhaitham suddenly says, and you look to your left, craning your neck up to look at him as he wipes his neck with a towel.

“Okay,” you say automatically, mind still reeling. A brief pause. “Have a nice shower.”

Alhaitham looks at you again, and you are used to it by now to know that it is neither a good nor bad thing, until you see a quip of a smile on his face. “Thanks,” he basically drawls. “I will.”

The moment Alhaitham is out of earshot, you slam your face into your book, the cool pages battling the heat on your cheeks.

Living together means Alhaitham can discern some of your habits. It’s the plate of fruits that you cut for him when it’s a quiet afternoon of reading. It’s the way you start or end your sentences, the way you refer to certain things to a point of his own recognition as though you are teaching him your own language. And although you did not do this in the earliest stages of his relationship with you, he suspects that you are beginning to at least become more comfortable living with him, because he begins to hear you sing.

Most of it is probably not meant for his ears. Alhaitham remembers coming back to the apartment with the sounds of your distant, muffled singing, which stops the moment he closes the door shut with a slam. (There is no other way to close this door securely, unfortunately.) He never brings attention to it, suspecting it would only embarrass you and discourage you from singing.

Or would it do the opposite, he wonders, covering his yawn as he walks into the kitchen after his afternoon nap to see you starting to cook dinner. You’re humming along to the music on your headphones, oblivious to his approach, and Alhaitham takes to leaning against the refrigerator until you turn around and notice him. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you jump and yelp like that.

“I’ve noticed you sing a lot,” Alhaitham says.

“Sorry, yeah,” you say sheepishly. “Is it distracting?”

“Not really. There’s really no need to apologize. You’re actually on tune as far as I can tell.” He sees you press your lips together, trying to hide your pleased smile. “Are we eating pasta tonight?” He asks.

“Yeah, with tomato sauce,” you say, stirring the pot gently. “So you really don’t mind? Me…” You wave your hand in a vague gesture. “Singing and all.”

“I don’t mind,” he says. Alhaitham thinks he’s been quite straightforward with how he feels about things in general. You know by now that he does not give opinions in halves; what he thinks is as clear as day. You don’t look so convinced, but it is true: he doesn’t mind hearing you sing. He’s always been sensitive to noises, bothered by the interruptions to the serenity of silence, but your voice he finds he does not mind. Perhaps he is used to hearing you, having lived with you for some time now, but he finds it hard to separate you and your voice with the image of home. (He supposes he has two places he can call home now.)

That and he can always filter the noises you make if he really needs to. Being accustomed to living with you has its perks, after all, but he has yet to find a reason to do so. In some ways, silence is no longer a part of his daily routine anymore. Alhaitham finds he does not mind that either when it involves you.

Alhaitham continues, “Though I do ask you don’t sing in the showers if it’s late; I do sleep quite early-”

“Yeah, no, no problem,” you stammer, staring at the pot as though it required more of your attention. (It does not as far as he knows.) “I- So you’ve heard me sing in there too?”

“Yes,” he says simply. When you stand there, stunned, he continues, “Again, I don’t mind it.”

“Noted.” You slowly grin, telling him teasingly, “Feel free to burst into song any time too, Alhaitham.”

The comment surprises a huff of laughter out of him, and he walks to the living room knowing full well you’re still smiling ear to ear. “Unlikely, but thanks anyways.” He says, “I’ll be reading; let me know if you need help.”

Alhaitham hears you chirp out an affirmation before going back to cooking. The stove flickers out as you turn off the stove, turning around to separate the pasta from water. Alhaitham is a few pages into his new book when he begins to hear you hum again. He looks up from his book to watch you bob your head along with the song you’re singing, steam rising from the sink as the hot water is poured.

He’s smiling as he goes back to read his book.

Taglist:

@crowbird @thetwinkims @jaguarthecat @loki-zos-galvus @fantasy-enthusiast @tanspostsblog @dxstopiaa @theprinceofkhaos @homeinhobii @nagisuterus

#alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham #al haitham x reader #reader be thirstin but mood

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eddsworld-the-masquerade · 6 months

Text

SABBAT!

New designs for Bing and Larry, designs for the other two members, a relationship chart...more art and info under the cut! (trust me, there's a whooole lot)

A curious bunch. Kind of an unlikely match (I mean Lasombra and Ventrue under the same roof sounds like a recipe for disaster..lol), but circumstances played their part. They may not be ideal for each other but it's all they have. Family, woof 👆

Why would I assign them with animals and elements? First off, it makes the designing process so much easier, since it creates direction. Second, it makes thematic sense. They've been denied humanity, and then they chose to keep it that way. "You see me a monster, well then, I'll be the monster" kind of situation. So, they'd rather associate with animals and elements than humans.

I could go on, but I'd rather have you experience the thing first hand in game (also doubt people would read further into this post otherwise lmao). Onto the characters!

Bing

Animal: Serpent

Element: Earth (Nature)

Main shtick: Change; Pain

Bing has more backstories than he does fingers, so nobody is quite sure on his origin. The one thing that seems certain is that he spent most of his existence in Russian Empire but fled when the civil war broke out in the 1910s. You'd think a Tzimisce of this age and history would be up to something nefarious now in Britain, but Bing is more concerned with "self search" and identity crisis. You could say he spends his retirement days here, or rather...used to spend, before one thing happened. But this, you'll learn more of playing the game XP

Bing dresses up kind of similar to the way he used to, back in the XVIII century. The outfit is rather loose (before I added clips onto the coat, I was told it looked more like a bathrobe...which, I suppose, is kind of fitting too XD), in order to leave extra room for when Bing uses Vicissitude (more on that later).

Bing's main gimmick is Tzimisce's signature, Vicissitude and the way he chooses to use it. Instead of turning his head into a giant pickle (Andrei lmao), Bing turns into different people. Not just appearance wise, it also includes voice, mannerisms, even personality. This is what I mean when I say he doesn't need to make clones - he IS the clone.

What he chooses to turn into most of the time are personas he used to "play out" during his glory days, XVIII century coups. Sometimes when prompted, sometimes just to troll others (if they dislike certain mannerisms or find the general idea of shape-shifting weird/scary).

These were crafted in accordance with the "ruler of the week", to win them over and then later "direct" them towards what Bing's Tzimisce sires and mentors needed. In a way, they are "clones" of these rulers (except maybe appearances), cuz imitation is the highest form of flattery lol

Though Bing also likes to experiment with his default form, as he doesn't find it ideal (his "true face", the one he forgot). Bing switches pronounce depending on current form (he/she/they, or anything else he feels like at the current moment).

