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cherry-leclerc · 7 months ago

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so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really.

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money.

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm.

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once.

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it.

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps.

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades.

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.”

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most.

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek.

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance.

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third.

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another.

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay.

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love.

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were.

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos.

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile.

“One day, then.”

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious.

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms.

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you.

It was perfect.

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you.

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse.

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall.

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band.

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare.

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one.

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart.

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused.

You’re broken hearted.

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain.

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel.

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!”

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you.

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours.

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too.

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay.

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly?

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does.

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine.

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one.

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me.

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten.

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things.

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?”

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken.

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses.

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck?

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London.

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday.

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you.

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever.

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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solxamber · 1 month ago

Note

WOAH CAN I REQUEST LILIA X AN NPC THAT HE GROWS ATTRACTED TO (romantic) AND THOUGHT SOME USE OF MAGIC THEY GET TO HIS WORLD?! AND THEY GET TOGETHER? PLEASE

Lilia Vanrouge x NPC! Reader

thank you for the request, I hope you like it <3

Lilia Vanrouge is an old fae who has seen many things in his long life. He has fought in wars, ruled lands, and babysat a dragon prince. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the strange obsession that takes over him the moment he picks up a copy of the hottest new game in Twisted Wonderland: "Kingdoms & Chaos: Celestial Knight's Quest."

It starts innocently enough. A little late-night entertainment to pass the time while Silver is napping (read: fainted from exhaustion), Malleus is out being mysterious, and Sebek is… well, Sebek-ing somewhere.

But then you appear.

As the Commander of the Celestial Knights—an NPC of all things—you steal Lilia’s heart without even trying. Not only are you charming and competent, but you also manage to dish out some fantastic one-liners as you lead the virtual army across the battlefield with a grace that’s almost unmatched.

"Ah, what a lovely evening," Lilia hums, as the glow of his screen reflects off his ever-youthful face. “So peaceful, so quiet… Oh look, an army of marauding orcs attacking the village!” he says gleefully, mashing buttons with expert skill.

Then you arrive on the screen. Your character, standing tall, sword drawn, voice commanding: “We shall protect this land at all costs!”

Lilia gasps softly. He’s heard you say this line a dozen times, but for some reason, tonight it hits different. You’re so determined… so strong… and that armor—why, it looks splendid on you!

“How intriguing” he muses to himself with a teasing grin. “If only you were real, darling Commander. I’d have such fun seeing how well you could lead in the real world… Imagine, conquering lands by my side…”

Suddenly, an idea forms in Lilia’s mischievous brain.

Never one to back down from a challenge (even if it’s entirely self-imposed and objectively absurd), Lilia decides to play around with some light magical experimentation. After all, what could possibly go wrong with trying to summon a fictional character into reality?

"Just a harmless spell," Lilia assures himself as he draws up a complicated sigil on the floor of his room. He’s chanting in ancient fae tongue, eyes gleaming with excitement.

For a brief moment, nothing happens.

Lilia huffs. “How disappointing… Perhaps I’ve—"

POOF!

Before him stands… you. Armor and all.

You blink in confusion. One moment, you were standing on the battleground, barking orders at your troops in a rather intense cutscene. The next moment, you find yourself standing in what appears to be someone’s bedroom, staring at a very smug-looking man with fangs.

“Where am I? What is this place?!” You exclaim, grabbing for your sword instinctively.

Lilia claps his hands together, delight shining in his eyes. “Welcome to my world, darling! Oh, I knew that spell would work eventually. You’re even more dazzling in person!”

You gape at him. “What… how did I—what kind of magic is this?!”

“Oh, just a little something I whipped up,” he says nonchalantly. “It’s all very simple, really. Though, now that you’re here, I suppose I should give you a tour of the place! Maybe a drink? A lovely stroll under the moonlight?”

You eye him suspiciously. “You… summoned me? But I’m just a—”

“NPC?” Lilia interrupts with a smirk. “Not anymore! You’re free to do as you wish here. Consider yourself the main character now, hm?”

You lower your sword slightly, starting to process what just happened. This man is utterly insane…

And yet, there’s something oddly intriguing about his carefree attitude. And he’s undeniably… attractive?

Adjusting to life outside of a game isn’t easy. For one thing, you have to deal with all these strange, non-player characters called “people,” who seem to have minds of their own. You no longer have the comfort of pre-determined dialogue options either, which is quite jarring.

The most bizarre thing, though, is that Lilia keeps flirting with you.

At first, you try to ignore it, chalking it up to the fact that he’s just messing with you. But it’s hard to ignore when he leans in close to you with a teasing smile every time you so much as yawn.

“Tired, Commander?” Lilia whispers in your ear one evening, his breath tickling your skin. “You should rest… After all, we wouldn’t want you collapsing in battle.”

Your cheeks flush red as you stammer out a response. “I-I’m not tired! And there’s no battle! This isn’t the game!”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you’ve become. “But of course! How silly of me. Though, you should know… you’ve already won this battle.”

“What battle?!”

“The battle for my heart,” Lilia says smoothly, winking at you.

Your face burns hotter, and you try to hide behind a pillow. “What kind of nonsense are you even talking about?!”

Lilia just grins and pats your head fondly. “You’ll understand soon enough, my dear Commander.”

Days turn into weeks, and while you initially found Lilia’s antics annoying, you start to realize that he genuinely cares for you. He’s always looking out for you, guiding you through this strange new world with a patience you never expected from someone so chaotic.

One night, while you’re sitting outside under the stars, you find yourself staring at him longer than usual. He’s so carefree and confident, yet there’s a softness to him when he talks to you.

And that’s when it hits you.

*Oh no… I’m falling for him.*

Lilia notices your staring and smirks. “What’s this? Are you finally seeing my charm, darling Commander?”

You groan and cover your face. “Why must you always be so insufferably smug?”

“I can’t help it if I’m irresistible,” Lilia teases, leaning in closer. “Tell me, do I make your heart race?”

You try to deny it, but you know it’s true. Your heart is racing, and it’s all because of him.

Finally, after a long pause, you sigh in defeat. “Alright, fine… maybe you do make my heart race a little.”

Lilia’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before a genuine smile crosses his lips. “Is that so? Well then, I suppose I should reward you for your honesty.”

Before you can respond, Lilia leans in and presses his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss. It’s nothing grand or dramatic—just simple and sincere.

When he pulls away, you’re left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well,” you mumble, still dazed. “I suppose this means I’ve won.”

Lilia chuckles softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Perhaps… But you’re not the only one who’s victorious tonight, darling.”

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #lilia x reader #lilia #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader

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wriothesleybear · 11 months ago

Text

Best friend's Bachelorette Party

~a/n: Inspired by on the most beautiful fanart I've seen on twitter by minoru_uwuarts. Here’s a Christmas present for my fellow Wrio lovers. Probably my last fic to end the year. Merry Christmas and happy holidays everyone! Enjoy!🥰❤️

~warnings: some plot, smut, male stripping, mentions of blowjob, cunnilingus, jerking off, fingering, squirting, consent, gentle face fucking, ends in some fluff, fem!reader, MDNI!

~summary: Being the maid of honor, you throw your best friend a bachelorette party and order a male stripper. He tells you to meet him in the guest bedroom after the party. You took him up on his offer and it was not disappointing...

~word count: 5.9k

Being the maid of honor was a very busy job. The jobs included helping prepare for the wedding, getting invitation cards ready and sent out in the mail, helping the bride choose her dream wedding dress, and many other jobs. One of them included the bachelorette party. Your best friend said anything you planned was fine for her party because she trusted your tastes. In the past, you remember she mentioned wanting to get a stripper. Being the maid of honor, you wanted to fulfill her one and only bachelorette party of her dreams, so you did as she asked.

You've never ordered a stripper before or even gone to a strip club. It was a bit of an embarrassing new experience but it was for your best friend! While searching online for the best professional strippers who had good reviews and made house calls, you came upon a website called Celestial Temptations. It was a very fancy and elegant website that had a list of many different types of professional male strippers. They showed a picture of each gentleman with a personal description below it. Scrolling through the many types of male strippers was a bit exciting and made it difficult to choose which one to hire because they all looked gorgeous and sexy. You kept in mind what your best friend's taste was in men while deciding. You came across one in particular that caught your eye. His name was ‘The Duke’. He was a buff, handsome man with black and gray hair with part of it looking like animal ear tufts. Scars littered his skin but they added to his beauty. He wore a professional business suit that was open to show his torso and chest, tie loose as he pulled on it in the picture. You rubbed your thighs together, already getting excited just from his picture alone.

His description read: The Duke. "A man of mystery who will do anything to please a woman. "

You were already taken in by the picture of this man but his description just pulled you in more. Clicking on his profile, you get more information about him like his age, height, likes and dislikes, turn-ons and turn-offs, etc. You click on the 'order services' button and put in your information and payment, all the while, your heart is pounding with excitement. You get a confirmation email, telling you that the order went through and The Duke was booked for your best friend's bachelorette party. This was going to be an interesting party..

The night of the bachelorette party finally came and you were excited for your best friend to have the best time of her life tonight. Deep down, you were also a little excited about the 'special entertainment'. While the soon-to-be bride and guests were busy opening gifts, the doorbell rang. You figured it was the long-awaited entertainment. "I'll get it!" You hurry to answer the door, making sure that everyone is preoccupied with the bride. You open the front door to see a tall, handsome man that looks exactly like the man from the picture that you ordered for. A charming smile graces his facial features. A smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

"y/n, right?" You lose your train of thought when you hear his deep voice but soon snap out of it.

"Um yes! That's me. The Duke, correct?" He gives you a flirty smile and replies yes. You blush. "Follow me. I'll show you where you can get ready." Opening the door wider, you let him in and close it behind him as he scans the front room of the house. He then turns to you, smiling, "Lead the way." You lead him to a spare bedroom down the hall. As he followed you, he kept checking you out from behind without you knowing.

You open the door to the guest bedroom, letting him enter first. "Here you go, you can prepare in here and we'll do the show in the living room where everyone currently is." He sets down a bag on the bed and already begins to take off his jacket. You're able to see his back muscles flex through his shirt. His deep voice breaks your daze. "No problem. I'll be ready in five." He says as he turns to you, giving you another one of his charming smiles. You quickly turn around and get ready to leave but then he stops you. "Oh, and make sure you get a front room seat. I do a little something special for those who catch my eye." He teasingly says. Instead of turning around and replying, you simply shut the door. Leaning your back against it, you try to calm your beating heart. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and also between your thighs. You're finally able to calm down and gather yourself, pushing those feelings down. He says that to a lot of women probably. It's not that special, you think to yourself.

