#― island of the lovesickness !
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theangelcatalogue · 10 months ago
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*stares menacingly at you*
you can’t start something and not finish it. It’s illegal.
-sus anon
I don't know what you talking about honey :3
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hgdgjjhhhgghjknfr · 1 month ago
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Question from an Island of the lovesickness fan
I really wonder if there will be more parts, because I became a fan, I hope there are because I really liked it 💞 (Yes, I used Google translate, but I'm only Brazilian, don't expect high-quality English).
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fbfh · 4 months ago
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For all my eddie and lovesick eddie simps with baby fever did you know that your baby does in fact look just like eddie and just like mommy?? Did you know he loses it and blushes and giggles when he looks at your daughter cause he sees you in her even though everyone says she looks just like him????? Well it's fuckin true!!!!
Here are some diverse face claims for eddie x reader's baby girl!!!!!!!
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apatheticlexicographer · 2 years ago
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sjfhsidgnx i'm all like "oh noooooo i'm getting bored of byler :(((" and then as soon as i fall asleep i literally dream abt them 💀💀 my subconscious rlly said don't u dare let go of the fixation
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mrsbarnesblog · 6 months ago
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the "it" couple
masterlist
requests are open
summary: you and Rafe being the hottest couple on the island
word count: 1.3k.
warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of nude pictures, Rafe is reader's first everything, you're both lovesick
a/n: my obsession with soft and painfully in love Rafe is not curable at this point. but like could you imagine having him all to yourself?? ughhh the things i'd let him do to me😩
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Everyone knew that there are couples that, at first glance, give you the impression that they just have really good sex. Like they are so hot and perfectly compliment each other, with a certain vibe oozing out of them, especially when they are together. 
You and Rafe were that couple. 
Before you started dating, no one ever considered that two polar opposites like you might even coexist. You were a kook, but still completely different from Rafe and his little gang. You were pretty, but more on the quiet side, never showing off or bothering anybody.
Rafe, on the other hand, was mean and sarcastic to everyone and everything. It was a good thing that you put him in his place the first time he talked to you, making it clear that you are not having his shit. And also making Rafe instantly interested and following you like a puppy.
You were annoyingly teasing and flirting with each other, and everyone tried not to get involved in whatever was going on. It was your first experience with a guy, because before that, nobody was really making their shots, or, at least, you never paid enough attention to notice it, choosing to focus on yourself. But with Rafe, it felt fun and so damn easy. 
Your first kiss set everything in its place because you finally gave in to your hidden emotions. It made sense why you were always arguing and pestering each other—you simply craved attention from one another and it was the easiest way to get it. 
Surprisingly, Rafe��s rough edges softened, especially around you, and he was so affectionate and craved you around him 24/7. Though, knowing that you’ve never been in relationships before, he never pushed you to do anything, just following your pace. 
But after your first time happened in the third month of dating, after the ice melted and your insecurities fully disappeared, Rafe almost got another version of his girlfriend. 
If he thought that you couldn’t be better, then he was wrong. 
He never understood his friends who said that they had to almost beg their girlfriends to have sex, mostly because Rafe had never been in actual relationships before. But it made even less sense for him because you, seemingly, had the same energy and high sex drive as him. 
The first few times may have been slightly awkward with you still learning and trying to understand your own body, but once you got confident, you became unstoppable. 
Whether it was early morning, the middle of the day, or way past your bedtime, you were ready to have sex right away, straddling Rafe's legs or luring him into a kiss while your hands slipped under his pants.  
It was crazy how much you both wanted each other. It was a perfect fucking match to have someone with exactly the same needs. You probably have been bent over every single flat surface in the house and not a single room was safe from the two of you. He wanted you all to himself and he could go hours just worshiping your body and fucking you into bliss. 
You were almost glued together, never coming to an event alone. Rafe was so obsessed with the way you looked, with your smell, and with the feeling of your skin on his, so he always had to touch you one way or another. His friends teased him that he was absolutely pussy whipped for you and he had never denied it. They also started calling you Mrs. Cameron because you acted like a married couple and neither of you were against that nickname.
To say more, the idea of that made Rafe so feral for you, so he didn’t let you get out of bed the following day. Not that you complained, though.
Rafe loved sneaking out with you. Whenever you two had to visit a gala with your families, he always snatched you from the main room to drag you to the bathroom or another hidden place to have a quickie or to burry his head under your dress because you were too hot to resist. Yeah, maybe other people noticed it, giving you their usual politely awkward smiles, but neither of you care. 
On his birthday, you gave him the best fucking gift, which was a stack of your naked polaroid pictures. You were really nervous to do that, thinking that Rafe might react differently, but he reminded you once again why he was your perfect match. After looking through the photos several times, he literally attacked you, throwing you back on the bed and giving you the best orgasms of your life. 
Since that day, one of the less explicit pictures of your ass has been placed in his wallet.
You were officially the “it” couple on the island, with everyone either admiring or being jealous of that spark, which never seemed to diminish. Everyone saw the way the Rafe Cameron gave you heart eyes, soft smiles and gentle kisses. The way he held you close to himself, protecting you, taking care of you, and treating you like a queen.
Some people told you that it was only the excitement of a new relationship, but after a few years of dating, with a promise ring on your finger, it was still there. You still craved each other's touch; you still craved being together whenever it was possible, always going on dates and trips, attending all of Kook’s events, but mostly spending lazy days in your shared house. Sex was even better than before—more passionate, fun, hot and full of unconditional love.
Despite the gossip on the island, Rafe didn't get “bored” of you. No, over time, he became addicted to you because you felt like home, and there was nothing better than being with you. 
He didn't need any other women. And he still couldn't grasp the idea of cheating. If he had you, then why on earth would he do that? Every time he came home, the best person in the world and the best sex of his life were in that exact location, so he never complained about anything.
You were his afrodisiac and whether you were in full glam, in a bikini on the beach or in his old t-shirt with messy hair, he couldn’t just keep his hands to himself and not kiss the air out of you. 
He liked how you stayed at home, doing whatever you wanted and treating yourself while he worked. You always greeted him with homemade food, but more importantly, you acted as if you had not seen him in months.
You were waiting on the porch or finishing up in the kitchen, but when you saw him, you ran and jumped into his arms and pulled him into a kiss. It always melted Rafe’s worries and bad mood away, as his shoulders sagged in relief from being in your arms again. 
You always ended up in your bedroom, with you on or under him, while your hands were tugging at each other’s clothes. Rafe knew that it would eventually end up with him finally putting a baby in you—something that more and more flooded his mind—but for the foreseeable future, he first had to officially make you his Mrs. Cameron.
And the red box with the big ass diamond ring, which was currently sitting in the drawer, was just waiting for the perfect moment.  
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rumisgf · 7 months ago
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❝ THINGS THEY DO THAT GIVE YOU BUTTERFLIES ! ❞ ╰┈➤ MHA EDITION (PART 2!)
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a/n: y’all wanted a part two i shall give a part two
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ includes: katsuki bakugou, hitoshi shinsou, shoto todoroki, denki kaminari, iida tenya, kirishima eijirou
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: black!reader obv, cursing, mentions of drug usage/marijuana, suggestive if u squint, fem reader implied, mentioning of babies/children
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BAKUGOU KATSUKI
✮ wipes your tears sort of aggressively but only because he’s so urgent to comfort you and take care of you
✮ always hugs you by your lower waist
✮ when you go to the gym together, he’s the type to always say “c’mon, you can do one more.” or “do three more”
✮ ruffles your hair/flicks your forehead in a teasing way
✮ “act right.”/“watch out.”
✮ doesn’t remind you to drink water— he simply justs brings water bottles up to your mouth and tells you to “open up”
✮ if you have any, he cares for your pets like they’re his own
✮ just something about the sight of him holding a baby
✮ bites you just because he can
✮ pulls you into his lap whenever he’s tired of your attitude
✮ gets super close to your face like he’s gonna kiss you but pulls away just to mess with you
✮ “that’s my girl” in the most proud voice ever every single time
TODOROKI SHOTO
✮ any time he does get high he’s all over you and staring at you with half lidded eyes
✮ it’s just something about the way he curses man.
✮ loves falling asleep on the phone with you and takes facetime photos of you sleeping because he thinks you look like an angel
✮ runs his thumb over your hand whenever you hold hands
✮ loves giving earlobe kisses
✮ will casually be like “when we have kids,”
✮ sends voice memos ranging from something funny that happened in class to how much he misses you and needs to see you
✮ kisses your lip gloss off every chance he gets right after complimenting how nice your lip combo looks
✮ sends you pictures of yourself and says “you look so pretty in this”
✮ him whispering in your ear.
✮ has your contact as the only one pinned in his messages
KIRISHIMA EIJIROU
✮ pats away your tears with his finger instead of wiping them (those who watch love island usa and are kordell + serena fans know what i’m talking about)
✮ places his hand on the small of your waist to guide your somewhere or move you out the way
✮ constant forehead kisses
✮ lifts you up and spins you around when he’s excited to hug you
✮ guides you into the right form when you workout together
✮ runs his hands down your waist and hips when he’s checking you out while you’re right in front of him
✮ him around kids. that’s all.
✮ gives you flowers pretty much every week— and one time he gave you a money bouquet for your birthday
✮ flexes for you when he feels you staring at him and pretends he’s not doing it on purpose
✮ throws his arm around you and presses you flush against his chest when you go to sit on the couch next to him
✮ refers to you as his “wife” to his friends
KAMINARI DENKI
✮ you could have been rotting in bed all day and when he facetimes you he always greets you with something along the lines of “hello my beautiful princess” with a lovesick tone of voice
✮ calls you “mama” and “ma”
✮ obsessed with skinship because he aches to be able to “crawl inside your skin” and just needs to be close to you
✮ blows kisses at you from across the room
✮ for comfort, he runs his fingers through your hair and rocks you back and forth while hugging you
✮ his morning voice :)))
✮ lets you bite him and encourages it
✮ gets very touchy when you’re on his lap
✮ the king of “i know you’re probably asleep, but” texts
✮ goes on rants about how gentle and how well he would care for you when you’re one day pregnant with his children
✮ always calling you his “pretty baby”/“pretty girl”
✮ always posts pretty candid pictures of you and makes heartfelt story posts for every birthday, anniversary, and valentine’s day
HITOSHI SHINSOU
✮ has read for you + sung you to sleep on multiple occasions
✮ grabs you by your chin to force eye contact
✮ “say please”
✮ checks you every time you have an attitude with a smirk on his face
✮ has a habit of biting his lip
✮ says “there you go, babe” way too much.
✮ glares at anyone who flirts with you while tightly wrapping an arm around your waist
✮ has made multiple shared playlists for the both of you
✮ says he’s “gatekeeping” you because you’re just too pretty and he has to keep you to himself
✮ plays with your fingers when he’s bored or nervous
✮ buries his face into your neck to bask in your scent when he hugs you
✮ randomly stares at your for a full five minutes when you’re talking, barely listening to a word you’re saying, then lovingly sighs “i love you so much…”
IIDA TENYA
✮ always opens every door for you
✮ holds your hands while walking across the street or through the hallways
✮ very protective over you and will respectfully cuss anybody out who disrespects you
✮ pretty much has replaced your name is his vocabulary with “honey” and “sweetheart”
✮ never calls you hot— he always calls you beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, or stunning
✮ grabs you by your sleeve or your belt loop to take you somewhere if you don’t hear him call your name the third time
✮ the thought of ever calling you his “bitch” disgusts him, he calls you his lady or his love instead
✮ will immediately grab the nearest box of tissues to wipe your tears or your nose whenever you’re crying
✮ kisses your cheek to greet you and say goodbye
✮ has deep conversations about your future together when you get to that point in the relationship, and is open about how much his heart swells at imagining you as a mother
✮ kisses your forehead when he notices you asleep on his chest
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© rumisgf
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orangeblossomsintheair · 22 days ago
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oh could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car 💜
BRAND AMBASSADOR | LN4
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wc : 3k
an : slowly working through my requests yippie! im not too sure about this but i hope its alr :'>
It was meant to be a joke. Really.
But Lando didn’t know how to take a joke.
For weeks, he’d been pestering you to do a photoshoot with him for Quadrant.
“Brand image, baby!” he insisted, arms flailing as if that explained everything. “Power couple vibes! You and me, absolutely dominating the internet. Imagine the engagement!”
“My manager would actually drop dead if I did a hoodie campaign.”
“Oh come on, baby, just one photoshoot,” he pleaded, leaning so far over the kitchen island that he looked like he might slide right off. “Just a few pics in Quadrant stuff! Hoodie, joggers, maybe the bucket hat if you're feeling spicy-"
You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Lando. I’m booked for the next eight months. Vogue is flying me to Paris next week, and Dior wants me in Milan by the weekend. I don’t have time to play influencer in your gamer merch.”
“It's not gamer merch!” Lando gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “It’s- it's… lifestyle! Culture! Gaming and racing fusion!”
“That’s cute,” you said flatly, scrolling.
Lando narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even look at the new designs I sent you.”
“Because it’s just another hoodie, baby.”
He gasped again, louder this time. “Just another hoodie?”
“Oh, I’m sorry- hoodie, but make it Formula 1.”
“Wow.” He pointed at you. “I cannot believe this slander. From my own girlfriend.”
“Your supermodel girlfriend,” you corrected without missing a beat.
“And yet, I’m still here, humbly begging for crumbs of attention.”
You didn’t even blink.
And that’s when you heard it. The soft shuffle of socks against hardwood floors.
You looked up just in time to see Lando drop dramatically to his knees in front of you, arms sprawled over your thighs like some lovesick Victorian maiden.
His chin rested on your knee, staring up at you with those big, stupidly pretty eyes.
“Please.” His voice dropped to a pitiful whisper, like he was auditioning for a charity ad. “Do a Quadrant shoot with me.”
“Oh my God, Lando- get off the floor!”
“No. I live here now.” He clung tighter. “Photoshoot. Please, baby. You could be the face of the brand! Imagine it: you in my merch, absolutely carrying. We could finally replace Max’s ugly mug on the website-”
“Lando!” You laughed, swatting at him.
“It’s true! The customers deserve better!”
“You own the brand. You’re supposed to be the face.”
"But you’d look so good in my hoodies," he said, practically drooling at the thought. "God, you in joggers? Maybe one of those cropped sweaters? The internet would lose its mind.”
You stared at him. Long. Hard.
“…Fine.”
His eyes lit up, stars in aquamarine. “Wait, really?”
“But it’s gonna cost you.”
Lando blinked. Sat up straighter. “How much?”
You smirked, dragging your perfectly manicured nails through his curls, watching him melt like butter.
“A car.”
His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, interest piqued. Now you were speaking his language. “Which one?”
You almost choked. “Excuse me?”
Lando leaned in, eyes sharp now. “Which. One.”
Oh, he was serious.
You blinked, regrouped, and leaned back like you were simply ordering off a menu.
“LaFerrari.”
Silence.
“The red one. Wine red. Matches my nails.” You admired the burgundy polish glinting under the light. “I’d look good in it.”
Lando didn’t even blink.
“Deal.”
Your head snapped toward him. “What?”
“Done.” He stood up, dusting off his sweatpants like you hadn’t just asked for a multi-million-dollar hypercar. “I’ll have the keys for you next week. Photoshoot’s on Friday.”
“Lando, that’s a LaFerrari-”
“And?”
“It’s like… a $3 million car!”
He tilted his head. “Do you want it in the garage or delivered to your place?”
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
“…You’re insane.”
Lando leaned down, smirking, and kissed your forehead. “And now you’re stuck with me.”
“…I want full creative control over the shoot.”
“Baby, you can set the studio on fire if it makes you happy.”
“And you’re paying for my glam team.”
“Obviously.”
You stared at him, still trying to process how you had accidentally hustled a hypercar off your billionaire boyfriend in under five minutes.
“And I want full rights to veto any photo where I look bad.”
“Oh, baby, you never look bad.”
You squinted. “If I show up and it’s just me in some hoodie in front of a brick wall-”
Lando’s hands cupped your cheeks, deadly serious. “You will be in a hoodie… in front of a gaming PC.”
You slapped his hands away.
You were never supposed to take it this far.
The photoshoot was meant to be a joke.
A little bargaining chip to shut Lando up for five minutes. You didn’t think he’d actually pull it off.
Yet here you were.
In a studio. In a Quadrant hoodie. In sweatpants.
And to make it worse, Lando was treating this like he was shooting for Vogue.
“Okay, okay- pause! Can we fix the lighting on her left side? I need more contrast, more mood. She’s selling the hoodie but not the vibe.”
You slowly turned to glare at him. “Lando. I am wearing a hoodie. There is no ‘vibe.’”
“There’s always a vibe!” Lando spun around to the photographer. “Tell her there’s a vibe.”
The photographer, who was clearly riding the paycheck wave, gave you an awkward smile and a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. “Yeah. Big vibe.”
You groaned and adjusted the hoodie, tugging the hood up over your head. “Lando, I walked for Dior last month. Dior. And now I’m here, dressed like a Twitch streamer in front of a gaming PC.”
Lando gasped. “First of all, streamers WISH they looked this good. Second of all, don’t disrespect the setup. That’s a triple-monitor, RGB-lit, water-cooled rig worth more than my life.”
“Yeah, well, it better be. Because I’m dying inside.”
“Okay, can we get a shot of her sitting on the desk? Like, casual, but make it fashion. Maybe holding a controller? No- headset! Baby, put on the headset.”
You stared at him. “You want me to wear a gaming headset in a fashion shoot?”
“Yes. Gamer girlfriend aesthetic. Internet eats that up.”
“I haven’t touched a console since the Wii came out.”
“And that’s the fantasy!”
Lando couldn’t stop staring.
The moment you put on the damn headset, he knew he was in trouble.
He’d been so smug, so proud of himself for getting you to agree to this ridiculous photoshoot.
But now? Now he was fighting for his life.
Because there you were, sitting on the desk in a Quadrant hoodie, wearing his brand, looking so effortlessly good that it was like the universe was punishing him for ever thinking this was a good idea.
It wasn’t just the way the hoodie hung on you, oversized and perfect, or the way you pushed the headset into place like you were made to wear it.
It was the thought behind it.
You were wearing his stuff.
And that did things to him.
Very Dangerous things.
Lando dragged a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it, but it was no use.
His gaze betrayed him, sliding back to you as you leaned back on the desk, legs crossed, your smirk telling him you knew exactly what you were doing to him.
“Lando,” you said, your voice teasing and smooth, “you okay over there, baby?”
He tried to play it cool. “Yeah. All good.” His voice cracked halfway through, and he coughed to cover it up.
But he wasn’t fine.
Not even close.
His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he was hyperaware of the fact that he was growing harder by the second.
Oh, this was bad.
You shifted on the desk, leaning forward slightly, the motion drawing his eyes to your legs before snapping them back to your face.
That cocky little smirk was still there, your stupidly pretty eyes glinting with amusement.
You were enjoying this. Brat.
“You sure?” you pressed, tilting your head.
His voice was higher this time, strained and barely holding it together. “Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”
You didn’t buy it for a second. “Lando…”
“That’s it,” Lando muttered, voice tight, cracking slightly with frustration. “Break! We’re taking a break.”
His words were sharp, a contrast to the usual smooth confidence he exuded.
Without waiting for any response, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you away from the set with a sense of urgency that didn’t match the cool composure he usually carried.
“Lando, what the-”
“Not now,” he interrupted, low and tense, as he pulled you into a nearby storage room.
The door clicked shut with an almost deliberate force, the sound of the lock turning echoing in the small space.
You barely had time to gather your thoughts before he was in your space, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against yours.
“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, strained, his hands finding your waist, gripping tight, enough to bruise.