Bing's battle form, aka the pinnacle of his Vicissitude mastery. If you happen to see it, usually it means you'll die a painful death in the next five minutes X)

Larry

Animal: Jackal

Element: Water

Main shtick: Loyalty and betrayal

Larry was dealt some shitty cards and forced upon the life of crime since early childhood. First a pirate (where he got his tan, scars, and vision problem), then a mercenary for a, uh, "dubious company" sponsored by Lasombra clan. Certain events made him overly sensitive to betrayals, so if you betray Larry, or hurt those he swore loyalty to, he will loathe you. And Larry's hatred runs deep. He always means business.

Larry's outfit is like, a modern take on pirate fashion. A bit rough around the edges, just enough to give him that "jackal" look. Larry's second name is practical, so he carries lots of belts. Never know when you mind need one.

Larry's signature, Obtenebration, comes from the Abyss and runs on his negative emotions. Which is why he's prone to lashing out and general bad mood. Needless to say it is extremely unhealthy, but power is power.

The story behind him coming to know Bing is fun. Originally, Larry was sent to kill him, but it was a set up, since Larry didn't stand a chance against that. So they kind of bonded instead, "enemy of my enemy is my friend". And after a while Larry just grew attached XDD He still goes on about murdering Bing "one day", but at this point everyone is aware it's not gonna happen like, ever.

Adella

Animal: Raven/Crow

Element: Fire

Main shtick: Control

Adella is half-chinese born in Britain. Do I need to say she didn't have a particularly fun time or is it obvious enough? From a very young age she was forced to believe she can only count on herself. Adella strived to climb the corporate ladder and get on top. To "burn her way through the obstacles". Might be lonely up there, but she was used to it either way, and she'd have the power and control to smack down anyone who tries to harm her. For now, let's just say she ended up upsetting the wrong people and had to run for her life. Sabbat was "kind" enough to let her stay under their wing.

Adella's relatively fresh meat, so her grasp on Sabbat "culture" is rather small for now. Though she is attempting to fit in more. She's determined to stay, despite whatever Larry says about her "looking for the opportunity to dump them". Adella insists she'd rather die than go back to the cammies. Bing is willing to give her the chance to prove herself.

Her and Larry's relationship is quite fun in how disastrous it is. Both constantly looking for jabs to throw at each other. The irony is, their stories and goals are kind of similar. But they're also different in ways that make their blood boil when they have to interact.

Zephyr

Animal: House centipede

Element: Wind

Main shtick: Security

Zephyr is truly a victim of circumstance. Lost ability to speak, lost all his loved ones, lost his home. Not a penny to his name, and no name either. His mind in ruin. He roamed around in the wild, until Bing found him. Seeing something familiar in him, Bing let him stay by their side. Found him a new name. A new purpose. A reason to keep on existing. Slowly, Zephyr is learning ways to communicate again. Perhaps he'll be able to remember, and tell his story one day.

Zephyr is the least human-like kindred, and looks like an atom bomb fell on his face. Despite the first impression he might create, Zephyr is a rather meek soul, doesn't seek conflict and is fine with following orders. That attitude changes when something threatens rest of the "family", though...

Zephyr is generally adored by his packmates, one could call him the "gentle giant" of the pack. Adella loves spending time with Zephyr, even Larry tolerates him. Though I'd say the most sympathy for him comes from Bing. As mentioned earlier, Bing sees a kindred spirit in Zephyr, so he is most invested in Zephyr's well being. Bing was the one to give him his new name. He's also the one learning sign language with him, so they'd have a better way of communication.

#eddsworld au #eddsworld vtm au #art #mod art #concept art #i was halfway through writing this when i realized it's gonna be way too long #if i mention ALL the things that went into them and their designs #and all the symbolism #'it's already long enough no one's gonna read that wall alice'#unless...you guys will? let me know if you want to know more nitty gritty facts 👉👈#hope you like these sillies. i had much ideas involving them #little interactions. comics maybe?#also i will obv update bing and larry's descs on character page

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shoshiwrites · 30 days

Note

my dear, I'd like to submit a Touches prompt: "#35 grabbing the other's hand to pull them back to them" for anyone who tickles your fancy. just need that sorta passion in my life 🥹

I just want to apologize for the fact that this actually is not entirely the prompt, but was 100% inspired by it — I owe you one ❤️ Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3! Set a little bit after this prompt. Featuring Jo with some new mail and Bucky having some thoughts and feelings about that.

The Clarion starts running her picture with the new pieces.

She doesn’t hate it, but at the same time it doesn’t quite look like her, the posed portrait she’d sat for in London with her hair pinned back her uniform pressed. She’s more herself in the photos Kay takes, under the cloudy English skies. But she can’t argue with it either — a uniform means something official, and isn’t that what they’re working for? To be taken seriously, to get what the boys are given without having to fight tooth and nail for it, without jokes about lipstick or hair products or a million other things on top of it.

The problem with the picture now, though, is that everyone knows who she is. Not a celebrity, that idea is laughable, but named. Josephine R. Brandt, The Clarion’s Woman in England.

They’re like name-tags too, the adjectives used to describe her and her fellow reporters in bite-sized news items. Marian Brenner is always petite, and Kay is statuesque. Marjory Manning is titian-haired, which always gets a laugh considering Marjory makes no secret that it comes from a bottle. Jo is brunette, and pert. That word always makes Kay choke a little on her cigarette, peering at Jo and the dark circles under her eyes.

She’s spent the last few days amongst the women of the Clubmobile, sleeping in an extra bed dragged in and photographing, rather amateurly, their truck and living quarters. They were much more accommodating to her than they should have been, especially when Jo attempted to work the fryer in the name of journalistic exploration. Thankfully she was much better at cleaning, with no qualms about rolling up her sleeves.

Her hair still smells like grease as she sits in an empty mess hall, picking at one of her nails and ignoring the stack of letters beside her. Her photographs wouldn’t quite capture what she’d tried to in her writing: the smell of perfume and the lingering fryer grease, hair tonic and newsprint and cold evening air, the blankets and bedrolls and towels hanging, tables with books and magazines and framed photographs, small pots of rouge, rosaries, hair combs and extra socks. A sprig of chicory sitting in a drinking glass, the blue flowers starting to wilt at the edges.

A name. A picture. What she hadn’t been thinking about — fanmail.

It was ridiculous, the pile Kay had passed along to her in London and the one she was now patently ignoring next to her elbow. Next to a copy of the paper, a newer one with the picture.

She’d always gotten responses to her pieces back home, whether that meant someone arguing with her about a labor statistic she’d quoted or offering their own version of a recipe back when she’d been on the society pages. Now, overseas, with her name and her picture clear as day, it was like a switch had been flipped.

The only thing that she didn’t have to worry about was William.