You head back to the living room to see that everyone has finished watching the bride-to-be open her presents. You gather everyone's attention. "Alright, ladies! We have a special show for everyone, especially for the main lady of the night." Noises of excitement and curiosity fill the room. You turn the bride's chair around so she's facing towards the hallway where the entertainment should enter from. "I remember you asked for a very special entertainment for your bachelorette party. So, I did my duty as maid of honor to fulfill that wish." Your best friend gets all giddy, getting an idea of what this 'special entertainment' could be. “Would it have something to do with that metal pole you installed today?” She points to the stripping pole connected to the floor and ceiling nearby in the room. You smirk, acting oblivious. “I’m not sure. I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

You grab a blindfold from your pocket and wrap it around the bride's head, covering her eyes. You dim the lights and turn the stereo on to play some sexy music to get everyone in the mood. Everyone begins to chant and cheer for the 'special entertainment' to come out, the bride especially.

Wrio hears the music play and the women calling for him so he takes that as his cue. He opens the door and walks down the hall towards the living room where the audience is waiting. All the women cheer as soon as he enters the room. His charming, seductive smile added to the sexy aura that surrounded him. "This must be the lucky lady." He walks towards your best friend and kneels before her. You remove the blindfold covering her eyes and once her sight focuses, it lands on the handsome man in front of her. She blushes as he takes her hand in his, leaving a kiss on the back of it. "I'm The Duke. I hear you're getting married soon. I better do my best to make your last night as an unmarried woman the most memorable one ever." Squeals and cheers fill the room once again, letting the man know to start the show. You take a seat nearby, grab a specialty drink, and take a swig of it.

While checking out The Duke, you notice he changed his outfit from earlier. He's now wearing a black suit with a red tie around his neck. His pants fit snuggly to his legs, accentuating his nice ass. Pulling on his suit jacket, he takes it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. Oh god, how can this man make taking off a simple jacket so sexy? Next, he begins to loosen his tie and unbutton his dress shirt. Whistles fill the room when he completely removes his shirt, showing his buff body and muscles. Your eyes scan his bare upper body, admiring his chiseled abs, ripped arms, and the scars that litter his skin. He grabs the blindfold from the floor, wrapping it around his eyes and tying it.

He walks over to the bride, and grabs the bottom of her chair, moving her to be positioned right in front of the stripper pole. “Gotta have front-row seats to the show.” His hips sway to the beat of the music as he grabs onto the metal pole and swings on it. He’s able to effortlessly climb the pole to the top of it, with his back to you as you can admire his ass and back muscles that flex when he grabs the pole. Wrapping his legs securely around it, he leans back until he’s facing the audience upside down. His hands grip the pole between his legs, holding him as he slowly slides down the pole. Screams and cheers fill the room once again. A flirty smirk covers his face from hearing the ladies cheer for him. Calling out to the bride seated in front of him, he tells her to take his blindfold off. Wasting no time, she unties the blindfold, letting it drop to the floor. The sight of his blue eyes gazing intently at her while doing his signature smile would make any woman’s legs turn into jelly. He slowly slides himself down the pole, face right in front of her legs. He uses one hand to grab her leg, positioning it to the side of his head as his hand moves up her leg to her thigh, making the bride blush. He removes his hand before going any further, leaving her wanting more.

He turns his head to where you’re sitting, eyes landing on you. Winking at you, he beckons you over with a finger. You’re hesitant, not wanting to take the attention away from the bride-to-be, but she walks over to you, grabs you by the hand and pulls you over to her seat in front of him. Plopping you down, you make eye contact with The Duke, his gaze sending tingles down your body. He uses both of his hands to slide up your legs, slowly easing up to your thighs. Similar to what he did to the bride but with you, he doesn’t stop himself at a certain point. Hands move further up to the inside of your thighs, almost touching your core. Blushing and slightly embarrassed from knowing people are watching, you try to close your legs but he prevents you from doing it. He chuckles at your actions. Removing his hand, he grabs your hand, pulling it to his abs to feel it. The feel of his soft, chiseled abs does something to you. You get entranced by the feel of them, slowly rubbing your fingers up and down his stomach. He brings your hand to his mouth, leaving a sweet, short kiss on the palm. Suddenly, he pulls you by the hand so your face is near his, eyes widened with surprise. He whispers in your ear, Meet me in the guest bedroom after the show. Your thighs clench together as heat goes down to your core from his mysterious words. He releases his grip on your arm, allowing you to pull away. You’re in a daze from your small interaction with him, but a cheer of “mores” from the guests breaks you out of your trance. You gain your composure and get up from the seat, allowing the bride to sit back down to have her turn again. Walking back to your seat, you’re left wondering what he meant with his words. What would happen if you did meet him in the guest bedroom after the party? The curiosity eats at you, leaving you wanting more. He knows the effect he has on you. That was his plan after all.

Once the entertainment was done, the party was officially over and the guests began to leave. You close the door once the last guest leaves. Joining your best friend on the couch, you're exhausted. Your best friend tells you how much she enjoyed the party and thanks you for it while hugging you as her words are slurred. She's wasted. You laugh, laying her down and putting a blanket over her. Once she settles down, she brings something to your attention.

"I think the stripper has the hots for you."

"What?" You pause, surprised by what she said.

"Yeah, I could tell how he looks at you, especially during the special dance he gave you."

"Yeah, okay. I'm sure that's just him acting for his job."

"Nope, I can tell. I'm psychic and I know he has the hots for you. He's probably waiting in the guest bedroom for you right now. You should go in there and see." She says, her words slurring more as she begins to get sleepier. "If you don't go in there and fuck him, you're not my maid of honor anymore."

Rolling your eyes and laughing at her. "Whatever you say. You're drunk. Go to sleep." She begins to snore, signaling that she's passed out. You think about what she said in her drunk rant. You can't help the thoughts of what if she's right. Shaking your head, you ignore the thoughts and head to the guest bedroom where The Duke is waiting. You knock on the door and hear his deep voice saying Come in.

Opening the door, you see him sitting on the bed, legs spread. "I was wondering if you'd take me up on my invitation." He stands up and walks over to you. Your back leans against the door as he hovers over you. He cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing on your bottom lip, feeling the softness of your lips. He thinks about how nice they'd feel against his own. Not wanting to wait any longer, he presses his lips to yours. You feel the sparks as his lips finally touch yours. Hot, passionate kisses that take your breath, making it hard to breathe. His tongue invades your mouth, exploring and intertwining with yours. You feel like you’re suffocating, but it feels so good. His kisses are addicting. His hands move to the bottom of your shirt. "Raise your arms." Raising your arms, he pulls your shirt up over your head.

Once he discards it to the floor, he pulls you back into a kiss. Rough, calloused hands explore your upper half. Starting from your hips, up to your waist, and around to your back to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor. His large hands cup your breasts, groping and pinching your nipples. You moan into the kiss. With an arm around your waist, he slightly bends down, wrapping his lips around your bud and sucks, as his free hand fondles the other. The tip of his tongue plays with the tip of your bud, hardening it. The feeling of your bud hardening under his tongue makes him moan. Your head falls back as moans leave your lips due to the pleasure. You comb your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your chest. He switches to giving your other breast the same treatment with his tongue, playing with the previous one with his hand.

Once he's done giving your breasts attention, he moves back up and kisses you while his hands move down to your thighs. He enjoys the feel of your soft, squishy thighs. If only they could be wrapped around his head. "Jump". Jumping, he catches you by the back of your thighs as your legs wrap around his waist. Not breaking the kiss, he carries you over to the guest bed, pushing you down onto it. His lips travel down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys. Your legs tighten around his hips, holding him close as you grind against his crotch, looking for some friction. "Someone's eager for my cock." He chuckles and teases.

The smirk leaves his face as your hand cups his cock through his pants, his breath hitching when you rub it. He grabs both of your hands, holding them against the bed next to your head. "Patience. I'll fill your pussy with my cock soon but first, I need a little taste." He litters kisses down your chest to your stomach. Letting go of your hands, he moves to the button on your jeans, unbuttoning it and pulling your pants down your legs. Tossing it to the floor, he spreads your legs and notices a wet spot on your panties. "Already wet for me and I've barely done anything." Fingers move to rub against the wet spot, making you moan. He leans down to lay on his stomach, switching his fingers with his lips. He kisses your pussy through your underwear, the wet spot growing. He experiments with the tip of his tongue, rubbing it against you. You groan from the little friction but it's still not enough. "More please." You quietly beg.

He moves your underwear to the side, enjoying the sight of your bare pussy. "Beautiful." You get embarrassed as he just lays there, admiring your pussy. "Don't just stare." You blush as you try to close your legs but he blocks you from doing that. "Sorry, I can't help myself." He shows his apology by rubbing his fingers between your folds, finally touching your pussy to help relieve the stress from the long wait. You gasp out at the feel of his rough fingers on your most sensitive spot. Rubbing your clit, one finger prods at your entrance, slowly teasing it. You whimper, silently telling him more. He pushes his finger inside you, feeling your tightness. He begins to slowly pump his finger, testing the pace as he rubs your clit. Moans fill his ears as he quickens his pace. You're already close, feeling the warmth in your lower belly. When you're about ready to cum, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you disappointed. "I'd prefer it if you came on my tongue for your first orgasm."

Slipping your underwear off and discarding it with the rest of your clothes, he spreads your legs wide, giving him full access to your core. It's a bit embarrassing but that soon leaves your mind once his mouth latches on your pussy. You moan aloud at the new sensation. His mouth was much more pleasurable than his fingers. His tongue licks your clit, switching between flicking his tongue and sucking. Your head falls back as you intertwine your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. You already begin to feel that pleasurable warmth again in your lower belly when the pace of his tongue quickens. His tongue moves to circle your entrance, before sliding into you. He uses his thumb to rub your clit as his tongue explores your insides. The simultaneous pleasure finally pushes you over the edge as you cum on his tongue. Your sweet flavor decorates his taste buds. He groans from the delicious taste, the vibrations of his moans, and his continuous motions helping you to ride out your high.

You begin to feel overstimulated, wanting a break, but he wants more. "Gimmie more. I know you can." He replaces his tongue with two fingers, pumping them into you at a quick pace as his tongue flicks and laps at your clit. It feels so good but too much at the same time. You're not sure if you want to push his head away or pull him closer to your core. You begin to feel the warmth again, more intense this time. "Come on. Come for me. Come on my face, beautiful." He says against your pussy as he continues to pump his fingers and lick your clit at a fast pace. The warmth finally snaps in your belly. You squirt on his face, your sweet nectar filling his mouth as he tries to devour all of it, not wanting any drop to be wasted. Your beautiful moans fill his ears as he continues, his pace unrelenting. This causes you to quickly come again, tears filling your eyes at the immense pleasure. Something you've never felt before. You want more.

He begins to slow his ministrations, helping you calm down from your three climaxes. Rubbing your thighs and leaving a kiss on your pussy, it causes your thighs to twitch and a whine to leave your lips from the sensitivity. He moves back up to your face, melting his lips against yours, making you taste yourself as his tongue intertwines with yours. "Want to taste my cock now?" You eagerly nod your head, wanting to return the favor. "Good girl." He pecks your lips and gets up to stand at the edge of the bed. "On your knees." You shakily move yourself to your knees on the bed, face right in front of his covered cock. He stays silent, waiting for you to unbutton his pants.