A slow smile spread across your lips. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”
Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if trying to center himself.
His breath fanned across your lips, shaky and uneven, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster with every breath.
“You’re a brat,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw, yet edged with something almost desperate.
“You’re the one who wanted me in your merch,” you teased, your fingers curling into his hair as you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body.
“Yeah, well…” His hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his fingertips burning against your skin. “Now I’ve got more than I bargained for.”
The words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours.
The kiss was messy, urgent, his lips urgent against yours, like he couldn’t get enough.
You didn’t need to think. Your body responded immediately, hands moving to pull him closer, the heat building.
The press of his body against yours was relentless, hard and desperate, as he deepened the kiss.
His hand slid down your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his waist, while the other traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw.
His breath fanned across your skin, shallow and uneven, each exhale carrying a heat that set your nerves ablaze.
“You don’t fight fair,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, edged with a hunger that made your stomach flip. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his teeth grazed your throat.
Your lips curled into a smirk, your nails raking across his back just enough to make him shudder. The sound of his sharp inhale sent a rush of power through you.
“Neither do you,” you whispered, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his as your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging it higher, your touch skimming over his skin.
“God, you…” His voice broke, his words catching in his throat as he crashed his mouth back to yours.
The kiss was harder this time, almost frantic, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.
His hands moved with purpose now.
Demanding, claiming, leaving no part of you untouched.
Your nails scraped against his back again, dragging another groan from deep in his chest, a sound so raw and desperate it made your knees weak.
His hips rocked against you, slow and deliberate, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.
“Careful, Norris,” you teased, your voice breathless but still carrying a hint of mischief as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. A quiet intensity that you'd seen more than once.
“You’re starting to look a little… well, territorial.”
For a moment, he froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath as if he was trying to regain control.
Then his lips twitched into a sly, almost dangerous smile, one that sent a thrill through you.
“Maybe I am,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word carrying weight. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, making any distance between you disappear.
The words sent a shiver through your spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was something else, something exciting, something that only made you want more.
His lips found your neck again, pressing soft, burning kisses against your skin.
His teeth grazed over your pulse, just enough to send a jolt through you, sharp and unexpected, making your breath catch in your throat.
You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Everyone’s going to notice, you know. You weren’t exactly subtle when you dragged me off like that.”
The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, but it was dark now, and there was a sudden pressure in his hands as he adjusted his position against you. “Let them notice,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.
He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t care. They can see whatever they want.”
The words sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your nails scraping lightly over his back.
—-
When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath.
Lando, however, was already standing in front of you, his hair tousled, his hoodie still hanging off his frame in a way that somehow made it look even better on him than it ever had before.
He bent down casually to scoop your underwear from the floor, dangling them in front of you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
“Come on, love,” he said, his voice rough and teasing, still thick with exertion. “Don’t leave me hanging. Put these back on before we go out there.”
You shot him a glare, snatching the fabric from his hand and hurriedly slipping it on, feeling the heat rush to your face.
Lando leaned back against the wall, watching you with a cocky, self-satisfied grin. “Still dripping with me,” he murmured, but the rasp in his voice made your stomach flip. You felt your cheeks flush even more.
You rolled your eyes, tugging the hoodie down to hide your body and fix your composure. “You’re disgusting.”
“And yet, you love me,” he replied with a wink. “Guess that says something about you too.”
The studio lights were still dimmed as you walked back in, legs slightly unsteady. You caught yourself on the doorframe, trying to keep your cool, but the feeling between your legs was still fresh, raw.
Lando followed you, smirking like a cat that had just caught its prey. He leaned against the wall, eyes on you as his grin grew wider. “Fix your hair,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You look like you just got fucked.”
You barely suppressed a laugh, brushing your fingers through your hair and pulling it back into something that at least resembled “done.” “Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered under your breath.
Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you were still trying to play it cool. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.”
You narrowed your eyes, about to retort when Lando took a step forward, his smirk never fading, and pulled you close. He kissed you softly, lingering, the kind of kiss that made it hard to remember where you ended and he began.
“Come on,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’ve got a photoshoot to finish.”
—-
Months passed.
The LaFerrari didn’t show up.
Not that you cared. Really.
Sure, it had been a fun little joke—“Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot”—but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.
He said he would but Lando also forgot to stock up on groceries some days so you didn’t take it to heart.
Besides, it wasn’t like you had time to think about it.
Your schedule was relentless: fashion weeks in Paris, Vogue shoots in Milan, fittings for Dior in New York.
You were barely home long enough to unpack, let alone pine after a car.
It wasn’t a big deal.
Until one night, after a particularly grueling flight back from London, you pulled into your driveway and-
You slammed the brakes.
Because there it was.
A LaFerrari.
Burgundy red. Like aged wine. Like sin and velvet had a baby and parked it outside your house.
It gleamed under the porch light, shameless and expensive.
For a full minute, you did nothing but stare, slack-jawed.
Then you slowly got out of the car, leaving your bags in the trunk.
“Lando,” you muttered, pulling out your phone.
You called.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, baby- what’s up?”
“You left a LaFerrari on my driveway.”
“Oh! You got home?” He sounded way too casual.
“Lando. There is a multi-million-dollar car parked outside my house.”
“Yeah, about that. It’s yours. Obviously.”
“…You’re joking.”
“Would I joke about something this expensive?”
“Yes.”
“Fair. But not this time.”
You stared at the car again.
“Are you serious? After months?”
“It takes time to deliver a LaFerrari!” Lando said, his voice way too serious for a man who had just been exposed.
“I had to get it customized, too. Your name is literally engraved on the side. And then there was the whole issue with cargo. Did you know they’re super strict about how cars are transported? I had to make sure it wasn’t gonna get dented, and the shipping company I trust didn’t have any available slots until-”
“I thought you were joking, Lando!”
“Well, I wasn’t,” he replied confidently. “You said you wanted a LaFerrari. You said ‘make it red wine,’ so I made it red wine. I also got the seats customized with carbon fiber inserts and-”
You groaned in disbelief, interrupting him. “You literally bought the car, customized it, and shipped it to my house."
Lando blinked, unfazed. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Did you think I was kidding about that part?”
“Yes! It’s a LaFerrari! Who even does that?! It’s absurd!”
"Clearly me.” He paused. “Check the glove compartment.”
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Suspicious, you approached the car, heels clicking on the pavement. You opened the door.
God, even the door sounded expensive- and popped the glove compartment.
Inside was a tiny Hot Wheels car. A red LaFerrari.
Taped to it was a sticky note.
“Just in case this one wasn’t enough. - Lando”
You stared at it.
You looked back at the LaFerrari, glinting under the sun like some ridiculous, over-the-top love letter.
“…I’m taking it to the Dior fitting tomorrow.”
“You better.”
“…Is this why you were ignoring my texts last week?”
“I wasn’t ignoring you! I was busy coordinating with Italy!”
“Oh my God.”
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miiyas · 3 months ago
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osamu turns his body to face you in the dark room of your shared bed, a frown etched on his face as he wraps his beefy arms around your waist.
“‘yer stomachs growlin’.” he states, breathing in the scent of your lotion that lingered gently on your skin from after a warm shower. you hum tiredly as your thumbs doom scroll across your phone, the lights highlighting your face gently. from your lack of response, your husband sighs and sits up on the bed, tossing the covers away from his side, grabbing your attention away from your phone.
“‘samu ? where’re you going ?” you put your phone away from your face slightly, eyes wide and confused at the sudden action. you see osamus shadow tap the lamp on from beside the bed and run a hand through his bedhead, feet shuffling out of the bedroom without another word to you.
“‘samu ? dude, what are you doing ?” with the sudden ‘dude-zoning,’ you can hear his voice call from … the kitchen ..?
“are ya feelin’ somethin’ light or heavy ?” he calls, causing your brows to furrow in confusion as you slip out of bed, placing your phone down on the mattress. you tiptoe to the kitchen, seeing osamu having his head popped in the fridge. you couldn’t help but stifle out a laughter, the sight of your husband in nothing but a simple shirt and boxers tickled your tired, hazy mind.
“what in the world are you doing, ‘samu ?”
“yer stomach was growlin’ since we got into bed.” he mumbles, picking up a carton of eggs and counting how many was left before placing them down again. “you feelin’ pancakes ? i can make the meanest pancakes, y’know.”
you sigh out a chuckle before moving over to the small dinning table, bringing your legs up to your chest to keep a bit of warmth in your body from after leaving the bed. “i know, ‘samu. i’ll have whatever’s easier.”
“alright, pancakes then.”
osamu pulls out the carton of eggs again and a stick of butter, pushing them on the kitchens island before closing the fridge to find more ingredients. you eye your husband roam around, your eyes fluttering as you drift in and out of consciousness as a soft, content smile lies gently on your lips.
it’s okay, though. because you know that osamu will wake you up when your stack of pancakes are hot and ready. he’ll give you a big kiss on your forehead before sitting beside you, resting his elbow on the table as his head props up with the support of his big hand, a lovesick smile drowning out any sleepiness in him.
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vanteguccir · 2 months ago
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── ୨୧ ! DRESS TO IMPRESS IN REAL LIFE
matt sturniolo x reader
SUMMARY: Where Y/N, Matt's secret girlfriend, participates in the 'Dress to Impress in real life' video.
WARNING: None.
REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
A/N²: I added and changed some dialogs that didn't happen on the video, so the fic ended being more complete.
   ༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
The triplets were buzzing with energy, their house a hive of activity as they set up for their newest video; Dress to Impress, real-life edition. Each round had its own theme, and the first one was Summer Vacation. Y/N had been roped into joining as a surprise guest, and secretly, Matt couldn't have been more thrilled.
The boys had already pulled out all the stops with their outfits. Chris sported a chaotic ensemble: a bucket hat with panels of clashing colors, lime green slides, and denim cargo shorts.
Matt was rocking a relaxed, dad-on-vacation vibe, complete with an oversized straw hat, patterned swim trunks, and a shirt that screamed, 'I don’t care, I’m on island time'.
Nick had gone full beach prep with a striped tank top, sunglasses that were almost too tiny for his face, and a retro cooler box tucked under his arm like an accessory.
As the camera rolled, Y/N was still getting ready in Matt’s bathroom, leaving the boy's to discuss who went better between the three of them.
"Alright." Chris said, pointing a finger at Nick’s cooler. "I’m just saying, if you don’t actually have anything in there, that’s a waste of a prop."
"It’s called committing to the bit, Chris." Nick shot back, adjusting the towel draped over his shoulder. "The cooler is the vibe."
Matt, who was adjusting his sunglasses, glanced toward the bathroom door, his face lighting up as if he could sense Y/N’s presence through the walls.
"Y/N better bring it. I know she’s got something amazing up her sleeve."
Nick rolled his eyes, looking at Matt with a boring expression.
"Why do I feel like you’re already planning to give her every win, no matter what she’s wearing?"
"Because I am." Matt replied bluntly, grinning like the lovesick puppy he was.
The door finally creaked open, and all three boys turned as Y/N emerged. She had nailed the summer vacation aesthetic, wearing a flowy, tropical-patterned sundress, bikini top below it, oversized black Prada sunglasses perched on her nose, and sandals that matched her outfit perfectly. She’d even added a straw beach bag for good measure.
"Okay, Y/N, I see you!" Chris exclaimed, clapping his hands together.
Y/N laughed, grinning widely before twirling to show off her look.
"Alright, that’s tough competition. You actually look like you're ready to spend the day at your beach house." Nick gave a low whistle, his blue eyes traveling from her face to her feet and back again. "But I'd say you're in fourth place. You're ready for the beach, not for any summer vacation."
"Fair." Y/N shrugged, take a quick peak at her outfit again before looking at Matt. "What do you think?"
Matt's eyes seemed to be shining like the whole cadence of stars, wandering through every detail of her choice of clothes.
"Are you kidding? That’s... that’s so good. You look like you stepped out of a summer vacation catalog or something." His voice sounded slightly high-pitched with excitement. "Nick's just jealous."
"What? No, I'm not!"
Chris rolled his eyes, already sensing where this was going.
"Oh, here we go."
"Like, if I saw you on the beach." Matt continued, ignoring his brothers entirely. "I’d probably just pass out. That’s how good you look."
"Okay, Matt." Nick said, holding up a hand. "We get it. Obsessive fucker."
The room filled with laughter, Y/N shaking her head but unable to hide the grin spreading across her face, her cheeks heating up.
"Right, first round? I'm second." Matt declared, gesturing toward himself. "Obviously, Y/N was first because, you know, she's Y/N." He gave her a little smile. "Then Nick was third, and Chris was fourth. That’s the average."
"Yeah, unfortunately." Nick muttered, throwing his hands up.
"Well." Chris turned dramatically to the camera and pointed. "They can vote."
Nick, not missing a beat, leaned closer to the camera, his voice dripping with mock confidence.
"Oh, I already know they’re gonna vote for me. Mine’s obviously the best. Unless..." He paused for dramatic effect, raising an eyebrow. "These girls wanna sleep with Matt and vote for him."
"What?!" Matt’s eyes widened in pure shock as he whipped his head toward the camera, looking utterly scandalized.
Y/N’s eyes flicked between Nick and Matt, her lips tightening slightly trying to suppress a laugh. It was impossible not to be amused by Nick’s antics.
She knew Nick wasn’t wrong, Matt’s popularity with their audience also had to do with his charm and, let’s face it, how good he looked on camera. There probably were plenty of girls who’d vote for Matt purely because of his looks, even if one of the other boys dressed better.
Nick continued without missing a beat.
"It’s the straight man advantage! You guys..." He gestured wildly at the camera. "Are gonna discriminate against me because I’m gay, and I don't like 'yall back."
At that, Y/N couldn’t help but burst into laughter, shaking her head.
Matt, still recovering from Nick’s bold accusation, raised a hand defensively.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second." He looked straight into the camera with that intense, sincere gaze that Y/N loved. "Just for the record, I’m completely off-limits. Completely."
The way he said it, firm and definitive, sent a wave of confidence through Y/N. Her lips twitched into a small smile as she crossed her arms, clearing her throat to contain her reactions, trying to play it cool.
Nick, however, wasn’t done.
"Oh, yeah? You really think they care about that?" He teased, smirking as Matt shook his head in disbelief.
Chris rolled his eyes, still laughing.
"Nick, stop trying to guilt-trip them into voting for you."
"I'm not doing anything." Nick replied with a wink, sending the group into another fit of laughter.
"Now, bring the runway on, boys!"
The camera cut to Chris, who had appointed himself the first to strut down their makeshift runway that started from the stairs.
He walked in quick steps before stopping in the center of their camera lens, dramatically fanning himself with an imaginary hand fan.
"Where did you even get the idea of the imaginary fan?" Y/N teased, laughing with the others.
"Shh, it’s part of the vibe." Chris replied, flipping his bucket hat backward with flair. He strolled toward the camera with exaggerated confidence, striking a series of ridiculous poses. "Yeah, you’re welcome." He said as he walked off-camera, leaving the other three in stitches.
Nick went next, cooler in hand.
"Get ready to witness greatness." He said, lifting the retro cooler above his head like it was the Holy Grail, showing it off.
"You go, queen!" Y/N cheered, nodding her head while watching him.
Nick smiled brightly, placing it down carefully and reached for the towel draped over his shoulder, unfolding it with slow, deliberate movements. Too slow.
"This is taking forever." Matt groaned, crossing his arms.
"Nick, it’s been 30 seconds. Just lay the towel down!" Chris yelled.
Nick ignored them, carefully smoothing out the towel on the floor, his face the picture of focus. Once he was satisfied, he walked down the "runway", throwing some expressions to the camera before almost gluing his face to the lens, taking his glasses off.
"Iconic." Y/N said between laughs.
"Thank you, thank you." Nick replied, bowing before dramatically kicking the towel aside as if to signal the end of his performance, his right hand fanning himself as the last act.
Matt was up next.
"Alright, let me show you how it’s done." He said confidently. Grabbing his sunscreen, he opened the cap and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers, dabbing it on his cheeks like football player stripes.
"Well, you gotta stay protected, I guess." Y/N muttered, smiling with how Chris was rooting like crazy.
Laughter escaped her lips as Matt sauntered toward the camera, showing off the sunscreen like it was a designer handbag. He struck a confident pose, holding the product up, before walking back off the camera with an over-the-top smile.
Finally, it was Y/N’s turn.
"Your move, Y/N." Nick said, gesturing grandly toward the imaginary runway.
"Alright, alright, give me a second." She said, thinking fast.
She reached into her straw bag, pulling out the pair of oversized sunglasses that she had thrown there at some point, dramatically placing it on her face. Then, grabbing a small beach towel she had tucked inside the bag, she draped it over one arm like a sash.
"What’s happening here?" Matt asked, intrigued.
Y/N strolled onto the "runway" with slow, exaggerated movements like a madame arriving at a five-star resort. Halfway down, she pretended to feel the heat, pulling an actual bottle of water from her bag and taking a sip before fanning herself with her hand.
"It has to have the fan move!" Nick applauded, grinning to the scene before being interrupted by Chris’s comment.
"Of course, I created it."
At the end of the runway, Y/N stopped, tossed her sunglasses off dramatically at the ground, and struck a ridiculous pose with one hand on her hip and the other shielding her eyes as if she was shielding her face from the sun.
"That was solid!" Chris exclaimed, clapping.
Matt, meanwhile, was in awe, hands on his head.
"Are you kidding? That was really good. A thousand points. Game over. Y/N wins. Everyone go home."
Nick scoffed.
"Matt, stop simping for two seconds so we can keep this contest going."
"I’m not simping." Matt argued, clearly lying. "I'm just stating facts."
"Shut up, Matt."
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
For the Mix-Matched Madness theme, the camera panned to the boys standing in a line, proudly displaying their chaotic ensembles.
Chris was clad in a bright red varsity jacket over a striped shirt, camo pink shorts, and mismatched knee-high socks with chunky boots.
Matt decided for plaid shorts layered over one plaid pant leg, a pastel blue and yellow sweater vest, and a floppy dog-ear cap.
Nick went to a plaid jacket layered over a striped shirt with a perfectly coordinated tie, and matching sweatpants and sneakers.
"Guys, I’m clearly superior." Nick started, raising his eyebrows as he adjusted his glasses. "My outfit is actually intentional, look at this synergy! It screams fashion-forward."
Matt groaned, rolling his eyes and looking at Chris with a 'is he serious?' expression.
"Nick, you’re wearing matchy-matchy plaid in a mix-matched challenge. You’ve missed the assignment!"
"It’s ironic." Nick shot back, crossing his arms. "I’m doing intentional matching. If I were in a real runway right now, people would actually like my outfit."
Chris scratched his head, looking between them.
"Isn’t that kind of cheating, though?"
Before the debate could escalate further, Y/N stepped into the frame, causing all three boys to give her their attention.
Her outfit was next level: a bright purple sequined crop top paired with one lime green legging on her right leg and a fluffy, neon orange sock on the other. She wore a skirt made of layered, clashing floral patterns that didn’t quite match the fuzzy checkered cardigan she threw on top. To finish it off, her accessories included a leopard-print beanie - the one she stole from Matt's closet -, oversized sunglasses, and two entirely different shoes, a silver stiletto on one foot and a Croc on the other.
The boys gawked.
"Okay, now that’s mix-matched madness." Chris said, pointing at her.
"Girl, you look like you fell into a thrift store... and it worked." Nick added, looking both impressed and slightly annoyed.
"How can you still look so good while wearing... that?" Matt asked, pointing at her outfit with his hand while shaking his head in disbelief.
Y/N twirled dramatically, holding out her skirt as she grinned at the camera.
