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redpandaramblings · 3 years ago

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The Art of Blind Dates. Deku x GN! Reader

This piece was written for @rat-zuki 's the deku agenda escapes no one collab. Happy Birthday to our favorite broccoli.

Content warning- This fic rated PG-13. Aged up characters, Allusions to sexual activity, swearing, gender neutral reader.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

You jumped, the spray can you had been using left an unsightly streak of bright red across your masterpiece. You scowled behind your mask as you turned to face the man who had spoken.

“We do. You keep making me mess up my hard work!”

You smirked, pleased with yourself as you saw Deku, the number one pro hero, recoil at the sight of your mask. It had taken a few weeks to convert the All Might mask into an ahegao face, but it was worth it if it horrified your number one pain in the ass. Izuku blinked a few times, sighing and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly choosing to ignore your choice of disguise.

“I wouldn’t have to mess with your work if you chose to do things that were, you know, actually legal? You’re talented, Brushstroke. You could get paid to do murals or something instead of…” Deku gestured towards your latest creation. You were rather proud of it. It had taken a good amount of planning to manage to paint a fifty foot tall mural of pro hero Dynamight mooning the city with the bold caption ‘The Hero Commision can kiss my ass.’ It would be perfect if not for the red streak from where Deku had startled you. With a contemplative hum you shook your spray can and quickly turned the offending mark into a cartoonish lipstick print. Midoriya sighed heavily. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

“I know.” You grinned behind your mask. The voice distorter you used did nothing to hide your chipper tone. “I also know you like it. And you can’t tell me Dynamight wouldn’t love it. He literally said that on live interview!”

“Yes, but not with his pants down to his knees.”

You bent over, throwing your cans of spray paint and climbing gear into your duffle bag. It wouldn’t do for your nemesis to get his hands on some of the tools you used. Mei’s stamp was all over it.

“Which is such a shame. The man’s got cake for days.” You chuckled as Deku pulled a face.

He observed you, hands on his hips. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away, obviously.” You said as you threw the strap of your dufflebag across you.

“And I’m just going to let you go?”

“Oh no. You’re going to chase me like you always do. And I’m going to escape like I always do. And it’s going to drive you crazy because you can’t figure out how I keep doing it.” You began stretching, exaggerating each movement.

“A teleportation quirk isn’t that hard to figure out.” Izuku began stretching as well, rolling his shoulders and popping joints.

“Guess again.” You sing songed, bouncing on your toes.

“Wouldn’t have to guess if you just told me.”

“But that’s no fun. Unfortunately, I do have to be going. Catch you later, hot stuff!” And with a sprint, you raced to the side of the building and jumped off before activating your quirk.

Time slowed around you. It was like you were hovering in the air instead of falling. Freeze Frame was a quirk you had learned to perfect over the years. Between the quirk and the assorted gadgets in your bag and on your person, it was definitely enough to baffle the number one pro hero. Speaking of, you better work quickly before your quirk wore off and splatted you across the sidewalk.

Freeze Frame was named after what your quirk looked like from the outside. It was as if you teleported, or you had frozen time around you for everyone except yourself. In reality, you were a speedster. When your quirk was active, you were able to move at speeds so fast you were undetectable to others, and to you it seemed like everything was paused in time. You probably could have been a phenomenal hero or villain if you wanted. But currently, it was much more fun to thwart a certain green haired man.

With a press of a button, you deployed a grappling hook, snagging it on the building across the alley. You swung over, keeping a countdown in your head. Would you be lucky enough and have time to…? Yes. There! A balcony door was cracked open slightly. You gracefully landed on the balcony and used the door to slip into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom, thankfully unoccupied at the moment. Taking no chances though, you slip into the closet just as the effects of your quirk wear off. The other reason you had never turned to heroism or villainy- no matter how much you trained, you could only keep your quirk activated for ten seconds at a time. It wasn’t a lot. Plus you could only activate your quirk a couple dozen times a day without getting seriously ill. But it still was usually more than enough to be able to give any law enforcement the slip. Just like now.

Deku curses as he runs to the edge of the roof. You’re nowhere to be seen. “Brushstroke! Get back here, you damn brat!” He shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. One of these days he was going to figure out your quirk and how to counteract it. And when that day comes he was going to take you over his knee and… No. He shook his head, blushing to clear his thoughts. What to do with you. Well, he wasn’t sure yet. You weren’t a villain, really. More of a public nuisance. The murals you did showed a lot of talent and a good chunk of the population agreed with the social commentary behind them. But that didn’t change that you had painted ten foot tall asscheeks on a building without permission. And, technically, it was within his job description to apprehend you. “Brushstroke!” Deku called again as he made his way down to the ground. There was no sign of you anywhere. Invisibility quirk maybe? Though it would be unusual if you could turn all the stuff you had been wearing and carrying invisible as well.

Meanwhile, as Izuku was getting lost in thought, you were getting naked. You stripped out of your gear and paint covered smock, moving as quickly as you dared while still remaining quiet in your hidden location. Just because the bedroom had been empty doesn’t mean the rest of the place was, after all. You shoved everything into your dufflebag, pulling out a clean set of clothing from a zippered pocket. Getting changed was a simple affair, as was ruffling your hair, messily getting it to look like a different style. One of your favorite tricks happened when you pushed a hidden button on the edge of your duffle bag. The previously dull gray bag quickly morphed into a loud riot of tye dyed color. Chameleon bags, Hatsume called them. Still in a prototype stage, your friend and employer would probably make a mint on them if you put them on the market. After a final brush off and deciding you looked acceptably civilian, you peeked out the closet door. The bedroom was still empty. You crept out slowly. The balcony wasn’t a feasible exit anymore. Not without the gear you had had to store away. You were going to have to sneak out the front door. You activated your quirk, feeling a little queasy at having to use it again so quickly in succession. It was simple to race through the apartment and out into the hall within your short time limit. In fact, with your speed, you were easily able to exit the entire apartment complex. You still had a few seconds to spare when you shot out the door. You grinned at seeing the number one pro hero standing in the middle of the street. You knew you shouldn’t do what you were thinking. Instead you should use your last few spare seconds to put some distance between yourself and the large, green haired man. Instead, you quickly dug around in your bag and found your tube of lipstick. You applied a nice thick coat as you waltzed up to him. With a giggle, you planted a firm smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a clear and perfect lip print. With a grin, you hurried back to the apartment complex. It was easy to make it seem like you were just coming out of the door as time snapped back to its proper speed. You watched, hiding your smirk as you observed the clearly frustrated hero scanning the crowds for any sign of you. His eyes passed right over you, barely giving you a glance. You almost felt hurt that he thought your normal look was that unremarkable. But that was the point, after all. As Deku continued to call out for your pseudonym, you turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. You were almost out of earshot when you heard a loud cursing exclamation that would have been more in character for a certain blond hero. You bite your knuckle to muffle your laughter. Someone had informed Deku of the lipstick mark.

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

You sipped from a bottle of water as you watched Mei work her magic. It was strangely relaxing to watch her in her element. Though it seemed chaotic the first few times you had witnessed your friend work, there was a clear method to the madness if you just knew where to look. And you knew exactly where to look now that you had been working with her for the past three years. You were simply listed as one of her assistants. Most days that involved a random jumble of cleaning, paperwork, schedule management, and coffee making. The real reason Hatsume loved having you around however, was days like this.

“Okay! Set!” She chirped happily. “You good to go now?”

You nodded as you slid down, and walked into the testing area. “Remind me what I’m looking for again?”

“Well, obviously the usual. Make sure it’s not lethal, of course. And then I want to make sure the grid is deploying at the right time. Should be about a quarter second after detonation.”

“As long as everything looks good, want me to be full blown dummy this time?”

Hatsume tilted her head, and considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, should be fine. Have the explosive levels where they should be. If anything messes up it’s going to be the grid deploying too soon or too late and not restraining you right.”

You gave her a thumbs up as you got into position. She counted down, though that didn’t matter much to you, honestly. One of the best perks of your quirk was that it gave you insane reflexes. You waited until the moment you saw the detonation begin to happen and activated your quirk.

As usual, it felt like time slowed to a crawl around you. Hollywood directors would give a kidney to have access to the detailed slow motion you could experience every day for free. You walked around the device, looking it over. It was meant to be a capture aid for pro hero Cellophane, a small explosive that would shoot nets of tape in all directions. It had to be safe and effective. Better to have a few civilians stuck to the walls than to risk letting a villain escape, after all. You peered into the explosion that was slowly rippling outward. Everything looked good so far… Yep, there were the grids starting to deploy. Sure that everything was safe, you deactivated your quirk and instantly were thrown backward and stuck to a padded wall of the testing room.

“Looked great!” You called as Hatsume entered the room. “I think you’ve finally got it!”

While she cheered and began praising her baby for performing so well, you tried wiggling. No luck. You were stuck rather firmly. Apparently she had upped the strength of the adhesive. After a minute, Hatsume finally noticed your struggles.