Your hands move over to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping. Pulling his pants down, he steps out of them. He's still dressed in his underwear but you can see the large outline of his cock. You grope him through his underwear, admiring the length of it. "Look who's being the tease now." You look up, eyes meeting his. You notice the dark lust in his eyes, silently begging you to free his cock. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. His cock springs out as his underwear falls to his feet. You gape at the sight of his cock. Large and thick with a vein lining the bottom of it. "Like the view?" His voice breaks you out of your trance. You nod your head. "Good. Now wrap your hand around it." Wrapping your fingers around his thick length, you slowly move your hands into an up-and-down motion. You spit on his cock to make it easier to jerk him off. “Suck my cock.” You lick his tip, swirling your tongue around his head, and insert it into your mouth. Sucking on his tip, you slowly take him inch by inch. His thick girth is overwhelming but feels so exciting. He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail, moving your hair out of your face, giving him a better view of you sucking his cock. “Good girl. Try to take a bit more. Show me how good you are at sucking cock.” His lustful words turn you on more. You want to please him.

You slide him out of your mouth, a pop sound is heard when you remove your mouth from his tip. Moving his cock up, you place your tongue on the base of his cock, near his balls. Keeping eye contact with him, you lick a long stripe up on the underside of his cock, all the way to the tip, and slip him back into your warm mouth. You go at a medium pace while sucking his cock, continuing the deep eye contact, causing him to twitch in your mouth. “Fuck. You really do know how to suck cock, don’t ya?” You moan in reply, the vibrations around his cock making his breath hitch. “Can I fuck your mouth?” A muffled ‘mhm' is heard as you give him consent. Holding your head in place, he begins to gently thrust into your mouth. You relax your jaw and place your hands on his thighs as you let him use your mouth.

Looking up, the view above you is glorious. He’s looking down at you, watching you intently. When you lick one of his sensitive spots on his cock, he moans. Hearing his moans makes you happy, knowing that you’re able to make this hot man feel immense pleasure. Wanting to hear more of his moans, you use one of your hands to massage his balls as you suck his cock more. Curses leave his mouth as his head falls back with his eyes closed. You’re making him go crazy. He’s never felt this much pleasure before. But it’s not enough, he wants more of you.

He pulls you by your makeshift ponytail, pulling you off of his cock. "Get on your hands and knees for me." Listening to him, you turn around, getting on your knees and hands. He rubs the side of your thighs, up towards your ass, and gropes it. Grabbing his cock and giving it a few pumps, he rubs his cock head between your folds, teasing your clit. You slightly whine, wanting more, you shake your ass. He chuckles. “Patience beautiful. I’ll give you what you want in due time. You have to tell me what you want though.”

“Fuck me, please. Make me cum on your cock.” Embarrassment has long left you, mind too dazed from the lust and want for him to have his cock inside of you. It’s more than a want, it’s a need. “For you, anything.” He prods your entrance with his tip then finally slides his head in. Slowly sliding himself inside your pussy, you flinch a bit by his massive girth. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten laid and your previous boyfriends never had a size like The Duke’s.

Once you’ve relaxed and gotten used to his size, he slides his cock out to the tip and thrusts back into you. He continues this, turning into a steady pace. The view of his cock disappearing inside of you and the sight of your ass bouncing against his pelvis causes his control to falter. Sounds of your moans, the pap pap sound of your ass hitting his pelvis, his grunts, it’s becoming too much for you. His hand wanders over the expanse of your back, slightly pushing down on it, signaling you to arch your back so his cock can reach deeper into you. He’s hitting your soft spot, the shocks of pleasure shooting up your body, making your arms jelly and causing you to fall face-first into the pillow. Your moans are muffled into the pillow when he quickens his pace. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your upper body up against his chest. “I want to hear you. I want to hear the sounds you make when you finally cum on my cock.” He says into your ear. His hand slides down your stomach to your clit, rubbing it while thrusting into you. His head moves down to your neck, sucking and licking another hickey onto your skin.

One of your hands holds onto the arm that’s stimulating your clit while the other goes to his head, fingers interlocking with his hair, pushing his head into your neck. Your nails dig into his arm, but he doesn’t care. It excites him. His free hand grips your jaw, turning your head to face his own, pulling you into a breathtaking kiss. The softness of his kiss compared to his hard, deep thrusts makes your head dizzy and pussy tighten around him. You break the kiss, crying out as you cum on his cock, juices leaking down your thighs. Your legs shake from the exhaustion of being on your knees so much. He’s unrelenting. The pace of his actions does not falter one bit. You already want to cum again, and you don’t mind. You don’t want him to stop, lust taking over your mind, making it hard to think straight.

He’s getting close as well. The tightening of your pussy around his cock with the melody of your moans filling his ears edge him closer and closer. Until he suddenly pulls out. You’re confused and disappointed as you’re denied your next orgasm. You turn your head to look back at him, whining for more. You’re about to ask him why he stopped, but the question is unable to leave your mouth as his hands grab you, flipping you over on your back. He crawls over you, pressing his chest into yours as his weight pushes you into the bed, making you unable to escape his intense gaze. Hands grab your wrists, pinning them to the bed on each side of your head. Sliding himself into you, he doesn’t hesitate and continues his quick pace. He looks into your eyes, intent on watching your facial expressions as you fall over the edge once again. “I want to see your expression when I fill you up.” He whispers against your lips before connecting his own with yours. Your moans are muffled in a passionate kiss as his thrusts get deeper and slower. Every time he thrusts in and out of you, his groin rubs against your clit, adding to the pleasure. He breaks the kiss, giving you the ability to speak. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum again. Don’t stop. Please.” He smirks as he pushes his hips down against yours, moving his hips in a circular motion, sending more pleasure to your soft spots.

You cry out as you release your nectar on his pelvis and cock. You twitch and shake under him as he continues his thrusting, whining from the overstimulation. You feel him twitch inside you the closer he gets to his orgasm. Wrapping your legs around him, you urge him to cum. He loses his self-control and grabs your thighs, pushing them to your chest, and pumps into you quickly. Tears fill your eyes from the sensitivity, conflicted about whether to tell him to slow down or speed up more. He grunts and moans above you. His beautiful, addicting moans. He moves his hand to your clit, rubbing it in circles. When you once again cum on his cock for the nth time, that finally sends him over.

He quickly pulls his cock out of you and moves to hover himself over your belly, straddling you as he vigorously pumps his cock. His head falls back, sensual moans fill the room as his seed spills over your breasts, covering them in his sticky, warm liquid. Once he finishes emptying himself on you, he topples over on the bed, lying next to you as you both try to catch your breaths.

“I thought you were going to cum inside.” You sheepishly say, trying to hide your disappointment. He turns his head to look at you and he notices the slight disappointment on your face, making him chuckle. “I don’t do that on the first meet. But if you really want me to, go on a date with me.” He turns onto his side and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You gonna pay for me this time?” You tease, smirking. “Of course. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a pretty lady like you pay.” You chuckle in reply, but a thought nags you in the back of your mind. “Do you say this to all of your clients?”

“Nope. I usually don’t sleep with clients. It’s a rule in my business contract.”

“Oh no, are you going to get in trouble then?” You ask, slight worry in your voice. He only chuckles, leaving you confused. Cupping your cheek, he kisses your lips. The kiss only lasts a few seconds but it portrays his feelings. “I don’t mind breaking the rules if it’s for you. There’s something about you that makes me addicted to you. Plus, the sex was mind-blowing, don’t you think?” You gently slap his chest. “Such a sweet talker.” Drowsiness and exhaustion start to consume you, making your eyes heavy and yawn. He tightens his hold on you, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Once settling down, he notices his own exhaustion due to a very busy night. Both of you soon fall asleep, satisfied.

Sun rays peak through the crack in the curtains, shining on your face, causing you to stir and slowly open your eyes. Groaning, you rub your eyes to ease the sting of the sudden blinding sunlight. You move to turn away from the sunlight, but you notice that something is blocking you from doing so. You feel a solid build against your back and a strong, heavy arm wrapped around your hip. It takes you a second to gather your surroundings, the memories of last night a slight blur. You remember some moments from the bachelorette party. Playing games, opening gifts, serving drinks, then the entertainment part of the party. You slowly begin to remember what happened after the party ended. Accepting the invitation from The Duke and meeting him in the guest bedroom, then having your face shoved in the covers as he pounds into you from behind. You blush once you finally remember everything.

You slowly turn your head to look behind you and your questions are answered when you see The Duke is the one lying behind you. You carefully try to remove yourself from under his arm, trying to avoid waking him up. Suddenly, he wraps both of his arms around your waist, hold tightening as he pulls you close to his chest. "Where do you think you're going?" He whispers in his deep morning voice, nuzzling into your neck. “Um-m I need to get ready for my friend’s wedding.”

“There’s no rush. It wouldn’t hurt to get a little bit more rest. Or we could get a little session in before you have to leave.” Littering kisses down your neck, his hand gropes your body, making you excited. “As tempting as that sounds, don’t forget, I’m the maid of honor so I have a lot to do on the day of the wedding.” You move to sit up in the bed, pulling away from him to stop yourself from falling into the trap of being ravaged by the handsome man again.

He grabs your wrist when you try to get up, moving your hand to his lips to leave a kiss on it. “When can I see you again?”

“Well, since you do owe me a date, how about you come to the wedding with me as my date?”

“How could I deny a request from a beautiful lady.” He teases, inching his face close to yours. When he goes to kiss you, you stop him by putting a finger over his lips. “Best we get ready then.”

“Not even a small kiss, especially after how close we are already.” Smiling, you move your face close to his, lips slightly grazing each other. Just as he thinks you’re about to kiss him, you pull back. “Later. After you get ready.” Disappointment is shown on his face this time, making you giggle. Getting up, you start heading towards the guest bedroom bathroom. You turn back to look at him. “Come on, let’s shower.” He throws the blanket off of his bare body, getting up to follow you. You can already see his cock is hard again, causing heat to shoot down to your core. While lost in your thoughts, he picks you up, getting you out of your daze. “Come on. Didn’t you say you have a wedding to get ready for, maid of honor? You can admire my cock in the shower while getting ready.” He says, his signature flirty smile graces his face. Geez, he was going to be the death of you.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut

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pascaloverx · 4 months ago

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NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

AO3 LINK ONE

PREVIEW

It's been two months since a handsome stranger started showing up at your bakery to buy an espresso and two loaves of bread. Nothing more, nothing less. You've never told anyone, but since his first order, you've been practicing new types of bread dough for him to try. He always comes in sweaty, and you believe it's from a run, but he's always so kind and always leaves a good tip. Unfortunately, every time you try to start a conversation with him, he disappears.

"Hello, is anyone there?" You hear a male voice coming from the entrance of the bakery. It must be the handsome stranger whose name remains a mystery. In his cup of coffee, at least, he asks for the name Barnes to be written on his order.

"Just a second…" You speak loudly so the person at the bakery entrance can hear. Unfortunately, you just put the bread in the oven, which means you're probably covered in flour. Not to mention, the Barnes guy has never shown up this early.

"Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to know if you have your famous bread and coffee. I can't start my day without stopping by here." Finally, you make it to the entrance of the bakery. It's him, Barnes with captivating blue eyes and a charming smile.