"Thank you, boys. I like to call this 'chaos with confidence'." She invented the random name, throwing a quick kiss to the lens.
Chris threw his hands up.
"Alright, I’m officially placing second now."
Nick groaned, shaking his head dramatically.
"No way. She’s great, but I’m still winning. Look at this tie!"
Matt laughed.
"Nick, your tie doesn’t save you from breaking the theme. You’re disqualified."
The scene cut to the "runway", where each of them showcased their chaotic outfits with an equally chaotic performance.
First up was Nick. He confidently strutted forward, reaching for the end of his tie. With exaggerated flair, he lifted it as if someone were pulling him forward, his face a picture of mock shock and drama, stumbling forward.
"Ey, keep going!" Chris hollered, nodding enthusiastically.
The moment he reached the end of the runway, he grinned mischievously, running his hand dramatically through his hair and tossing a sultry look at the camera before taking off his pink glasses.
"Work it, Nick!" Y/N chimed in, her laughter mixing with the chaos.
Nick turned on his heel with a laugh, sauntering back to the start and throwing a praying gesture, ignoring how Matt laughed, mockingly imitating his act.
Next, Matt stepped up, adjusting his floppy dog-ear cap before suddenly spinning it backward.
"Showtime." He muttered under his breath, earning immediate chuckles from the others. He walked to the camera with a cocky stride, crossing his arms and bending slightly to the side.
For the final move, he pivoted and moonwalked his way back to the start, nearly slipping on his mismatched shoes but recovering with a grin.
"Did you see that? Effortless." Matt declared, earning boos and laughs from the rest.
"You almost ate it, Matt." Y/N teased, shaking her head.
Chris stepped up next. And, of course, he brought drama.
"Hold my jacket." He said, then immediately shook his head. "Actually, no. The floor will."
With exaggerated aggression, he ripped off one of his red lobster gloves, throwing it to the ground with flair. The glove was followed by his belt, which he unbuckled and tossed with equal energy.
"Oh my God." Y/N looked at the camera with wide eyes.
"What is happening?" Nick cackled, practically doubling over, slapping Y/N's arm.
Chris wasn’t done. He walked up to the camera with an intense expression, holding his hands out and touching the screen, acting as if zooming in.
"Enhance." He said, squinting into the lens. Then, as if the camera wasn’t worthy, he spun dramatically on his heel, walked back, and threw off his varsity jacket mid-stride before striking one final pose.
"Now that’s how you do it." Y/N joked, looking at the camera. "Like and subscribe if you want Chris to make a strip tea-"
"Y/N!"
For Y/N's turn, she adjusted her oversized leopard beanie with a dramatic flair and tilted her sunglasses low on her nose, revealing a dead-serious expression underneath. She strutted forward slowly, dragging her stiletto along the ground for added effect. When she reached the camera, she whipped her head to the side, making her orange fluffy sock the star of the moment.
But it didn’t end there. Y/N suddenly crouched down into a deep squat, raising one hand in the air and striking a pose like she was ready to pounce. The boys immediately broke into cheers and laughter.
"Yes, queen!" Nick shouted, jumping in the place and clapping, laughing loudly.
"She nailed it." Matt said with a proud grin, nodding his head.
Y/N slowly stood, turning to the side as if the camera had disappeared, and walked off like nothing had happened.
"Thank you." She said nonchalantly, tossing her hair over her shoulder as the others applauded.
"Alright, I officially retire." Nick said, throwing his arms to the air in a surrender gesture.
"Same." Chris picked up his lobster glove from the floor, grinning.
Matt sighed, smiling at Y/N's figure.
"She’s unbeatable. Let’s not do these challenges anymore if she’s in them."
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
The scene cut to the next category: Rock Concert. The boys had gathered in front of the camera, each flaunting their edgy outfits.
Chris leaned casually against the wall, dressed in all black with his bandana tied around his head. His sunglasses were perfectly placed, and a Bluetooth speaker hung over his shoulder like a statement piece.
"Clearly, I’m the embodiment of rock concert aesthetic." He said confidently, adjusting his speaker strap.
Nick crossed his arms, giving Chris a side-eye. He was sporting his long-sleeved shirt adorned with skulls and intricate spiderweb patterns paired with black cargo pants and chunky boots.
"Please." Nick retorted. "I’ve got literal death on my shirt. That’s as metal as it gets."
Matt, standing in the middle, smirked. He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt, complete with a silver skull belt buckle and leather pants that practically screamed rockstar.
"Yeah, but have you seen my belt?" He argued, lifting his white shirt slightly to show it off. "This is peak rock concert material. I even coordinated it with my jacket."
"Okay, but who do you think the crowd would look at first?" Chris challenged. "The guy with the bandana, all black, and sunglasses? Obviously me. The speaker only makes it better."
Nick rolled his eyes.
"You look like you’re trying to be a cool dad sneaking into a concert." He teased.
"Alright, alright." Y/N interrupted from off-screen, stepping into the camera frame and effectively stealing the show.
Y/N’s outfit was on another level. She wore a black 'Bon Jovi' cropped top with silver detailing that matched the chains on her leather mini skirt. Fishnet tights peeked out from under the skirt, leading down to a pair of knee-high combat boots that added an extra edge to the look. To top it off, she wore a cropped leather jacket with studs on the shoulders and accessorized with chunky silver jewelry and a black choker.
The boys fell silent for a second, staring.
Y/N smiled brightly at them before turning to the camera, raising her right arm and making the 'rock and roll' gesture by raising her pinky and index fingers and lowering the others.
"'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars and live in hilltop houses driving 15 cars..."
"Girl, what the fuck?" Nick widened his eyes, looking from Y/N to the camera with a look that screamed 'are you guys seeing this?'
Matt laughed loudly, recognizing the song from one of the TikTok trends that Y/N had been obsessing over the past few weeks, being quick in imitating her position, and starting singing with her.
"... the girls come easy and the drugs come cheap, we'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat-"
"Okay, that's enough of that." Chris interrupted the pair, gesturing to them while shaking his head in disbelief. "So, Y/N wins."
Nick groaned dramatically.
"Let's take her out right now. I don't wanna play with her anymore."
Matt couldn’t stop smiling.
"Can we just talk about how she’s nailing this? Like, can we get her to join the band we don’t have?"
Y/N laughed, giving a mock bow.
"Thank you, thank you. Now, let's just be clear, I already won." Y/N said with a sly grin, stepping forward. "You'll all lose time if you keep discussing who's the best between you three."
"How can you be so sure?" Chris crossed his arms, carrying a superior instance.
"Because I actually listen to rock." She said, shrugging like it was obvious. "AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Kansas, Asia... should I keep going?"
Nick groaned.
"Okay, that’s true, but it doesn’t count!"
"Doesn’t count?" Y/N repeated, feigning offense. "I think you’ll find that the fact I actually know rock makes me the winner by default." She turned to Chris. "Tell me. Have 'yall even listened to ‘Highway to Hell’ all the way through?"
Chris hesitated, playing with his earphones.
"Uh... I mean." He looked at Nick. "Probably?"
Y/N laughed, shaking her head.
"Thought so." She crossed her arms. "So, I don’t need a skull belt, all-black everything, or death on my chest. I’ve got the actual music taste. Rock is in my veins, boys."
Nick groaned dramatically, throwing his head back.
"She wins. I hate it, but she wins."
"Alright, fine." Chris muttered. "But we still look better."
"Not a chance." Y/N teased, spinning in place again and winking at the camera. "This outfit screams rock goddess."
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
The boys were now proudly sporting their "Zoom Meeting" outfits. Chris held up his MacBook, Matt adjusted his glasses with a goofy smile, and Nick tugged at his black tie, looking down at his bright heart-shaped boxer shorts with fake professionalism.
"Alright." Chris started, addressing the imaginary Zoom meeting in front of him. "Gentlemen, let’s get to business. As you can see, we’re all clearly dressed to impress."
"Except for Nick." Matt teased, nodding toward his brother's boxer shorts. "The hearts? A little too much, don’t you think?"
Nick scoffed, feigning offense.
"Excuse me, at least I have this tie that says I’m both professional and emotionally available. A winning combo."
Matt rolled his eyes and gestured to his own look.
"Meanwhile, I’ve got balance. Business on top, relaxation on the bottom."
"That’s literally the whole theme." Chris pointed out with a smirk. "You’re not special, Matt."
Y/N watched from her spot leaning against Matt's bathroom door, her legs crossed as she sipped from her mug of coffee that she made while waiting for them to get ready. She was dressed comfortably yet stylishly, rocking an oversized beige knit sweater that draped perfectly off one shoulder, paired with black leggings and fluffy white socks. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, with a few strands framing her face. Despite the boys' chaotic energy, she was nailing the whole "effortlessly cool" vibe.
"Y/N, you’re way too cozy for a Zoom meeting." Chris said, pointing at her as he adjusted his loose white shirt.
"Well." Y/N said with a playful grin. "Unlike you guys, I know how to mix comfy with class. You all just look ridiculous."
Nick gasped, dramatically clutching the box in his hands.
"Ridiculous? Ridiculous?! Look at this tie! I’m the epitome of professionalism!"
Chris leaned toward Y/N, pointing at Matt.
"What about him? He’s literally in boxer shorts."
Y/N rolled her eyes, sipping from her mug to hide her smile.
"You're all wearing it, dumbass." Her eyes lingered on Matt's red boxer shorts for a moment too long. "It’s really interesting that someone would think boxer shorts are appropriate for a Zoom meeting, actually."
Matt smirked, striking a random pose.
"Are you jealous?"
"No?" She said quickly, shaking her head. "I mean, it’s not like anyone else on the Zoom would see them, right?"
The other two brothers caught on instantly, grinning like Cheshire cats.
"Y/N." Nick teased. "Are you saying you wouldn’t let your Zoom co-workers see your boxers?"
"Nick!" She exclaimed, throwing an exasperated look at him. "That’s not the point!"
Chris chimed in, laughing.
"Yeah, Matt. She’s definitely jealous. She wishes she could wear boxers to a meeting."
"I do not!" Y/N huffed, crossing her arms, though a smile tugged at her lips. "I just... don’t understand why he’d even bother wearing the shirt if he’s just going to go full casual anyway."
"It’s called commitment to the aesthetic." Matt said, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder, discretely squeezing the exposed skin. "Something you clearly wouldn’t understand."
"Oh, I understand commitment." Y/N shot back with a smirk, meeting his eyes momentarily. "But let’s be honest, none of you are winning any awards for those outfits."
"Excuse me?" Nick said, pretending to be outraged. "I’m clearly the winner here."
"Winner?" Chris scoffed. "You’re wearing socks pulled up to your knees, bro. That’s not even close to a win."
Y/N chuckled as she watched them descend into a full argument over who had the best Zoom look, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering back to Matt’s outfit. Something about the casual confidence he exuded - boxers and glasses - had her feeling just a little possessive and turned on.
"Alright." She announced, clapping her hands to get their attention. "If you’re all done arguing, let’s see who can really sell their look with a runway walk."
The boys' faces lit up, and they quickly got into character.
Nick was up first, confidently sliding across the wooden floor in his socks, arms spread wide like a figure skater. As he came to a stop, he reached for his boxer shorts and dramatically lowered them until they hit the ground, shouting a little "Oh!".
Matt immediately yelped.
"Nick!" He yelled before lunging forward to cover Y/N's eyes with both hands.
"Matt! What are you doing?!" Y/N laughed, trying to swat his hands away while Chris doubled over in hysterics.
"Protecting your innocence!" Matt declared, keeping his hands firmly over her face.
Nick, unfazed, quickly pulled his boxers back up and began walking toward the camera with exaggerated confidence, tugging at his tie and making ridiculous faces as though he were a real model.
"You’re unbelievable!" Chris murmured through his laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.
"Well, we've got 2 strippers now-"
"Y/N!"
Nick turned dramatically to face her and winked.
"You’re welcome for the show."
Next, it was Matt’s turn. He walked to the middle of the floor, cracking his knuckles with a sly grin before suddenly dropping to his hands and knees.
"Uh, Matt?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.
"What...?" Nick added, genuinely confused.
Then, without warning, Matt lifted his left leg to the side like a dog at a fire hydrant.
The realization hit everyone at once, recognizing the movement from one of the rounds of DTI that Matt and Chris played, and the room erupted into cheers and laughter.
"That was perfect!" Chris shouted, clapping his hands.
Matt stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his shirt with a smirk, and walked toward the camera with crossed arms, striking a serious pose like a model in a high-fashion commercial.
"Okay, that was actually cool." Y/N admitted, giggling as he walked back to join them.
When it was Chris’s turn, he shook his head with a grin.
"I’m sitting this one out." He said.
"What? Why?" Nick asked, incredulous.
Chris shrugged.
"I’m already the main event. I’ll let Y/N steal the spotlight this time."
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up.
"Oh, so now I have to go?"
"You got this!" Matt encouraged, nudging her toward the runway.
"Fine." She said, standing up and straightening her oversized sweater dramatically.
Y/N walked off the camera and took the book she'd been reading the past few days from the coffee table, walking back to the frame before delicately putting it on her head like a balancing act. She strutted confidently toward the camera, balancing it all the way, then stopped to pull out her mug, striking a victorious pose before taking a slow, exaggerated sip. The boys erupted in applause.
"You can call me Barbie now." She started, turning to the boys while opening a wide smile before pretending that her hand was a microphone. "On top of the world where I can see everything before me reaching up to touch the sky-"
"Okay, singer girl, pipe down a bit." Nick raised his right hand, exchanging perplexed looks with Chris, who was laughing.
"Okay, she wins." The youngest admitted, shrugging in defeat.
"Unreal." Matt said, looking at her with obvious pride. "You’re way too good at this, Y/N."
"Okay, okay, she wins. No one can top that." Nick nodded at Y/N. "But I think Chris gets second place in this one."
"No, I give you number one." Chris insisted, pointing to Nick while Matt just observed.
"I can't accept that. I'm just happy Matt's wearing his blue light glasses again." Nick's voice turned dramatically high-pitched, clearly imitating the fandom.
Before anyone could react to him, Matt ripped his glasses off of his face, bending it backward until it snapped, small pieces flying everywhere.
"Matt, why would you do that?" Y/N yelled, looking at him with wide eyes and open mouth - just like the other two - before pouting, looking miserably at the shattered pieces. "I liked that one."
"I don't like those stupid jokes." Matt simply replied, looking unfazed at his brothers and Y/N.
Nick and Chris kept looking from Matt to the camera and back, their expressions full of shock.
"You're going to buy another one just like that one, I don't even care." Y/N ordered, crossing her arms and looking directly at Matt, raising her eyebrows as if to say 'dare disobey me.
"Fine." He sighed. "Sorry."
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Extra - comments:
"okay but can we talk about matt literally saying ‘I’m off limits’? someone tell me what’s going on here 🤡"
"nick casually calling out matt girls for voting on matt only bc they want to sleep with him had me SCREAMING 😭"
"why was Y/N blushing when matt said he was off limits? I SEE YOU, GIRL!!!!"
"the dynamic between Y/N and matt is giving major dating vibes"
"wait, why does matt always seem to hype Y/N up just a little more than chris and nick? like, we get it, dude. she’s awesome. but tone it down, or we’ll all start connecting dots 🤨"
"as a fellow rock fan, I have to say Y/N listening to AC/DC and bon jovi automatically makes her my fave"
"not Y/N convincing matt with zero effort to do the rockstar trend with her 🤧"
"I’m not saying I ship Y/N and matt... but I also kind of ship Y/N and matt. the way he looked at her with that dress??? man, I know that look"
"matt breaking his glasses and then Y/N ordering him to buy another one and him ACCEPTING IT???? and saying sorry???? omg that's just girl boss right there 🙏🏻"
1K notes · View notes
zorosangell · 2 months ago
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⛥゚・。 rice crackers
synopsis: after nami discovers a little girl stowing away on the sunny, the crew comes together to interrogate her... but she won't stop claiming to be your daughter
cw: lots and lots of fluff, comfort, zoro is emotionally constipated, your daughter's name is Yuki (i just picked something random), you and Zoro art not together yet, etc.
a/n: ending might be kinda rushed i'm tired
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"And I'm out!" you cheered, throwing down your winning hand with a flourish, donning a triumphant smile.
"No way! You have to be cheating!" Usopp exclaimed, accusingly, looking down at the cards with wide eyes. "That's thirty-four times in a row!"
You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you looped your arms around the huge stack of rice crackers, pulling them closer.
"No need be a sore loser. You know I won far and square," you teased, letting out a small giggle as you stuck out your tongue at the sniper.
"Like hell you did! My strategy was flawless! It was foolproof! There was no way you could've beat it!"
"What strategy?" your brows flattened, "Usopp... we're playing Go Fish. I don't think there's much to it."
"So? My brilliant mind can formulate a strategy for any kind of game, no matter how simple," he bellowed, proudly, as if that was some sort of feat.
"Yeah... brilliant."
The three of you, completely bored out of your minds, had plopped yourselves down on the deck to play some cards, hoping to pass the time until you arrived on the next island.
The boys had already done their daily fishing, as well as their daily kitchen raid, having sang with Brook and hung out with Franky a little bit earlier.
Meanwhile, you had already completed your training for the day, as per Zoro's workout regiment, having met with Robin for your two-woman book club after you took a shower.
But now you were completely free, and figured scamming the boys out of some food would be a good way to kill time.
"Dang. I coulda swore my strategy was gonna work," your captain huffed, glancing down at his hands, which held well over half of the deck.
"Luffy, why do you have so many cards?" you asked, raising a brow.
"More is better right?" he asked, a little lost.
"Is that how you've been playing this whole time?" Usopp sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose
"That's alright," you assured, smiling cheekily as you split your huge pile of rice crackers in half and slid some in front of Luffy. "We can share."
"Really?! Thanks, (y/n)!" Luffy beamed, eyes starry as he began to stuff his face.
"Hey! Why does he get a cut and I don't?!" Usopp fired back, feeling excluded.
"'Cause he's not a sore loser," you pulled down your lower eyelid, sticking out your tongue once again.
"No fair!"
"(Y/N)!"
Suddenly, Nami burst from her office, the door slamming harshly against the wall and sending a jolt of shock down your spine.
'The hell?!'
Surprised, the three of you turned toward the balcony, where Nami stood with furrowed brows, her body positioned in a way that concealed something behind her.
"Jeez, Nami, what's your problem?" Usopp asked, brow raised.
"Yeah, what's all the yelling for?" Luffy agreed, shoving another fistful of rice crackers in his mouth.
"Nami, my love! Is everything alright?!" Sanji came twirling out the kitchen, lovesick, as usual.
She scoffed, her attention laser-focused on you.
"(y/n), when were you going to tell me you had a daughter?! And why the hell is she stowed away in my office closet?!"
"WHAT?!"
You nearly laughed, absolutely gobsmacked by the words coming out of her mouth.
Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji's jaws nearly fell to the floor, eyes as wide as dinner plates as they turned to you, utterly shocked.
"(Y/N), YOU HAVE A KID?!?"
"NO!" you scoffed, incredulously. "I'VE BEEN WITH YOU IDIOTS THE WHOLE TIME! I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL SHE'S TALKING ABOUT!"
"Mommy?" a tiny voice perked up, peeking out from behind your navigator's leg.
Your head snapped over to its source, and your heart nearly dropped to your ass once you got a good look.
It was you.
Or, well, not you exactly, but a younger version of you.
From her hair to her skin.
From her skin to her eyes.
From her eyes to the look on her face.
The only distinguishable differences between you two being both her youthful expressions, and her sharp scowl, which eerily resembled that of the ship's swordsman.
Though that scowl instantly melted away once she locked eyes with you, a blinding smile stretching across her lips.