The ring was sitting at the bottom of her trunk, buried under a sweater. Tatty had offered to run it over with the Clubmobile, but Jo got worried about the tires. Helen had suggested the fryer. A WAC with strawberry blonde hair voted for a storm drain. Biddick had plans that involved Corporal Lemmons and an unknown quantity of explosives. Douglass, inexplicably, had volunteered to make neat work of it on an upcoming mission. She had no idea how he’d even found out.

Well, she isn’t wearing it anymore, right?

“Thought I’d find you in here.”

She looks up to see Egan making his way through the doors.

“Someone looking for me?”

He glances behind him and smiles, like it’s obvious. “Yeah, me.”

Maybe she knows better by now than to ask what he’s ignoring to be here. Milk run earlier this afternoon. Not flying tomorrow.

Isn’t it time for beers and darts, right about now?

“Just answering some mail.” Actual mail, from home. Not the other stack.

Maybe fanmail is a generous term, she thinks. Most of it is opinions, loud, of where she should or shouldn’t be. Home. Doing war work instead if she had to do something. Some less savory suggestions. Being quiet.

“You’re a popular correspondent,” he says, sitting down across from her.

She snorts.

“I’m just seeing that there’s lot of letters here.”

“Astute observation, Major.” But she’s smiling.

“Friends back home?”

“Yeah. The rest is-” she gestures, almost sighing out the answer in a sudden yawn, the light outside the soft gold of early evening. “I don’t know. People have a lot to say.”

“They do, do they?”

“Sometimes I forget that I’m not just a disembodied voice, is all.”

He looks a little puzzled, but still amused. She throws the paper in front of him, and his eyes catch the column. He whistles. “Front page, huh.”

“They haven’t used a picture before.” She nods back at the stack of letters.

“Oh.” She can’t tell if he’s about to make a joke or not.

“Might just toss them,” she says. They’d be good for the paper pulp if nothing else.

He grabs one off the top, his expression clouding over as he reads.

“They write this kinda stuff to you?” he says after a minute. One of the ones that had ideas about where she should be, namely the writer’s bed. He tosses it down on the table.

She thinks of London, and Norwich, and Pittsburgh, and Philadelphia. “They say it, too.”

He exhales, the sour expression still on his face. Like a lemon. “Sure.”

“You didn’t get to the marriage proposals yet.”

“The what?”

“They’re in there, I promise. They’re nicer.” He laughs a little, just this side of bitter. She tries to look offended, tries to lighten the mood. “Maybe I ought to be insulted.”

“No, no, I just-”

“Just what?”

He’s tapping his foot a little, she can feel it under the table. Fidgeting.

“I just feel lucky, is all.” The question of it is clear on her face. Lucky, sure, to go through hell every day and make it back here, to the ground and the summer-faded English fields. “That you’re not just a picture to me.”

Oh.

Something feels caught in her throat; it takes what feels like too many seconds. “You’re awfully sweet.”

“I mean it.” She wishes she had a little crabapple to pick at, something to do with her hands. “Don’t think a picture could’ve kissed that good either-”

She tries to whack the back of her hand against his arm, but he pulls away — hey, too quick — before he leans forward again, pulls her face to his.

“Not here-” she says, a little too belatedly. He’s grinning, all wolfish. His hands are warm.

“Will you go dancing with me, then?”

A place where they can do this, she assumes, out of sight, or amongst a crowd. She says it because it feels like something she should say. “There’s something planned here for the weekend, right?”

He makes a gentle scoffing sound. “Nah, I don’t-”

“What?”

“I mean, sure, but. You know. Just be prepared for me to keep stealing you away, ok?”

“And how will that look?”Her stomach swoops, out of something like nervousness, the feel of him close to her again.

He looks, maybe, the most boyish she’s seen him. “Like I don’t like sharing.”

Like she makes that space for anyone else. That exception. “You can reserve a spot or two on your dance card for me,” she says, diplomacy betrayed by the half-waver of her voice.

He assents, not entirely satisfied, but doesn’t try for another kiss. Not here, at least. She feels a chill go through her then, when he pulls away from her, lets go.

#trying not to overthink things 2k24 #masters of the air oc #mota oc #rosies-riveters #thank you friend <3 #jo's tag #motaverse #shoshi writes #stop telling me amateurly isn't a word i'm saying it's a word

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aceofsnacks · 6 months

Text

I did a tour of GO filming locations

It was around London, so I didn't get all of them, but the trip has been such a blast I just have to share the pics!

1. St James park: so many birds! And tourists. Which is good because the secret government agents wouldn't be able to feed so many ducks. I saw pelicans too—they were huge and pink and funny!!

2. Berkley Square (they actually didn't film anything here, but still): it's a giant construction site now. The only birds I spotted were parrots, so many of them, at least 5 nests, and loud too. No sane nightingale would ever come there, this much is true. But the song is referenced on one of the bench plaques <3

3. The Ritz / The Criterion: they both look nothing like the restaurant in the show (maybe the Criterion changed since 2019?) But both are fancy! When my rich uncle leaves me a giant inheritance and I find my 6000 year soulmate, I am so taking them out there, just you wait.

4. The Globe: this is my favourite theatre now!!!Macbeth was magnificent! And the standing tickets were so worth it: actors were down in the crowd and interacted with everyone! I got some of Macduff's blood on me! (Can't get this anywhere else :D) The Globe is closed in winter, so I'm already planning to buy tickets for next year.

5. The Bandstand and the-place-where-Gabriel-was-running: after marinating on Tumblr for so long I felt shocked seeing the word "bandstand" on a physical sign in the park. Like, put up a warning at least, my heart needs to be prepared?? The actual bandstand was at the same time smaller and bigger than I expected. Also those red bits—apparently they were there the whole time; I was imagining it black and white for some reason.

Also I met another crazy fan taking pictures of the bandstand in the rain, and I remember thinking, they have to be just as crazy as me xD

6. Tavistock square (where they switched bodies): the filming crew must have moved the benches around, because the square itself is so tiny and you can only match the scene background if you stand all the way back in the bushes. Surely there must have been a better way.

7. Crystal palace: just as I suspected, you can't see the dinosaurs from the bench because of all the trees in the way. The dinos are hilarious though, they look more like🗿and not like 🦖. In the show Warlock seems to have written a rude word on the teleosaurus info card, how dare he!

8. Tadfield (Hambleden, really): I thought, it's just two hours from London, easy day trip, in and out, what could go wrong. Cue to me stumbling over muddy fields in the dark surrounded by menacing sheep and regretting everything. The village is cute and English and has literally three streets and a post office and nothing else. And sheep.