“Oh good!” She chirped. “Looks like the new formula is holding up nicely. I mean, I still need to test it out against, like strength and fire quirks, but looking good so far.”

“Little help, please?” You ask, giving her a look.

“Maybe in a bit.” She said, turning her back and leaving you there, pinned. “Want to test how long it holds. Besides, I have some questions about your last escapade and how my babies held up.”

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Your friend had found out about your after hours hobby about a year and a half ago. Instead of discouraging you, it hadn’t surprised you that much when she blackmailed you. She wouldn’t tell the police or heroes…. If you used some of her experimental babies on your future excursions. You had been dubious. Hatsume’s babies could be a little dangerous in the prototype stage. But it ended up working great! Your pieces went from small tagging jobs to huge fifty foot murals. Though that had caught the attention of a few public figures, including a certain green haired pain in your ass.

“I didn’t use anything directly against Deku this time.” You sighed, going limp to test if the tape would hold your weight. It did. “Grappling hook works great. The painter drones are okay for filling in large areas, but aren’t able to do clean lines well. The gecko boots continue to be amazing, but the gloves need a lot of work. The control for when they release still isn’t great.”

Hatsume nodded, quickly making notes about everything you said. There was a bit of a quick back and forth where she asked questions and you answered. Though ten minutes passed and you were still stuck to the wall. She eventually sets her notes aside and turns to face you fully. “So,” she drawls. “You saw Deku again.”

“I always see Deku nowadays!” You groan. “I swear Mei, if I find out you’re tipping him off or something...”

“Aww, come on! He’s nice! Would you rather be dealing with Dynamight?”

You frowned, not meeting her gaze. “I mean, the variety might be nice?”

“You like that with the help of my babies you’re able to out fox the number one pro hero, admit it!”

“It might be a little satisfying,” you mutter.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either! Heard you two get all flirty during chases. The tabloids loved the kiss mark, by the way. Enjoy finally kissing him?”

“Hatsume!” you groan. “Subject change, please! Anything else!”

“Anything?” she grins at you.

“Oh god, I’m going to regret this.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise! Just, would you be interested in a blind date?”

You blink. “A date?”

“Yeah! One of my friends from school has a lot of trouble meeting people organically. You know how the industry is. Ridiculous schedules, maintaining reputation, trying to make sure they like you for you and aren’t just a fan.”

“Yeah… I guess I can understand that.”

“Well, I just think you and him would be a great fit! He’s a huge nerd in a lot of the same ways you are, but a real good guy once you get past the awkward. Plus,” Hatsume dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I happen to know for a fact that he’s a fan of Brushstroke’s work.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You know it’s extortion to try to get me to agree when you have me literally taped to a wall.”

“I know!” Hatsume chirped happily. “So are you going to agree? I made the adhesive pretty strong this time. Who knows how long it would take to wear off on it’s own?”

“Bitch!” You can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just get me down from here!”

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

You fidgeted with the ring you were wearing as you stared at the building in front of you. Maybe it wasn’t too late to bail? You don’t know exactly what you had been expecting when Hatsume had told you about the somewhat shy, nerdy man she had set you up with, but you hadn’t expected him to choose the fanciest restaurant in town as your date location. You were wearing your best and still felt underdressed. Well, if the date was a disaster, at least you knew what building you were going to spray paint next. The glistening white exterior would make for a great canvas. You chuckled quietly at your own thoughts.

Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and marched in. You could do this. You were an infamous tagger. You faced off against the number one pro hero regularly. Your day job was working with Hatsume. You’ve got this. With an air of newfound confidence, you gave your name to the maitre d. It was a surprise when you were led through the restaurant to one of their private curtained rooms. This guy you’d been set up with was apparently going all out. Maybe you were going to like him after all, you thought as you were ushered in. Then you looked up.

Fuck.

Standing to greet you with a stupidly flustered look on his damn stupid handsome face was your nemisis. The number one thorn in your proverbial side. The giant broccoli himself.

That BITCH had set you up with Izuku Midoriya!

You froze. In the back of your mind you were aware that your mouth was hanging open. The green haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You continued to stare.

He cleared his throat, glancing to the side. “Sorry about the secrecy, but I think it’s understandable.”

You nodded weakly.

Izuku bit his lip. You realized with a start that he might be even more nervous than you are. As much as you planned to murder Hatsume later, this wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. You could get through this date at least. Eat some expensive food, drink the best wines, make some meaningless conversation, say your goodbyes, and then go home to plot the demise of your former best friend. Long, slow painful demise. Good thing about being an artist, you had lots of traps, so clean up should be easy. Looking at the worried expression on Izuku’s face, you realize with a start that you still haven’t actually said anything to him. You open your mouth to offer some sort of generic greeting. But what comes out is-

“I’m going to fucking murder Mei!”

Izuku blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing loudly. He leans one hand on the table as he cackles. You stare before starting to chuckle yourself. Soon you’re both wheezing with laughter. You both slump into your seats, trying to collect yourselves. Midoriya speaks first.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I’d think that’s a common emotion when hanging around Hatsume.”

You can’t help your smile. “Only at least half of the time. But that’s what makes it fun. No one else like her.”

“That’s for sure.” Izuku leaned back in his seat, looking you over like he’s studying you. “So, I suppose we should actually introduce ourselves. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I do hero work.”

You laugh. “Y/N Y/L/N. I work for Mei and freelance art when I can.”

“Art, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?”

You’re briefly interrupted by the arrival of the first course. After the waiter leaves, Deku apologies. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order for you, but this is one of those places where you pay them and they tell you what you’re going to eat.”

“It’s fine.” You say as you stare at the delicate wisp of some sort of thinly shaved vegetable with a dollop of strangely colored foam on top.

“You were saying what kind of art you do?” Deku cautiously was poking at the tiny fancy appetizer.

“A few different things really, but my passion is mural work. Latest job was in a maid cafe. They wanted something cute and floral, but they let me do what I wanted within that theme.”

The night continued on and was surprisingly easy. The food was delicious, the wine was better, and you were pleasantly surprised by the company. Maybe it was the wine softening you up, but as you looked across the table where Izuku was animatedly talking about how influential All Might’s example had been for him, you admitted to yourself that the green haired man was very handsome. And funny. And interesting. And you were trying very hard not to think about the way Midoriya’s large scarred hand wrapped around the delicate wine glass. It was a surprise when the final course was finished and Izuku was quietly taking care of the bill. He escorted you out of the building and you both stood awkwardly outside. Deku cleared his throat.

“If it’s not presuming too much, I’m not quite ready for tonight to end. Is it alright if I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. Like that a lot, actually.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun. You walked and talked animatedly. The conversation was so easy and fun, and a little flirty. Somewhere along the way your hands brushed together and holding hands became the most natural thing in the world. Time flew by as you walked together, your true destination long forgotten. You were only brought back to reality when out of the corner of your eye you saw a massive mural of pro hero asscheeks. When Izuku saw what you were looking at, he groaned.

“Could you please not check out my friend’s ass while we’re on a date?” He joked, gently elbowing your ribs. You laughed.

“I mean, you can’t blame me. It’s hard to miss.” You made a mental note to tell Mei that her paint formula was holding up beautifully.

“It’s a little embarrassing. Brushstroke is talented and all, but every mural is a time I couldn’t catch them.”

Maybe it was the wine still buzzing through your system. Maybe it was the thrill of it. Maybe you just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes widen. But you couldn’t help the next words out of your mouth.

“Well you might have an easier time if you ever actually figured my quirk out.”

“Yeah I…” He stopped. Stared. “You…” He stared harder, pulling away slightly as he looked your figure up and down. “You!!!”

“Surprise?” You laughed, and grinned at him. He was always so handsome when he was angry. You weren’t scared at all as he hauled you close.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

“Pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’ve been leading me on goose chases for months!”

You grinned “Yes, will be our anniversary soon.”

Izuku groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waste. “You irredeemable brat!”

You would have replied, but in the next second he was fiercely smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss started harsh and desperate. The results of months of teasing and flirting. It gentled as the two of you stood there in the night, soft and sweet and full of affection the two of you had yet to put into words. The thought occurred to you that you’d have to thank Mei later. Your eyes opened as the two of you pulled away for breath. You started giggling almost immediately. Izuku pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

You smirked. “I never thought we’d have our first kiss while being mooned by Dynamight.”

Izuku groaned loudly before sweeping you up into his arms. You squawked and clung to him.

“That’s it.” He rumbled. “I’m going to spank you when I get you home, you fucking brat.”

“Promise?” you giggled.

You didn’t mind in the least when he shut you up with another kiss.

#the deku agenda escapes no one collab #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #deku x y/n #deku x you #gender neutral reader #izuku midoria x reader #aged up characters #bnha reader insert

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

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Disarming (Santi x fem!reader)

Summary: you and Santi - good friends- are Best Man and Maid of Honour at Frankie’s wedding, and guess what? There’s only one bed!