"Mommy!"
Running out from behind Nami, she jumped up on the railing and launched herself off the balcony, much to your dismay.
"No!"
Without hesitation, you dove forward, catching her in your arms before pulling her into your chest, tucking your knees in to shield her from the impact as you rolled in the the grass.
In that moment, something in you awakened.
An instinct?
An obligation?
You weren't sure.
But something deep within your spirit couldn't stand seeing the little girl hurt, past the fact that she was a child.
You felt a sort of responsibility for her, despite barely having known her.
"What were you thinking?! You could've seriously hurt yourse—!"
Your scolding stopped once you felt something staring at you, forcing you to look down at its source, only to see the girl looking up with starry eyes, absolutely in awe of the sight before her.
"Mommy, you're so pretty!" she marveled, tiny hands rising to cup your face. "You look different!"
Your heart nearly melted at her wonderment, a small smile rising you your lips.
"Honey, I think you have me confu—"
"Is everything alright out here?" Robin asked, concerned, as she emerged from the cabin, looking around at the scene on the deck.
"Yohohoho! That thud gave me such a fright I nearly jumped out my skin!" Brook cackled, walking alongside her. "Or I would've if I had any..."
"Yeah, what's all the commotion? Someone fighting?" Franky asked, following after them, taking a swig of his bottle of cola.
"(y/n), why didn't you tell us you had a daughter?" your captain smiled, walking over to you. "She looks fun!"
"DAUGHTER?!" the three newcomers exclaimed.
"Woah! Uncle Luffy!" the girl gasped, taking a moment to look the boy over. "You're so tiny! Last I saw you, you were this big!"
'Uncle Luffy?'
She jumped out your arms, landing on the grass and standing on her tippy-toes, reaching her hand as high as she could.
"See?"
"Last you saw me?" he raised a brow, rubbing his chin in confusion. "But this is the first time I'm meeting you..."
"Okay, I think we need to get a few things sorted out," Nami sighed, joining the three of you, the rest of the crew watching intently.
It was now abundantly clear that you had no idea who the little girl was; but, even so, her uncanny resemblance to you was enough cause for suspicion.
They needed to get down to the bottom of this.
Carefully, Nami squatted down to the girl's level, resting her arms on her knees.
"Hun, can you tell me your name? And how you got here?" she asked, sweetly.
"Uh-huh!" the girl nodded, eagerly. "I was at home with my daddy and we were playing hide and seek, and I was hiding in the closet. But my daddy is so bad at hide and seek and I started to get sleepy waiting for him to find me. So I took a nap."
She shifted from her heels to her tippy-toes, swaying as she told the story.
"But when I woke up I was on mommy and daddy's old ship, and you were at your desk, Auntie Nami."
'Auntie Nami?'
This was just getting weirder and weirder.
"You think its 'cause of a devil fruit?" Sanji asked, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Someone put her here?"
"I doubt it," Robin shook her head. "We're in the middle of the ocean. With no other person on board and no island in sight, we're out of range. No one should be able to reach us here."
"Unless she stowed away from the last island and is making all this up," Usopp suggested. "What if this is all a trap?"
"Hey! I'm not lying!" the girl pouted, cheeks puffed.
"A trap that looks exactly like (y/n)? I find that hard to believe," Franky shrugged off, turning to you. "You sure she's not yours?"
"For the millionth time... yes."
"But... mommy?" her pout deepened, saddened by your statement. "It's me..."
Walking forward, she pulled a necklace from under her shirt, holding up a small, heart-shaped locket for you to see.
It was gold, with beautifully intricate engravings lining its surface, its clasp sealed with the tiniest emeralds you'd ever seen.
"You don't remember me?"
Carefully, she opened the locket, allowing you to lean forward and get a look at the picture.
And once you did, you nearly fell right through the floor, utterly shocked.
There sat a picture of you, Zoro, and the girl, wide smiles adorning your faces as the swordsman seemed to be lifting you both up at the same time, you sitting pretty in his beefy arm, and the girl sitting on the back of his neck, holding his forehead for purchase.
The two of you looked slightly older, not drastically seasoned with age, but obviously distinguishable.
It couldn't be more than ten years in the future...
But that wasn't the only thing that caught your attention.
After scanning over the whole photo once again, your eyes immediately trained on the matching, gold bands adorning both your ring fingers, the dots slowly beginning to connect—evident by your expression.
Noticing your shock, the others huddled around, stealing their own glances and sharing their own looks of surprise.
You and the swordsman not only marry in the somewhat near future, but also start a family together.
An incredibly happy family, if the image was anything to go off of.
Your entire world was being flipped upside down.
Never, in all the time you'd known him, did allow yourself to believe the two of you would end up together.
Sure, your feelings for Zoro ran deep—deeper than they'd ever ran for anyone else—but you knew nature of your relationship.
You were his best friend.
From what you knew, he'd never felt any romantic inclination toward anyone, too immersed in his goal to focus on anything else.
You thought you were just a training partner.
Just a buddy to drink with.
Just person to talk to over night watch.
Just a friend to cover during battle.
Not a lifelong partner.
Not someone he'd want to have a kid with.
Taking note of your spiral, Nami set her hand down on you shoulder, grounding you, before she turned to the little girl, one last question in mind.
"Honey... could you tell us your name?"
She nodded, looking up at the whole crew with an expression of pride.
"My name is Roronoa Yuki! And I'm gonna be the World's Greatest Swordsman!"
You nearly fainted right there, the rest of the crew gaping at the irrefutable evidence.
This was, indeed, you and Zoro's daughter.
On the balcony above you all, a spit take was heard, everyone turning around to see the man of the hour staring down at the girl, eye wide and bottle of sake long forgotten as he attempted to rationalize what he just heard, as well as the sight before him.
"Daddy!" Yuki beamed, utterly elated to see the scowling face of her father.
Eagerly, she waved at the man as he stood there, quite literally struck dumb.
Someone had a hell of a lot of explaining to do...
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"Wait... I don't get it," Yuki muttered, voice small as she ate a fistful of rice crackers, turning to the green haired swordsman next to her. "You're not my dad?"
She seemed saddened by the fact, as well as confused, seeing as the man looked exactly like her father.
"If I'm bein' honest, I'm a little lost, too. I came into all this a little later than everyone else..." Zoro admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "But if what Robin said is right, then I am your dad, just from a time before you were born."
Her little face lit up with understanding, "Ohhhhhhh. So before you and mommy fell in love?"
Zoro's breath slightly hitched at the wording, still trying to process the multitude of thoughts and feelings racing through his head.
After Nami and Robin gave him the brass tacks breakdown of who Yuki was and how she got there, he felt the sudden urge to lay down, emotionally overwhelmed by the whole situation.
His future was sitting right next to him, eating a stack of rice crackers.
Now don't get him wrong, his uneasiness—and slight embarrassment—about the whole situation wasn't because of you, or the girl, or anyone else for that matter.
It was because you had to discover his feelings like this.
Or at least get an idea of it.
You were one of his closest friends on the crew, someone he had fought alongside since the beginning (you being among the first to join).
Someone who had saved his life as many times as he'd saved yours.
Someone who would help him to bed after a wild night of drinking and parties.
Someone whose touch sent his heart into a frenzy, and made his head spin.
He wasn't stupid.
He knew what these feelings were.
He knew what these feelings meant.
He was in love with his best friend.
Yet, rejecting that fact made it less real, less daunting, and thus, less bothersome.
But it was hard to remain in his bubble of denial and tranquility when the living, breathing evidence defying him was chowing down not too far away.
With a sigh, Zoro glanced at the small girl out the corner of his eye, watching as she stuffed another heaping handful of crackers into her mouth.
God, she looked just like you.
It was almost baffling.
Shaking his head of the thoughts, he decided now was as good a time as any to ask some questions.
"So... am I training you to be a swordsman?" he asked, awkwardly, eyes slightly shifting away from her.
"Mhmm!" Yuki nodded, looking up at the man. "We started a few months ago, and its super hard! But you always tell me that the path of a swordsman is lined with countless trials, and if I wanna be the best, I gotta beat them all."
She grinned, determinedly.
"So I always push myself harder."
Zoro smiled, slightly, warmed by his daughter's determination.
She was his, for sure...
"What about hand-to-hand?" he asked again, intrigued.
"I do that with mommy," she answered. "She says she was always better at it than you."
He half-chuckled, half-scoffed, almost amused by the statement, "She wishes... you should see her now."
The rest of the crew had gone ashore on an island they'd come across, hoping to find a way to send Yuki back to her correct time.
This, of course, left Zoro on ship watching duty, which, in this case, translated to baby-sitting duty.
Just then, a smirk rose to his lips, his ego slightly boosted by the awe-struck look of the child.
"One thing you shouldn't forget, kid, is I don't lose, with swords or without."
"Except in arguments with mommy..."
His breath hitched, brows flattening at the remark.
'Shoulda figured that one...'
He couldn't win arguments with you now.
When you'd get all up in his face—brows furrowed, finger poking his chest, tone dangerous—was, oddly enough, one of the times when he found you most attractive.
You looked hot when you were mad.
And every time, without fail, he'd be too busy staring at you to pay any attention to what you were saying, which would only result in more yelling.
Speaking of which...
"Hey, kid..." he started, seriously, the girl looking at him with confusion at the sudden change in demeanor. "I wanna know something."
Yuki nodded, ready for his question.
"What's your mom like in the future?"
The girl instantly lit up, perfectly ready to gush about her beloved mother.
"She's is the nicest, toughest, most prettiest mommy in the whole, wide world!" she exclaimed, exuberantly. "She told me all the stories of her awesome fights and adventures on the sea. Even the super scary ones!"
A small smile stretched across his lips, warmed by the girl's overwhelming adoration for you.
"She did, did she?" he nodded for her to continue. "Stories like what?"
"Like how you guys were swallowed by a giant whale!" she exclaimed. "And how you met the warrior giant pirates! And how you went to war with the World Government and saved Auntie Robin!"
Practically bouncing with excitement, she grabbed Zoro's sleeve, clutching it tightly with enthusiasm.
"And how you and Uncle Luffy fought two, huge dragons!"
He smirked, pride puffing his chest at the memory of injuring Kaido, as well as the dragon he decapitated back on Punk Hazard.
It all must've sounded pretty fantastical to a child.
"That's why I can't wait to get strong! I'll be able to have my own adventures!" she stated, dreamily. "Monji's already learning from Uncle Sanji how to cook yummy food! And you and mommy are teaching me how to fight! So we'll be ready to join a crew in no time!"
"Wait..." he paused a moment, not recognizing a name. "Monji?"
'Don't tell me...'
"Mhmm! My best friend! Uncle Sanji is his dad, so he's teaching him everything he knows about kicking and cooking!"
The idea nearly gave Zoro heart burn, the man's calloused hand coming up to clutch his chest.
Not only did Curlybrow have a son—the fact that he was able to settle down already mind-boggling enough—but he also had the audacity to allow the little brat to fraternize with his daughter.
Who knows what kind of pervy, ero-cook nonsense he was teaching the kid?
The way Yuki was gushing about the boy didn't bode well at all; her little self went on and on and on about how strong and kind Monji already was.
Zoro could practically see it.
His little girl falling in love with and marrying Sanji's son, forcing the two of them to become family forever.
A fate worse than death.
"Hey, wait," he realized, suddenly remembering something gravely important, easily surpassing all the other questions he'd asked you. "If I'm your dad... and (y/n)'s your mom... then that means you know how we got together..."
Yuki nodded, tucking a small strand of hair behind her ear.
"Mhm. You told me one time," she confirmed. "You two were on a battlefield when it happened."
Intrigued, Zoro listened closely, his gaze not leaving the girl for a moment as she continued.
"Mommy got injured really bad, and you had to keep the bad guys from hurting her while Uncle Chopper patched her boo-boos. But once she was okay, you pulled her up and gave her a big kiss! Mommy says it was soooo romantic!"
Zoro playfully rolled his eyes at the cliche.
Who knew future him would be so cheesy?
Either way, he wasn't complaining. He ended up with you, and that was all that mattered.
Though... he did have one more question...
"Hey, do—?"
But his words were interrupted by soft snores, the man looking down at his lap to see the little girl had laid her head down on his thigh, no doubt falling asleep after all her excitement.
The swordsman's heart melted slightly, and his shoulders sank, his calloused hand coming up to swipe a few stray crumbs from her cheeks before resting on her back.
As much as he hated to admit it, he could get used to this...
The little girl napping on his leg brought out a certain instinct within him—one that burned with the will to protect her and her happiness at all costs.
All the awkwardness and emotional outpouring would be worth it if they came to this outcome...
And as you boarded the ship with the rest of the crew, solution to the dilemma in hand, you couldn't help but think the exact same thing—your eyes settling on the sight of your sleeping, soon-to be husband, and your snoring, soon-to-be daughter, laying peacefully together.
You could get used to this, too...
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theangelcatalogue · 10 months ago
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Where is the island of the love sickness can you put them in order for me please :)
Order of the 2 chapters that haves for now!
- ✦ -
Prologue!
First victim!
- ✦ -
I am making a masterlist for it! Also i am writing the next three victims!
Hint of one of them: Let them drown.
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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months ago
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WE CAN DIP IF YOU’RE READY ; SATORU GOJO
synopsis; your dreams of a peaceful summer are rudely shattered by the presence of your best friend’s older brother; the same brother who rejected you five years ago. the same brother you’re still hopelessly, uselessly in love with.
word count; 7.4k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, best friend’s brother!gojo (he’s the hottest man in the stratosphere imo), mild age gap (five years!), unrequited love, but with a hopeful ending kind of, bittersweet fluff, mostly summer shenanigans and pining, riko is satoru’s younger sister and i would give her the stars, sugu makes a guest appearance, (they’re both just there to bully gojo), he’s fairly mature in this i think, reader is very stubborn and very down bad, [name] is used exactly once
a/n; personally i would let him use me as workout gear (tagging @teddybeartoji @dollsuguru @hayakawalove @stellamancer @vagabond-umlaut !! tysm for the help and encouragement ily 🥺🥺)
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one mellow summer morning, over a breakfast of pancake and toast, the puppy-love you’ve nurtured for the past three years finally reaches its conclusion.
you’re seventeen years old. in three months you’ll be eighteen, standing on your own two feet, headed in a new direction — the whole world within your reach.
but right now you’re still only seventeen, and lovesick, and sleeping on a mattress in your best friend’s room; listening to the sound of the nearby sea. you’re seventeen, and dreaming about things you can’t have. you’re seventeen, and foolishly wearing your heart on your sleeve. 
you’re seventeen, and hopelessly, uselessly in love with a certain satoru gojo.
it’s early. your veins are sleepy and your heart is heavy, and you wake up at the crack of dawn just to catch a glimpse of him before he leaves for work. he’s leaning against the kitchen island when you trot down the stairs, and the smell of syrupy pancakes hangs heavy in the air; his bare chest is exposed, pajama pants clinging to the curve of his hips, and he rejects you with an easygoing kindness you wish he wouldn’t grant you.
”you’re more like a younger sibling to me. you understand, right?”
(suddenly, without mercy; a finality to his voice.)
he ruffles your hair, and you’re still sleepy, and you wish you could grasp the strings of your heartbeat to stop it from fluttering like this. wish you could pull yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, all those years ago, when you stumbled over the threshold to your best friend’s house and crashed headfirst into his chest.
”you’re a good kid,” he says, and his smile teeters on the edge of something apologetic. mostly, it’s pitying. ”there are lots of people out there for you.”
he ruffles your hair, as affectionate as ever, the same as it’s always been. not a trace of any romantic intent. the weight of his palm on your head is usually a comfort, but like this?
it’s a specific kind of torture. 
(i know, you want to tell him, but your voice is raspy and your throat feels sort of dry. i know.
but i want you.)
“don’t get hung up on a schoolgirl crush, hm?”
when you finally raise your head, satoru is looking at you, looking through you. kindly, patiently, like a benevolent god; his blue eyes flecked with dots of white, fluffy clouds on a summer sky. tilting his head to the right, as if searching for confirmation, waiting for your response. you muster up the will to nod, smiling in a way that must seem pitiful.
but he just pinches your cheek, throws a backpack over his broad shoulders, and asks you to let his sister know he’ll be home later than usual today.
then he leaves. he leaves you alone with two plates of pancakes on the kitchen table, sugary and sweet, one for you and one for riko. he put whipped cream on top, and chocolate chips in the batter. it smells good. it smells like an apology.
and that’s how it ends. 
there’s no great climax, no real resolution. you bite down on your lip, and spend about an hour pitifully sniffling into a fluffy pillow, even though none of it comes as a surprise. it still hurts, though. your best friend comforts you, tells you that at least you have some kind of closure now — an absolute rejection to make your feelings go away. about time, she thinks, though she’s far too kind to say it outloud.
… except they don’t.
the moral of the story is: satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he’s known you since you were fourteen, since he was nineteen, and he could never see you as anything more than a naive little kid. you’re his sister’s best friend, and he loves you, but not in the way you love him. it’s not surprising, or shocking. it’s exactly how it should be.
satoru gojo doesn’t love you back. he never will.
(you really, really wish your stupid heartbeat cared.)
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five years later, on a breezy summer evening, you step onto a bustling train platform with your luggage in tow — breathing in the scent of a familiar seaside.
above you, seagulls chatter and cry. you look up at them, and then back down; everything feels familiar, despite the time that’s passed since the last summer you visited. the same flowers, peach blossoms and hydrangeas and tulips in all kinds of shades, the same street vendors and aroma of freshly grilled fish. the same cute and quaint port town, quiet during winter and autumn, pleasantly noisy during the warmer seasons. right now, on the cusp of june, there are enough tourists around to make finding the right face in the crowd a difficult task.
luckily, she’s quick to find you. 
there she is. with her long, dark locks of hair, neatly braided, a yellow sundress and matching headband; sunflowers embroidered into the fabric. barreling towards you with a speed that would scare you a little if you weren’t so used to it, so used to her.
riko. your one and only best friend.
she’s nestled into your embrace before you can get any greetings out, and squeezing you so tightly that you have no choice but to let her beat you to it. she’s warm, like a bundle of sunshine. the same as always.
with a low whine of your name, she nuzzles into your chest. “i missed youuuu…”
a chuckle bubbles up in your throat. and even though it hasn’t been very long at all, even though you talk on the phone almost every day and saw each other just a month ago — you indulge her.
“i missed you too, riko…”
another whine, and then she’s pulling back. squishing your cheeks together and pouting petulantly. “you better have! don’t ever make me spend summer all alone again, okay?”
”you’re still mad about that?” you match her expression, sulking. “it’s not my fault i got sick.”
“too sick to see your best friend? too sick to continue our most important tradition?” she shakes her head, letting go of you. struggling not to smile. “awful. just awful!”
“drama queen.” her lips break out into a grin, and yours follow. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”
“you are,” she agrees, quick to link her arm with yours. you follow her steps, leading you towards a familiar house, resting in the distance. you can see it from here, a roof burdened with morning glories, those expensive white walls. “no, but seriously. i’m really happy to see you.” her voice drips with joy, giddy and sweet. “i don’t think i’d survive two months alone with that old man.” 
(… ah. right.)
the girl on your right chatters on and on, clinging to you, gradually melting away your skittish nerves. she tells you about her morning, what she ate for breakfast, the new show she’s been binging — it’s just as familiar as the house that soon comes fully into view. big and expensive, but still cozy, overgrown with flora. you don’t think either of the siblings really bother to take care of it, but it’s a pretty kind of neglect. a cute veranda, a beautiful garden. the apple tree you used to climb.
from within an opened window, translucent curtains swaying with the breeze, the buzz of an old radio spills out. when you strain your ears, you think you hear humming — gentle and sweet.
riko grins, dragging you with her through the opened gate. the yellow paint on the fence is starting to peel, and someone from inside has started pushing the door open, and the butterflies in your stomach can do nothing but sputter and squirm.
it’s summer, and you're back. back in that cute, quaint port town.