9. Bonus round, my take on Aziraphale's bookshop xD "Seducing women? I think you've got the wrong shop!"

10. Bonus bonus round, food! (am I or am I not the ace of snacks after all?) An oyster recipe from Marcus Gavius Apicius' cookbook (Rome, 1c CE, stumbled upon it in the museum of Reading), and Eccles cakes (soooo sweet they don't calm people down but give them instant diabetes)

And that's it!! Thank you for reading all the way <3 Here is a secret snack 🍎

#Good Omens #Crowley #Aziraphale #London #real life #good omens filming #good omens 2

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piratefishmama · 1 year

Text

For One Night Only | Part 3

“Steve?!”

“Nance!” The reunion was abrupt, two bodies colliding in the middle of the room amidst makeup artists and stylists in a tight hug that wound up with Steve being lifted off of the floor by little miss badass herself, Nancy Wheeler. “Jeez! Hitting the gym much?” He laughed as she set his whole 5’10 stocky mass back down on the carpet.

“Only on the weekends, running around after these idiots is great cardio, keeps me in tip top shape, what’re you doing here?”

“Munson needed a date to this fancy award thing, I got the invite, you know me, love being pampered and showered with attention. I thought you and Barb were in Cali with the Byers?” Even though she and Jonathan weren't dating anymore, both realising they found their best friends way more compatible with themselves than each other, they still had plenty of love for each other, enough to spend a week just getting baked on the beach together once every few months.

“That’s next month after the events season is up, still running ragged this month. These lot have got radio shows tomorrow afternoon and evening, and they’re invited to a premier next weekend for something that used one of their songs in the soundtrack, it’s… hectic. God it’s been…what—”

“Few years since face to face" they'd kept up the catch up phone calls though, their "babies first love" hadn't worked out but they made excellent friends. "You look good Nance…”

“I feel good… less stressed. Weirdly enough.” She didn’t have to deal with asshole bosses and sexism in the workplace, she just had to deal with nerds, and the nerds respected her. “Did Eddie tell you about the whole journalism thing?”

“That you finally told them to go suck several severely unwashed dicks? Not in those exact words but I’m proud of you Nance, I know it’s what you wanted to do but—”

“Sometimes we don’t know what we want until we’ve tried it and it sucks. Barb walked out with me flipping the whole office off, it was glorious.” She finished as he nodded, smiling brightly at the knowledge that Barb had stuck by her in that too, because of course she had, when had Barb ever not stuck by her? “So I see this whole thing is still working out nicely for you” She motioned to the entirety of him as he flourished his hands in a tadah motion. “You look good, it’s a good look on you, this job.” He got paid handsomely for doing something he genuinely enjoyed, he dressed well, he smelled good, he looked like he was worth a lot of money.

“Not to parrot you but, god Nance I feel good too, I’ve been seeing this funny old woman lately, she’s hilarious and her cookie recipe is to die for, if you ever get a moment, you should come with me one day she’ll talk your ear off about the most ridiculous shit.” He adored Gladys, she deserved the world, she was a welcome switch up to the occasional sexual hire he’d get, some people needed a damn good release, others needed to just talk to someone who’d listen.

He enjoyed both kinds of people.

“Okay so is someone going to explain what the hell Steve Harrington is doing in our room?” Gareth finally decided to break the baffled silence that’d fallen over the rest of the Corroded Coffin members as Nancy and Steve caught up like little old ladies meeting for a senior special at the local cafe.

“He’s my date!” Eddie chirped, tone dripping in smug with a grin to match. He’d parked his rear back into his own chair, allowing the stylists they hired to fuss a little more over his hair.

“No really.” Gareth deadpanned “What’s Steve Harrington doing in our room?”

“I just told you!” Eddie squawked indignantly, almost offended at how little Gareth believed in him. “I hired him, yes, but he’s still my date.”

Steve smiled and stepped forward in his defence though, “No he’s right… I am his date for the evening, and I really hope I can start fresh with you guys too, I know I wasn’t the best person in Hawkins, I don’t remember much of it, my memory isn’t great, but Eddie tells me I let some shit happen that I definitely should have put a stop to—” Tommy pushing Jeff into a locker, for example “so, i’m sorry for everything, I am, truly, I really hope you can forgive me.” The last thing he wanted was a tense night around the band.

He wanted to get along with them, not just for the sake of his job, but also because he actually was hitting it off with Eddie, he liked Eddie, Eddie was sweet, and prettier than he remembered any boy in Hawkins ever being.

That being said he really didn’t remember much.

“Okay so. It looks like Steve Harrington, it has Steve Harrington’s voice, and yet it says magical things that couldn’t possibly come from Steve Harringt-ow!” Eddie, thankfully the closest sat next to him, thumped Jeff in the arm “what the hell man?”

“We’re not dumb kids anymore, dude. Everyone’s grown here. Let’s keep the past where it belongs, yeah?”

“Would you say the same shit about Hargrove too?” Now Steve did remember Billy Hargrove, hard to forget a man like Hargrove, giant douchebag, hadn’t thought about him in years though, had no idea where he ended up and didn’t care to think about it. Just knew Nancy’s brother Mike was friends with the guys sister, Max.

Steve actually found himself frowning deeply at the idea that they associated the memory of high school him with Hargrove of all people.

“Ew no, but Steve never actually physically did anything to you, he just kinda… watched it happen, and he only did that once, sure it was still shitty but it ain’t the same and you know it ain’t the same.”

“Listen… I don’t expect forgiveness after a single apology out of nowhere, I didn’t reach out and I don’t even remember what happened, it’s all by sheer coincidence that I’m even here with the opportunity to apologise, but I do have a job to do here, and I intend to do it so I’d really appreciate it if we could at least put that past behind us for tonight, and if you want to hold a grudge, just save it for after the cameras finish rolling, okay? Not for my sake, but for your own. Do you really want the press to spin some bullshit Yoko story about how your front man is spending time with a guy you all hate? How it’s pulling you apart?”

The big one was the first to speak after that, Steve couldn’t remember his name either, but he knew it began with Fr… His brain supplied ‘Freak’ but that probably wasn’t it. “You know about Yoko?”

“I don’t live under a rock.”

“Nah just in a fancy penthouse apartment with a bitchy little Pomeranian and a walkin closet bigger than… than… uh— okay I was gonna say my apartment but I’m rich now so—” Eddie sniggered as Jeff floundered trying to be witty.

“First of all, I have a cat, her name is Mocha and she’s a queen” a severely pampered colourpoint ragdoll currently being fawned over by her usual cat sitters Robin and Vickie “and second this job requires a walk in closet bigger than some houses, do you think a rich client wants to see the same outfit twice? Man I have a whole section dedicated solely to lingerie.” Eddie nearly choked on his own saliva.

Steve in lingerie Steve in lingerie Steve in lingerie Steve in lingerie Steve in lingerie— shit he was still talking.

“Now, are we going to get our stories straight, or are we going to continue wasting time discussing my adolescent character flaws?”