What is this? This is 5/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. The prompt is “We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend”, requested by @woakiees. Another double trope extravaganza! Hadley, I’m so pleased you suggested Santi for this one, as he immediately came to mind when I was writing this prompt :D Thank you so much for requesting! <3

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Apparently I get carried away EVERY time I write Santi. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?! :-/

Word count: 7.5k. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Rating: 18+ ONLY (minors out, please, do not read or interact)

Warnings: it gets angsty in the middle. Reader has nightmare- comfort offered. Mentions of reader being “hurt” in the past but vague and unspecified. They have a fight. One or two alcohol mentions- no actual consumption. Food mention. Swearing. Steam leading into smut but not explicit- mentions of masturbation, erections, making-out, one brief allusion to choking kink. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @casifer-is-king (loads of the tags aren’t working :-/)

GIF: @nathan-bateman

From the first moment you met Santi, you had simply fallen into step with him. It was effortless, and so, as soon as you found yourself by his side, you stayed there. What’s more, that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.

Despite the man’s hard, no-nonsense edge -which you also appreciated- he was warm and charming. It was easy to connect with him, in a way it hadn’t often been for you. For him too - or so the boys told you - the way you surpassed his defences was a rare thing. It shouldn’t have worked, perhaps. Usually, he was slow to trust and you were quick to love, but on this occasion none of that seemed to apply, the two of you tumbling squarely into a fast-friendship; one deeper and more intense, perhaps, than its duration might suggest. Still, despite the boys’ inferences that you would quickly become an item, and Santi’s continual attempts to blur the lines between this and… something more, “friends” is what you have remained.

You had felt it immediately with him. Something different. You simply... flowed. You fit. It was immediately evident, even on that first night, in the way you orbited around one another, setting up an impromptu beer pong of all things. You moved together with a fluidity and a precision that seems almost tactical- as though you too had run countless manoeuvres in the field with him. You could read him and understand him as though you had drilled his habits and patterns and idiosyncrasies over and over; learning him. However, he was never that much effort - the two of you came naturally to each other, little learning required. You knew each other with your gut.

At that fateful party, when you each escaped to the back porch steps for some air at a serendipitous moment, the conversation had immediately flowed, and not only as a result of his natural, disarming charm. The silence even came easily rightaway – a comfortable thing, the space between you stuffed with contentment, rather than the feeling of a gaping vacuum, needlessly filled. It turned out his best friend was dating yours (the pair to be wed this very weekend) but that almost seemed like the cherry on top, rather than the thing bringing you to each other.

Safe to say, what was true then is true now. You get on so well. You find him fun and easy and generous and you love the man dearly.

…Most of the time.

Those other times, though? Santiago “Pope” Garcia can be a pain in your ass. But that’s another reason you love him, you guess. Keeps things interesting.

“Please don’t kill me,” Santi says sheepishly, and it’s obvious to you he’s laying on the charm - actively trying to be as disarming as possible as he saunters over from the reception desk. For a moment, despite all his training, he looks as though he believes you could pull it off, too.

Your annoyance is already prepped; locked and loaded, as he pads squarely towards the banquette where you are sat - amidst a sea of luggage. You’ve been observing his attempts to charm the desk clerk with interest (his efforts, you surmise, at least partially effectual), and judging from the slight level of desperation in his efforts, you can already tell he fucked up somehow.

“What did you do?” you say impatiently, even as a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I booked all the rooms we needed, for all of the wedding guests, right? 13 rooms here, and all 10 at the hotel across town. 4 more in guesthouses,” he recaps. “Got Frankie and Mila a great deal too, remember?”

You remember. And yet, you fold your arms across your chest, looking up at him incredulously. Okay then. Rolling with your attitude, the man takes a different tack. He sits next to you. Smiles. Leans in. Pats your thigh. He’s trying to disarm you too, you realise. It’s going to take more than that - you’re not some flimsy desk clerk who will form a puddle and bat your eyes at the first sign of his charm.

“Well, funny story. I may have forgotten to book our rooms,” he blurts.

Oh? Oh, great. Yeah. This is a grand fuck-up. The whole damn town is booked-out. It’s a small town. No longer amused, your nostrils flare in annoyance as you tug in a slow breath, schooling your tone just a little before you speak. “You what?” Okay, you didn’t manage to school it all that much.

“Look, I already sort of fixed it,” he smooths. That explains the flirting with the clerk. Although, you think, glancing back at her. She’s pretty. That partially explains the flirting with the clerk, then, you mentally correct. “There’s just one, teeny-tiny issue.”

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes. Well?

“We’re gonna have to share a room.”

You blink at him a few times, in surprise. Well, it’s not ideal. For a number of reasons. But you can think of worse things, truth be told. And he’s not wrong. It is a solution. Still, on his reveal, a succession of emotions and micro-assessments are bounced back and forth between your eyes and his, until you land on resigned annoyance, exhaling a long sigh. That is, until Frankie appears in the lobby, swanning in like he’s walking on air. He probably is, given that he’s getting married this weekend. His face splits with a smile so wide you reckon it should be painful to maintain, and you stand to greet him as he heads over.

You’re glad he’s happy. It means that you and Santi, as Maid of Honour and Best man, respectively, are doing a fantastic job of deflecting all of the stress away from the happy couple. Indeed, that assessment certainly feels true – you do feel stressed. Still, the two of you immediately paint your faces with masking smiles; though, in fairness, it’s hard not to smile while looking at Frankie – his obvious joy is infectious.

Frankie wraps you both in a hug, then rubs his palms together like an excited kid. “I don’t have much time. Just gonna say a quick hello to my parents. Apparently, my mom’s already started crying? Can you two sort some extra tissues for the ceremony or something? Oh, and is everything okay with the rooms?”

“With this guy? Are you kidding?”, you say before you think, throwing your thumb towards Santi. Immediately, his eyes submit a powerful plea to you to keep schtum- it is written all over his face that he doesn’t want to let Frankie down. Not even in the smallest of ways.

Frankie would find his little error funny, probably. But he can find it funny after the ceremony. “Everything is A-OK! This guy? He has every single detail taken care of.”

Frankie grins, his eyes narrowing proudly at Santi as he slaps him on the back, laying profuse thanks on the two of you; then, he floats away again, as if on a cloud. Santi’s brown eyes are big with gratitude when you look at him again, and you can’t help but weaken. You’ll admit, it’s really not that bad of a fuck-up. Besides, you’re tired. Between the drive out here, the wedding rehearsal, and a never-ending list of errands, the day has been long. You just want to get to the room, and maybe even clock a snooze before the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Fine,” you agree, albeit through gritted teeth. “We can share a damn room.”

Santi looks visibly relieved, and squeezes your shoulder in thanks. You’d even been nice enough not to bite his head off. “Yeah. We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound quite as certain.

“Sure. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” you smile nervously.

He returns your smile and swivels, heading back towards the desk.

“Oh, wait!” you call after him. “Is it a double or a twin?” you ask in horror. Sharing a room is one thing, but sharing a bed?

He turns, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter!”, he winks. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna have to take it.”

Oh. Oh dear.

You’re inclined to agree -you don’t have many options- but when you catch yourself stealing a glance at the man’s shapely butt as he walks back to the desk, you begin to chew your bottom-lip nervously.

Right. Ha.

What could possibly go wrong?

**********************

It turns out, sharing a room with Santi is resoundingly not bad at all. In fact, at first, it’s as easy as everything else is with him - even between your hurried preparations for the evening, unpacking, shuttling items to the relevant members of the wedding party, and calling down to reception several times to check the logistics for the rehearsal dinner. Even getting dressed, you find an easy flow as you each flit in and out of the bathroom, dancing around each other with ease and only a hint of friendly bickering.

Santi’s respectful too- always knocking and announcing himself before entering a space, and averting his gaze when he needs to, given that you’re rushing around and undressing. You even manage to ignore the fact there’s only one bed for the longest time, parking that specific panic for later. Even then, he has already made reception send up extra pillows and blankets, forming a barricade in the middle of the bed so you two can comfortably separate.

Thankfully, you are so busy that the idea of sharing a bed with Santi doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re finally ready, dressed in your finery. When you step out of the bathroom, Santi -sat on the edge of said bed- stands up, thrusting his hands into his suit trousers as he takes the sight of you in, pulling the material taut -in a rather pleasing way- across his hips and thighs. He ends up slightly slack-jawed for a moment as his eyes trail over you, brewing with a gentle, self-conscious heat. “Fuck,” he says softly, his voice gruff. “You look…” a little gulp trails down his throat as you give him a little twirl. “…hot”, he says, his eyebrow ticking up on the last beat.