(and so is he.)
“why, hello there! if it isn’t my cute little [name].”
time stills, for just a single moment.
he looks the same as you remember. a little taller, you think, but he was always tall enough to tower over you; broad shoulders and long legs, sharp blue eyes gazing down at you. he’s wearing black shades, but you can still feel the weight of his pupils, crumble under the knowledge that his attention is entirely on you. wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tight black shirt, showing off every dip and ridge of his chest.
a pleasantly cool breeze ruffles his white hair, short and trimmed, healthy locks to match his bright and sunny grin.
he looks happy to see you.
“don’t be weird,” comes riko’s voice, breaking you out of your little spell. all while she’s ushering you both towards the door, beyond the threshold, into the hallway. satoru clicks his tongue.
“so hostile today. shouldn't you be in a good mood?”
then he’s turning towards you, tilting his head just enough for his eyes to peek out. they’re crinkled at the edges, and his smile is fond. “how was your trip?”
more butterflies. his voice flows from his glossy lips, smooth and melted, pleasantly deep. you can only hang on to riko’s arm, mustering a small smile of your own. “good,” you chirp. a little stiff, but polite, like you’re greeting an old friend; it’s been so long since you last spoke to him. ”… i’m tired, though.”
your reply is met with a chuckle, a raspy tremor of his vocal cords. it sends a shiver down your spine. the weight on your arm disappears, as riko stumbles forward and kicks her sandals off, muttering something about gum getting stuck on the sole. you’re left standing right across from satoru, suddenly very aware of how much space he takes up all on his own — leaning against the wall, making himself comfortable. and chuckling, with that stupidly sexy voice.
”i bet,” he hums. ”take a nap if you need to, yeah?”
a moment of silence. riko curses in the background, and you shift from foot to foot, unable to properly look into his eyes. for a second, his smile drops — eyes obscured by the black glass of his frames, betraying no emotion. it only lasts a second.
then he’s moving forward.
one large stride towards you, as sudden as a lightning bolt, before he leans down to wrap his arms around you. squeezing your waist, with his biceps, not quite as tight as you remember his hugs being; you wonder if he’s holding back.
(his touch burns your skin, all the same.)
one of his palms finds solace on the top of your head, ruffling your hair. you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks, terribly sincere.
“i missed you, kiddo.”
a quiet squeak tumbles from your lips, and you pray to every god you can think of that he doesn’t hear it. his chest is pressed right against you, firm, radiating body heat. his limbs wrap you up in it, a cocoon of warmth that makes it hard to breathe. you can smell his cologne from where your cheek meets his collarbone; sandalwood invading your senses.
“i m-missed you too,” is all you can croak out, voice breaking pitifully. at this rate you might actually faint.
just out of view, riko narrows her eyes. before you can plead for help, she’s tugging you away from the embrace, pushing her brother away, and you inhale as much of the fresh summer air as you can. 
“alright, that’s enough,” she huffs, pulling you closer. “c’mon! we should unpack your stuff right away!”
“want me to carry it?” satoru asks, already eyeing your luggage like a predator about to lunge at his prey. even if you say no, you know he’s not going to listen. 
so you let him. and within the next few minutes, you’re seated on riko’s bed, suitcase on the floor, a glass of lemonade in your hand. blinking sluggishly. 
“are you sure you’ll be alright?”
you raise your head. your best friend is looking at you with a questioning glance, head tilted and brows furrowed. now you’re all alone, and it’s quiet, peaceful. her brother went out to buy snacks for you. all you can hear is the low buzz of the radio downstairs, and faraway waves. 
“huh?”
“i mean, with, y’know…” she moves her hands haphazardly, making some kind of gesture you don’t understand. “with my brother. and your… condition.”
you blink.
“… did you just refer to my crush as a condition?”
“well, it might as well be!” she groans, muffled, faceplanting onto the mattress. “don’t think i didn’t see you checking out his biceps just now. you’re so obvious.” 
heat rushes to your cheeks. you try to shoo it away with a furrow of your brows and a too-loud exhale, but it lingers underneath your skin. “look — i —“ you scramble for the right words, brain tied up into fatigued knots. “did you see that shirt? is he buying them a size too small, or what?”
“oh, come on! that’s all it takes?”
another pair of exhales. you cross your legs, and she rolls onto her back. the silence is comfortable, grounding, and all you can do is gnaw at your bottom lip until she speaks up again.
“… you could really, really do better, you know?”
her voice is quiet, now. soft and sincere, delicate as a sheet of glass. you know she’s just looking out for you, that she doesn’t want you pining for a guy who’ll never return those feelings — she’s kind like that, always has been. you love her for it.
but…
“… i just like him.”
you take a tentative sip of your lemonade. sour and sweet. the cubes of ice clink against the glass, fresh condensation cooling down the tips of your fingers. her gaze lingers on your skin. it’s heavy, just like his.
you meet it with a sheepish smile, a little self-deprecating — but not embarrassed. she already knows all about your predicament. 
(you just like him. that’s all there is to it.)
and she pulls herself into a sitting position.
“i know, i know,” she finally sighs, slumping against you, cheek smushed over your shoulder. “just don’t give him more attention than me, ‘kay?”
you let out giggle. “well, duh.”
she gives you a sunny grin.
“okay, good.” 
you put the glass down on the windowsill beside you. just so you can stretch your arms out, falling backwards; a mountain of pillows cushioning your fall. a yawn spills past your lips, and riko sits up.
“wanna take a nap?” she tilts her head, dark locks framing her pretty blue eyes, deep as the sea. “that’s probably good. we’re going straight to the beach tomorrow, you know!”
“mm…” your eyes flutter shut, and you focus on that faraway sound. waves crashing against sand, the whistling of seagulls, the salty scent of the ocean. “that sounds nice.”
despite your exhaustion, you end up tossing and turning that night. not because of your best friend’s snores, or the feeling of a mattress you haven’t slept on in two years — but from the quiet sounds downstairs. glasses clinking, a chuckle here and there. the tv being turned on. tossing and turning from the knowledge that your childhood heartthrob, current heartthrob, is in the same house as you. a little older, a little less childish, even more charming than you remember him being.
you’re older, too. more mature, you like to think, even if the gain is small.
(maybe there’s a chance?)
shaking the thoughts from your head, mind still spinning along to the tune of his humming, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to fall asleep.
you’ll be okay.
Tumblr media
okay, nevermind. you’re completely screwed.
“oh, there you are!”
satoru is already waiting up ahead when you step onto the beach, feeling the sand between your toes, a pleasantly cool breeze giving you respite from the sweltering heat.
the sun beats down on you, fervent sunlight warming the water up ahead, calm waves and a sparkling blue to match the hue of the sky; cobalts and ceruleans, melting together like watercolour on a canvas. people crowd around the food stands, shaved ice and churros and grilled fish, scents mingling together with the joyous chatter all around you. vibrant sensations, enough to excite but not to overwhelm. 
a picture-perfect summer day.
your heart tingles with something giddy, skipping happily as you follow riko’s lead; she’s wearing a cute bikini set, frilly and floral, hair styled into a pair of braided pigtails, kept together by her favorite scrunchies. leading you towards her older brother, waiting patiently, having already grabbed a nice spot for you. a parasol, a blanket, a picnic basket. you see bottles of pink lemonade, wrapped sandwiches, strawberries in a plastic container.
more than anything, you see him. you see him, and realize just how screwed you are.
he’s smiling, when you approach. as always. hair tousled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes gleaming with mirth, exposed by the sunglasses close to slipping down the bridge of his nose. he’s wearing a hawaiian shirt, black in colour, white floral patterns to tie it all together. just unbuttoned enough to show off his collarbone, a sliver of his chest, the short sleeves exposing his biceps; patches of pale skin, shining with the beginnings of sweat. 
(you’re about to fucking explode.)
as soon as you’re in sight, satoru lights up, aiming the flash of his phone in your direction. his other hand stays tucked into the pocket of his shorts. “aw, look at you two!” he coos, grinning brightly, teasing and sweet. “pose for the camera, okay?”
you’re still too hypnotized to react, but riko scurries ahead, ready to steal it from his grasp.
“no pictures!”
“oh, don’t be like that!” he takes a step back, dodging her attack by a hair, still wearing the same grin. “you’re gonna thank me ten years from now, trust me. it’s for the memories!”
a new voice spills into the air, suddenly, and you’re brought back into reality. it’s silky and low, smooth and nice, honeysuckle nectar turned into sound. interrupting the siblings.
“it’s been ten seconds. how are you already bickering?” 
you turn towards its source, and spot a familiar face — right next to satoru. were you seriously too mesmerized to notice him? black hair, another hawaiian shirt, slightly lidded eyes… 
suguru. 
he meets your surprised stare with a relaxed smile, and takes a step forward; meeting you for a quick hug. he looks the same as he did when you were younger, odd bangs, hair tied up into a bun.
“hi there,” he hums, right by your ear, a light squeeze before he lets go. “it’s been a while.”
you part your lips, smiling through your words. a little stunned. “i didn’t know you’d be here too!”
he chuckles, a light shrug of his shoulders. “me neither. satoru called me last night and asked me to drop by... i had time to kill.”
“you missed me.”
a dubious look. suguru gives a lazy roll of his eyes, avoiding the smug voice to his right. “i saw you last week,” he tuts, an unimpressed expression on his face. “how could i miss you?”
“do you need a reason to miss your best friend?” he shakes his head, slowly, side to side. white locks swaying back and forth. “awful. just awful.”
you stifle a smile, completely unsuccessful. the sun feels nice on your skin, and the scent of the sea is nostalgic, and they’re all the same as ever. it’s like you can feel your nerves melting away, slowly but surely, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers. 
“the matching shirts are cute,” you point out, wanting to partake in the conversation, only to be met with a pair of furrowed brows.
suguru sighs. “that…” he mutters, massaging his temple, not before shooting satoru a dirty glance. “wasn't planned.”
said man only grins, unperturbed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. thoroughly amused. “he’s mad that i stole his fit,” he chirps, stretching his arms idly. it makes his shirt ride up, ever so slightly, and you swallow a gulp.
“well… you look good in it.”
at that, satoru stills. gazing at you, silently, before breaking out into another grin. self-satisfied, a smooth curve, sunlight against the white of his teeth. you glance away, suddenly a little shy.
“does he?” the other two deadpan, completely in sync. it shoos away the smile on his lips, making way for a displeased frown.
“oh, come on. would it kill you to call me handsome now and then?”
“handsome?” riko places her hands on her hips, raising an unimpressed brow, a sassy lilt to her voice. “you look like a single father down on his luck.”
“seconded,” suguru quips, hiding the beginnings of a smirk. picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. “honestly, i’m surprised you’re wearing any layers at all. not gonna flaunt your abs this time?”
satoru brightens, suddenly. wiggling his brows, a sweet coo on the tip of his tongue. “oh? want me to loosen up a couple buttons?” he purrs, and you hate yourself a little for the instant yes that resounds through your mind. “you know you can always just ask, suguru.”
his teasing goes ignored, but you don’t miss the amusement that flits through the scope of suguru’s eyes, even as he tries to maintain that deadpan expression.
finally, he exhales. “well, see you later,” he hums, directed to you and riko, checking the time on his wristwatch. “i should probably get going.”
“you’re not staying?” you ask, lashes fluttering with a confused blink. he smiles.
“i am,” he reassures you. “just gonna go fishing for a while. i thought i’d give it a try.”
“fishing?” riko exclaims, covering her amused grin with the palm of her hand. stifling laughter, you can tell, a bout of giggles begging to push past her lips. “what are you, fifty?”
satoru lets out a snort. to his left, suguru goes eerily silent — ominous, staring into your best friend’s eyes with no visible emotion. enough to make her smile fall. you feel a sense of deja vu.
“wait, i’m just kidding!” she suddenly squeaks, clinging to your arm and hiding behind you. she’s always had good survival instincts. ”don’t put me in a headlock!”
(they’re so stupid. 
gosh, you missed them.)
“oh, by the way — do you want some shaved ice?” she turns to you, eyes crinkled at the edges, voice syrupy and sweet. “i can go get us some. what flavour do you want?”
“ah, great idea!” satoru matches her tone, tongue flitting out to lick his lips, glossy with chapstick. “i was just craving something sweet.”
“you’re paying, by the way.”
“…”
“so? any preference?” she tilts her head, waiting patiently for your reply. smiling once she gets it. “alright, got it. you, suguru?”
“i’m good. thanks, though.”
“okie-dokie,” she puts her palm out, facing satoru. “money, please.”
he only tuts, digging through his pocket and pulling out a black wallet. you think you spot a photocard, but he’s pulled out a credit card and tucked it back into his pocket before you can get a closer look. 
“get me watermelon, okay? strawberry is fine too. if push comes to shove, go for anything other than lemon.” he hands her the card with a click of his tongue. “and watch out for creeps. if anyone hits on you, you know where to aim.”
she pockets it with a huff, exasperation on her features. “i’m twenty-three, toru. i can take care of myself.”
“aww, don’t be like that,” he coos, hands reaching out to squish her cheeks. she tries to squirm away, to no avail. “you’ll always be my little baby sister, you know. and, as your dependable big bro, i —“
“ugh, whatever.” she shoots him an unimpressed glance, finally escaping his hold. ”are you gonna go all men are wolves on us, or something?”
”they are! just look at suguru.”
”hey.”
you hide a growing smile behind your hand, watching them bicker and banter, feeling that sense of peace again. the summer day feels a little like a hazy daydream, a heavy nostalgia that sticks to your bones like gum on the sole of your shoe. 
and, once again — you end up alone with a certain someone. suguru walks towards the faraway pier, riko strolls up to the stand selling shaved ice, and satoru lingers behind. you think he looks relaxed, at ease, but you can’t really look at him for too long without feeling nervous. without feeling as if you’re both ignoring the elephant in the room. 
it still feels a little like there’s an invisible wall between you.
he’s the first to speak up, craning his neck and stretching like a big cat, a tiny groan flowing from his throat. “well, there they go,” he hums. “what do you feel like doing first?”
“ummm…” you rack your brain for ideas, coming up empty. a little fried by his presence. you could go into the water, and escape the heat — sunbathing with him doesn’t sound so bad, though…
lost deep in thought, you barely notice him inching closer. still weighing your options, water or land, a relaxing nap or a splash war. you don’t notice until you feel his arm sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer, just by a hair. stealing all the oxygen from your lungs.
(you think your brain shuts down a little.)
his touch burns, as always. bare skin on bare skin. electric, a trail of sparks rushing through your veins. he’s warm, and solid, effortlessly composed — guiding you right where he wants you, which is by his chest, where you can practically hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat —
and then he’s pulling away.
you raise your head to meet his gaze, completely flushed, unsure if you were hallucinating or not. he’s looking somewhere behind you, with a distinctly cold gaze, one you aren’t accustomed to seeing. you crane your neck, catching a glimpse of a man turning his back on you both before walking away.
… was he staring at you, or what?
when you search for satoru’s eyes again, they’re already on you. he’s smiling, a little sheepish, scratching at the back of his neck.
“sorry,” he chuckles. “i got paranoid.”
oh.
your skin still feels like it’s on fire. a lingering heat, blossoming where his skin touched yours, rendering you speechless. embarrassing, embarrassing, embarrassing. he was just looking out for you.
finally, you gain control over your vocal chords, dry and charred. just enough to croak out a response.
“i — it’s fine.”
your eyes stay glued to the sand beneath you, staring at a crushed seashell, unable to look him in the eye. feeling the back of your neck grow hotter. you miss the dirty glance riko sends his way, having just returned with the shaved ice, and the way satoru mouths out a silent what?
it’s easier after that. she grounds you, a little, leading you out into the sea. the water is pleasantly mild, licking at your ankles, coaxing you further, until it’s reaching up to your waist. it cools you down considerably, and before you know it you’re splashing her with all you’ve got, giggles filling the salty air — seagull cries above you and wet sand beneath your feet, a glimmer or two of tiny fish, loud laughter. sensations all around you. satoru watches you with a smile, munching on a sandwich, not joining you both until riko beckons him over.
the day stretches on, melting away into evening. people leave the beach behind them, suguru heads back to the house with a bucket of fish and a smug smile, riko dries herself off with a towel and rushes to a nearby convenience store when she notices that it’s about to close. murmuring something about dinner, shooting you an anxious glance, a silent will you be alright on your own? with him? 
you wave her off with a smile. hoping it’ll come off as convincing, even though you’re anything but.
one way or another, you end up under a parasol with a certain satoru gojo; putting empty bottles of lemonade back into the picnic basket, rolling up the blanket, stuck with cleaning duty. satoru carries it all, unwilling to let you help, the basket hanging off his arm. you walk away from the beach, stepping onto solid asphalt again, beginning your trekk up towards the main street — not too long of a walk, but you’re tired, even though satoru doesn’t seem tuckered out in the slightest. walking a step or two ahead of you.
the sun is beginning to set, melting like a sundae on the boundary of the horizon, rays of golden sunshine dripping down your wrist. satoru looks good in it, the pink and orange; peaceful, somehow. when the breeze licks a stripe across his cheek, he closes his eyes and exhales. there’s a smile on those lips, a smile of contentment.
he turns towards you and waits until you catch up.
“tired?” he coos, tilting his head, absently tucking his shades into the breast pocket of his shirt. blinking slowly, eyes shimmering in the summery hue of evening. 
“kinda,” you smile, trying to muster a pep in your step. another hum buzzes in his throat, and then he’s facing forward again.
“c’mon. let’s get you something from the vending machine, okay? ‘s just up ahead.” he pats your head, once, twice. “that’ll give you some energy.”
you can only nod, following his lead. hydrangeas bloom all around you, a thick syrupy scent, paired with apple blossoms from the backyards you pass. then you spot the vending machine. satoru takes out his wallet, finding his card — it’s not the same one as before. riko still has it.
and this time, you’re close enough to see it. in his wallet is a photocard, clearly visible; of a baby, sleeping soundly, with short tufts of hair. a dark colour unlike his own.
(your heart melts, a little.)
“cola or sprite?”
you raise your head, looking through the barrier of glass in front of you. then you’re stepping forward, fingertip pressing against it, pointing towards a green can of sprite. not looking at him, as you make your choice. ”this one.”
— suddenly, you feel his skin on yours.
you’re sleepy, and pliant, jaw caught between his fingers. he lifts it up, turns it towards him, just so that you’ll meet his gaze. two seas of blue, flecks of pure white, summer skies and summer clouds.
“there,” he exhales, pleased. giving you a reassuring smile before pulling away. “you’ve barely looked me in the eye today. ‘s gonna break my heart, y’know.”
a pause. you gulp, on instinct, shying away from his unbridled attention — eyes moving from those summer skies down to the curve of his glossy lips, and then back up again. a mistake, because when you glance down once more — unable to help yourself — you see it.
that apologetic smile.
(you really are obvious, aren’t you?
how embarrassing.)
silence splits the scene in half, only the faraway sounds of seagulls as background noise. they sound a little like they’re laughing, mocking you.
satoru presses a button on the vending machine, followed by a quiet beep. he doesn’t look at you when he broaches the subject, and you wonder if it’s out of respect or discomfort.
“still not over that schoolgirl crush, huh?”
something twists inside your gut. a little ugly, a little sentimental. now that he’s made the first move, it’s easier to move the pieces.