Gareth finally piped up “Man, do you really have a whole closet section dedicated to lingerie?” And Steve just sighed.

#For One Night Only #PirateWrites #ficlet #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Corroded Coffin #yes. yes he does have a whole closet section dedicated to that #BARB LIVES

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scarasun · 1 year

Text

another year wiser - and happier.

pairing ; scaramouche x gn!reader

wc ; 5.6k

summary ; when you find out that scaramouche has been keeping his birthday a secret from you, you take it upon yourself to make his day as amazing as possible.

cw ; scaramouche is called scaramouche throughout the fic because idk what else to call him, reader can't cook, slight angst at the end but we get a happy ending (wooo), your ex shows up and he's a creep, you're bad at painting, light cursing

a/n ; andd here it is!!!! i've pieced together this fic in the past two days, so im truly sorry if there are any mistakes throughout, or if the wording is just off. maybe i'll read it through later and fix a few things. anyways, im tagging @keqism, who prompted me to get my idea on paper for scara's bday,,,ty <333 speaking of ideas, i had wayyy too much time thinking about what scenario i could possibly write, and ended up using all my ideas...that's why this piece is so long. anyways, enjoy!

9:00am

Scaramouche, once the mighty Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui and now the Dendro Archon's helper, has been keeping his birthday a secret from you.

Although the both of you had been together for quite a while, he had given no indication that his birthday fell on the third day of the year, and if it hadn't been for Nahida's intel, you would've never guessed.

You straightened your back, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you examined your handiwork. A couple small sausages lay on the chopping board in front of you, the bottom half of them sliced into eighths. They looked just like the pictures in the recipe you were using (if you were willing to look past the fact that the cuts were uneven), and if the instructions were correct, the ends would curl up when they were put to fry.

Such was the magic of squid sausages - and you were hoping your boyfriend would love it.

Being no good at cooking, Scaramouche had designated himself to be the household chef, claiming that even as a puppet, he was not immune to food poisoning. That didn't stop you though.

Knowing that Scaramouche had hidden his birthday away from you probably meant that he had never celebrated it in his life - or maybe he never had a reason to. But now that you were in his life, you were determined to bring a smile to his face - starting with breakfast in bed.

You filled the heated pan with some oil and put the sausages into it, biting back a yelp as the oil began to react violently. You watched with bated breath as the ends of the sausages began to curl outwards, and you switched off the stove after a few moments, too afraid that the sausages would begin to burn. Turning to the bento box sitting on the counter, you began to organize its contents carefully, folding the fried eggs into rolls and shaping them into hearts. You positioned the sausages to lie face up, placing the bacon you had made earlier on top of them to make it look like a blanket.

When it looked perfect in your eyes, you took the bento into one hand and a glass of juice into the other. and made your way to your shared bedroom. You walked as lightly as possible, being careful enough to not accidentally spill the juice, but it still quivered dangerously in its glass as you opened the bedroom door. I'm shaking it way too much...

Looking up, you almost dropped the bento to the ground. Before you, Scaramouche lay on his back, hands behind his head - clearly wide awake. At the sight of you, he cocked his eyebrows.

"Good morning! You're awake," you said cheerfully, shaking out of your initial shock. You dropped the bento and the glass on his bedside table, taking a seat next to where he was lying.

"Well it was sort of hard to stay asleep with all the ruckus you were making," he mumbled, his voice still hoarse with sleep. "Didn't I tell you to stay out of the kitchen?"

"Well yeah, but I didn’t," He sat up, and you took the bento into your hands, placing it on his lap. "Bon appetit, sweetheart."

He poked at the food with his fork, taking a bit of the eggs into his mouth. You clasped your hands together, awaiting his response, but he remained silent.

"Well? How does it taste?"

"...It's quite good actually. You've improved a lot." You beamed, and he reached up to tousle your hair.

"Aren't you wondering what the occasion is?" you asked. You knew Scaramouche wouldn't forget his own birthday – right?

"Not particularly," he responded. His attention was laser-focused on his breakfast, and you almost felt like he had forgotten. Almost. But you knew better than to fall for his poker-face.

You touched his shoulder, and he looked up, finally glimpsing the serious expression on your face. "Come on, don't act like you don't know. Today is your birthday, isn't it?"

He paused his chewing, wide eyes locked on yours. So Nahida was right - it really was his birthday.

"Who told you? It was Nahida, wasn't it?" His eyes glinted, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Yeah, but why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I don't like following stupid human customs,” he replied nonchalantly, popping a squid sausage into his mouth.

"I knew you would've said something like that. But I'll show you how amazing our 'stupid human customs' can be!"

He paused his chewing. "What are you thinking about doing?"

You stood up from the bed quickly, your excitement beginning to bubble over. "I'm glad you asked! I have a lot of things planned for us today-"

"Absolutely not. Ignore what Nahida told you."

His rejection meant nothing – you had many cards up your sleeve, cards that would have him succumbing to your plans in a second. You sat back onto the bed, looking at him with pleading eyes as you pulled your lips into a pretty pout. "Please? Do it for me?"

"...Fine. But at least let me wash the dishes. You’ve already cooked."

"No! It's your birthday!"

"If you don't let me at least wash the dishes then I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Okay! The dishes are yours to handle."

11:00am

"Here we are!" you said, pointing to the low-ceiling building in front of you. It was a Sumerian restaurant, one that had opened recently. Its roof was tiled with vibrant green, and patterned, red cloth was hung from each of the four posts at the corners of the restaurant. It looked even better than the last time you saw it.

"And what is this?" Scaramouche deadpanned. He looked up at the restaurant with no kind of amazement.

"A restaurant, obviously."

"But we just ate."

"Well all that traveling has got me hungry! Besides, I've been wanting to take you here since they first opened. Let's go!" you said, pushing him towards a seat on the outskirts of the pavilion.

As soon as the both of you sat down, a waitress approached your table, smiling cordially. "What would you guys like to order?"

Scaramouche opened his mouth (no doubt to tell the waitress off for rushing the both of you), when you leaned over and touched his forearm. His attention now fully focused on you, you took his distraction as an opportunity to intervene.

"Yes, we'd love to order now. I'd like to have the Aaru Mixed Rice, and he'll take the Tandoori Chicken, please."

"I don't think I've ever heard of that dish in my life," Scaramouche mumbled under his breath.

You patted his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, I know you'll love it."

"Okay!" the waitress said as she finished scribbling in her tiny notepad. "Your food will be ready in fifteen minutes tops!"

"I'm going to the washroom, I'll be right back," Scaramouche said, getting up from his seat as the waitress departed.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling its cold metal digging into your skin. So far, things were going well, and your boyfriend hadn’t been reacting negatively. As a matter of fact, he wasn't giving any type of reaction. You knew he wasn't often the excitable type, but you were beginning to wonder if taking him out was the best idea. He wasn't easy to appease, and while you enjoyed teasing him, you didn't want to upset him.