"It's no bother at all, but unfortunately, I just put the bread in the oven. But I can prepare the coffee right now. I also made a cake. If you'd like, I can offer you a slice. And if you're willing, you can come back at the end of the day; I'll be trying a new fennel bread recipe that you might enjoy." You say, smiling gently at Barnes, who looks at the watch on his wrist. He's dressed formally today, which makes him look even more handsome.

"I will accept your offer to come at the end of the day. If you want to separate the piece of cake; I will gladly take it with me." He appears to be in a hurry as he heads towards the exit. You watch him, shaking your head positively.

"I'll separate them for you." You say as you watch him walk away. For the rest of the day, no matter if you were baking cookies or making a cupcake, you thought that at the end of your day; you would see Barnes.

You're distracted tidying up your counter, saving some leftovers to take home, maybe offer to your neighbors. In reality, you could already be at home but decided to do some extra cleaning at the bakery before leaving. Not because you want to cleaning everything for the thousandth time but because you want to give what you set aside to Barnes. The movement in the bakery was good, its oldest customers continue to return and bring more customers. While you're distracted, something makes a huge noise at the entrance.

"What the hell is going on here?" You shout towards the door. Next thing you know, Barnes is hurt. His clothes are torn, it looks like he was attacked. And he's standing inside your bakery, bleeding on the floor.

"You told me to come at the end of your shift. I'm sorry I'm late, I was finishing up some unfinished business." Barnes says as he tries to stay upright. You approach him, helping him sit down.

"I know we don't know each other very well, but you look terrible." You say, touching his forehead lightly, which seems to be quite bruised.

"I'm bleeding on the floor of your bakery, you can call me horrible all you want." He says smiling but then groaning in pain.

"Shouldn't we call the police or something? Maybe at least go to the hospital…" you try to suggest without success. Barnes shakes his head negatively while groaning a few curses. You worry about what kind of trouble he must be in to not want to do any of that, but suddenly it occurs to you that you have a first aid kit in the bakery's pantry.

"I know I'm asking too much, but at the moment I can't answer any questions or accept any suggestions. I only came here because I feel you like me enough to help me." Barnes speaks with some difficulty as you help him with his injuries. You're still processing the fact that he thinks you like him. While you're applying some bandages, you end up having to tear his shirt to clean the blood.

"Just tell me one thing, are we safe now?" You ask nervously as you put some bandages on Barnes. He looks at you, then holds your hand. You didn't even notice but your hand is shaking.

"As long as you're with me, you'll be safe." Barnes speaks in a seductive way but you try not to think of him that way. Even while he's injured, shirtless on the floor of your bakery. However, before you can answer anything, you hear a gunshot and suddenly, a bullet passes through the entrance to your bakery.

"I know the timing is terrible but are you sure?" You ask as you see the pained expression on Barnes' face turn into one of anger.

"Stay here, I'll sort this out and be right back." Barnes says holding your face lightly, which is the closest thing to intimacy you've had in a while but you could only think that he was intruding towards death. You watch him grab one of his best knives and head towards the front door. You are crouched down in an area a little further away from the entrance to your bakery. You hear grunts, some swearing. The guy who shot threatening Barnes, and Barnes not backing down. You hear the sound of another gunshot and then what sounds like someone using the knife. You grab the fire extinguisher on your wall and prepare to hit whoever walks through the door.And as soon as you make a move to hit the person, you feel the person holding you back.

"That would have been more useful with the bandit in front of your bakery. But it's good to know that you know how to defend yourself." Barnes says smiling pretentiously. After you dropped the fire extinguisher on the floor, Barnes fell into your arms. And all you can think is that you couldn't imagine ending your night with him in your arms like this.

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the-desilittle-bird · 1 year ago

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AN- Another preference guys!!! Also, I have an angsty Daemon oneshot based on Tere Liye song in my drafts...

Requests are always open and well appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

HOTD Preference

Being in an Arranged Marriage

Characters- Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon, Cregan Stark & Criston Cole

Warnings- Westrosi Shenanigans

Daemon 'Rogue Prince' Targaryen

You are an honorable lady of one of the Great Houses of Westeros. And after Lady Rhea Royce dies mysteriously, your father plotted to marry you into a marriage with the Rogue Prince.

You had met him a few times earlier, and you were less than impressed with his... antics.

You swore you would have ran if you weren't devoted to your father and his life's work in order to make a beautiful legacy for your family (sounds Lannister-ish).

You had controlled the urge to laugh during the entirety of the feast hosted to honour your betrothal with the prince.

Daemon's face resembled that of a pouty kid who was denied something he needed. While on the other hand, Viserys was gleaming with happiness as he congratulated the "beautiful pair".

The wedding was lavish, much to both your and your husband's dismay. And while you covered your dismay with grace; his remained bad.

He was partially dragged to the sept by his brother.

Marriage with him can go two ways.

Either you become another bronze bitch for him.

Or you impress him with your charms and he ends up being completely enamored by you.

If you try to reject his advances; he will never quit making them.

And when you accept his devotion, he will be the happiest man in Westeros.

Aemond 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

He marries you on his mother's demand.

Very formal and stoic. Will reward you with only a hand on your back in extreme situations.

Aegon teasing him about the upcoming bedding after your wedding.

Also offering you an opportunity to approach him if Aemond doesn't suffices you.

"My lady, you know where to find me if my brother can't suffice your womanly desires in bed."

You in reply, had smiled sarcastically and said, "it won't be required."

The boy's ego was wounded.

While Aemond was downright impressed by your courage.

It starts slow with him.

And takes a loooooong while before he shows you his left eye; bared of the eyepatch he wears.

You had a hard start; worse than that of possible.

But he starts seeing you as family after Helaena softens up with you and you spend time with his niece and nephew. Alicent also likes you.

He would never compliment you directly or profess his love in words. But his actions speak louder than anything else.

Otto 'Hand of the King' Hightower

You are his second wife. And not really a recipient of his love and care.

Purely political marriage with both your and his house benefiting in some way; all while you were being prepared to be a man's second wife.

You learnt quickly how you shall always been seen as a shadow of his wife. And you were actually happy with it.

Both of you shall perform your duties to one another, but that would be it.

No speaking until necessary.

His children not liking you at first; but once you start to open up with them, they come to tolerate your presence.

The first real conversation you two have is after you find Alicent crying in her room, reminiscing the happy family they used to be before her mother perished.

You had barged into his office, demanding to know when was the last time he spoke to his daughter.

And you fought for hours. Until you broke down into tears as your patience ran thin.

"YOU DO NOT CARE OF ANYONE AROUND YOU, BUT YOURSELF! Not Alicent, not your sons, not the king... not me."

He saw you in new light that day. Someone who was ready to fight for his family.

And he starts engaging you in conversations at feast.

And honestly, you like it. Being noticed by your husband who only saw you as a trophy before.

Corlys ‘Sea Snake’ Velaryon

Your father was the most important merchant in Essos; and you were his precious little daughter.

You met Corlys for the first time after his negotiations with your father.

When your father tells you that you shall be married to the Sea Snake to assure the new alliance’s birth and growth.

You were extremely angry. And hurt.

Your marriage to him was anything but modest; and took place in Driftmark.

You could feel the unease radiating off the lords and the King as they congratulated you and your new husband.

Unfortunate for you, your father skipped the part of him being a widower and having kids close to your age.

And you were furious. Very. Very. Furious.

You kicked and screamed; creating a scene behind the closed doors while your new family and your family was present.

Tensed with anger and disappointment burning deep in your chest, you find yourself roaming the beach as the sun raced towards the horizon.

You hadn't expected the man, your new husband, to come for you. But he did.

And you talked, deciding a few terms for easy marriage life.

Cregan 'Wolf of the North' Stark

You were from the West; betrothed to him after his first wife passes during childbirth, leaving him with a son, alone.

And so, your father decides that you should become his second wife and mother to his barely a year old son.

Your betrothal is officiated on letters. No formal meeting. No courting.

You were sent to the North before a fortnight from your wedding.

You arrived to be greeted by Sara Snow, since you cannot see Cregan before your wedding, as per traditions.

You have a wedding in the customs of North.

And then a smaller wedding with only close people around in the small Sept in Winterfell, where you are wedded in your traditions.

The feast following was loud and warm with wine flowing the cups and fire blazing in the backdrop.

When you were asked to share your first dance as a couple, your very first dance anyway; you hesitated as you accompanied him.

But everything went very very smoothly.

And then was the time of bedding ceremony. And Gods! Were you overjoyed when Cregan defended your honor and downright canceled the ceremony.

"Anyone who shall dare touch my bride shall spend his life without any further children. I and my wife are perfectly able to find our way to our chambers."

That night, there was no bedding. But you spent the time conversing while Rickon Stark slept against your bosom, peacefully.

Criston 'Kingmaker' Cole

Since he is the part of King's Guard, he can't marry anyone. But after he takes on the position of Hand of the King to King Aegon II and Prince Regent Aemond, that's a different story.

He arrives at your father's holdstead with a handwritten letter from the Queen Dowager Alicent, asking for your father's allegiance to the Greens.

But your father was no fool.

You were his eldest; first of the four sisters.

And so, he asks for a betrothal in exchange.

But with Aegon already married and Aemond betrothed to marry and Daeron too young for you, he asks Criston to marry you.

And with his undying loyalty to Alicent and Greens, he does.

The ceremony is small and not flashing, with only Aemond and your family present.

There was no feast. Just a close dinner between family.

You were scared... terrified actually.

But the Hand of the King reassured you that he will do nothing you don't wish for, and instead of consummating the marriage, he falls asleep; on the floor.

And you realize that maybe, he isn't as bad as you have heard of him.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon preferences #hotd preferences #daemon targaryen headcanon #aemond targaryen headcanons #otto hightower x reader #corlys velaryon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #criston cole x reader #house targaryen #hotd headcanon

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laneywrld · 5 months ago

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futile devices | Lewis Hamilton

request: you have a real talent for angst hehe. can i request one with lewis where he broke up with reader bcs he said he needed a break. but then not long after he was out with other women. the breakup broke reader she turned into a whole diff person. and she was like "i dont think any of that was real" when she talked abt her past with lewis? please tear my heart apart into pieces, im begging you

word count: 2.4k

warnings: ANGSTTT, dissociation, therapy, religious talks.

listen while you read for the full experience:

apple music, spotify

You read something once, it goes, did god create humans because he was lonely or humans God because they were lonely?

Now, you were never strongly religious, enough to go to church three times a week or remember to pray before each meal or bedtime, a part of you wants to believe that there is a God. A flicker of you does feel like, hey, there has to be someone out there pushing my hand like this, there has to be a reason for this.

And that's human nature, needing a reason.

When you don't have a reasonable explanation for things, your mind searches for that reasoning. History shows, that when man knows nothing man creates, look at mythology for an example.

In ancient cultures, the world was filled with mysteries—natural events, life and death, the changing seasons—that seemed inexplicable without invoking a higher power or supernatural beings.

So, what did humans do?

They have created gods and mythical figures to explain phenomena they didn't understand.