“… it’s not a crush,” you murmur, kicking at a pebble on the ground. surprised by how clear your voice comes out. “i’m in love with you.”
a sigh. another beep, and the sound of a sodacan falling against metal flooring. he crouches down.
“… you could really, really do better.”
you watch as he fumbles with the pick-up box, eyes trained on the back of his neck, the buzzed hair of his undercut. letting out a quiet breath. “riko said the same thing.”
a snort pushes past his lips, ripe with fondness. he pulls himself up from the ground, shifting his weight from one foot to another, reaching for his wallet again. “oh, i’m sure.” he tucks the card back, slipping it into his pocket. a stray cat strolls by you, unburdened, waving its tail in the air. “really, though. you should listen to her.”
something cold meets your cheek. metal, condensation, a pleasant shiver down your spine. he presses the aluminium can against you, and you receive it with a murmur of thanks.
“i’m too old for you, for one.” he continues, and suddenly you feel a little like you’re being lectured. you break open the lid of the sprite can.
“you’re five years older.” a fizzy sound crackles like static in your ears, carbonation bubbling up, sticking to your fingertips. “and we’re both adults.”
he huffs out a breath, only mildly amused. “i’m pushing thirty, y’know?”
you take a sip, lips against cold aluminum, melting sunrays lapping at your skin. it tastes sweet. 
“i know.” a pause, your bottom lip trapped between two sharp teeth. gnawing at the flesh. ”i can’t control how i feel, though.”
“yeah,” he sighs, leaning back against the glass. crossing one leg over the other, fiddling with something in his pocket. “i know.”
a moment passes. then he parts his lips, again.
“hey, how about you join me on a mixer someday?” he searches for your gaze, smiling, another one of those charming tilts of his head. “i know some cute guys. and girls, if that’s your thing.”
your answer is instantaneous.
“i’ll pass.”
another exhale, breathed out into the summer air. it’s dripping with exasperation, ripe with fatigue, but there’s still something fond there. unmistakable.
“fine, fine. just… think about it, okay?” his palm finds its way to your head, ruffling your hair with a gentle caress. that comforting weight. “c’mon, let’s go back. riri’s making dinner tonight.”
and then he’s taking a step forward. you watch his back for only a moment, still deep in thought. a fizzy, syrupy sweetness sticking to your teeth, a sense of nostalgia invading all your senses. and, as always, that silent adoration.
deep down, you know it’s true. there’s no changing this, whatever this is. in the same way riko will always be his baby sister, you’ll always just be the brat that sniffled into his chest after your first fight with her. 
he’ll never quite see you the way you’d like him to.
(but, then again, isn’t that a part of it? that subtle, subtle kindness of his. the sense of maturity that asks for nothing in return.)
satoru is a good guy. that’s why you can’t help but adore him, despite everything. can’t help but watch his back as he leaves you behind, wishing you could catch up. that your legs were long enough.
it feels nice, to open yourself up like this. crack the lid of your heart, and have him wade through the carbonation. it feels nice to have your feelings be acknowledged, even if they aren’t reciprocated, even if you’re completely delusional and high on summer joy. it feels nice just to watch him shine.
you gulp down the rest of your sprite, toss it into a trash can across the street, and stumble after him. veins sleepy, heart heavy, overwhelmed by adoration. you’ve already cracked the lid open; everything else comes easy. you just want to make a move, any move. want to see how he’ll react.
“satoru,” you call, and he comes to a standstill. when he turns around your arms are outstretched. “can i have a piggyback ride?”
the man before you blinks. once, then twice, fluttering like angel wings, or pretty clouds. 
and then his smile grows. you catch a glimpse of his dimples, for just a moment, and then he’s beckoning you closer with a chuckle.
“yeah? now you’re suddenly all brave?” he shakes his head, no real discontentment behind it. “or are you really that exhausted?”
he studies you intently, ripe with fondness, and you think your sluggish blinks must be enough to convince him. because he crouches down, back facing you, and chirps out a hop on. a little teasing, of course, but still nice. his arms underneath your thighs, lifting you up like it’s nothing. making sure you’re comfortable. he’s strong. very strong.
the butterflies in your stomach flutter around again.
and, honestly, you really are very exhausted. bones buzzing with something sleepy and fatigued, sore after all the running around you did in the water. completely tuckered out, resting your cheek against his back. like this, you can feel his muscles, the solidity of his body. it’s a little bit distracting.
“— remember?”
a series of blinks. you grasp onto his shoulders, holding back a yawn. “huh?”
“you falling asleep on me?” he chuckles, walking forward. one step after another, the soles of his sandals hitting the asphalt. “i was saying — how i remember doing this back then.”
you tilt your head.
“when you fell and twisted your ankle. i think it was nearby, actually… some park?”
“... oh.” when you really concentrate, you think you do recall it; the feeling of his back against your chest, a dull ache in your foot. “yeah, i remember.”
satoru hums, a little buzz of amusement. “after that, you and riri would ask me for it all the time. carry us, big bro!” his imitation makes you smile, voice high and squeaky. “so childish, i swear. i could barely carry one of you.”
a chuckle tumbles from your lips, and it seems to spur him on; because he continues. nostalgia pouring out his throat.
“don’t tell her, okay? but, see — i started going to the gym after that. lifting weights. training, and stuff,” he huffs out an amused exhale, grinning softly. “suguru made me carry boulders on the beach. it was kind of our thing.”
“we almost got arrested once.”
you can’t help but laugh, hiding in the smooth fabric of his shirt, in between those printed white flowers. shoulders shaking slightly, giddy and amused. “you did that just ‘cause you were embarrassed?”
“no,” he murmurs, softly, the slightest shake of his head. ”because i wanted to be prepared. in case the two of you ever happened to fall over at the same time, or something…” a sheepish little chuckle. ”i wanted to be able to carry you both back.”
satoru continues to walk, facing away from you. always smiling, you’re sure. even if you can’t see it.
“you’re both precious to me,” he says, making sure to keep a steady hold around your legs. “that’s why i don’t want either of you wasting yourselves on some random guy. i hope you can understand that.”
silence. then, a displeased huff.
“… you’re not some random guy, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“well, of course not. i’m the guy,” he stands a little straighter, and you can practically see the smug smirk on his lips. “but i’m not a very good person.”
you blink.
silence fills the open air.
he says it so casually that you almost don't catch it. matter-of-factly, like it’s just another obvious realization, something so deeply ingrained that it isn’t even worthy of a tonal shift. satoru, who makes pancakes for the people he loves, who carries your bags and buys you soda and keeps a picture of his baby sister in his wallet. satoru, your first love.
that satoru isn’t a good person?
(how could he ever, ever think that?)
“you are.”
a low hum buzzes in his throat. you’re not sure he heard you. if he did, he simply doesn’t care enough to respond. the scene flickers by, the moment comes and goes — you want to protest again, but something about this silence makes you hesitate.
the only thing you can do is —
“satoru.”
another little hum. acknowledging, this time. 
“do you… i mean,” you choke down a bundle of words, replacing them with new ones. gnawing at the flesh of your bottom lip. “is there really no chance… you’ll ever feel the same? none at all?”
a mirthless chuckle. he sounds a little tired, you think, more than a little exasperated. but the amusement is still there, laced into his voice, and you drink it in the same way you’ve always done. a little root, soaking in the light of the sun.
“after all that,” he mutters, “you’re still asking?”
a moment’s pause. you listen intently, as if you could hear the gears of his mind shift if you focus enough. as if just being stubborn enough could coax him into opening up the way you have. 
finally, he parts his lips.
“well,” comes a sigh, a click of his tongue. he breathes in the summer breeze. “maybe in a couple decades or so.”
you stare. those white tufts of hair sway with every step he takes, and his voice has a finality to it that isn’t lost on you. solemn, steady, a pillar of salt.
“… okay.”
a pause. then he’s barking out a short laugh, shoulders shaking with the sound. you tighten your grip around them. “okay?” he repeats, pinching the skin of your thigh. “can’t you read between the lines, you little troublemaker?”
a huff. you kick your legs, a little, just stretching them contentedly. wet hair sticking to his skin, your cheek still smushed against him, enveloped in his neverending warmth. “i don’t mind,” you whisper, choking down a yawn. “i’ve already waited eight years. a couple decades more isn’t too bad.”
silence, again. you wonder what he’s thinking, if you’ll ever come close to cracking open the lid of his heart. he parts his lips, and oxygen spills out.
(you think it’s a start.)
“… has anyone ever told you that you’re awfully stubborn?”
you’re quick to nod, nuzzling into his undercut. wearing a satisfied smile. “riko tells me all the time.”
“does she?” there’s silent laughter hiding between his teeth, eager to spill out. “that’s good. listen to her, alright? you might learn a thing or two.”
now he’s just teasing you. the sun is setting, and the air smells like saltwater, and satoru’s back is warm; his voice set to a melodic lilt, as if tempting you to close your eyes. it’s summer, in a quiet port town.
and you adore him again. 
that’s right, you muse, belatedly. loving him was never a choice, and waiting wasn’t ever an issue. getting over him is the tall hurdle, the root of the problem, a root you intend you trip over as many times as it takes for this something to bloom.
because he’s beautiful, and comfortable, and kind. because it’s his back you always end up clinging to. because he knows how you like your pancakes, how you take your coffee, what you look like when you cry. because you like this feeling, the swarm of butterflies in your stomach. even if they’re completely meaningless in the long run.
satoru is right, and so is riko. you’re stubborn, terribly so. if only you could see that as a bad thing.
if only you were physically capable of giving this something up.
unlike the siblings and their overgrown yard, you just can’t seem to look away from an ugly bud yet to bloom — just in case it ends up blossoming, this summer, or the next. just in case it turns into something worth plucking from the ground. it’s fine if it withers away; at least it’ll give way to better soil.
you just like him. you just want to see where it leads you. that’s all, that’s it. that was always it.
“but promise you’ll go with me to that mixer, okay?” his voice calls, breaking you out of your thoughts, unrelenting. ”i’ll find you someone who’ll get your mind off little ol’ me.”
ah. that’s right. 
(you’re terribly, horribly stubborn —
and satoru is too.)
you grin, soft and giddy, thinking of the years ahead of you both. what they’ll be like. where’s the fun in a certain future?
“fine,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. inhaling that familiar scent of sandalwood. “do your worst.”
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l-uminescent · 7 months ago
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˚⁀➷。˚ KINSLAYER ━━━ AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM! READER
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part two.
synopsis: rhaenyra’s daughter seeks revenge for the death of her beloved younger brother lucerys velaryon. and what better way to gain it, than from the man she was once betrothed to.
notes: did i steal daemon’s plot? yes. did the reader do it better? also yes. fuck aemond targaryen (who is 22 here) for killing lucerys fr, and fuck tumblr for making me repost this bc they shadowbanned me :(
warnings: reader is rhaenyra’s daughter, angst, violence, mention of blood, future hotd spoiler (battle above the gods eye)
word count: 3.9k
ONCE UPON A TIME YOU HAD THOUGHT YOU HAD KNOWN WHAT LOVE HAD FELT LIKE. being betrothed to none over than aemond targaryen in an attempt to ensure peace between the divided targaryen house, had gave you a sense of hope. the childish crush you had on the one-eyed prince had long exceeded into your adulthood (unbeknownst to you for a long while). and the news that you were to be married to the man you had felt so deeply for, had you thanking the gods that you were to be so lucky. 
for much of your adulthood, you denied the feelings you had for aemond. brushing the giddiness you felt when you were younger off as a fleeting childhood crush. now, the crimson paint that adorned your cheeks you put down to a sense of duty; you had to act the blushing bride in order to do your part for the realm. your mother's constant reminders that it was you who could maintain the peace between dragons, made you believe it was a sense of duty to your house; to prevent the bloodshed and the path to destruction that would follow if blood was spilt. as time went on, you begrudgingly admitted to yourself that maybe, just maybe, the small minuscule crush you had on the prince, in fact never left. you often reflected on the times where you had lived in king's landing with your family, often choosing to spend time with the second son of the king. you two were inseparable, where aemond went you were sure to not be too far behind. often, challenging each other on who would learn the most high valyrian words in a day, and who would learn the history of their ancestors first. it was a match the gods intended.
however, this sue for peace had crumbled completely. only a mere memory in your mind of what could have been if the targayren house was not so ignorant to the fact that women had much of a right to ascend the throne (you had king jaehaerys to uphold much of the blame for this decision). and now, the house was at war with one another. the dance of the dragons was surely to follow, leaving nothing but war across the realm and your poor broken heart.
the death of your brother lucerys did not seem to help with the feeling of heartbreak that effected life upon dragonstone. you spent many days and nights cooped up in your chambers. there was no one to turn too. yes, you sought comfort with your mother but she too was a shell of her former self. with jacaerys many miles north in winterfell, and your husband the murderer of such an innocent boy, you were left with nothing but your own reckless thoughts. as the sun rose in the east and set in the west day after day, your pain and suffering festered into a new, dark feeling within you. the sadness within was replaced with a craving of utter revenge. the lovesick girl, eyes wide with care and awe was shattered, replaced by a woman no, a dragon, who would go to any means to avenge the cruel death of her sweet younger brother. the love you had felt for the man you once were engaged to disappeared the moment you had learnt what he done; marring any chances at evading the war that was surely to follow. you swore to seek revenge with fire and blood. in whatever means the gods meant it to happen. 
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the small council met as the sun lays lazily high in the sky, providing the normally dark and gloomy room with a sliver of light that is often uncommon on the island of dragonstone home to dreary weather most of the time. you welcome the sun in all its glory, soaking it in as you stand next to your brother jacaerys as you listen to the squabbles between the men as they discuss the course of action to take next. small crescents dawned under your eyes, reflecting the many sleepless nights you have come to known. the tiredness you feel currently now and all throughout the days since luke's passing has become an old friend to you, one that is begrudging to leave. you tune out, the effects of another sleepless night and your lack of interest in the bickering that is beginning to fester amongst the lords and your mother is boring you. instead, your eyes are captured by the ball of fire that lay millions of miles away. you weren't all that religious, if it came down to it you preferred the valyrian or old gods in favour of the seven. but there was no doubt the glistening embers that rained upon the room was a good omen. you were sure lucerys was looking down upon you, he adored the few sunny days on dragonstone, and this brought a small smile to your face. 
you hadn't realised just how deep in thought you were until your brothers voice broke you out of whatever hazy trance you were. despite tuning out, you had gathered the basics of the discussion - ser criston cole had set his eyes on rooks rest, and a dragon was needed to defend the castle. jacaerys' proposition to fly vermax was quickly shut down by your mother, deeming the boy as too inexperienced in battle and the dragon too young. 
"i will go." 
the words escaped your lips before you even had a chance to think them through properly. the feeling of revenge running through your veins was more than enough to spark this confident outburst. it had to be you who would go to rooks rest. you did not understand why this feeling was so apparent, whether it be the good omen in the sky, or the smile that had graced your lips for the first time in many moons at the thought of your brother being the one who sent it. but the need to take seat upon your dragon silverwing and fly to rooks rest settled in your soul as a desire you needed to fulfil. you knew immediately your mother would never agree to this, already refusing jacaerys to go meant there was absolutely no possibility she would let you go. 
"no. you too lack the experience that is needed in battle. i will not lose another child to this war." rhaenyra's voice trembled slightly with the mentioning of lucerys but she held strong with her decision to not let either of her elder children fly to battle. the mentioning of luke only feeding the fire in your blood, the need to seek revenge for his passing. 
looking up at your mother, you knew she had understood this as it was plainly evident on your face. alas, rhaenyra could not deny you had your mother's stubbornness and your father's strength. "mother, the entire council knows it is far too dangerous to risk the lives of both you and jace. queen and heir. send me, your grace. silverwing is used to battle and if war and bloodshed is sure to follow with the greens still bot bending the knee to you, then we must become acquainted with it." 
her eyes softened as she gazed upon yours, you reminded her so much of herself in her youth. the fire that burned within you mirrored that of hers. the want to prove yourself as more as weak was apparent, when many men had deemed you fragile due to the gender you were born as, you felt the urge to prove them wrong, just as your mother had felt, still feels with the many lords at the council who still see her as the weaker sex. she knew you were going to fly to battle whether she permitted you leave or not. and with a slight of her head you knew her answer. her lilac eyes gazing into yours with such intensity you knew the message conveyed. be safe, sweet girl.
another voice a the council spoke up, one you weren't expecting to hear. your grandmother, rhaenys. "you must send me as well, your grace. meleys is no stranger to battle, like silverwing. two dragons will be better than one, if the greens decide to also send a dragon to battle."
you were shocked that your grandmother was to fight so willingly for your mother's claim to the throne but yet, the more you pondered the less surprised you were. she too was a woman who should have ascended the throne, the queen who never was, yet king jaehaerys passed over her claim as a count of being weak as she was a woman. gods you hated the man sometimes. 
you were no stranger to the care of your grandmother. she knew straight away that her son was not actually your father, you were born a bastard, fathered to ser harwin strong yet she loved you nevertheless. just as coryls velaryon had favoured young luke, rhaenys, favoured you. your dark her reminded her much of her mother jocelyn baratheon and the way in which you clung to her as a child reminded her so much of leanor. she had grown to love you as you her, and refused to see you alone on the battlefield. 
"come granddaughter, we have much to prepare." rhaenys spoke softly as your mother dismissed the council, guiding you with her hand on the small of your back. giving one last nod to your mother, you notice the look of such fierce love in her. the promise of suffering she would bring if you were hurt. yet, the only thing rhaeynra could do now is pray to the gods above that her only girl would return to her safely. and by the gods she did.
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silverwing was just as mesmerising as the day you claimed her at the tender age of  ten and three. her silvery scales often reminded you of the stars that hung from the sky. glistening intently as you often sat at your window deep in thought. such a docile creature, you could not help but fall in love with her kind nature; a dragon who was most friendly to strangers. as you approached her now a small smile once again graced your lips. the she dragon bent down to greet you, pressing her snout to your hand in a sign of understanding. the intelligence of the dragon was also something that had drawn you to her, she was able to sense every emotion you felt. she had known you were grieving and did not hold it against you that you had neglected to visit her. instead, she blew smoke from her nostrils, and you could have sworn she wore a toothy grin. silverwing was glad you had returned to her. 
flying your dragon had somewhat eased the dull ache that seemed to have made a permanent home in your heart. the ocean beneath you and the wind in your hair brought a sense of relief. this was home. you had miss flying your dragon across the realm, watching as the landscape beneath you changed from countryside, to villages, to oceans and to cities. it was freeing. as fast as she was, silverwing was no match for the speed in which meleys, your grandmother's dragon, flew. as she soared effortlessly through the sky, your dragon tried her hardest to keep up. 