“Wait until you see my bridesmaid dress,” you smile, and he returns it easily, those gorgeous creases appearing around his eyes.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. You can’t help but wonder, vaguely, what it would be like to push him down on to the mattress. Maybe straddle him. Fuck, you should have known this would be a bad idea. A heat rising in your face at that thought of that, you distract yourself by lifting his suit jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out for him as he slips it on to his shoulders, and feeling the luxurious texture of it beneath your fingers.

It’s a grey suit, tailored, and it hugs him in all the right places. The cool colour is perfect against his warm-toned brown skin, and brings out the salt in his salt-and-pepper curls, and in the rough rasp of grey flecked through his stubble.

You try desperately not to notice how good he looks, but this may be your greatest challenge yet.

“Come on,” you encourage, nodding towards the door. “We better head down.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, half-heartedly. The way his eyes are subtly roving over you, though, he looks like he has something entirely different in mind for dinner.

“You’re probably going to spend all night being chased by the single bridesmaids,” you add casually as you collect your purse, and apply a final dab of lipstick in front of the mirror. You’ve already clocked a few members of the wedding party eyeing him up, and you don’t exactly blame them for being thirsty. Besides, Santi is a huge flirt; so perhaps he’ll be the one doing the chasing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night with his tongue thrust deep in someone’s throat, which -you assume- is typical Santi fashion.

“Isn’t it traditional, anyway,” he smirks cheekily, applying a splash of cologne, “for the Best Man to hook-up with one of the bridesmaids?”

Lord, does he have to smell so… edible.

“Got news for you, man. You fucked up. You can’t exactly bring a girl back to your room now, can you?!” you tease, nodding back towards your shared bed, a wall of pillows already arranged down the middle. You mean it to come out in good-humour, but you can’t scrub the hint of jealousy from your tone entirely.

You feel so silly for being jealous of whomever he may hook-up with. After all, Santi is always the one testing the boundaries of friendship with you. It’s not like he’s ever made a secret of the fact he’s attracted to you- and you are the one here will a firm line in the sand. A line you simply won’t cross with him. Can’t cross. You want to - of course you do, but after being hurt in the past, you have simply built-up far too many defences; or, more accurately, just the right amount of defences, you think, to protect you. So, no matter how disarming the man is, you simply have to keep your guard up; because if he breached your walls, you know everything else would come tumbling so easily down.

You had fallen so easily into friendship with him, and you are certain that you would fall just as recklessly in love with him.

You’re not ready for that.

You can’t take being hurt again. Besides; Santi? He’s an incredible friend. He’s tenaciously loyal and dedicated to his squad. But when it comes to love, and sex, you doubt whether serious is even his thing - and you’re too afraid to ask.

“You ready to do this?” he asks, with a wink.

“Yep,” you nod. “Let’s roll,” and with that, you turn, heading for the hallway.

“Princesa- that dress really highlights your ass,” he praises as he tags along behind you.

“Thank you, it’s true,” you smile devilishly, already beginning to let your guard down, just a little. He’s simply so disarming. “Speaking of, Garcia – did you get your trousers a size too small on purpose?”

“Oh, you noticed?” he retorts, smugly, guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back.

Okay. Sometimes you flirt back. After all – look at him.

Especially in that damn suit.

***********************************

The rehearsal dinner goes swell. Frankie and Mila are a picture-perfect, loved-up couple, and they grin their way through the evening as if they slept with coat hangers in their mouths. The speeches are well-received, including Will’s, thus setting a high bar for you and Santi tomorrow. (You may be biased, but Santi’s is ten times funnier, and it’s going to kill, in your opinion.) There are no dramas through the evening- logistical or familial, and thanks to you and Santi overseeing everything with a military precision, it looks as though -so far- it is shaping up to be the perfect wedding weekend.

Finally, once your duties are over for the night, you are able to let your hair down a little, so to speak, and enjoy the food and company on offer. Still, with a big day ahead tomorrow, things wind down relatively early, and -having lost track of Santi at some point- you find yourself back at the shared room a little while before him. You usually burn out more quickly than he does in social situations, but even taking that into consideration, you begin to fret about where he has gotten to. With the way he was flirting his way through the party, though, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what (or who) might be keeping him up.

You try to sleep but you can’t, your mind going to the worst places, so, by the time Santi does return -softly cracking the door, and padding in with his shoes in his hands so as not to wake you- you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough to have become a little cranky. A little… green-eyed.

“Hey,” he greets in surprise when he enters, immediately noticing the soft lamp glow, and seeing you still sitting up in the bed, mindlessly watching the flicker of the tv on mute.

“Hey,” you return, your voice noticeably strained. “Have a fun time?” You find yourself wishing you weren’t sharing a room, then you wouldn’t have to know what he got up to.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. “Did you? How come you’re still up? Thought for sure you’d be wiped out by now.”

So, he did think of you, then?

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply neutrally, fixing your eyes dead ahead as he begins to slip out of his trousers and shirt too, until he’s dressed in only his tight black boxers. Next, he takes off his watch and sets it at the bedside, and you notice that he smells of perfume. A cloying, floral scent that makes you feel a little sick.

“Just gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll slip in with you, okay?” he says, his voice slow and deep and muted, matching the soft light.

You still don’t look at him. You can’t.

“Do what you want. You usually do,” you bite, the words tasting bitter as soon as they have left your lips, and tears of regret pooling as your anger dissolves.

You don’t blame him if he was with someone – you really don’t. You’re simply angry at yourself; because you wish you could be that person, and you can’t for the life of you seem to find a way.

“Okay. What was that for?” he bristles, reacting defensively, turning towards you. And perhaps it’s because it’s late and he’s tired, or because certain demons feel safer coming out under the cover of darkness, but he doesn’t stop there. Especially when all he gets from you is a stony, pointed silence. “You know what? Actually, no. You don’t get to do this”, he hisses, and it is the first time you’ve ever heard him direct any genuine anger at you.

It doesn’t half sting.

“Do what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“You don’t get to be mad when I give my attention to someone who actually wants it,” his voice is hushed, but his words rattle through you as if he had yelled them. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Guess what, I’m not yours.”

“That’s not fair”, you snap back, and then things are quickly escalating.

“Isn’t it?” he asks, rasping a hand over his stubble in distress. “I mean, come on. Shit. You know that I want more but I…” he exhales a disgruntled laugh. “You shoot me down, which is your prerogative, honestly, but you can’t have it both ways. You can’t knock me back all the time and then be pissed off when I look elsewhere.”

You meet his face, the planes of it shadowed and angled harshly with anger, suddenly so unfamiliar to you, and it causes your eyes to bloom with tears. You two look the opposite of Frankie and Mila; of a picture-perfect couple. But you’re not even a couple at all, are you?

You see him try. To blunt the emotion which is bubbling up. To soften. But he has uncorked something he now can’t put back in. “Fuck, I just wish that….” he pinches his lips together and shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. “If you don’t want me, just put me out of my fucking misery. Just say it. Just fucking tell me.”

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces at the thought you make him miserable. At the way his voice breaks. At the way he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe you were wrong, thinking that you could be friends at all. Thinking that could be enough for him.

Your lower lip trembles, and your fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. “I… I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you, Santi.”

You can’t because it isn’t true. It could not be further from the truth, in fact.

He puffs out air, an exasperated sound, his hand raising up to tangle in his grizzled curls. Raising his voice a little more. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me the other thing either?”

“I.. I..” You try, but no words will come. You simply shake your head, swallowing a sob, your eyes almost brimming over.

He nods. He nods, his mouth slanted down. “Great. Got it,” he huffs.

You hate this. You hate how much you’re hurting him.

“Santi,” you breathe weakly, but it is too weak to blunt the force of his emotion. To halt his trajectory, and so, resigned, he turns towards the bathroom, grabbing-up a fresh white towel from the counter. Before he closes the door, he turns to you once more, now speaking softly, his eyes as sad as yours. “You know,” he says, his index finger sawing back-and-forth over the stubble at his chin. “For the record, I wasn’t with anyone else. I can’t even fucking think about anyone else but you. I was late back to the room because I couldn’t face it.” His voice becomes small and pained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just curl up next to you and act like I don’t care.” His eyebrow ticks up, and he adds, with a final flourish. “Guess I should have taken a lesson from you.”

Oh, how it stings, pain flowering in your chest like a bruise, but you hold yourself together until he’s out of sight. Then, when he’s gone, you immediately cave in on yourself, falling on to your side and screwing your eyes shut, clamping your hand over your mouth so that he can’t hear you crying as wet tears spill onto your pillow.

When he comes back into the room, after a long shower, you simply screw your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. You hear him sigh heavily, and mumble something to himself under his breath, before dragging a few pillows and a spare blanket down on to the floor.

A few more silent tears roll over the bridge of your nose.

You guess you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him after all.

***********************

You wake panicked in the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed. A cold wash of sweat over your skin chills you, even though you feel like you’re burning-up.

Immediately, you reach for him, for Santi, calling his name even as your fear strangles the sound in your throat. Your heart is thudding, and your breaths are sawing in and out of you, but your grasping hands find nothing to your side but pillows and blanket.