In a way it's a beautiful thing, what that has done is infuse our real world with a sense of order and meaning in a world that could often seem chaotic and purposeless.

That is what life is without reasoning, a big fucking question.

Humanity sought not only to explain the world around them but also to find their place within it, weaving their existence into the larger tapestry of the cosmos.

We have an enduring need to seek meaning in the face of the unfathomable, to transform the mysterious into the comprehensible, and to infuse our world with a sense of purpose and coherence.

The point is this, maybe you were blind to it all, maybe your brain forced you to believe it. Forced you to see things as they weren't.

Lewis Hamilton never loved you, he never even cared. You can see that now.

The point is this: maybe you were blind to it all, maybe your brain forced you to believe it, to see things as they weren't. For the longest time, you believed Lewis Hamilton loved you. His charming smile, the way he looked at you, the tender moments you shared—they all seemed so real, so genuine.

But in the end, it was all a façade.

It started to unravel one evening when Lewis sat you down, a serious look on his face. "I need a break," he said, his voice devoid of the warmth you were used to. "I need to find myself."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to understand, to support him in his quest for self-discovery. But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the truth began to surface. The only thing Lewis found was himself under different women.

The news and rumors reached you like whispers in the wind, each one a dagger to your heart.

It boggled you, it really did. How could someone who seemed so loving, so dedicated, turn out to be so deceitful? You replayed your memories, searching for signs, for clues you might have missed. Maybe you were blind to it all, or maybe you wanted so desperately to believe in his love that you ignored the red flags.

There were moments that stood out now, in harsh clarity. The late nights he claimed were for training, the mysterious phone calls he brushed off, the growing distance in his eyes. You had chalked it up to stress, to the demands of his career. But now, it all made sense. It was never about finding himself; it was about finding excuses.

The realization hurt more than you could have imagined. You felt betrayed, not just by Lewis, but by your own heart for leading you astray. The love you thought was real had been a carefully constructed illusion, and you were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered trust.

Did god create humans because he was lonely or humans God because they were lonely?

You were lonely, and you filled that void with Lewis, even if it wasn't real, you allowed him to fill every crevice of your life with a warmth and excitement you had previously been lacking.

It became clear that it's a bad religion to love someone who could never love you back. Loving Lewis had been like worshiping a false god, investing your heart and soul into something that could never reciprocate your devotion.

You didn't know who you were without Lewis.

And that was the problem, yeah you realize now that true love, the kind that is worth believing in, is mutual and nurturing, not one-sided and destructive.

But he's fucking ruined you to the point of no return.

You always thought that those people who let their lives be flipped upside down over a breakup were dramatic. You used to believe that heartbreak was something you could just push through, that it was a part of life everyone had to endure and move past. Yet now, you understood fully. It's crazy how losing someone—or rather, being left by someone you thought loved you—could indeed flip your own life upside down and launch you back further than you knew you could go.

There was no point of return. The realization that Lewis never truly loved you was a blow that shattered your world. The man who once filled your days with laughter and your nights with tender whispers had left you with a void so profound it felt like you were lost in an endless abyss.

Lewis made you lack a belief in everything.

The trust you once held sacred, the love you thought was mutual, the future you had envisioned together—everything now seemed like a cruel illusion. His departure didn't just break your heart; it broke your spirit. You found yourself doubting your worth, your judgment, your ability to ever truly know someone.

You didn't know what was real or fake.

Nights were the hardest. Alone in the quiet of your room, memories would flood your mind—the way he used to hold you, the promises he made, the plans you both had. The betrayal felt like an echoing void, reminding you of the deception hidden behind charming smiles. You felt untethered, adrift in a sea of emotions with no solid ground in sight.

You began to see the world through a lens of skepticism. Where once you saw possibilities and hope, now you saw uncertainty and doubt. Lewis’ betrayal had sown seeds of mistrust in your heart, making it difficult to believe in anything or anyone. The optimism that once colored your outlook on life had been replaced by a grim resignation.

You didn't even know if you believed in God anymore, or purpose, or happiness. Lewis had taken every ounce of reasoning from you. Your brain couldn't decipher what was real or fake.

Was it real or was it fake?

Did Lewis love you or was this a sick game?

Did he love you or were you just lonely?

You didn't know what was real or fake, and it made you feel so fucking crazy.

The questions haunted you, relentlessly looping through your mind.

You replayed your relationship over and over, scrutinizing every moment, every gesture. What was real? What was fake? The uncertainty gnawed at your sanity, eroding the foundation of your life.

The world around you seemed distorted as if reality itself had become an unreliable narrator in the story of your life.

Your faith, which had once been a source of comfort and strength, now felt fragile and distant. You questioned everything you had once held dear, everything that had given your life meaning. Was there a higher power? A divine purpose? The betrayal had not only broken your heart but also shaken the very core of your beliefs.

Purpose felt like a cruel joke. The plans you had made, the dreams you had shared with Lewis, all seemed meaningless now. Happiness, once a tangible goal, now felt like an elusive mirage, always just out of reach. The void left by Lewis's departure was filled with a consuming darkness that threatened to swallow you whole.

You tried to find solace in the familiar, in the routine, but nothing felt the same. Your friends and family offered words of comfort, but their reassurances felt hollow, unable to penetrate the depths of your despair. You were trapped in a maze of confusion and pain, each turn leading you further into the unknown.

There were moments when you questioned your sanity. The line between reality and illusion had become so blurred that you wondered if you were losing your mind. You felt disconnected from yourself, from the person you used to be as if you were living in a surreal nightmare from which there was no escape.

You felt mindless, maybe he had taken your mind with him.

It felt as if your head could collapse at any given moment.

Your family wanted you to try therapy; you weren't yourself. Maybe, aside from taking your mind, Lewis also took the person you were with him. Therapy was hard, and though you've had session after session, you feel the same. Where was the progress everyone promised? Your therapist's voice drones on and on, and you feel like you're watching her from the hollowness like you've taken a backseat to your own life. Every single day felt like you were watching your life from another person's gaze, or like you were sitting inside your brain watching from your eyes, except it wasn't you.

Your therapist is still talking. Nothing she says helps; you want her to shut up as she spews the importance of finding yourself again. You want to scream at her as she preaches about purpose, but when you zero in, you're still quiet, eyes dead and hands folded. You're screaming inside your head, but she keeps talking.

You don't mean to cut her off, or maybe you do, but when the words tumble from your lips, she cocks her head in a way that tells you she's going to have fun studying this session later in the day.

"I feel like I'm not even here," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I'm watching my life happen to someone else."

Your therapist pauses, her pen hovering over her notepad. "That's a significant observation," she says slowly, as if measuring each word. "It sounds like you're experiencing dissociation, a common response to trauma."

You want to roll your eyes at her clinical response, but you can't muster the energy.

"Why does it matter?" you ask, your tone flat. "Knowing what's wrong doesn't make it better. I'm still...gone."

She leans forward slightly, her eyes searching yours for a flicker of connection. "It's the first step," she says. "Understanding what you're experiencing can help us find a way to bring you back. It's not a quick process, but it's a start."

You feel a surge of frustration. "Everyone keeps saying that. 'It's a process,' 'It's a journey,' 'It takes time.' But what if I never get back to who I was? What if I'm stuck like this forever?"

Your therapist doesn't flinch. "It's a valid fear," she acknowledges. "But healing isn't about returning to who you were. It's about integrating your experiences and finding a new sense of self. It’s about moving forward, not backward."

Her words echo in your mind, but they don't penetrate the numbness you feel. "I don't even know who I am anymore," you admit, the confession feeling like a weight lifted and a burden simultaneously.

"That's why we're here," she says gently. "To help you rediscover yourself. To help you heal. It's okay to feel lost right now. What's important is that you're here, trying to find your way."

You sit in silence, her words hanging in the air. Despite your resistance, a small part of you wants to believe her, to hope that maybe, just maybe, you can find your way out of this darkness.

But for now, you're still watching from the hollow place, detached and distant. Therapy might be a lifeline, but it feels like you're grasping at straws. You hope that someday, the promises of progress will become more than empty words, that you’ll find a way to step back into your own life, whole and strong.

But for now, that hope feels unrealistic. All you want is to know what was real. Were you that lonely? You had never felt lonely before him, never felt like a piece of you was missing. Before Lewis, you felt content with life, fulfilled.

The question haunted you. How had you become so dependent on his presence, his validation? You had always prided yourself on your independence, your ability to find joy and meaning in your own life. Friends, family, your work—these had always been enough. So why, after Lewis, did everything feel so empty?

Your mind raced back to the beginning, to the thrill and excitement of new love. You remembered how he made you feel special like you were the center of his universe.

It was intoxicating, a heady rush that blurred the lines between reality and fantasy. You realized now that you had mistaken the intensity of those feelings for something deeper, something real.

In the quiet of your therapy sessions, you wrestled with these thoughts. Your therapist's words often felt like background noise, drowned out by the clamor of your own doubts and insecurities. Yet, there was a part of you that recognized the need to confront these feelings, to understand why you had allowed yourself to become so entwined with someone who ultimately proved unworthy of your adoration.

Were you lonely? Or was it that Lewis had awakened a vulnerability you didn't know existed?

His departure left a gaping wound, exposing the raw edges of your heart. The loneliness you felt now wasn't just the absence of his presence, but the loss of the illusion of love he had created. It was the shattering of a carefully constructed facade that had made you feel whole, if only for a fleeting moment.

As you sat in your therapist's office, the background noise of her voice suddenly halted. For the first time, you murmured a sentence that showed progress, even if it was wrapped in sadness.

"I don't think any of it was real."

the way I just wrote this in 38 minutes, in my dark ass room with the linked song on replay while it's raining. what a great day. I'm really convinced that I can only write angst!

to the anon who called me sad and smutty ilyyyyy 🫶🏽😭 I'm making it my bio

also, I don't have access to the form for the taglist right now, so if you would like to be added or if you already submitted your user, pls just send me an ask with your user pls <3

#lewis hamilton #formula 1 #black reader #lewis hamilton imagine #black reader friendly #lewis hamilton x black reader #sir lewis hamilton #poc reader #laneywrld #f1 #angst #lewis hamilton angst

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aclockmaker · 2 years ago

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Part 2 now here

Okay to expand on this I just think: Steve who’s been in a couple of tv shows and is having a moment, famous offscreen for his hair and his charm and onscreen for his ability to find chemistry with anyone (and also, again, his hair).

And Eddie who is a complete unknown; he’s been in some stage productions and had the tiniest bit parts on TV but nobody’s ever, like, recognized him on the street.

Eddie auditions for a new HBO show. When his agent tells him that Steve Harrington is already attached Eddie is like cool, I’ll never get this part but the audition will be good practice so why not. They’re never gonna cast him. He’s sure he’s playing it too weird, and he hasn’t cut his hair (but he will when a part needs him to) but then he gets a callback. Twice.