"don't push yourself silverwing. meleys is a fast dragon. " you uttered calmingly to your dragon in high valyrian, stroking her scales softly in a show of comfort. oh how you missed speaking the language too. "calm my sweet girl, it will be okay."
as you finally caught up to rhaenys, the two dragons held pace with one another as you surveyed the fields below. ser criston cole's army had been spotted approaching rooks rest. the elder women held your eyes. a message passing through the two of you to get this done as quickly as possible. and with a cry, meleys delved to the army, silverwing not far behind her
a mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursed through your veins. you were petrified at failing the mission and returning to your mother's disappointed face with the castle in the hands of the greens. yet the pure adrenaline of gaining your revenge from those who supported the man who usurped your mother's throne and took your brother urged you to keep going "attack silverwing." you called out causing the dragon to plummet to the ground to attack those below.
the field that was once riddled with soldiers was now nothing but flame and smoke. red heat from the lips of your dragon had engulfed almost the entirety of the battlefield. the flames below you were nothing of the flickering of the candles in dragonstone that brought you comfort. no, the flames you caused mirrored the emotion inside, the intensity of the anger you felt, the betrayal from the man you once loved to cause this amount of pain. 
a sound you had not heard in a long time broke you out of your rage induced comatose. you froze, the greens had come for you. looking up, you recognised the gleaming golden dragon belonging to the usurper king aegon. sunfyre. your anger had only intensified at the man willing himself to fight against you and your grandmother. doubling around the castle, silverwing dipped her sharpened claws into the ocean's water, ensuring a clean cut against sunfyre before rising above the cliffs face, ready for battle. he was no match for that of silverwing and meleys.
despite the adrenaline within, you could not help but worry for your grandmother, as you watched the flames engulf both her and aegon as the dance begun. the women held a dear place in your heart and the image of her being hurt was enough to push you to attack the sun kissed dragon. flying to meet your grandmother, silverwing allowed herself to flip and glide between the flames aimed at you both. the bellows of aegon left a satisfying smirk upon your lips as meleys claws took hold within the belly of the enemy dragon, as you willed silverwing to attack the dragon's wings from above. clawing and scratching at sunfyre, silverwing and meleys both have seemed to have done immense damage to the golden beauty. chunks of the dragons wings had been ripped out and cuts adorned her body, red blood oozing out of her scales. the final blow had been dealt by your grandmother, yet war was far from over as a sickening roar had been heard beyond the trees.
aemond taragaryen had come out to play.
your breath hitched, letting you only to take only shallow breathes as vhagar descended from the trees. you tried to be brave, tried to hold back the tears that were evident in your glassy eyes yet you couldn't. tear drops sprung like rivers cascading down your terror-stricken face as you saw the shining silver hair of the man who had once been the love of your life, and subsequently the reasoning behind all your pain. wrapping the leather reigns that kept you in control of your dragon, you urged her to continue flying around rooks rest. the wind blew harshly as you circled the ashy landscape, drying your tears and making whatever was left stick to your reddened face. as vhagar descended upon the battle in the sky,  hought's swam through your head as you shouted at your dragon to attack, you wished away all feelings of dread. 
in that sliver of calm, you could not help but feel drawn to the sun as it had once again graced you with its appearance. and with lucerys velaryon looking down on you, you knew the gods wanted you to have your revenge in that moment. they had brought aemond to the battle for a reason after all.
flying up to sit side by side with rhaenys, you allowed the hatred in your heart to take over. the fire in your blood burned at the audacity for aemond to dare show his face after all that he had done. 
"it has to be me grandmother." you shouted over the howling winds in high valyrian. the distaste within had spoken clearly, it had to be you who destroyed the man in front of you. you knew rhaneys understood that, but you also knew she carried the same stubborn nature that all targaryen's had come to possess. plowing into vhagar first, it was obvious she was no match for the queen of dragons. sending waves of fire to the boy riding her, melyes took the moment of distraction to tear at the beast's stomach. 
unbeknownst to you, sunfyre had risen again at the sound of vhagar's approach. seeing the flame grown in the dragon's mouth, rhaneys abandoned the attack on the larger dragon, instead focusing on the dragon mere inches from you. ambushing her from the side, meleys' jaws clamp around the neck of the usurper's dragon. in a state of shock, you forced silverwing to the side, gratefulness gracing your features at your saviour. 
nonetheless, it was plain to see that both meleys and silverwing did not hold enough power to over through the two dragon's that had come to fight. with rhaenys preoccupied with the second coming of sunfyre and aegon, it had left you with the battled against  vhagar. having lived centuries you knew that you were no match for her. she had helped with aegon the conqueror's conquest and that alone had gained her much more experience in battle than your dragon would ever come to know.
reality kicked in like a knife to your stomach. understanding what you had to do sent shivers down your spine, but there was no other way.  to kill the dragon you must kill the rider. 
your mind flickered back to the many moments you had spent with aemond over the years. sneaking into one another's chambers at night to tell stories you have read in history books. the days spent in the garden giggling at the idiocy of your family. and as the two of you got older, you recounted the longing gazes in one another's directions, the stammering and blush that rose to your cheeks anytime he was near. the brushing of limbs at the feast as your grandsire had announced the betrothal. 
none of that mattered now. he had made his choice when he decided to slay his kin and you had made yours. 
gazing upon silverwing properly for the last time you spoke quietly "forgive me, comfort my mother when i am gone. i beg of you." the silver beauty squeaked in return, a note of sadness in her tone. she would miss you just as much as she missed queen alyssane, but she would honour your choice gallantly. "fly back to dragonstone when i am gone. i do not wish you to suffer the same fate, my love."
with your mind made up, you willed your dragon to fly to meet aemond and vhagar taking in a shaky breathe as you did. as silverwing glided through the air, her claw's tore through vhagar. nevertheless, the silver beauty had barely left any damage. vhagar's thick skin was almost impenetrable, only small surface wound were left behind from the attacks you inflicted on her. the only thing that kept you alive was your dragon's ability to stray so close to vhagar yet slip effortlessly beyond her reach whenever her jaws made an attempt to kill you both. 
allowing silverwing to deal with vhagar, meant that you were left to deal with her rider; your glassy eyes never leaving  the man who had caused you such suffering. he had grown you noted, his cheeks now hollowed out as if he has been struggling to eat, a dark crescent clear under his one good eye. the hate in your heart weakened, you had almost felt an ounce of sympathy at his obviously heartbroken state. you wondered if he had regretted his actions; had regretted pushing you away. you wondered if he blamed himself for what had happened that night, if he had really meant to kill luke on purpose. but you also knew you would wonder these things for the rest of your life if you let him live. no matter how much remorse he truly felt within you could never forget his actions, the way in which he took pride in what he did, bragging about being the first to spill blood in this horrific war. and that was enough for you to keep fighting.
pulling away from vhagar for a final time, you flew back around the castle unstrapping the saddle you had on silverwing, tossing it to the wind. unstrapping the sword, daemon had given you from your twentieth name day, you held it in your palm with such force that your knuckles began to whiten. as silverwing set her sights on vhagar once more, a final sound of pain came from your dragon as she knew what you had planned to do. knowing there was no way in changing your mind she flew above the dragon and its rider, positioning you perfectly in what you aimed to do. 
holding onto one of the many talons in her back, you allowed yourself to stand upon your dragon's back, the sword still tight in your hand. your eyes had never left that of the icy lilac that sat below you. the mix of fear and understanding stood in his, as he knew what you were about to do a second too late. the shock of realisation came as he tried to unfasten the straps that kept him tied to vhagar. she was too big of a dragon to move in time for what you were about to bestow upon the targaryen prince, and it was too high of a jump for him to survive.  
jumping from your dragon's back you let your mind to once again reflect all the love you had for aemond taragaryen. allowing yourself to find comfort in the fact that you had known love in your lifetime.
and as you drew the sword through him, you felt no remorse. a debt had been payed. revenge had been served. for luke.
but, there was no escaping the torment your heart inflicted upon you in the moment your sword pierced his only good eye. you had thought aemond would hold loathing at what you had done in his final moments, but all he felt was abhorrence for himself. driving you to the point of sorrow and grief where you had felt like you could do nothing more than seek revenge for what he had done. whispering a soft "i love you'' before you had pierced him, gave you the closure you had needed. those three words had answered all the questions that had played over and over in your mind, running rampant through your darkest hours.
the history books recalled that you had died peacefully with no call of a dragon to save you. you had plummeted to the ground with the man you had loved, knowing you had avenged your sweet innocent brother lucerys and had come to learn aemond had regretted his actions dearly. this was truly enough for you to die happily. and that you did.
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donatellawritings · 10 months ago
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Would you ever do a part 2 to sweetheart reader and rafe’s breakup? I wanna see how they get back together 🥰
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it had been about three months, since rafe had let you go, his oh-so doting sweetheart, the apple of his very eye. with the news of rafe cameron no longer having his latin sweetheart under his arm spreading around the island like a rancid wildfire, it didn’t take long for rafe to find himself regretting his decision. but make no mistake, rafe had made it his business to keep a watchful eye on your every move, and making sure to remain undetected while doing so. i mean, at the end of the day, you would always be his sweet girl and what kind of a man would he be, if he didn’t watch over you.
and sure, it took you a few weeks to find your footing as a now single and absolute knockout of a woman, yet you stood your ground — remaining tooth-achingly sweet to everyone who came your way, even when you’d politely reject their shameless advances towards you. and boy, did you make rafe’s sick little heart swell with pride as you made sure to keep a piece of him around you at all times, your gifted tiffany & co tennis bracelet constantly glinting against the north carolina sun with each passing day.
but, you were always such an emotional and overly-sensitive doll — and today just happened to be one of those days where you couldn’t seem to get your papi, rafe out of your pretty little head.
“i just — i want him with me!” you sobbed, streaky and watery black tinged tears rolling down your blush and concealer-enhanced cheeks as you pursed your puffy lips into a tearful pout, “he’s supposed to be mine!” you whined, your swollen tits stretching and heaving against rafe’s prized collegiate t-shirt as you took hiccuping breaths.
you poor cousin, kiara could only take so much of your incessant sobs and heartfelt rambles, until she’d taken the liberty of personally contacting rafe, a task that she wouldn’t even dream of doing, if it were for any person, aside from you, her doting and oh-so lovesick cousin.
you see, today was supposed to be a simple sleepover, the two of you had made it a tradition to spend one night together, where you could catch up on the latest gossip, prance around in nothing but pathetically poor excuses for panties and oversized t-shirts, while pampering each other with messily applied clay face masks and smeared mani-pedis. and sure, kiara missed those cherished moments with you, but she was painfully aware that you had been keeping up a facade since the moment rafe brought you back home. and she had to give you credit for it, you made it a point to keep your cool in public, you didn’t want to be a bother so you maintained your doll-like appearance and poise mannerisms.
yet, she couldn’t ignore the way you cried yourself to sleep at night — the walls that separated your bedrooms were far too thin.
it didn’t take long for rafe to respond to your concerned cousin — and it was crystal clear to him that it was time to bring you back home. the anxious young man had paid his dues, hell, the pain of not having you around was nearly enough to have him cave after the first twenty-four hours of him breaking things off. but, he had to make good on his promise — he had to become a man, not only for you, but for the sake of his own sanity, or what was left of it.
after about fifteen minutes of you struggling to put together a coherent sentence, you rubbed the tip of your button nose, with a defeated sniffle, licking over you dried lips as you wiped your watery bambi eyes with the back of your hand. you had cried yourself to exhaustion, your pretty little head throbbing from your hysterics as you dozed into a light sleep. you were so out of it, you didn’t even realize that kiara had left your bedroom.
rafe was careful with his footsteps as he entered your bedroom, dressed in a crisp button-up and ironed slacks as he sighed at the sight of you sound asleep. his bright blues didn’t miss the streaks of dried tears that clung to your cherub cheeks, your swollen lips slightly parted as crouched at your bedside, a soft smile on his pink lips as he ran a gentle hand over your messy hair.
letting his greed get the best of him, rafe pressed his eager lips to the apple of your cheek, his fingernails lightly scratching at your scalp as he soothingly lulled you out of your sleep, “hi, baby,” he mumbled, loud enough for your doe eyes to widen as your lips pursed into a wobbly pout, warm tears burning at your waterline.
bringing your small hand to knuckle away the troublesome tears that threatened to spill, you let out a needy whimper, “m-missed you,” you mewled, wispy lashes now clumpy with tears.
“hey-hey, c’mon mama, please don’t start cryin’,” rafe breathes out, pulling your hands away from your flushed face as the two of you finally lock eyes for the first time in months, “fuck — m’so sorry, my princess,” rafe sighs, each and every ounce of his resolve dissipating as he brings your knuckles to his lips, peppering soft kisses to the bony skin.
biting down into the fat of your bottom lip, you leaned up towards rafe, nudging his nose with yours, “can we go home,” you mutter, allowing your palms to cradle both sides of rafe’s chiseled face as his hold on your fists drop to your wrists, “w-we can talk about everything later, i just- i just missed you, papi,” you assure rafe, a soft smile tugging on your lips as he raises his glazed eyes to meet yours.
“yes, baby, we can go home,” rafe’s shoulders soften, his forehead leaning flushed against yours as he lets out a shaky breath, “i kept my promise, baby — i kept my promise,” he speaks, more so to himself than to you as you nod at his words.
rafe deserved to be heard, and you’d always be a listening ear for him.
“i stopped using, a-and i got that boat y’liked so much, i got it just for you, mama — gonna take you wherever y’wanna go,” rafe rambles, leaving you a smiley mess as you simply gaze into his eyes with nothing, but naive love and adoration, “m’gonna be home more, and i—” rafe continued, getting lost in his own thoughts.
“i love you,” you cut in, a giddy smile now playing on your pretty face as rafe can’t help but blush at your words.
“i love you too, let’s go home,” rafe brings his lips to your forehead, allowing his tired eyes to flutter close as he soaks in the kiss for a moment, taking the time to breathe in your smell.
bringing your legs to hook around his waist, rafe keeps a secure hand over your ass as he carries you out of your bedroom, making sure to send kiara an appreciative nod as the two of you exit the home. it didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep, once you were secure in the passenger seat of rafe’s truck, soft snores leaving your parted lips as your soft cheek remained mushed against rafe’s firm shoulder, your hand securely interlaced with his.
rafe couldn’t ignore the way his eyes kept flickering down to your empty ring finger, his heart swelling at the mere thought of him finally having you all to himself, forever.
and he wouldn’t fuck it up, this time.
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p0orbaby · 2 months ago
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"Are you two..together?" Prompt with Leah!
Her tag needs some lovin' 🫶🫶
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The question comes from a seven-year-old with sticky fingers and a dangerously unbalanced glass of orange squash. You’d been halfway through helping Leah’s aunt clear the dishes when she sidles up to you, her face scrunched in the kind of seriousness only small children can manage.
“Are you two… together?” she asks, her voice loud enough to cut through the chatter at the family barbecue.
The room quietens in a way that feels unnatural, like someone’s pressed mute on a remote. Leah, sitting at the kitchen island with a handful of cousins, freezes mid-sip of her drink. You look at her, then at the child, then at the glass of squash, which you are 90% sure is about to tip over onto your white trainers.
Leah clears her throat. “Define together”
You glare at her, already regretting letting her take the lead. She’s been smirking all afternoon, showing off during the garden football match and pretending not to hear her nan’s not-so-subtle comments about grandchildren. Now, the glint in her eye tells you she’s enjoying this far too much.
The kid frowns, considering. “Like… you kissed. We saw you”
“You saw us?” Leah says, leaning forward. There’s a playful lilt to her tone, but her ears are turning red.
“On the landing,” pipes up another cousin, this one about ten and clutching a half-eaten burger. “You thought no one saw, but we did”
You can feel the heat rising in your face, not helped by the way Leah’s trying—and failing—not to laugh.
“Well,” you say finally, crossing your arms. “What do you think?”
The seven-year-old narrows her eyes, scrutinising you like a tiny detective on the verge of cracking the case. “I think you are,” she says triumphantly. “Together, I mean. Because why else would you kiss?”
“Exactly,” chimes in the ten-year-old. “And you hold hands all the time. And Leah always looks at you like—” He pauses, attempting to mimic what you assume is some kind of lovesick expression. It’s not flattering.
The kitchen erupts into laughter. Leah’s older cousins are in hysterics, her mum is trying (and failing) to look disapproving, and even her nan has a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Leah, meanwhile, leans back against the counter, looking thoroughly amused. “Well, there you go,” she says to you, her arms crossing as she tilts her head. “They’ve cracked the mystery”
“Brilliant,” you mutter, though you can’t help but smile.
“Does this mean you’re getting married?” the seven-year-old asks suddenly, her wide eyes filled with the kind of hope that makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Leah’s eyes meet yours, and for a brief second, the teasing disappears. There’s something soft there, something that makes your stomach flip in a way you’d never admit out loud.
“Maybe one day,” Leah says casually, reaching for your hand under the table.
The kids squeal in delight, and you know you’ll never hear the end of this. But as Leah squeezes your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles, you think maybe you wouldn’t mind.
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athenamikaelson · 2 months ago
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Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 23
Word Count- 5k
Warnings-Swearing, sexual innuendos, Elijah being a little asshole, mention of blood
“Damon if you don’t move your foot, I swear to whatever holy power is out there I will tase you,” I growl into my pillow as I feel Damon’s foot land on my upper back. 
After waiting a moment and not getting a response, I turn around on my back, grab Demon’s foot, which is now resting on my upper chest, and throw it off of me.
Damon, who is currently passed out at the end of my bed at the Salvatore’s, releases a groan but doesn’t wake up.
I rub circles into my temple as I look around my bedroom which is currently trashed with an assortment of empty alcoholic beverages and junk food. After Damon and I left the party last night, we made our way back here and while Damon found alcohol to mend his worries and broken heart, I turned to Twinkies, chocolate, and the shitty pancakes a drunken Damon made me. While Damon cooked for me he went on a love-sick 30-minute about his heartbreaks over the past century. When he was done, we tried tackling my problem but a drunk Damon wasn’t much help. Well…a sober one isn’t either but y’know.
Flashback
“Alright,” I watch from my stool at the kitchen island as Damon pours the entire package of chocolate chips into the pancake batter, “Sooooooo, what you’re telling me is that,” He points his spatula at me, “Not one, but two of the Original brothers claim to be your soulmate and that you have a piece of each of their human souls in you?”
I throw my head onto the counter and groan, “That’s what the masses have said.”
“Interesting,” I lift up my head slightly to peer at Damon who is tapping his chin with the batter-covered spatula, resulting in batter covering his lower chin, and seems that in his drunken state, he doesn’t seem to notice or care, “And Klaus was actually the one who gave you that necklace you’ve been wearing all this time, and Elijah is like head over heels for you as well as his brother,” He pauses and then talks to himself, or babbles to himself, “I mean it was pretty obvious, I mean a blind person could see how either one of them look at you. Especially Elijah, dude has that lovesick puppy dog look on his face since the moment he pulled out those two guys' hearts,” He taps his chin again, “Or was it three?”
“Demon, seriously, not helping,” I exhaust and he shrugs turning back towards the pantry. I watch as he grabs yet another bag of chocolate chips.
“Dude, seriously? That’s the third bag. I think we have enough.”
Damon looks up at me with a glare, “My kitchen my rules. My chocolate chips.”
“And my stomach ache,” I mutter to myself as I watch him pour in the chips.  
“So what do you think I should do,” Hopelessness clear in my voice.
Damon sighs, wipes his hands on the apron he’s wearing, and walks around the island to me. He stands in front of me places his hand on my shoulders and leans down to my face. 
“Fuck them both. Get them out of your system. We’re planning on killing them anyway so the problem will fix itself momentarily. In the meantime, go to Poundtown,” Damon smirks and then nods his head to himself as if he just gave me the greatest piece of advice ever. 
“You’re disgusting,” I glare at him and he smiles. 
“And you’re a prude.”
A knocking on the downstairs door shakes me out of my head and I send a kick to Damon’s stomach.
“Demon, someone’s at the door,” I hiss and Damon rolls over onto his side but doesn’t wake up.
“Damon!”
Damon whips around and glares at me, but the sunlight protruding from my window makes him close his eyes again, “Then go answer it,” He hisses.
“What if it’s someone trying to kill us,” I whisper and he runs a hand over his face.
“Pukey…If someone was here to kill us, do you really think they would knock first?”
I think about Damon’s question for a moment then realize he’s probably right. 
“Fine but if I get killed, I’m haunting you,” I say to him as I put on my slippers and head out the door.
I hear Damon mutter a sarcastic “yay” as I descend the staircase. 