Unfortunately, you are used to this occurrence, and you quickly realise it was “only” a nightmare. Still, the feelings and images it conjured linger in your body, and around you in the shifting, seemingly fluid shadows of the room.

With a release of tension, you whimper, leaning forward and cradling your head in your trembling hands, and you try to ground yourself. To steady your breath and your heartbeat, like you’ve practiced. As you do so, the shadows to your left shift and change, and, even in the pitch-black you can feel him, a safe and warm presence, instantly travelling to your side, his weight dipping the mattress. His soothing, sandy voice filtering through the shadows and cutting back the tendrils of your nightmare like a Disney prince hacking through cursed vines.

You vaguely remember that he’s mad at you - but you can’t help it. Can’t help asking. “Hold me?” you plead, desperately afraid that he won’t.

Still, without questions or hesitation, you feel the wall of remaining pillows coming down, the defences around you quite literally being dismantled – a figurative wall between you shifting away along with it. He shushes you, and you focus on his voice, until he is close enough that the scent of him wraps around you, before his arms follow closely after.

You reach for him in return. You reach for him in every way possible.

“It’s just a nightmare,” he soothes. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you,” and there is pain in his voice on your behalf, as if he tries to bear the burden of it for you.

“Closer,” you plead, and before you know it, he is shifting you on to your side, slotting his sturdy yet soft body around you, not caring that you feel clammy and hot against his bare skin. He simply loops his arms and draws your back, closer to his chest, becoming your big spoon.

He calms you, hands enveloping yours and bundling them against your chest, his nose nuzzling into your hair, and his deep steady breaths slowing your breathing as you let his calm and his rhythms overcome you. He holds you, until the feelings pass, not caring how long it takes – and with any anger from before apparently forgotten.

This pain is all too familiar to him, you know. It something that Santi understands. It is your own and it is not the same as his, true, but you know it is familiar enough that he will feel the ache of it echoing in his own chest. You know that he is accustomed enough to bearing his own pain, that when yours is too heavy to carry, he will help you hold it for a while. And so, he holds you, while you are a tender thing, bruised and afraid, and he keeps you safe; with all your walls down, all of your defences collapsed, he becomes your fortress.

You never thought that letting yourself be so vulnerable could allow you to feel quite as safe as this.

As you lie together, Santi continues to usher soft reassurances into your ear, his words like charms and incantations to ward off the ghosts which haunt you. And, after a series of slow, stretched moments, you become more settled, and Santi feels you relax against him.

After a few moments more, he eventually whispers a small question into your hair. In the dark, the question feels safe to come out, perhaps.

“Do you always call for me when you…?” he trails off, thinking better of it. “I’m sorry- forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”

You don’t. You know you don’t. You don’t even truthfully know the answer. It’s likely that you do call for him, though how would you know, when you’re usually alone? But, there is something else you can tell him, while it is safe to come out in the dark. Something you want to tell him, before you build your walls all the way back up.

“Santi,” you begin, timidly, and his fingers skim softly up and down your arms, encouraging you to go on. “I-I’ve been hurt before. And, I want to be with you. I want to let you in but… I’m. I’m not ready. I’m trying so hard but I… I can’t.”

There is a long beat, and you realise he has held in a breath only when he releases it all at once, fanning hot across the back of your neck.

You are afraid. Afraid of what he might say, in response – what he might feel, but you think, maybe, it might be something like relief? And, Santi squeezes you, just a little tighter. A little closer. “Don’t worry about that now, okay?” he soothes, his voice feather soft. “Just… know one thing, okay, Princesa? Whenever you are ready? I’m waiting.”

This time your heart fills with a different emotion, all the spaces in it flooded with contentment, Santi’s words followed by a perfect, happy silence.

A soft smile blooms on your face.

It was not a confession of waiting impatiently, you understand, but an invitation to take your time to arrive at him. He’s not trying to bring down your defences at all, is he? He’s waiting for you to open the door, and invite him in. He’s waiting until you are ready. He simply needed to know that you are on your way, even if your footsteps are getting you there slowly.

For now, though, the thought of it is too much. More than you’re ready for.

So, you simply let him hold you.

To disarm you further.

To walk yourself a little closer toward where you want to be. With him; by his side.

****************************************

In the morning, you wake up tangled around each other, Santi’s arm wrapped securely around your back and your head settled on his chest. He is still snoring lightly – cutely - when you awake, and so, as the night prior comes flooding back to you, you hastily try to extricate yourself from him; even if his bare skin feels so good against yours that you never want to move. You’re apparently not so subtle- or he’s a helluva light-sleeper – as, just when you pull away, Santi wakes up, quickly rushing to prove his innocence.

“You had a nightmare,” he croaks, still trying to peel his eyes open. “You asked me to- “.

“-I know. I remember,” you reassure, sitting up in bed, the blankets tugged to your chest. Santi shuffles, opting to assume the same position on his own side, mirroring you, rubbing his eyes.

You’re still not sure whether to apologise to him or thank him. Or maybe even to wait for an apology from him? Christ. Maybe all of those things or none of them, who even knows? You mentally spin a wheel and land on a casual “Uh. Thank you, for…. You know.”

“Anytime,” he says, turning his head to the side and looking at you earnestly. As if your bickering -your jealousy and his outburst- is all but forgotten. What’s more, you know that he means it.

Admiringly, your eyes wander over him, enjoying a side of him you’ve never quite seen before. Apparently, he’s even more handsome in the morning, with an even thicker, darkened brush of stubble, his grizzled curls dishevelled, and his swooping eyelids still heavy from sleep. Combined, it gives him a sultry, bedroom look. Feeling an involuntary rush of heat in the pit of you, your gaze drops to his corded neck, where, given the special occasion, he has substituted his dog tags for a silver chain, drawing your gaze down over his smooth, brown chest.

Your skin now cooling in the conditioned air of the room, you long for his body heat again, recalling how it felt to be held by him and wishing you had lingered a little longer while you could. Even with your interrupted sleep last night, you have somehow woken feeling refreshed, as though you had slept unreasonably deeply in his arms, reaching a whole new level of contentment - as though you just fit together, perhaps. As though it comes naturally for you to be held by him, and for him to hold you.

There is a silence and it isn’t awkward exactly; more… pregnant, with possibilities. Possibilities you see brewing with a gentle heat in his eyes. So, tearing yourself abruptly away from that line of thought, you lift your phone up from the nightstand, and note that there isn’t long before your alarms sound anyway.

Operation Wedding Day is go.

That should be enough of a distraction for you, shouldn’t it?

“You ready for this, Best Man?” you ask him, with a gentle quirk of your lips.

“Sure. Are you ready, Maid of Honour?”

Ready. Are you ready?

Thoughts of last night swirl in your head.

Well – as Santi flashes you a tentative, disarming smile, with hooded eyes, you certainly feel like you’re getting there. Like soon you could be ready.

“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Atta girl,” he encourages, folding his arms behind his head as you jump out of bed.

You suddenly don’t care that you’re in nothing but your underwear, as you stretch out your body and track towards the bathroom. “I’ll shower first?”

“We’re sharing a bed,” he teases. “Sure you don’t want to share a shower too?”

You scoff, flashing a mischievous smile right back at him. You’ve always had a soft spot for his flirting, but you feel like -after all that transpired last night- you truly see if for what it is now. You realise why it has never felt like he’s pressuring you - not once. He’s simply reminding you, that as soon as you call for him, he’ll be there. That he’s waiting, when you’re ready.

Reminding you, that as soon as your walls drop, he’ll be your fortress.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get quite that lucky this morning, Garcia.”

You do linger in the doorway, just a little longer than necessary though, so that he can get a better look at you. He’d never look without permission – he proved that yesterday, when you were in various states of disarray- but this time, sensing your invitation, his eyes graze over you slowly, keenly. So, when he strategically moves his hands from behind his head to hide the tenting covers, you don’t mind at all.

You smile devilishly as you slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You’re not sure if he will… take care of himself out in the room – how could you know? But, feeling inspired, you certainly do so in the shower, and it’s a pretty great wake-up call before you face the wedding day.

Maybe sharing a room isn’t so bad. Maybe you could even get used to it.

*********************************************

Frankie and Mila get hitched without a hitch.

Santi goes to the ends of the earth to make sure that Frankie has the best day possible- and at some points, he goes even further than that. His speech was moving and flawless, and pretty fucking funny; even if you are a little (or a lot) biased. Not a dry eye in the house, just as you predicted.

The man adores Frankie with his whole heart, and you could barely hold back the glow of admiration as you listened to him, feeling like it might burst from your chest like a beam of gold sunlight. You felt it especially strongly every time his eyes met yours during the course of the speech, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself stupid each time he did so. And, of course, you were overjoyed to see your best friend have the day of her dreams, with the man of her dreams. If you do say so yourself, you think your speech was pretty killer too.