Maybe there's a reason why he never shared his birthday with me, you thought.

You both had your fair share of baggage, but Scaramouche's past was darker by far - there was no doubt he hid it from you without a good reason. You sighed, fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth, when a large shadow loomed over the table.

"Scara, are you-" You turned your head, and the words died on your lips.

It was your ex, a smug smile plastered onto his face, like a pirate who had found some thousand-year-old treasure. The look sent a shiver down your spine. What was he doing here?

"Well, look who it is. It's been a long time, hasn't it? What are you doing at a restaurant like this?" He reached out to touch your hair, and you instantly recoiled.

You straightened your back, giving him a dirty stare. "That's none of your business, Earl."

He let out a hearty laugh, but you knew he was less than amused at the situation. It only masked his anger at being talked back to, if anything.

"Seems like you grew some guts since the last time we saw each other," he said lowly, his gaze traveling to the empty seat across from you. "And it also looks like you're here with new company. Your better half, maybe?"

Earl cackled again, attracting the attention of a few customers nearby.

"And who the fuck are you?" a voice laced with barely restrained anger echoed from behind Earl, and you heaved a sigh of relief.

Although Earl was probably a full foot taller than your boyfriend, his confidence seemed to wither under the ex-Harbinger's stare.

Your ex grit his teeth, trying in vain to maintain his confident exterior. "I'm the ex. Who the hell are you?"

You saw a muscle tic in Scaramouche's jaw. "I'm the boyfriend. Now scram."

Earl gave him one last look before turning awkwardly on his feet, scurrying as quickly as possible in the other direction. Scaramouche took his seat across from you silently, as if nothing had happened.

You cleared your throat. "I'm so sorry-"

He waved his hand in dismissal. "It's fine. Let's move on."

You nodded, and a comfortable silence settled over your table gradually. Scaramouche’s purple eyes ventured out of the lookout point and beyond the city, and you followed his gaze.

It was basically a perfect view of the landscape of Sumeru, luscious green stretching on for miles and miles into the horizon. The sounds of laughter and talking along with the clatter of cutlery in the restaurant provided a busy sense of comfort, and for a moment you knew this was right where you needed to be – even if you had been accosted by an asshole mere minutes ago.

You looked back at Scaramouche, only to see him already staring at you. A sharp intake of breath escaped through your mouth.

"Well? How are you enjoying the view? I believe this is the best seat outside," you said hurriedly, taking a sip of your water to hide how flustered you were. Even though the both of you had been together for a considerable while, his purple stare never ceased to send your heart into disarray.

"It's...actually beautiful. Nice job," he replied, his gaze not once flickering back to the scenery.

Chuckling shyly, you pulled your hands into your lap. You opened your mouth to reply when you saw the waitress approaching your table at the corner of your eye, her hands filled with platters of food.

"Enjoy your meal!" She put the dishes on the table carefully, departing soon after. To say the food looked delectable would have been an understatement. The Tandoori Chicken seemed to be cooked perfectly, its golden skin shining under the sun. The rice you ordered was piled onto the plate, its colors varying as much as the ingredients used to make it. Both dishes smelled absolutely delicious, and your mouth watered as its aroma filled your nose.

"Taste it and tell me if you like it!" You took a bit of his chicken with your fork, and brought it to his lips.

He scowled, but it didn't hide the deep red coloring the tips of his ears. Taking the food into his mouth, he began to chew slowly. You watched as his eyes gradually lit up, and he swallowed.

"Well?"

"It's definitely not bad." You chuckled, knowing that that was probably the biggest praise he would probably ever give. From the way he was eating, you could tell he was enjoying the food.

After a few moments, he spoke again. “What’s next on the agenda?”

Deciding to be a little playful, you said: “Agenda? Who told you we were going anywhere else?”

Scaramouche put his fork down and glared at you, his mouth twisted into a frown. “You said you had plans – plural.”

You laughed; he was so easy to tease it was almost ridiculous.

“Don’t worry about that right now. Just focus on eating.”

2:00pm

By the time the both of you had paid the bill and left the restaurant, the sun had risen to its station in the sky, watching over Sumeru with a burning glare. People who had initially decided to eat outside fled from the scorching heat, and you yourself had taken off your jacket, already beginning to boil as well. Scaramouche, as expected, didn’t give any indication that he was bothered by the heat.

“Where do we go next?” he asked, as the both of you continued along the path leading deeper into Sumeru city. It was probably the fifth time he had asked since the both of you left the restaurant.

“Oh? Are you, by any chance, excited about our next destination?” You hooked your arm through his.

He rolled his eyes at the smile plastered onto your face, but didn’t say anything to deny it. “To answer your question, we’ll be going to a spot right outside the city, to do something I think you’ll enjoy. But we have to make a stop over here first.”

You pulled him towards a pair of large, brass doors, the steep, rounded stairs leading the both of you to the Bazaar. It was as busy as expected, shop owners clamoring loudly as customers bustled through stalls. The air was thick with the aroma of spices and flora, and dancers practiced on the large stage, their costumes glimmering under the bright spotlight.

You led Scaramouche to a stall on the right, being careful not to bump into the crowd. “What could you possibly want from here?” He asked, raising his voice over the commotion.

“You’ll see!”

Eventually, you reached a small stall at the corner of the Bazaar. Two shelves at the back contained row after row of bouquets, all in the most elaborate vases, and flower vines wrapped around the posts holding up the canopy of the stall. Behind the counter sat an old lady with kind eyes hidden behind thick glasses.

“Mrs. Li! I’ve come to pick up my order.”

“You’re here, finally. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up,” she got up slowly, making her way to the back of her stall. Mrs. Li was a gardener who hailed from Liyue, who decided to travel to Sumeru to partake in the market of selling plants and flowers. You had met her on your own travels to Liyue, and when you heard that she was opening a shop in the Bazaar, you knew you needed to check it out.

You turned to Scaramouche, who was shuffling from foot to foot. His face harbored no expression, but you knew he was less than pleased at the crowd.

You took his hand in yours, rubbing circles onto his knuckles soothingly. “Don’t worry, we don’t have much longer. I just need to grab something from here and we’ll be on our way.” You gave his hand a light squeeze and felt him squeeze back.

“Did you buy me a present from this stall?”

Before you could reply, Mrs. Li reappeared behind the counter, holding a simple yet beautiful bouquet in her hands. She winked and smiled at Scaramouche sweetly, before handing the flowers to you.

“Here you are. Enjoy!”