And then he’s getting called in to do a chemistry test with some of the other actors. The show is like a modern Freaks and Geeks but with a slow burn murder mystery, and Eddie’s actually dead in the main timeline but about half the show is told in flashbacks so it’s a big part. When he meets Steve he doesn’t know what he’s expecting from the paparazzi darling but the guy is super genuine, makes Eddie feel way more comfortable than he has so far. They do their read together and Eddie is just thinking to himself like… damn, this guy really is good, because that felt crazy. He’s acted opposite some insanely talented people but it’s never been that easy. That must just be what it’s like working with Steve.

And now it’s dangerous because he really wants the part. He wants to stop bartending to make rent. He wants to be on this show, because the pages he’s seen are good, and he thinks he could really bring something to it. And because he wants to work with Steve. And even the rest of the cast, too, but—

The day Eddie gets the part he gets a text from a number he doesn't know. Hey man, really looking forward to working with you. And then, a few minutes later, It's Steve btw. He's smiling down at his phone so much that his agent, whose office he's in, is like "What, did you just score another life-changing opportunity I don't know about?" And Eddie is like "Nope, just the one, uh—it's just my uncle saying congrats. Anyway—"

They don't make him cut his hair. They don't tell him to stop playing it so weird. Everything goes so well that it feels fucking hard to believe, in fact, like he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop. There's one group of them playing seniors in high school, the main foursome of which is Eddie, Steve, and their two girl costars, Nancy and Robin. And then there's a younger group playing freshmen whose story intersects with theirs.

His and Steve's characters are set up as opposites, almost rivals, and at least at first, you're presumably supposed to wonder if it's Steve's rich, popular guy who's killed Eddie's character. Nobody in the cast knows the truth yet; the scripts get revealed to them as they're shooting them and they've been told the murderer won't even be revealed in the first season (so here's hoping they get renewed, because Eddie would really like to know who killed him—and he'd also like to keep making HBO money).

Their scenes are some of Eddie's favorites to film (although he also has a soft spot for the kids—especially Dustin who plays a hilarious and awesome nerd who does D&D with Eddie's DM). Eddie hopes his and Steve's stuff is working on whatever level they ultimately need it to work on—sometimes they do get notes that tell them to pull back or dig into something, to emphasize something else, so he has to trust that they're doing the right things.

They often film out of order so when they eventually film the scene where Eddie and Steve's characters have their first run-in at school, it's far from the first time they've shot together. They get all up in each other's faces in the scene, and they've run the lines, done a table read, but acting it out at full intensity is. A lot. Steve's character is mad because he thinks Eddie's character is trying to steal his girlfriend (really she was just buying drugs from him). The way Steve plays it is all simmering intensity, the threat of violence just under the surface, and this is where Eddie doesn't know if he's reading something into it that isn't there. Because for him, there's also another kind of tension between them. And he doesn't know if it's his real life bleeding into the character; if it's just how Steve can't help being with everyone; or if it's a legitimate part of the scripts that they're supposed to be picking up on and exploring. He doesn't even know if anybody else sees what he does. But they do their takes; nobody tells him he's doing something wrong. And after the director calls cut the first time, Steve winks at him. Just to cut the tension, Eddie thinks, maybe to make him smile, which it does. It's fun watching Steve work, watching him slip into and out of character. He's really easy to work with.

Sometimes they get together to run lines or talk motivation or whatever. “It's crazy, you know," Eddie tells Steve in his trailer one night. Steve's is bigger so all of them usually hang out here. They've been making each other laugh, shooting the shit about increasingly funny backstories for their characters, and Eddie feels high with it. "I mean, you know this is my first real show. It's like—" he gestures between them, trying to encompass everything that happens on-camera and all the fun of working on that off-camera. "I didn't know it would be like this."

"Oh—yeah, man," Steve says and laughs a little self-deprecatingly, running a hand through his hair. "But, I mean, for me, I've done a couple and, with our stuff—it’s never been like this with anyone else, either.”

It's going to be so hard, Eddie thinks, looking back at him, to not read into that more than he should.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #actors au #if you have a good idea for their names on the show please speak right up i'm not sure what i'm feeling #would love to connect it to st somehow

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autisticandroids · 3 months ago

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outsider pov

time is fake. these are some outsider pov fics for @spnficrecfest. there's a lot of conceptual overlap here with my casefic reclist, since i'm such an enthusiast for law enforcement chasing the boys. any crossovers do NOT require familiarity with the crossed over material. all of these are gen.

in order of wordcount:

identity theft solutions by ivyfic, 1k

a guy gets a letter in the mail from a bank he doesn't have an account with about a credit card he's never used.

the glomourous life of john dillinger by dwarfankylosaur, 1k

henriksen and his partner have a bet. extraordinarily charming.

not long enough by gayeld, 1k

salmondean tell victor about the supernatural. in particular, meg.

the outsider by denihil, 1k

henriksen has some sympathy for sam.

breathe on, sister (they pass me by remix), 1k

henriksen puzzles over sam and dean saving people from a fire. i would read the fic it's a remix of as well, if i were you.

days without feathers by pyrebi, 1k

jess's mom sees sam on tv.

the mysterious cold oak murders by anonymous, 2k

buzzfeed unsolved does an episode on the events of all hell breaks loose part 1.

perseverance by grumkinsnark, 2k

henriksen interviews a series of season one characters in search of the winchesters.

paper weight by vaznetti, 3k

kathleen hudak, from the benders, pokes into the winchester case at henriksen's behest.

the death defying mystery of the brothers winchester by dyed_red, 5k

buzzfeed unsolved again, this time on our boys.

the angel killer by vikki, 5k

cas is caught by the cops, circa season five.

the henricksen files by ante down, 9k

technically abandoned, but it's more a series of codas and character studies than a story, so it being abandoned doesn't really matter. so old it was written before henriksen's name spelling was canonized. this fic is a series of henriksen-centric codas, following him as he follows the winchesters over the course of season two. it has some of my favorite henriksen characterization, actually.

no way out iii by kelincihutan, 21k, violence warning

criminal minds crossover. real feds meet fake feds, and problems ensue.

minimal loss (what a joke) by eden22, 26k

criminal minds crossover. the feds go into a hunter compound. they meet some hunter children, including ten year old sam and fourteen year old dean. they try not to cause another waco.

this fic is one of the ones that i revisit when i want to be reminded that fanfiction can be good. it's THAT good.

the right to remain silent by boundlight, 27k, chose not to warn

svu crossover. tfw are caught by the cops in new york. i lied, this one is destiel.

nothing to see here by innie, 30k

a canon divergence starting from in my time of dying. kathleen hudak chases the winchesters. a number of other things also happen. john makes a different deal.

#spn #spnficrecfest

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nearest-dearest · 2 years ago

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The String (Wally x reader)

After reading a story to Julie, the rainbow monster is dead set on finding her soulmate and you tagged along without much of a choice in that matter.

🍎🎀🍎🎀🍎🎀🍎🎀

“Awe! How romantic!” Julie swoons after you just finished reading to her. More specifically the part about how the two main characters found each other through the red string of fate. Where soulmates are connected by a red string tied to their finger. The red string is strong too, it may twist, tangle but it will never break. And all this info came from the new romance book you ordered last week and wanted to share it with Julie.

Julie suddenly gasps “Do you think I could find my soulmate through the red string?”

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh “I’m sure you can Julie, but only if you can see the red string though.”

“Fear not dear neighbor! For I have a plan!”

And that’s how you ended up outside Julie’s house. A red string tied to your own finger while Julie does the same to herself.

“Julie, I’m not sure this will help us find our soulmates.” You voiced your concerns before she can enact her plan of throwing her red ball of yarn to any “lucky” passerby that could catch it.

“This is just a theory! Don’t worry (Y/n) dear. Who knows, maybe your string could land on Wally!”

The last sentence had you sputtering your words. “What?! Why would you say that? You’re making it sound like I like him! I mean, I like everyone in the neighborhood, including Wally. But it’s not like I like, like him!” You said all of that so fast that you ended up taking a deep breath after you’re done.

Meanwhile, that knowing smirk on Julie’s face never left, but okay, she’ll play your game “Sure (Y/n), I’ll drop it, but it could happen.

Should’ve known it wouldn’t be easy for her to fully drop it. Now you’re wondering what could’ve happened if you hadn’t blushed or stared during Wally’s little singing two weeks ago. Ever since Julie found out, she hasn’t stopped alluding to it when the two of you are alone. And when the others are there, she carries on as if she knew nothing. At least she’s great at keeping a secret. But you couldn’t really find a fault within you to like Wally. The painter is already attractive, he’s also talented and charming and you always find an aura of calm and serenity whenever you’re with him.

And as your silly little crush grew, so did how Wally make you feel. One moment you feel serenity and the next feeling is confusion. You don’t know if this is love or just infatuation. Is it because he’s so. . .

Mysterious?

You know Wally like any other friend you had, but there’s something about Wally that makes you want to know more. But will he ever allow it? Does he even like you the way you like him?

“Awe, (Y/n) Vandermeer. Of course, Wally likes you!” Julie suddenly says.

You paused. . .

“Wait! Was I saying all of that out loud?!”

“Unfortunately, yes. So, you do like Wally!”

“I—” You sigh out your defeat. There’s no denying it anymore.

“Nothing to be ashamed of neighbor! After this experiment, you’re sure to know whether Wally likes you or not!”

“Again, Julie, I don’t think this is how it works.”

“You never know until you try! Now let’s look for our soulmates!” Julie is the first to throw her yarn, and it landed on. . .

A rock!

Julie skipped her way to the rock until she was close enough to pick it up. Lovingly staring at the rock like it’s made of gold “Who knew you were so close the entire time!”

You shook your head at the display, but the smile on your face suggests a playful expression and tone.

“Now it’s your turn (Y/n)! Go find your soulmate!” Julies calls back to you.

You stared at the ball of yarn in your hand. The hesitancy kept you from throwing it. Although, it may land on a rock as well, and you and Julie can have a laugh about it. Everyone in the neighborhood is inside their houses or backyard. It seems like a safe and shame free action. With a deep breath, you got ready to throw it as far as you can. In the count of 3. . . 2. . . 1. Off goes the yarn in the air. Landing on. . . It landed on nothing, it just kept going and rolling away.

“Uh, I’ll be back Julie!” And with that, you began chasing the ball as it unravels. This is one good bunch of yarn; it’d be a waste to just leave it all behind. Let alone just leave it littered— Okay! How long is this yarn?! It goes on forever! You better catch up soon, the ball is getting smaller too.

Then the yarn stops.

Finally.

And it stopped by. . .

Wally’s feet.

Oh no

You suddenly felt your legs freeze to a halt on the spot. As for Wally, he picked up the ball of yarn to examine it. Then he looked up and met your gaze. Wally smiles.

“Ah! Hello neighbor, is this yours?” Wally offered the ball of yarn.

“Hi Wally! Yes, it is, thanks.” You say in a fast speed, hoping he doesn’t ask about what you were doing.

“No problem! If I may ask, what were you doing?”

Plan failed.

“Uh, nothing much! Just helping Julie with a knitting project, that’s all!” Great plan, just lie like second nature why don’t you?

Wally gave a little laugh “No need to lie (Y/n), you can tell me! I won’t judge.”