Suffice to say, you ate until your belly was full, loved until your heart hurt, laughed until your sides ached, and danced until your feet ached.

Tonight, unlike last night, you and Santi retire to your shared room at the same time, your arm linked into his, and your shoes carried in your hand to spare your sore feet – there’s a reason you never normally wear shoes like this. Without your heels though, you keep tripping over the hem of your dress almost every few paces, causing you to giggle and Santi to steady you with a warm, rich chuckle, sometimes throwing you an extra hand to assist you.

You look over at him, furtively, as he recounts some of the more choice moments from the day, immensely enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing him talk and smile and laugh. Seeing him happy. Of course, enjoying how he looks too, you have to admit - even more handsome than he did yesterday (somehow) in midnight blue dress pants, and a white, crisp shirt, now tieless. He’s only grown sexier as the evening drew on too, now with a wide open-collar and rolled up sleeves to accommodate all of the dancing; or, at least, as much dancing as his knees could handle, until he’d simply opted to sit to the side and watch you boogie, his eyes apparently transfixed on you and only you - the advances of the other bridesmaids be damned.

There is something that hits different about the way he looked at you today. His admiration shining deeper than usual. Less like a casual lust, and more like something… serious. You’re not sure why you doubted it before, exactly. Why you have been so inordinately afraid that he might hurt you. You broadly figured him for a smash and dash type of man, which is fine, but you have every reason to believe that he wants more with you.

After all, Santi can be deeply and tenaciously loyal. He has dedicated himself to things deeply and unwaveringly several times over in his life. To his country, to his missions, to his morals, to his squad. And there’s something about the way he looked at you today, you think, that suggests he might dedicate himself to you with the same tenacity. Something far deeper than appreciating how you look in this bridesmaid dress (and oh boy do you look hot). It’s more like the way he looks at Frankie. A little different to that, obviously. But you’re realising he looks at you like he’d never let you down. Not even in the smallest of ways. Like he’d rather go to the ends of the earth -or beyond- than do that.

At least… you think so.

You are sure about one thing though. The way he looks at you? It’s thoroughly disarming.

And so, you arrive at your shared room, utterly wiped out from the day (and night), yet still somehow buzzing with an energy. A gentle suffusing heat under your skin as you watch Santi walk inside and kick off his shoes at the end of the bed, before turning back towards you.

You have entered a few paces behind him, after nearly tripping on your gown all over again by the door, but now, you are quite steady on your feet - aside from that slight, nervous tremble in your quaking legs as he looks at you like that. As Santi looks you up and down, eyes skimming over the contours of your dress and hence everywhere it hugs your figure. Evidently, he likes what he sees.

“Wow,” he breathes, his brown eyes shining as if he’s looking at you for the first time that day, even if his gaze has barely left you all night. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but you look fuckin’ smokin’, sweetie.”

“You think so?” you ask humbly, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy. Flustered even.

“Yeah. I think so,” he nods, positively certain. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.”

You look at him. You look at him in a way which suggests an answer in your eyes instead of a question. A clear intention in your body, instead of uncertainty. But he doesn’t push you. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t make a move. Instead, his mouth tugs up into a lopsided smile, offering you a lazy flash of teeth, and he shoves his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Well, we’re officially off the clock now, so I’m calling it. Well done, Maid of Honour. Think we nailed it? Made a pretty damn good team?”

A smile lights your face. You did. You flowed. You fit. It was easy.

Fuck. It feels so easy. Why had you ever thought this would be hard?

You nibble on your lip, eyeing him with intention, and a hard swallow trails down his throat in response.

“Off the clock, hmm?” you say breathily. “No more titles or duties? Huh. That’s a real shame.”

“How so?” he asks, his eyes devouring you alive, but his body fixed resolutely in place. Transfixed to the spot.

“Because it’s traditional for the Best Man to get with one of the bridesmaids, isn’t it?”

A slow, disbelieving smile inches over his face, and he looks at his feet, a little bashful. “Gross tradition. Kinda sexist,” he says, and your gaze fixates on his full, curving lips. On his hands, poised and broad at his belt.

“So, you don’t want to make out then?” you ask in your most sultry voice, mere breath.

The man huffs out a quick, broken exhale. “Fuck me. You know I do, sweetie. But only if you’re ready.”

Ready. Are you ready?

“Santiago,” you say, with conviction, your eyes dancing between his. “I’m ready.”

Santi searches your face one last time, just to be certain. He’s sure, of course – has been for a long time, but he needs to know that you truly want this. That you want this now. So, he looks at you, and he finds nothing but permission. Even so, after so long, he still can’t quite believe it. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe – or beyond – and, so dammit, he will ask you again.

“C-can I..” he begins, and his voice already sounds choked; hollowed out with need. “Fuck, Princesa, can I kiss you?”

Too long. Too long without moving. Without touching. Too long.

If you were suddenly ready, his kiss becomes even more suddenly overdue.

“You’d better,” you encourage, feeling like vapour. “Unless you want me to do it first.”

With permission granted, you expect him to be on you, with a surge. All at once. But Santi has been patiently waiting for you long enough. He can wait just a little longer, and, when he subtly tips his chin up, ever so slightly, and when he near growls “come here then, honey,” somehow, it is perfect. Somehow, it is a thousand times hotter that he makes you come to him.

You lift the hem of your dress, and you pad delicately towards him, feeling like you are wading through molten honey to get to him, the air thick and sweet.

“That’s it. Come here, baby,” he encourages, with a curl of his index finger beckoning you to him, his voice curling in the pit of you, making you feel weak in the best way possible. Making you feel spent before he’s even done so much as brush you with his hand or his lips.

You close the remaining distance with your steps, the anticipation too much, and your legs feeling so weak from the reckless lust and the light, liquid softness in his eyes. By this point, you are begging for his arms to reach out and clasp you- to hold you up; make you secure and safe in him. You are begging for his lips to sink down on to yours. But he makes you wait, through a few more slow, stretched moments. Makes you inch your mouth closer and closer until your lips are almost skimming his. He makes you wait until you are moaning his name into the air before he has even touched you.

“Santi.”

And, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that when you call for him, he is always there to take care of you.

You know he will take care of you.

With that, his name a plea, he swoops his broad, large hand up until he is holding you, his fingers closing around your jaw and your throat, trailing down your neck. His touch is painfully gentle, but in a way that makes you want him to squeeze, a little harder. In a way that makes you push yourself ever so subtly into his hand. A way that draws a silken moan from deep in your chest, and Santi is moved to dip the pad of his thumb into your mouth, where it meets your wet and willing warmth. When your tongue skims him, humming as you taste his saltiness, that seems to be the final straw, a wrecked groan sounding from his throat, and finally he surges on to your lips, leading with his tongue, thrusting into your open mouth and drinking down every sound and moan he can draw from you, his stubble rough against you. You don’t care if he leaves you raw.

It’s tender, and it’s gentle, but Santi knows all about control, and you can tell he’s holding back. His hands are lethal, and he knows just how to kill you softly; but, you are certain, that if you want more of his power, he’ll give it to you. That he’ll take care of you however you like.

So, he kisses you more deeply, harder, and you go near limp against him until one of his arms wraps at the back of your head and one at the small of your back, making you feel a feeble thing, waning in his arms as his large hands support you. Except; you’re not feeble though. You’re not by a long shot, and you know exactly what you want.

“Santi,” you suspire, letting him walk you back against the wall, pressing his bulging arousal into you as more wrangled sounds and little grunts slip from his parted lips.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, already sounding wrecked for you.

“There’s only one shower. Wanna share?!”

Even as he releases an endlessly eager, disbelieving breath, his eyes keenly search your face, checking you are ready. He watches, enraptured, as your lips curl into a deliciously sinful smile.

“You know. We don’t have to rush this,” he insists, even as he shivers with need, closing his eyes and biting his lip when you angle your hips to brush the tenting bulge at his crotch, ever so fleetingly, his hips bucking into you immediately in pursuit of more pressure.

“I know,” you say coolly, your body an undercurrent of frenzy, but your mind calm and sure. You push him back, with your palms to his chest, making room for you to about-turn into the bathroom, shimmying off your dress as you go and letting it waft to the floor like a sigh. Looking at him over your shoulder, with lust-blown eyes, you leave Santi stood there, entirely dumbfounded, as you reveal all of yourself to him.

You retreat, but once the water is running you call out to him, wondering where he has got to. “Take a hint, Garcia. If you’re ready? I’m waiting.”

And, he doesn’t waste another second before joining you.

THE END

(BONUS: Outfit inspo, if you wanna imagine him in the suits a lil better 😉)

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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kidnappedbycartoons · 4 years ago

Text

MC X Relationships

So, I know we love to think that after they leave the villa MC and whoever she is coupled up with live happily ever after with no problems at all. Well, maybe I wanted to choose violence, who knows? Anyway, I wanted to say what problems might arise in each relationship.