I get to the door and cautiously open it and when my eyes meet dark brown ones I release I low swear.
“Good afternoon to you too, Elskan,” Elijah’s eyes trail from bedhead and my makeshift pajamas which consist of Damon’s button-up shirt from yesterday and a pair of sleep shorts that barely cover my ass. 
“Or should I say good morning,” Elijah’s eyes move back up to Damon’s shirt and I watch as his upper lip seems to morph into a snarl but after a split second returns to a forced smile. 
“What are you doing here, Elijah,” I grip the handle of the door as I wait for his answer.
“I told you yesterday that I would answer any questions that you had for me,” Elijah gestures behind me to the living room, “May I come in?”
I glance at the living room for a moment before turning back towards the suited Original, “Don’t you have your family to deal with?”
“My siblings have lived with themselves for a thousand years, I’m sure they can go one hour without getting themselves killed,” He smirks but something in his tone makes it seem like he doesn’t believe anything he just said.
I pinch my temple and move to the side, “Ya, fine. Come on in.”
Elijah’s smile doesn’t falter as we walk into the living room and he places himself in a leather chair while I sit on my favorite sofa, tugging my knees under my chin. 
“Are you dead?”
I turn around at Damon’s sarcastic voice and roll my eyes. 
Damon enters the living room with a blood bag and hand and no shirt on.
“Ew, gross. Put on a shirt,” I gag and cover my eyes.
“I would but you’re wearing it, Pukey,” Damon snarks back and I move my hand away and look down at the white button-up I’m wearing.
“This is quite literally your house. Go find another shirt,” I exhaust and Damon just shrugs his shoulders and then looks over at Elijah. 
I turn back towards the Original who is watching Damon and me with a flat expression. His usual smile is no longer present. 
“Good morning, Elijah,” Damon smirks at him, “Funny you're here. Y’know since last night you were such a present figure in Y/n and I’s girl chats.”
I whip my head around and send daggers at Demon but he doesn’t seem to notice and if he does he certainly doesn’t care. 
“Is that so,” Elijah says and I back to see him glancing at me with a raised eyebrow. 
“Nope,” I grab an empty root beer can that is placed next to me on the couch, from Damon and I’s movie night last night, and hurl it at Demon. Sadly, he dodges it.
“Oh that’s odd,” Damon looks down at me and taps his chin, “Because if I’m not mistaken there were talks of a certain suited Original and going to Poundtown with him,” Damon turns to Elijah, who lets out a cough, as I watch on in horror, “Hmm, must’ve been someone else then. My mistake. You two enjoy your little chat,” Damon says with a final wink to me as he practically skips into the kitchen.
I’m frozen in horror as I stare at Elijah who is staring back at me. Elijah's face appears a tinge redder than before and I can’t even imagine how fucking uncomfortable I look to him. 
“I can explain,” I chirp out quickly.
Elijah raises an eyebrow and seems to have collected himself as a shit-eating grin comes over his handsome features, “Please do. I insist.”
“Well…well,” I try to think but come up with nothing, “I got nothing.”
Elijah’s smirk deepens and if it didn’t make him appear even hotter than he already is, I’d probably slap him.
“Well, you’ll just have to enlighten me on the conversation later on. I’m quite interested in learning what this, “Poundtown” place is,” Elijah says as he does air quotes around Poundtown.
“I’m going to kill myself.”
Elijah’s smirk drops and he frowns, “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”
I nod, “I’m never going to be able to show my face ever again,” I pause, “Well first I’d have to kill Damon. Mutual destruction. But that could take some time, so it appears I’ll have to postpone it,” I say sadly and look back to Elijah who looks incredibly confused.
“I can’t quite tell if you’re being serious or not?”
I just shrug, “Who knows? Anyways… you said you came here to answer my questions?”
Elijah leans forward to unbutton his suit jacket, “Yes, that is correct. But,” He looks back towards the way Damon went and I swear I saw him roll his eyes, “Perhaps there is somewhere we can talk, away from listening ears.”
“Don’t mind me!” I groan at Damon’s loud voice coming from the direction of the kitchen. 
“We can talk in my room,” I stand up and gesture for him to follow.
“I didn’t realize you had a room here,” Elijah says as he stands at the doorframe of my room. Glancing around at the trash littered on the floor along with the bottles of alcohol. 
I quickly make work of gathering the littered trash and bottles, “I moved in here over the summertime and Damon gave me this room. He let me pick out the decorations and everything,” I pick up an empty bottle of bourbon and look back to Elijah, “The alcohol isn’t mine. Damon was in here last night, drinking away his sorrows.”
Elijah lets out an almost annoyed sound, “You and the eldest Salvatore brother seem to be rather…close,” He practically spits out the word as I place the trash in my pink trashcan.
I shrug, “He’s alright company, y’know when he’s not being a cunt.”
“Language, Elskan,” Elijah chastises and I roll my eyes. 
“Umhm.”
Elijah takes a few steps in and starts inspecting my room more. I don’t have much in here other than some summer clothes, makeup, and other little knick-knacks that I picked up over the summer.  
“Did he sleep in here last night,” Elijah questions as he picks up a glass mouse I have sitting on my mantel. 
“Uh, ya. We were watching season 3 of Supernatural and his drunk ass fell asleep, why do you ask?”
Elijah sets the mouse back down and then turns to stare at me. Or really the shirt I’m wearing, “I don’t mean to intrude. But, are you and the Salvatore brother…something more,” Elijah asks the question like he’s afraid of the answer.
I stare at him for a moment and then let out a huge laugh, “Damon and I!? Never! Ew! As if! I’d rather take a hot poker to my foot than let that Neanderthal anywhere near my lips,” I laugh disgustedly and I watch as Elijah’s tense shoulders drop.
“Why? Are you jealous,” I squint my eyes at him, and his upper lip twitches?
“Jealously isn’t something I’m quite accustomed to,” Elijah walks over to me and runs a finger along the sleeve of my shirt, “But, I must admit seeing you in another man’s shirt has stirred up many unpleasant feelings, and thoughts in me.”
I bite down on my inner lip as I listen to Elijah’s deep voice.
“What kind of thoughts?”
Elijah pulls lightly on the collar of my shirt making me stumble at bit into him, “Thoughts like how much I’d like to rip this shirt off you and burn it and never let another man’s clothing touch you ever again.”
Oh Good Lord. 
I open and close my mouth, “I’ll go umm… change if that’s what you want?”
I gesture to my closest and Elijah smirks proudly, “I’d appreciate that highly, Elskan.”
I nod and quickly run to my walk-in closet throw off Damon’s shirt and grab one of my dark blue Henleys.
I exit the closet to find Elijah lounging in my armchair, strumming through “The Duke and I.”
Shit. 
Elijah, noticing my presence, lifts his head from the book and eyes my new attire.
“Good girl.”
Jesus Fucking Christ I’m going to-
“Stop doing that,” I stutter out as I point a finger at him.
Elijah tilts his head, quite adorably, “I’m not sure what you mean?”
I sit on the edge of my bed, across from the chair, and glare at him, “You know exactly what you’re doing. That whole smirking, flirting thing you’re doing.”
Elijah leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, “Once again, Elskan,” He locks eyes with me, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I glare at him until a shit-eating smirk comes back onto his face.
“See! There it is,” I turn around and grab a pillow and throw it at him, “Jerk!”
Elijah catches the pillow easily, and a warm laugh escapes him.
“It appears I’ve got to work on my flirting skills. It has been quite some time since I’ve tried wooing a woman,” Elijah tells me and I try to look anywhere but him. 
“You don’t have to woo me,” I say as I play with the hem of my shirt.
“On the contrary, my love, yes I do. Not just as your soulmate,” I pick up my head at his words, “But as a man who is hugely infatuated with you.”
“You’re only feeling things for me because of our bond, or whatever it is. If there wasn’t a bond you wouldn’t have even looked in my direction that day with Rose.”
Elijah stands from his chair and comes to stand before me, he reaches his hand down and grabs my chin, so I have to look up at him.
“Let me assure you, bond or no bond, that a beauty like yours is one that not even the darkest of nights can hide away. You are the sun to me, Elskan. And maybe, yes,  the bond is what led me to you, but the woman you are is what has made me wholeheartedly obsessed with you. In my many years of living, I have rarely come across a soul like yours. One so…pure. You’re full of this light that somehow has kept shining even when everything around you has tried to snuff it out. I have seen the heart you have with others and can only hope that one day I may be given the opportunity to be let into it as well.”
I stare up at the breathtaking man before me. My mind seems to go blank as I stare into his deep brown eyes, eyes that are filled with such longing and heartbreaking devotion. 
“You truly can’t think all that of me. You’ve only known me for a few months, Elijah,” I shake my head out of his hold and he lets out a sound of disagreement. 
“Elska-...Y/n,” Elijah draws my attention to him as he comes to kneel in front of me. Now it’s my turn to look down at him as he reaches his hands up and gestures for me to take them. I release a breath as I place my hands into his. 
“For one thousand years, I have fought with my humanity. I have done horrendous things in the name of my family. For years I lived with this self-hatred, never thinking that one day I might be able to calm this storm I feel inside of my mind,” Elijah looks to be in pain as he seems to be thinking back to something, “But then,” His scorned look lightens as he locks eyes with me and his upper lip lifts into a smile, “I felt my heart lighten. I locked eyes with a beautiful y/e/c the day Rose-Marie called me about the doppelganger, and for the first time in a millennium that storm settled. All my mind could focus on was the angel in front of me. Seeing you gave me this sense of, calmness. As if everything I had ever done before that day meant nothing. I’d lived for a thousand years, but the moment you looked at me,” Elijah lifts my hands to his lips and presses a kiss to my inner wrist, “I became alive. That is what you are to me, Y/n. You are my life. My immortality.”
Elijah continues, “And you may say I don’t know anything about you, and you may be right. But here are some things I do know. I know that you love learning and reading,” Elijah smirks to himself, “Even if the literature you read is just sex,” Elijah releases a laugh at my horrified expression, “After I had seen what books you have in your collection. I spent my time buying my own copies and reading each of them.”
I shake my head, “Why, though?”
Elijah stands up and squeezes my hands, “What other reason do I need other than that you enjoy them? You were wary of me, but I still wanted to know everything I could about you. When I saw your stack of books I thought the closest thing to you, would be your books.”
I release a shaky breath as I look up at the man before me. 
“I also know you love your family and friends more than you love yourself. Theodore is incredibly lucky to have an older sister who puts herself and her feelings second when it comes to him. I also know how you’re able to find the best in people,” He makes an annoyed face, “Clearly since you spend your time with the eldest Salvatore brother. I dislike you being around him, but even I can see how you’ve changed him. Yes, he’s an irrational insolent little child,” I send him an eye roll and he smirks, “But even I can admit his change since you’ve come around. That’s the kind of person you are, you insight goodness in others. Being around you changes people. Y/n, you are an amazing human being and I intend to show you how much I appreciate fate for blessing me with you.”
I smile up at Elijah, “You really have a way with words, y’know?”
Elijah lets out a deep chuckle, “Yes, I’ve been told this a few times before,” Elijah reaches a hand down and brushes a piece of hair behind my ear.
“How do you intend to show me?”
Elijah’s upper lip twitches and he brings his fingers down and lightly pinches my cheek, “As much as I’d love to show you, I don’t think I have enough time. And I promised to answer some of your questions.”
I let out a startled cough and nod my head, trying to act chill as hell. Oh lord, this man is freaky deeky. 
“Oh ya, um, totally,” I stand up quickly and almost knock Elijah in the nose while doing so. He takes a quick step back in time and releases a chuckle. 
“Okay, let me just collect myself real quick,” I take a deep breath as I start pacing my room, “Lots of emotions going around right now.’
“Take your time, Elskan.”
Elijah sits back in my armchair and I watch him. He’s back to his composed self and I wish I was able to be as calm and nonchalant as he is. 
“So how old are you exactly?”
“Approximately, 1,200 years old.”
My mouth drops open.
“You’re old as fuck,” I blurt out.
Elijah raises an eyebrow, “You and that language,” He mutters while shaking his head, “But…yes. I am old as fuck.”
A loud snort escapes me and I quickly slap a hand to my mouth. I stare wide-eyed at Elijah, who appears to be quite entertained by my outburst. A light pink tinge covers his cheeks as he stares at me with a soft smile. 
“Moving along…what’s your birthday?”
Elijah gives me a confused look, “Why do you ask?”
I put my hands on my hips, “Didn’t you agree to answer all of my questions,” I give him a pointed look and he smirks. 
“Yes, I did. My apologies. But birthdays weren’t a big thing when I was born. So all I know was I was born sometime between November and January.”
A sense of sadness fills me, “So you really don’t know what day you were born?”
Elijah shakes his head. 
“Alright…,” I tap my chin, “Then we’ll just have to give you one,” I squint my eyes and stare at him. He watches me with an unphased look, “Hmm. I don’t think you’d be a Sagittarius so that leaves either a Scorpio or Capricorn. Scorpio sounds better for you. How about November 15th?”
Elijah places one leg over the other and nods his head, “November 15th it is.”
I nod happily and then sit down on the floor across from him, “Next question…Klaus said that he was able to tell I was his soulmate by my eyes and that the soulmate thing works because I got your human soul. Is all this true?”
Elijah nods, “Like my brother I had dreams of your eyes. They gave me a sense of comfort in my moments of weakness. I knew that when I meant the person who they belonged to I would be wholly devoted to them. And I know for certain now that I was correct,” He smiles down at me but I can’t keep looking at him because I know if I do I’ll let out a stupid giggle. “Cool. Cool. Cool.,” I fiddle with my fingers, “So what exactly comes with this thing,” I gesture between us, “Like, I don’t feel like drinking any blood so I don’t think I’ve developed your hunger. And I’m not like super strong or fast so…that sucks.”
Elijah leans forward in his seat, “From what I’ve read over the years about the bond, you will not have to worry about developing a taste for blood. Nor, will you experience my speed or strength. There isn’t much about soulmates but what some witches have suspected is that when one of of feels a strong emotion, such as pain, our counterpart will also feel it.”
At his comment, I frown. 
“Wait. Pain?” Elijah frowns deeply, “I would never want you to feel any pain because of me, Elskan.”
“While you were daggered…I got these strong pains in my chest. It would hurt so bad that sometimes I would pass out. Was that because of the bound?”
“Why did you never tell me about this?”
At Elijah’s concerned tone, I shrug. 
“It’s not like we’ve had much time to hang out since you’ve been undaggered, dude.”
Elijah sighs and nods, “It is possible that is the reason.”
“Oh my god,” I jump up slightly, “During the ritual when you guys were trying to kill your brother,” Elijah slightly flinches at the recollection, “I felt like I was having a heart attack and I had blood gushing from my chest. Alaric said it was like I was dying, and honestly it felt like I was,” I cringe, “Was that the bond with Klaus?”
Elijah has a look of horror on his face, “I didn’t know I caused you such pain,” He stands up and rubs a hand over his face, “Elskan, I understand if you never forgive me, but you must know how truly sorry I am. I never wanted this to-.”
“Woah, Elijah. Chill,” I stand up and hold my hands up, “I don’t blame you for what happened. Like at all. I’m just relieved that I have an explanation for what was happening. You have no idea how many medical bills I racked up on Damon’s credit card for all the doctor’s appointments that we went to. I thought I was like actually dying from some unknown disease.”
Elijah looks at me with an odd look, “So you don’t hate me? And also…Damon went with you to the doctor’s?”
I nod, “Ya…it was a weird summer. Many trips upstate. Many diner stops with him as well. If you think his presence is a lot when you’re out in public with him, imagine being stuck in a car with him for hours,” I shiver.
“I will make sure to talk to him and have him send me the bills for your medical expenses so I can take responsibility for it.”
I shake my head and laugh, “Don’t worry about it, Lijah. I like draining him for his money, it pisses him off. Which gives me joy.”
Elijah’s dark mood seems to lighten at my joke. 
“Do you have any other questions for me?”
“Ummm. Nope.”
Elijah raises an eyebrow in skepticism, “Really? You don’t seem so sure.”
“Well…there is one question that has been nagging at me,” I look at the wall in front of me and pretend to find the wood interesting.
“And what question would that be?”
“Um, well… I know you like to flirt or whatever, but um…soulmates is kinda a big thing if you didn’t know,” I look back to him and he nods.
“I did know.”
“Well, what exactly do you expect to happen here,” I gesture between him and I. 
A look of realization comes over Elijah’s face as he realizes my apprehension.
Elijah releases a breath and stands up. I stand silently as he walks over to me with a soft smile on his face.
“I understand your confusion here. But, I want you to know this, Elskan,” Elijah uses his hand to brush my hair off my shoulder, “I will accept whatever you want. I have waited for you a thousand years, to be in your presence is enough for me. If you want a friend, then I will be a friend. Or,” He lets out a soft breath, “If one day you decide you would like to explore something…deeper. Then I’d be incredibly happy as well. I don’t want you to feel rushed or uncomfortable. So, whatever you decide, I will agree.”
A warmth flows through my chest at his confession.
I try to push back my smile but I can’t seem to help it as I look at the nervous look on his face. 
“I’d like a friend,” I say and Elijah seems almost a bit upset.
“Then a friend I will be,” Elijah agrees.
“But…if in the future, after we get to know each other better,” Elijah's eyes widen slightly at what I’m saying, “Maybe we could revisit the idea of something…more.”
Elijah’s smile widens enough to where I can see his slight dimples, “I would like that…very much.”
“Great,” I bite my lip nervously.
“Great,” Elijah responds.
Elijah and I seem to be stuck in a staring contest until a chime from my phone interrupts us. 
“Sorry,” I mutter as I pull my phone from my pocket. I frown as I read the text from Matt Donovan. 
“What’s wrong?” I look up at Elijah after hearing his concerned voice.
“Someone called in sick for work and Matt needs me to come in and cover her shift,” I groan at the thought of going to work today. 
“You have a job?”
“Sadly. But, if I want to pay for college I’m going to need to save up money,” I sigh as I walk over to my desk and start putting some mascara on.
“I’d pay for your college. You don’t need to worry about work,” Elijah’s comment has me turning over my shoulder to look at him.
“Like a sugar daddy?”
Elijah looks incredibly confused, “A what?”
I think it over a moment before shaking my head, “Never mind. But, I would never take your money.”
Elijah shakes his head, “You’re the only one I’d want to spend it on.”
I roll my eyes trying to hide the effect his words are having on me.
“That’s usually not how one friend talks to another,” I jest. 
I turn back towards my mirror, that sits on my desk, and I put on some concealer. In the mirror I see Elijah behind me walk up towards me. 
“And how exactly do friends talk to one another,” Elijah says and I smirk as I continue blending in my makeup. I feel him stand behind me and pull slightly on a piece of my hair that is hanging down my back. I turn to glare at him and see him smiling at me like the devil.
“Now I see where Kol gets it from,” I snark and Elijah releases a sound of annoyance.
“Please never compare me to my younger brother again,” Elijah says as he wraps a piece of my hair around his finger and twirls it. 
I finish up my makeup, stand back up, and face Elijah who smiles down at me. 
“Ok…first rule of us being just friends. You’ve got to stop looking at me like that.”
Elijah tilts his head, “Like what?”
I point at his face, “Like that! That handsome smirk you’ve always got on your face.”
“Handsome?”
I let out a frustrated noise, walk over to my sweater, and begin to put it on. 
“You’re impossible.”
Elijah comes up behind me and takes my sweater from my hand and helps me put it on.
“Thanks…”
Elijah smiles at me, “What else are friends for?”
I let out a laugh, “Whatever. But…a friend would also give me a ride to work?”
Elijah smiles at me, “I’d be delighted to.”
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