Darn, he’s so perceptive it’s endearing!

“Okay then.” You caved in, it’s been a long day and you don’t feel like dodging anymore. “Julie thought she could find her soulmate using the red string of fate, and thought it was also a good idea to help me find my soulmate too.”

“Soulmate?” Wally wonders.

“Yeah, now if you’ll excuse me I gotta go now.” You started taking your leave, at least you tried to. Because the sudden feeling of Wally’s hand holding yours had freezing like ice.

“Wait! Can I just do something first?” Wally asks.

“Uh sure?” Still feeling a little flustered that Wally held your hand, you ended up mindlessly agreeing to his request. You couldn’t even see what he was doing because you were too busy looking down to cool down the heat on your cheeks.

“Done!” Wally announced.

“Wait, really? That was. . . Fast.”

If you weren’t red already, then you sure look like one big giant apple. Wally had tied the other end of the yarn. On his pinky finger.

“And to make it easier for us.” Wally then snapped the extra thread with the blade he uses to sharpen his pencil.

“Don’t take the string off your finger. Okay Neighbor?”

Were Wally’s last words before walking away to Home.

Leaving you flustered and quiet from where you stand.

And giving a Julie in hiding pride over the outcome “All according to plan.”

All according to plan indeed Julie.

All According to plan.

#wally darling x y/n #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally x reader #wally darling #fanfic #wally x you #wally darling my beloved #welcome home #welcome home fanfic #welcome home fanart #welcome home x you #welcome home x reader #welcome home arg x reader

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esteljune · 10 months ago

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Listen - [P x reader] short fic

Notes: A vague backstory of the reader is implied. LOADS of fluff!!! you might get cavities from reading. This is totally self indulgent. I'm very insecure about this fic and had it in my draft for so long now, but it's time to share. TW: mention of alcohol abuse and violence

It wasn't the first time you had wandered around the Hotel rooms. Everyone in Krat knew the legends that swirled around that building, and you were no exception to its mysterious and sinister charm.

In its gloomy and solemn reality, the hours passed slowly. Despite the cordiality of its few inhabitants, you often felt like an outsider, alone, light-years away from that intricate and luxurious microcosm.

So you filled the voids by exploring, perhaps also to escape the inevitable questions of those who would have wanted to get to know you better. That's why, when you had finally inadvertently stuck your nose in Geppetto's study, the man's invitation to come in had caught you by surprise.

You hadn't said much to each other. Nothing in truth. He had remained silent, behind the heavy cherry wood desk, studying your interest in his work.

The more you looked, the more his talent seemed incredible to you. The elegance of those designs was undeniable, and even more so their execution. On the simple workbench at the far end of the room, a golden glow caught your full attention.

"This... is his heart, right?" you said, approaching him cautiously from behind.

"In a way. The P-Organ." he explained with undisguised pride, as your eyes traced the soft and elegant lines of the model.

Before you could realize it, a bitter grin had escaped your lips.

"Is this amusing to you?" he retorted, keeping his composure, but his face betrayed a certain tension.

"No, no, it's not that. It's just that, you know, I may not have your talent or your extraordinary ingenuity, but my father was a violent man, he drank, and as a result he was a pathological liar. So I know a liar when I see one."

You were challenging him, you were aware of it. The reason was not entirely clear to you, but it certainly had something to do with your connection to his creation.

"That boy, you call him son... You're lying. I just don't understand why." The man looked at you, more intensely than you had ever been scrutinized before.

A tight smile beneath his neatly trimmed gray mustache. His watery blue eyes, however, betrayed an unknown feeling. You didn't recognize its exact nature, but you suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed, violated.

That man, if he had the opportunity or the means, would have done harm. Perhaps he had already done so.

The thought made you shiver. You tried to hide the discomfort lodged in the back of your throat by returning his smile. You didn't trust him.

Your fingers brushed the steel surface of the heart on display on the pedestal, cold, distant, motionless. Despite its apparent fragility, you knew what it was capable of. You had felt it.

It had suddenly seemed to you an intolerable injustice, a cruel mockery of reality.

He who that heart belonged to was no longer just a mere exercise of craftsmanship. Not anymore. He felt.

"You created something so human that it has a heartbeat. And yet..."

The thud of the double inlaid wood door had shaken you. In the darkened crack, a flash of blue eyes and the now familiar mop of dark hair. The boy entered more silently than his heavy and eternal body would have suggested.

"Son. Come."

He was greeted by the man's voice at the desk, a note of tension hidden in the paternal tone.

He approached with slow, measured steps, and a shiver ran down your spine. It wasn't fear, but something deeper, a connection, perhaps. He held his eyes on you for a handful of your breaths, nothing more.

You had been about to retreat. You didn't want to witness whatever they would say, any orders given. You owed him your life, it would be too painful.

"Our guest was just talking about you. My son, my most precious creation. Come, see for yourself."

The invitation had taken you by surprise, as the creator accompanied Pinocchio to the upholstered armchair at the side of the room. The boy sat down without protest, impassive, while Geppetto bent down to his white chest between the folds of his shirt.

A wave of repulsion rose up in your throat uncontrollably. You would have wanted to see him rebel, not allow that unknown liar to violate him in that way, but he remained still, his head down, as his fingers intruded on his skin, opening a small hatch that exposed his metal heart.

You pushed back the tears that stung your throat, but your cheeks were burning with indignation.

The man looked at you, again more intensely than you would have expected. He seemed to grasp your refusal, but he prepared to mock it with a smile of benevolent compassion, as he would have done with a child in the throes of a tantrum.

"No harm done. Son, I beg you to escort our guest out of my room, I have matters to attend to elsewhere."

The boy limited himself to nodding, his heavy steel hand already gripping the inlaid armrest to lift the weight of his slender body. Curiously, he waited for his father to walk away with slow steps towards the double dark wood doors before approaching you.

You smiled, instinctively, when the clear blue eyes of him met yours in the silence of the room.

You knew he wouldn't say a word, but you had learned to appreciate his quiet, towering presence over you.

You felt the heat of anger leave your face, your breathing slowed as you waited for him to accompany you. Instead, he remained still, his irises suddenly darting away, to that chair he had abandoned just moments before.

You felt an uncontrollable tenderness for him, something you had never felt before. It overflowed from parts of your soul that you didn't remember having after so much pain.

"I don't think you're so different from me. And to understand that, you have to know yourself. You can't do that if your father treats you that way. Here, listen." You blew out a smile, gently taking his heavy mechanical hand and placing it between the folds of his white shirt, at the center of his chest.

You watched his reaction, holding your breath, you realized it too late.

That unguarded thought shook you, when had you allowed yourself to feel anything like that for him?

As you watched him listen intently to the rare and irregular beating of his mechanical heart, you were almost on the verge of touching his cold face dotted with pale freckles, but you gave up. Then, suddenly, his watery blue irises locked onto yours, silently, but laden with a message that was almost desperate, an unknown warmth.

His pale lips moved just a little, empty, not a breath, but an unspoken request. At that point you understood.

"Do you want to feel my heart?" you smiled, your eyes soft on the delicate features of that young, achingly beautiful face. He nodded.

Without further thought, you took his cold fingers in yours again and placed them on your chest. You took a breath, then another, breathlessly.

Suddenly aware of those too-frequent beats that echoed in your ears, you felt your face flush. You had been foolish. His gaze seemed unbearable, you felt vulnerable, caught in the act of that most genuine feeling.

How long had it been happening? How long had his mere presence made your heart race?

You felt the tall boy's body approach, towering over you, almost impassively scrutinizing the reactions of your burning face. It was too late to back down now. You waited.

As your heart pounded under his fingers, Pinocchio avidly weighed every contour of your face, the watery languor that animated your eyes, the flush of redness that spread across your cheeks, the slightly faster breath that escaped your lips. That must be true beauty, he thought.

"Listen... it's my heart beating for you," you whispered then, softly.

Suddenly, he felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, something deep, visceral... human. He didn't know the words to describe it, but it was enough to guide his body. He felt a shiver run down your warm skin as he brushed against your face, your heart skipped a beat, your breath became more labored.

Pinocchio wanted more. He wanted to know, he wanted to feel, he wanted to experience. He wanted you. What was that spark in the depths of your irises? Why was your heart beating so desperately? Were you expecting something from him? No... not that, it was something more authentic, elusive, incalculable.

"If you hadn't found me that night, I don't know what would have happened to me. The truth is, I just wanted it all to end. Not to feel pain anymore. But now... you saved me."

Pinocchio felt those words sink so deep inside him that he thought they had carved into the metal. There was pain somewhere, a faint, sweet sadness.

Under the steel palm, pressed against the soft skin, the muffled vibration of your pulses was awakening something in him that was both terribly ancient and familiar at the same time. He wondered what he should do. The undeniable reason for which he had come into the world imposed on him to move away from you, but there was another part, more instinctive, obtuse, that desired everything from you, of your perfect humanity.

Not only that, he wanted you to see him, to want him in return. His fingers moved again instinctively, gently grasped your hand and from your chest led it to his. That silence inside him suddenly seemed unnatural, artificial, he would have wished for a more tangible proof of his emotion.

Instead, he let time pass, counted the beats, let them trace unexplored paths within himself.

Pinocchio listened to your heart for long minutes, a spark of awareness in his blue irises that you had never seen in him before. Although it was now clear that his presence was not indifferent to you, you were happy to have fulfilled his desire, whatever its purpose.

Those feelings, whatever they were, were and would remain one-sided. You knew that well. In another time, perhaps far from him, you would have been afraid of them. Not now.

You smiled at his beautiful, motionless, silent face.

"It's better if I go now."

Pinocchio let you go in silence, your bodies moving away as if they had never been close, but a curious tension remained in the air, an unfamiliar intimacy.

#this is so long im sorry #lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p fanfic #lies of p headcanon #lies of p x reader #p x reader #pinocchio x reader #pinocchio #lies of p fic #p lies of p #lies of p headcanons #my writing #myliesofp

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themissinghand · 1 year ago

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i was wondering if you could do another story with the 12th Harbinger you created "brighella" if if remember. i really liked reading the two stories about her

Genshin Impact: Oh Hydro Dragon, What is Your Wish?

Summary: In which Neuvillette discovers a new Miracle Magician in town, one who brings joy and wishes to life. He learns that humans are complex beings and that human feelings can be delightful, to the depressing.

Or, you, as Tsaritsa’s proxy, Brighella, infiltrate Fontaine for the purposes of watching over Arlecchino, but a certain Hydro Dragon appears to be more fun than you thought.

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN! Reader

Note: Thanks for the request! Also, with the 4.2 update of the game out, how could I NOT write about it?

Warning: A bit of angst and betrayal, after all, everything is just a play, and you are all characters of a show.

Also, spoilers for Fontaine Archon Quest!

★・・・・・・★

The Opera Epiclese glittered with splendor as noble laughter and melodies echoed through the opulent halls.

A new talent has emerged.

A magician, not of mere tricks but of miracles, with the power to weave dreams into reality. The people of Fontaine, including the Hydro Archon Furina herself, and Ludex Neuvillette, were charmed by this mysterious enchanter.