Bobby X MC:

-Bobby likes to make jokes. That’s not a problem. But he might either A) take the joke too far and not know when to stop and B) not know the appropriate time to make the joke. This could cause some problems for the two, especially if his jokes offend someone close to MC.

-Bobby’s insecurities could cause some tension in the relationship. He might need a lot of reassurance and might even do things he might not be comfortable with to keep MC happy, which could lead to him having some resentment towards her (And yes, I based this off of the open relationship in CMM because the only way I can see Bobby going along with it is to make MC happy).

-He’s a friendly person, so that’s no problem. But as we see in the villa, Bobby tends to do more for his female friends (Cupcakes for Lottie, comforting Priya after ON) than MC. Once again, this isn’t a problem if your MC wouldn’t mind, but if they do, this could lead to a conversation.

Gary X MC:

-He’s a simple guy. No problem if your MC is too, but if they’re a bit more high-maintenance, this could cause a bit of conflict in lifestyles, especially once y’all move in together.

-Reassurance. Once he’s with someone, he assumes that person knows he’s 100%. But if your MC needs some reassurance (Because everyone will at one point in time), they might have to verbalize that because he might not pick up on it.

-Going off of that last part, he doesn’t pick up on hints. You need to be straightforward with him. Not a huge problem, but in a public situation where MC is trying to subtly tell him they want to leave, it could be a tiny one.

-Communication. I guess this one sums up the last two. He has trouble with communication (Lottie, Hannah, MC). When he’s annoyed by something, he leaves. He doesn’t let anyone know where his head is, which every relationship needs work with.

Noah X MC:

-Non-confrontational. We see this in the game, I don’t even need to explain this. He folds. If MC and he are having a disagreement, he’ll fold to let the problem go which does not solve it at all. It’ll only make it worse.

-He’s a huge family man. Nothing wrong if your MC is too, but he clearly loves his little siblings a lot. I can see him offering his little brother a place to stay if he needs it, but this might cause some problems between him and MC. He’d drop everything for them and this could create tension if he and MC have plans.

-He doesn’t pick up on hints. Once again, you need to be straightforward with him. He won’t be able to guess or know where your head is if you don’t make it clear.

Ibrahim X MC:

-Passive-aggressive. We see this on his route a few times. If MC is probably having a bit too much fun, being a little loud, he won’t say anything, but trust and believe, he’ll make a passive-aggressive comment.

-He likes things to be clean. He’s not a messy fellow. Good if your MC isn’t. But let’s say your MC is an….organized mess. He’ll have a problem with that.

-This is solely based on his route. He might cheat. He went from MC to Shannon to Jo and back to MC way too fast without much care for it. I think the reason why he might not be able to keep a relationship for longer than a few weeks might be because he bounces from one to the other too fast. I can definitely see this causing problems after the villa because of the heightened popularity. He and MC will be on a date or something and a fan will approach and openly flirt with him and he’ll flirt back without thinking.

Marisol X MC:

-She’s a smartass. She’s one of those people that think they’re the smartest in the room and make lowkey condescending and judgemental comments about other’s intelligence. Everyone has their dumb moments, but I can see Marisol making these comments when, for example, MC pushes a pull door.

-We see that she likes to make MC jealous during Casa Amor and, to be honest, I can see her doing that outside the villa. This can cause some problems and lead to an argument about loyalty, trust, and respect.

-She jumps to assumptions. Yes, I based this one off of her psychoanalysis habit that needs to get kicked. Instead of communicating with MC to figure out what might upset them, she’ll jump to conclusions and her actions will be based on that. And nine times out of ten, she’ll be wrong.

Lucas X MC:

-He needs to chill out sometimes. Remember that day, I think it was before the final, where MC had the option to make a funny face, run their fingers through his hair, and that other option? Every option got a frowny face. Like damn. Sometimes MC might want to have fun, but their ideas of fun will be different.

-Honestly, wholeheartedly, I cannot see him wanting to go out with MC if they don’t look “presentable”. If your MC thinks they’re going to walk out in a onesie, you’re going by yourself. If your MC is wearing a pantsuit from Fashion Nova with your makeup done and hair did, he’ll be by your side. If your MC is high-maintenance, no problem. If not, problem.

-He admits this in the villa. He’s a bit of a jealous person. If your MC is a naturally physically affectionate person, they might have to tone it down a bit for him. But I feel it might be a bit much. Like if someone gives MC a hug that goes on for too long in his eyes, he might have a problem with it. He sees a male or if your MC is bi/pan, a female person talking to them, he’ll become a bit more affectionate with them as if to stake his claim. This could bring an issue into their relationship.

Henrik X MC:

-Henrik appreciates honesty and he’s an honest person himself. Though sometimes, this can cause a problem if he’s not tactful with it. Nothing wrong with honesty, but he might accidentally hurt MC’s feelings.

-He doesn’t like movies. This is just a personal thing for me.

-Fashion sense……….not the best. Let’s be real.

Elisa X MC:

-High maintenance to another level. She wants the champagne dripping and the chandeliers blinging. Here’s the thing. It costs money to do that and if MC is money conscious, this could cause some arguments.

-Struggles with accountability. Yes, this is because of the Gossip Sneezer thing. If she feels she did nothing wrong, she’ll refuse to accept it, even when MC hits her with the facts.

-A YouTuber. Nothing against them, some YouTubers do a good job of keeping their private life and public life separate. But I get the feeling that the camera can become the third person in her and MC’s relationship, especially since it started from the villa. Instagram stories, tweets, YouTube videos, vlogs, and if MC is not comfortable with this, could lead to problems.

Yes. There are positives to the relationship. I can make a post about that. In fact, I think I will. I just wanted to do this first. Don’t hate me.

#litg #love island the game #bobby mckenzie #gary rennell #lucas koh #litg noah #litg ibrahim #litg marisol #litg elisa #litg henrik

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vesuvianmess · 4 years ago

Photo

Popsicles?

Art by @jilljoycearts Drexxel is @vesuvianmess Vell is @deathbyarcana

A short fic recounting how these two met, pulled (with some edits) directly from a currently running roleplay.

Quick Warning: Contains mentions of stalking and harassment

"You are very welcome, have a good rest of your day!" He waved the group off with a smile. "Hiya, what can I get you?" He asked another.

Flitting back and forth from group to group, he greeted every single person with a genuine smile. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing others light up with joy. He’d taken up working at the bakery part time to help with some expenses of running his own shop. And he had to admit, the smell of fresh baked bread may have influenced that choice. The job was never boring as the market was always flooded with people, locals and travelers alike, all looking for something. Still, he only worked with Selasi during the mornings and early afternoons. When he’d had his fill, he would return home to open the doors to his own little business.

But today, he had something a little different in mind. Instead of selling little animal pelts, herbs, bits, and bobbles, he was in and out again in a flash. Having changed into something much more comfortable for the heat, he pulled a wheeled cart behind him to the town square. Near the fountain, he’d found the perfect spot and pulled the cover off the cart. It would take him a little time to set everything up, but once it was done, he noticed people already beginning to gather around. Some faces he'd seen many, many times before. Others, much more new. Taking a seat on an overturned wooden bucket, he twirled a pair of drumsticks between his fingers.

“Hello Vesuvia, I’m bringing you a special late afternoon show! Now then," he sat up a little, the line of his back straightening. "For those of you new to my show, we have fun here! Here's how this goes!" making a grand sweeping gesture to the gathered crowd, he continued on. "You may request a song but there is no guarantee I will play it. I will not tolerate pushing, shoving, or otherwise harmful activity during my shows. And, as always, tips are appreciated but not required, come stay for awhile and feel the beat of the sound! I'm Drexxel Volkov, and may luck be forever in your favor!"

It started with a small metallic chime, a shortstop of little taps on the rims of the set. But before long the square was alight with the beating of drums. His whole body moved in time with each beat almost as if he were dancing along to his own song. Small children bounced and tugged at their parents' sleeves, urging them to get closer. New comers stood with delighted expressions, some even getting a little antsy standing in one place, others giving way to bouncing their bodies to the rhythm.

There was nothing better than this, looking out into the crowd as he thrummed away the minutes, flipping the sticks and singing along even though nobody could hear him over the heartbeat he'd created.

The crowd was thick as usual but new faces stuck out easy to him. Even with the prick of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, he was able to focus enough to make everyone feel included in his performance. One face in particular he stopped at for more than a split second. A taller man with vivid blue hair, dark skin, and a sort of shaken demeanor. He looked….out of place perhaps amid the crowd, like he could bolt at any moment. Drexel found himself stealing glances at the man throughout his show, a dizzying knot of butterflies in his gut as he saw the man start to meld into the hum around him. The thrill of the performance carried him through like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, his fiery passion shining through clear as day. Every movement felt natural, every breath felt like a whole new beginning. Drexxel never came from a background that favored this sort of thing, rather it was something he'd picked up on his own time. He had the extra energy to spare and needed an outlet to help with it. Besides, he always did like seeing people smile and what better way to do that then get them moving?