---

Back outside, you dragged Scaramouche to the first empty corner that you spied, eager to let him examine the bouquet more closely. You had placed the order for a custom-made bouquet an entire month before his birthday – and Mrs. Li surely delivered.

“Here you are,” you said, thrusting the bouquet into his hands. You leaned over and pecked his cheek. “Happy birthday, handsome.”

His ears reddened at the nickname. “Thank you.”

“Look here,” you reached over and opened the pristine, white card attached to it. Written in gold lettering were the names of the flowers included in the bouquet, along with their respective meanings. “The pink bluebells signify everlasting love, the gardenias represent joy, the balloon flowers mean endless love and honesty…”

Scaramouche said nothing, but you knew he was listening attentively. He stared at the bouquet, his eyes slightly glazed over.

“Well? Do you like it?”

“I do.” His voice was quiet. He reached up and plucked one of the balloon flowers from the bouquet. You opened your mouth to protest, but not before he could lean over and bury it in your hair.

“These mean endless love, right…?” He said nothing more, but the implications were clear. The tips of his ears were red again, but this time you also felt a familiar heat creep into your cheeks. Even though this was his day and you were supposed to be treating him, he still found ways to make you fall in love all over again.

Patting his shoulder, you whispered, “Thank you.”

He looked away first, clearing his throat. “...Anyways, let’s go to the next place.”

4:00pm

The both of you walked in silence to the city gates, his left arm holding the bouquet close to his heart, and the other linked with yours. There was a certain bounce in his step that told you the gradual quietness of the atmosphere had improved his mood significantly, and with the way he was holding the bouquet, you knew he wouldn’t be parting ways with it in a hurry. He always made it a point that he detested sentimentality with every fiber of his being, but you knew him for too long to know that that wasn’t true.

Eventually, the both of you came across a clearing where a park had been installed. The grass was short but still thrived, and the rustle of the leaves overhead was more than enough to send a pleasant wave through your body. There were a few wooden tables evenly spaced out in the clearing, and lucky for the both of you, they were all empty. You led Scaramouche to the table closest to the trees and under the shade, and rested your satchel onto the table as you took your seat.

Scaramouche sat opposite to you, still clutching the bouquet of flowers to his chest. He looked around the empty area, the wind tousling his hair.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to have another meal,” he said flatly, watching as you rummaged through your satchel.

“No, actually. Although I do have some sandwiches in case any one of us gets hungry.”

You pulled out a dark brown, wooden box from your satchel and placed it onto the table, its cover painted with gold patterns. You opened the cover to reveal an abundance of potted paints and a variety of paintbrushes. Your boyfriend’s eyes widened at the sight of it, and you smiled.

Not long after he began working under Nahida, he had picked up the art of painting. He had spent endless hours working colors onto canvases – but he had never once showed you any of his artworks. Once day, while the both of you were walking along the streets of Sumeru, you noticed how the embellished wooden box of paints had snagged his attention, and he didn’t seem to take his eyes off of it until the both of you had rounded the corner.

“I know you seemed particularly interested in these paints the last time, so I decided to get it for you before they all sold out. I hope you like it.” Just like before, his eyes stayed glued to the box as you slid it towards him on the table. “I also brought some canvases. I thought we could try a little something.”

You reached into your satchel and pulled out two small canvases, along with two matching easels.

“I’ve been seeing a lot of other people doing this and I thought it might be interesting…let’s try painting each other!”

He put down the cerulean blue paint pot he was examining and focused his full attention on you. His eyes narrowed. “Is this your excuse to take a peek at one of my paintings?”

You threw your hands up in defense. “No! I just wanted you to try the paints out, and we can spend some quality time together while you’re at it.”

He hummed, probably only half-convinced, before taking up one of the easels. “Let’s get started then. Sunset is close.”

And so it began – your journey to capture the essence of your beloved’s soul onto a canvas. It puzzled you how Scaramouche – usually abrasive and snappy – could take up such a hobby, which required time and patience. Glancing over at him, you could see that his eyes, which were usually stormy, were now peaceful and clear, and the seemingly permanent scowl on his face had melted away. His paintbrush danced across his canvas in long and short strokes, and his palette was already filled with a myriad of mesmerizing colors.

You, on the other hand, were struggling.

The colors you chose looked off together, and you never seemed to choose the right paintbrush to do the job. If you were in any other situation, you would’ve been pissed, but the most important thing was that Scaramouche seemed to be enjoying himself. That alone was enough to keep your mood from plummeting.

“I’m done. What about you?” he asked, setting his paintbrush down.

You were busy trying to fix the head you had painted for him, which looked more like a lopsided egg than anything else. You were about finished with the general painting, but nothing looked quite right.

“Uh, I need more time,” you mumbled, painting over his bangs.

He nodded slowly, reaching over in your satchel to have a sandwich. Sitting back, you examined your painting from afar. If you squint a little, it doesn’t look so bad…

“That’s enough fixing. Let’s see your rendition of me.” You jumped, startled at his loud voice.

“Fine…It’s not any good, but in my defense, I don’t think I’ve ever held a paintbrush in my life…” You turned the easel towards him, watching his reaction closely.

His eyes widened into a look of horror, before his eyebrows twitched into a frown – but then, he did the unthinkable.

Scaramouche slapped his hand over his mouth and let out a full-bodied laugh, loud enough to echo through the park. He bent over his seat, his cheeks red and splotchy as tears began to stream down his eyes. You stared at him, shocked by his reaction. Was your painting really that hideous?

Finally, he calmed down, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Well? I hope I did your handsomeness justice,” you said lightly, playing off your incompetence as a joke.

He took the canvas from the easel and smiled – one of the biggest you had seen in a long time. “...It needs some work. Maybe I’ll teach you some basics in the coming days.”

You smiled, before your gaze slid to his own canvas and easel. “You’ve had your fun, now let me have mine. I want to see your painting.”

He seemed to hesitate, his eyes lingering on the picture, before turning his easel towards you. You gasped.

To say it was breathtaking would’ve been an understatement. He had painted a picture of you smiling so deeply that your eyes were closed, and your hair seemed to blow in some imaginary wind. It didn’t even seem that he had pulled together such a piece in only two hours.

“Oh wow…” You breathed.

“I take it that you like it?” Scaramouche’s voice wavered a bit, and you looked up. His gaze was laser-focused on the wooden table in front of him, and a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“It’s absolutely amazing! I’m just surprised that you showed me your painting with so little convincing. You’ve never done that before.”

He shrugged. “It was the least I could do, especially for the paints.”

You reached over to give his hand a light squeeze. He squeezed back, and you smiled.

The sky overhead was beginning to turn purple, and you got up, taking a deep stretch. “The sun is starting to set, so let’s get going now.”