“Tell me what you wish for, little noble child.”

But perhaps it was not just their show that caught Neuvillette’s attention, rather their genuine love for humans.

“I wish for you to heal my mother’s face!” A gasp echoed throughout the room with a mix of disbelief and mockery.

Indeed, all nobles and VIPs did not believe such a thing, but even with so much noise, Neuvillette could easily pick out what the magician whispered.

“Which one is your mother, little one?”

When the child forcefully pulled her mother to the stage, the noble lady already had a veil to cover her face. With the rumours circulating the room, it appears that the lady was burned badly in order to save her child from a house fire.

Due to such a bad burn and scarring, no doctor has been able to restore her original beauty.

Neuvillette did recall such a trial occur a while back.

“Shh, Shh. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to ask everyone to quiet down. After all, you could only witness miracles if you paid attention.” Neuvillette watched closely, curious and attentive despite Lady Furina pulling on his sleeves and excitedly waiting for a miracle.

“Madame, please repeat your child’s wish. Only the person who wishes for it, may the miracle occur.”

Thinking of nothing of it, the noble lady repeated the wish outloud. The magician slowly drag one hand from one side of her face to the other, and right before everyone’s eyes, her burn had completely disappeared.

“W-What?” The lady touched her face with shock, then with gratitude, and broke down on the spot.

“Mom!”

“What did you do?!”

“That is a secret of course.” The magician out a finger on their lips.

“Thank you for helping my wife.”

Neuvillette was confused, he did not sense any use of a vision. He expected the magician to perhaps possess the powers of a dendro vision, after all, some of them could heal wounds.

But this…he had never seen such power before.

“Please, can I make a wish?” This gentlemen seemed like a middle-age worker, one who barely compiled enough money to enter the opera house for a show.

“Go ahead sir.” The magician ignored the nobles and beelined for the gentlemen.

“My house and many other homes near the sea was washed away with the large rainstorm last week, please...I wish for them to be rebuilt!”

Once again, despite the gentlemen pleading and even tearing up for a wish, the magician smiled gently and held his hand.

“Your wish is my command.” The magician handed him multiple unique keys, and looked at Neuvillette with a patient look.

“If Monsieur Neuvillette could lead this gentlemen to his house safely, there would be no doubt to my credibility.”

There was absolute confidence in their voice, and since everyone was looking at Neuvillette with such curious and pleading eyes, Neuvillette stood up.

“Alright.”

With a snap of fingers, Neuvillette felt the world shift underneath his feet. No, it was the shadows that engulfed a group of people to teleport them here.

In an instant, they had travelled from the center of the city, to the edge.

As promised, those who were curious arrived at the area where houses were supposedly washed away, but instead were brand new as if a disaster has never struck.

Neuvillette saw many people who cried at this miracle, and the gentlemen who made the wish immediately rushed into his own home to check everything.

"How? It was a wasteland just a day ago...how...you are a saint!"

When all the residents confirmed their house and nothing out of place, Neuvillette truly saw a miracle.

An entire village built with just a wish.

A truly great, but dangerous power.

When Neuvillette turned to find the magician, they were already gone.

The Miracle Magician.

A name that danced through Fontaine, and gained great popularity especially among the middle and lower class.

Neuvillette made it a mission to find you and talk to you.

It wasn’t hard to find you.

Where there are moments of joy and wonder, the Miracle Magician will be there.

You who stood at the center of it all, made others smile and grateful for everything you’ve done.

The people loved you for your miracles and kindness, and gave back with what they can.

Captivating outdoor performances that left Neuvillette enchanted, not just by the magic, but by the warmth and understanding that the Miracle Magician exuded.

The Miracle Magician was popular as they were desirable, for people of different status and desires approached them with good or ill intentions.

Neuvillette was not surprised by this developments after all, he’s seen many of these human emotions in court.

Relief, gratitude, sincerity, and love.

But also greed, envy, hatred, and distrust.

He may not understand them well, but he can identify them.

Neuvillette was worried at first, and watched you from afar in case of any crime to occur. However, little did he know that you were just as talented as leaving the scene without a trace, and you appeared right behind him.

“Hello, to what pleasure does the honorable Ludex Neuvillette have with me?”

“Who are you?” Neuvillette asks, looking down at the Miracle Magician with vigilance and curiosity.

“I am a Miracle Invoker. One who makes wishes come true.” Then with a mischievous smile, you extended a hand.

“What is your wish, Ludex Neuvillette?”

“I do not have a wish.” The magician was stunned briefly, before they withdrew their hand.

“That is fine too.” For some reason, the magician looked peacefully content with his answer. Sensing an unspoken initiation for conversation, the magician smiled politely at him.

“Would you like to go on a walk? I can foresee a lot of questions from you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” He nods.

“Follow me, perhaps our talk will be easier in a more private space.”

Both of you went to a nearby restaurant, where the owner immediately recognized Neuvillette, and gave the two a private room.

Little did Neuvillette know that this conversation was one of the most pleasant he’d had in decades. The magician began to share tales of distant lands, weaving narratives that spoke to the deepest corners of Neuvillette's ancient heart.

They were naturally an entertainer, one who dramatize stories and share them as if they were in a play. Neuvillette listened for the most part, enjoying their little act.

They shared stories that sounded familiar, and ones that were foreign, regardless, he found you as good company while he drank his water.

“Forgive me for being rude, but I haven’t gotten your name.” At the end of the two hour conversation, Neuvillette asked for this mysterious Miracle Invoker's name.

With a polite curtsy, and a tip of their flamboyant hat, they responded with a professional smile.

“I have no name, but if you must address me, you may deem me as a ‘Miracle’.”

What a strange name.

One who refers to themselves as their profession.

Neuvillette has many questions, but chooses not to ask.

As they spent more time together, the Miracle Magician became a confidant for Neuvillette. The dragon, who witnessed the passage of ages, revealed the weight of his solitary existence.

The magician listened, offering a sympathetic ear and a comforting presence. Neuvillette, for the first time in centuries, felt understood despite his lack of expression in his feelings.

“I am not a god as you may have assumed, Monsieur Neuvillettte. I am simply an existence that is created to make wishes come true.”

“Nonsense. Are there not requirements for a wish?”

“The only requirement is that the person who wishes is happy.”

“…you are lying.” A laugh, Neuvillette watches the magician break out of their polite demeanor.

“Oh Monsieur Neuvillette, what is your wish?”

“I do not have a wish.”

“I see. Perhaps one day you will tell me your wish.”

One day, after a long exhausting trial, Neuvillette stepped out for a stroll. He walked and observed as humans walked past him with their own stories to tell, and their own role to play.

A routine of his as rain fell from the sky.

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry!”

But why in this black and white world, were you here?

“Monsieur Neuvillette, why are you standing in the rain alone?” You who held a colourful and flamboyant umbrella quickly shielded him from the rain.

Startled by this unique predicament, he simply stared.

“Why…are you here?”

“I enjoy the rain.”

The magician smiled before extending a hand.

“Would you like to make a wish, dear Neuvillette?”

This time, Neuvillette didn’t respond to accept or reject your offer, but instead accepted your hand and chose to walk ahead.

Neuvillette held your hand like a gentleman, ensuring there was nothing scandalous that could occur from this action.

But he felt his heart beating harder than before, as if he had come alive again.

“The world is beautiful, isn’t it?”

The magician suddenly says, as they take down the umbrella. Colour came back to his world as if the curtains of the stage unveiled itself.

Sun rays appear from behind the dark clouds and people rush out to see a beautiful rainbow stretching across the skies.

“The Hydro Dragon must be happy!” A little boy exclaimed as he ran around happily.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, storms will come to pass, just as sunny days will turn to night. But what’s important is that you live now, where peace exists and people can be happy.”

The magician pulls out a blue rose from behind their back and suddenly slots it behind his ear.

With a cheeky smile, you kiss his gloved knuckles.

“I wish for your happiness, oh Hydro Dragon.”

Neuvillette didn’t know what this feeling was, a quite foreign one for himself, but he doesn’t find it annoying or worthless.

“Look! It’s a double rainbow!”

As days turned to nights and nights to days, Neuvillette found himself drawn not just to the enchanting magic of the Miracle Magician but to the soul beneath the illusion. The Miracle Invoker, with genuine kindness, had become a beacon of trust and solace for Neuvillette.

So why?

Why are you standing by the suspect’s side?

“Stand down, dear 11th.” In an instant, the Tartaglia released his transformation.

“Brighella?” Neuvillette heard the suspect whisper out your name, and he felt himself turning his hands into fists.

“The Miracle Magician?! Why, why are you here?!”

"Shh, shh," You hushed the crowd, a calming spell woven into your words.

You stepped forward, gracefully interposing between Neuvillette and Childe.

“What is going on?!” Lady Furina exclaimed, looking between Neuvillette and you with a bewildered expression.

“Now, since the true guilty party has been brought forward, and even Ludex Neuvillette himself deemed my friend innocent, is there a reason for this show to proceed? Does Foutaine’s justice perhaps leave the final verdict to a machine? If so, why would we need a trial in the first place?” You put a hand to Childe’s shoulder, and the man immediately relaxed, and looked at you with a happy expression.

You smiled, still in your new role that you’ve created for this very moment, and bowed.

Neuvillette, sensing the unspoken authority, hesitated.

“I wish for this trial to end peacefully, and ‘I’ to be forgotten by Fontaine.”

Neuvillette widened his eyes and rushed towards you, but with a sly look, you stopped him with your flamboyant hat, a forcefield pushing him back. A huge tsunami burst forth in the court with water rushed around you.

“You lied to me.”

You laughed slyly, your image as the Miracle Magician he’d always known slowly faded away.

“Who are you?” Neuvillette felt a sense of loss and grief, and even for a moment doubted himself and his ability to properly “judge” humans emotions.

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.” A hand reached out to wipe under his eye, your voice was the same, though you had a mocking expression on your face.

“Oh Hydro Dragon, what is your wish?”

A portal appeared behind you, with Tartaglia pulling on your coat tail to signal you to leave.

“I wish-” You put a finger to his lips.

“To think I’d see such an expression on Chief Justice, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign himself…” A smirk rose to your face, paining him even more.

“That is what it means to be human.”

In an instant, the two vanished, leaving behind a bewildered courtroom. Neuvillette felt a headache, but when he turned around, Lady Furina was already leading the court with her dramatics.

And just as you wished, the “Miracle Magician” was no more, just as how Tartaglia was never part of the trial in the first place.

The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale still revealed the verdict as guilty, just not to Tartaglia, but to the true guilty party.

Neuvillette picked up your hat, and held it tightly in his hands.

The next few days, it was raining harder than usual with Neuvillette’s figure disappeared completely from the public.

He watched every moment he spent with you in the rain, and the joy you brought to the people. He regretted not making a wish.

Now, no one in Fontaine knew you, and only he and Lady Furina recalled such a name.

"Brighella."

Neuvillette hoped to find you again, even if you were a lie.

Just like your name, you appeared like a “Miracle”, and disappeared like one too.

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