He stood up as well, packing away the supplies. “Are you done with your little tricks, or are we actually heading home now?” There was no bite to his words, and his lips were curled into a small smile. You held out your hand to him.

“Nope! I have one more place to take you. I have a feeling you’ll love this one the most.”

7:00pm

The sun had fully dipped below the horizon by the time the both of you had arrived at your last destination. Although the journey had only taken half an hour, you were panting by the time you made it up the hill.

“Here we are! Our final destination,” you spread your arms, taking your last few steps onto the plateau of the hill. From your location, you could see the entirety of Sumeru City in all its glory at night – a mix of warm glowing lights and stunning architecture. It was truly a sight to behold.

You turned around, feeling the absence of Scaramouche’s warmth by your side. He was standing a few feet away from you, moonlight shining onto his face. He was still holding the bouquet and canvas, but his eyes held a faraway look.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, walking towards him again. He shook his head and took a deep breath, coming out of his trance.

“Isn’t this the place where we…?” He didn’t finish his question, nor did he have to. You knew what he was talking about.

Months ago, when the both of you were still hiding your infatuation for the other under a moth-bitten veil, you had journeyed up that very hill with him to star-gaze. A study of the constellations quickly turned into a confession, and the next thing you knew, his soft, inviting lips were on yours. It wasn’t a day you had ever forgotten, and by the looks of it, it hadn’t slipped his mind either.

You looked out at the city again, a small smile creeping onto your face at the memory. “It is. Do you mind being here?”

He shook his head, and followed you to where you stood at the plateau. You took a large cloth out of your satchel and spread it across the stony ground, taking your seat next to him. It was usually so easy to forget what a small place you took up in the world with everything going on around you, but with your gaze elevated towards the stars, all your worries melted away.

From next to you, you felt Scaramouche’s hand slowly creep onto yours, your fingers intertwining. You looked towards him and smiled, reaching up to run your fingers through his soft hair.

“How do you like the view?” You whispered. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes.

“It’s just the same as I remembered it,” he opened his eyes suddenly, and a serious look crossed his face. “But didn’t I tell you the stars in the sky were fake?”

You rolled your eyes at him, your gaze turning towards the sky once again. The stars seemed to have been thrown randomly throughout the sky, some bigger and brighter than others. Some also appeared to be twinkling. Even if your boyfriend was right, and the stars really were fake, was it not enough to appreciate the night sky as it was?

You turned to Scaramouche, only to see him staring back at you.

“Frankly, I don’t care if they’re fake or not. What really matters is whether or not you enjoyed your birthday.”

He turned his face away from you, obviously hiding a smile. “Well? Did you?” You reached around his neck, dragging him towards you so that your forehead was against his.

“Of course I did, idiot. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here now.”

You sighed, relief flooding your chest. “Well, that’s a relief. I was wondering if all my careful planning would be a waste.”

He leaned over and gave your cheek a light peck, before the both of you settled into a comfortable silence. However, something still lingered at the back of your mind, only beginning to resurface now that your surroundings were quiet.

“Scaramouche.”

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your birthday?”

In your arms, you felt his body tense up, before he pulled away from you. His eyes were shadowed with an indescribable emotion, and he edged away from you, the few inches of space between you now feeling like miles and miles of cold nothingness. You could feel him mentally pulling away from you, and you knew asking such a question was a huge mistake.

“It’s okay! You don’t have to answer…Just pretend I never asked.”

With his face angled towards the ground, it was difficult to gauge his expression. After a few agonizing moments, he finally shook his head, turning to face you.

He was crying.

Tears streamed down his face, and his breaths came in short gasps. It was nothing like a few hours earlier, when he had laughed so hard he started crying – these were real tears, glistening with sadness and hurt.

“I’m so sorry! Please, don’t cry…”

Comforting others wasn’t usually your strong suit, especially when it came to Scaramouche. He would always request that you leave him alone whenever he was facing another one of his nightmares, always desiring to put up a strong front. But you could always see in his eyes how much he needed you there by his side, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

However, in that moment when he turned to you, his energy was different. His usually hard exterior had totally shattered, leaving nothing but a broken boy. He was broken, but he was still beautiful.

Tentatively, you reached out to wipe the tears from his cheek. He leaned towards you, burying his neck in your face, and you wrapped your arms around his shaking form. A few minutes passed with the both of you huddled together like that – or it could’ve been hours, you weren’t sure – before he finally pulled away, his cheeks still red and splotchy.

“I’m sorry…” He sniffled, and you felt your heart breaking all over again.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for anything. It was my–”

“No.” He inhaled deeply and straightened his back, his eyes hardening with a new resolve. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You stared at him in silence for a few moments, before he continued. “I’ve never celebrated my birthday. Before I met you, before all of this, I hated myself. I didn’t see the point in my creation – my mother had found me defective, and tossed me out like trash. I had spent years suffering and consequently making others suffer because I hated myself. But now–”

He took your hand gently, caressing your knuckles. “Now, because of you, I don’t feel like that at all, and it’s almost scary. I’ve been hating myself since I existed, and now I can’t bring myself to feel like that again…It’s so scary.”

You pulled him into a hug again, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you. In the crook of your neck, you heard him whisper: “I don’t deserve this kindness…”

You pulled away from him to look him in the eyes, wiping away the extra tears that had fallen. “No, you do. Even if you don’t think so, you have good in you – you are good.”

He began to shake his head, but you took his face into your hands, making sure that he had nothing else to focus on except you. “Yes, you are good. What about all those times you insisted on helping me around the house? And when you defended me earlier today? You might not think of yourself as kind, but everyone else can clearly see it. Although I can’t speak for anyone else, I for one am glad that you’re here with me, even after everything you’ve been through.”

One of your hands came up to rest on his chest, where his heart should’ve been. You leaned over giving him a small peck on his nose. “Don’t cry, okay? It’s called happy birthday for a reason.”

He couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto his face at your analogy.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask you something? How did you enjoy your first birthday celebration? I know you said birthdays were stupid…” You chuckled at the memory from earlier, and he followed suit. You were glad to see him smiling again.

“Of course. Didn’t I tell you before? If I didn’t like it, I would’ve left a long time ago. And you were so kind, doing all these things…” He stole a glance at the bouquet and the canvases peeking out from inside your satchel.

You released a sigh of relief, the weight on your shoulders lifting. “I’m glad, then.”

You pressed your lips to his, and he reciprocated, deepening the kiss. You pulled away first, leaning your forehead against his. If you weren’t sure earlier, you were definitely now – he was the one you wanted to be with at the end of your days.

The moon was already deep into its journey through the sky, but you didn’t want the night to end. You just wanted to see him happy for as long as he existed.

“Happy birthday, Scaramouche.”

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x gn!reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x gn!reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #happy birthday my love <33😭

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