Into the second song now and he felt a wave of static run through him. Someone in the crowd was a magician. He could feel it. Even through the loud beating of drums and the crashing of cymbals the low electrical humming filled his body. He was sure of it. But was this magician able to sense him as well? That he did not know. He wasn’t sure precisely where the feeling was coming from, but he was determined to draw it out. With it toying at his mind, he decided it was time to show off just a little more. After all, using magic was a good way to lure out another magician.

Drexxel simply waited as he beat along in time to find the perfect moment to really show off his moves. Normally he would have saved this bit for later in the evening, but he just had to do it now. After feeling that little pang of magic, he knew he had to show whoever was producing it, that they weren't the only one with fancy magic at their fingertips. Just a moment longer....

When the final chorus of the song hit, he let it loose. His drumsticks sparked and crackled to life, enveloped in searing hot flames. With his sticks now burning with intense heat, he slammed away at his drums with more grandeur and energy than before. With each hit fire roared from the contact point, creating a dazzling display of towers of fire in varying sizes. If anything were to draw this other magician out, it would be this.

By the end of the show, much to his dismay, this fellow kin had not revealed themselves. It was a bit of a shame really, he would have loved to have someone join in his performance. What a dazzling display that would have been. He could only imagine what kind of magic would have complimented his own.

"Thank you all for joining me this afternoon!" He gave a bow, his hair falling a bit loose from his bun. "It's a hot one out today so make sure to stay hydrated and get some good food in your belly!"

He stood and lifted his arms over his head in a long stretch before using the rad cloth tied to his side to wipe away the sweat that cling to his skin. The show was over, but people still lingered in the area, some tossing coins into an open bowl near the drum set, others approaching Drexxel with questions. He was small for his age of twenty-five, standing at mere chest (or just below) level with most other adult’s that spoke with him. He had a thin, but decently sturdy frame with most of his strength apparent in his legs. Most people would know him for a scar that ran along his right cheek. Whenever asked about it he would simply tell them he didn’t remember where it came from but knew he’d had it most of his life.

The town square was still bustling with people as he began to pack up his things. Above it all though, he could hear footsteps approaching him. He paused a moment then spun on his heel to come face to face with a regular to his shows. The man was leagues taller than himself and had a strange look to his eyes. He was holding a piece of paper, crumpled and damp with sweat in his hands. Drexxel heard the man speak but didn’t quite catch the words.

“I’m sorry?” He responded back, urging the man to repeat himself. When he did, a chill ran down his spine. “...Go out with me. Dinner.” He pushed the paper into Drexxel’s hands. “You’re so pretty.”

The smaller pulled the note apart just enough to read it. In shaken scrawl it read:

‘Don’t make a scene. I’ve been planning this. You and I belong together.’

He’d seen this sort of thing before in books and screenplays. Some secret admirer gets too confident and goes after someone who isn’t interested and it becomes a problem. Problem being a kind way to put it. Harassment was a better word for it. Bold of him to make the attempt in broad daylight, let alone a busy square. In the kindest way possible, Drexel looked up at the man and spoke.

“I’d love to, but I have plans this evening. Another show I mean.”

He felt the prickle of magic in the air again, but it wasn’t coming from the man in front of him. The magician was still in the area.

"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." the man's voice broke him from his thoughts. "I'll be picking you up this evening."

Drexxel's brow furrowed, the energy around him shifting like hissing smoke trying to catch on damp wood.

"I'm really sorry, I mean it." He offered a sincerely looking apologetic smile. "But I really must be getting home." He made a move to leave but was stopped when the man caught his wrist.

"You're not going anywhere short-stack."

This....could be bad. As much as the crowd had dissipated, there were still people lingering about. Too much of a risk to cause a scene. But every fiber of Drexxel's being was telling him to flee. He needed an out. In the most...nonchalant way possible, he attempted to wriggle his wrist free.

"Your performance really spoke to me Drexxy. It's like you were composing a symphony just for me." As he was caught in his own little moment, Drexxel pulled his wrist free. But it only lasted a second.

He felt a pull against his skin before he heard a small snap. The man had missed when reaching for Drexxel's wrist and instead caught the beaded double bracelet on his wrist. Beads had gone flying haphazardly in every direction, landing on the stones below like pellets. In that moment he felt the pull of magic much closer than before. This other magician was close. Very close.

Drexxel was unfortunately used to people approaching him with much more....fervor than he anticipated. However, this particular instance was something else. He'd never had someone so adamant on taking him home. If this were to go on for a moment longer, he was sure to lose his composer. He may be a pretty upbeat guy but he also had a notoriously short fuse.

That hissing aura was rapidly kindling itself from a crackling campfire to a firestorm. When his bracelet snapped, he felt something in him switch. Rage bubbled up under his skin like pot boiling over on a stove set too high. His fist clenched and a growl escaped him.

But then, out of nowhere, everything around him stopped. He was about to throw a fiery punch but stopped short when he saw another man between him and his new 'friend'. It was the man he saw in the crowd! He said he was there to help just now. But what was he doing here and how did he…

"How--?" Then it hit him like a hard slap to the face. "So you're the magician I was picking up on!" His anger flickered back to amusement and joy. "I knew I wasn't imagining it! Oh! The helping thing, yes."

Drexxel offered the newest stranger a warm, bright smile. Without hesitation, he grabbed his hand and shook it furiously.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Drexxel! What do you say we blow this popsicle stand and get somewhere far away from this creep?"

The other man seemed to freeze up, like he expected a much worse response. His whole arm wobbled when Drexxel shook it. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in shock. It took him a minute to process what the smaller man had said to him.

“Oh, I…that is….popcicles?” The man felt his face go hot, blood rushing to his cheeks. He was sure the smaller man would mistake him for a tomato.

Drexxel watched him curiously. It was like watching the gears of a clock turning, the way this man seemed to be having an inner monologue with himself about whether or not he’d made the right call to get involved. He could feel how shaken up the man was, his hand trembling. Not very good at keeping his cool was he? Finally he spoke again.

“It’s localized. My….my magic…it…I mean I…no, it. It will wear off when we get a distance away. He could follow? I- who, well…popsicles?”

Drexxel had always been good at making new friends and getting people to laugh and smile. He was small, yes, but he made up for his size with seemingly boundless energy. It was nearly impossible to not like the guy. But, he could tell, he kind of took this one by surprise. But it wasn't the first time someone had responded this way. Not often he got to see someone turn that red before though!

Whoever this new guy was, Drexxel had never seen his face in Vesuvia before. And he’dbeen in the city for quite some time now. It'd been since he was about nineteen. He knew almost every face in Vesuvia, even if a good handful of them were only in passing. But this one, this one he wanted to know more about. Consider his interest piqued.

When time came back and this new magician struggled to make a clear sentence, it was all Drexxel could do to hold in a laugh. Localized magic though, not sure he'd heard of that one before. He completely skipped over the popsicle schtick.

"Localized huh? Hey, think you could use your magic with mine? I'm thinking....a wall of fire!" He still hadn't let go of the stranger's hand. "I could put a wall of fire around him, just tall enough to trip him up of course. You could stop time around it until we get far enough away that your....localization wears off!" Mossy green eyes brimmed with excitement. He gave the hand in his a squeeze.

"I bet we'll make a great team!"

He could see the man trying to process the words coming out of Drexxel’s mouth. He’ll admit, he was a bit of a fast talker when he was excited.

“Wall of fire…” He repeated Drexxel’s words, more to himself than the other, considering the idea. Not terribly flawed, he thought. A quick fix but not long lasting. “Worth…worth a shot.” an unsteady voice. “Wait - a team?” Vell had barely gotten the words out before the air thrummed with magical energy and, just as promised, fire sprung to life around the note wielding creep. If the situation weren’t as it was, he might have taken time to admire the flames.

"That's what I said isn't it? A team!" He mused, giving this new friend a wink.

When time did in fact stop around his flames, the passion in his eyes burned that much brighter. He beamed at this new stranger.

"Talk about a cool party trick. Come on, let's get out of here." Still gripping that hand, he took off. Hopefully this new friend could keep up with him.

They took off out of the square, rushing past pedestrians and shopping stalls in a race to escape the area. Drexxel had taken the lead, ducking and diving under obstacles like it was as easy as breathing. He felt his new found companion trip up a few times but he managed to keep up the pace. He was new to Vesuvia and hadn’t the slightest idea where the two of them were headed. Drexxel looked back to check on his new friend at just the wrong moment. The edge of his sandal caught on uneven stone, sending him tumbling into an unattended fruit cart, scattering oranges along the alley. He’d never let go of this new companion’s hand, and in turn, the two of them fell together. The other man now had him pinned, a leg on either side of him.

“I-- We-- uh…” The stranger fought to find the right words, feeling like a tea kettle ready to whistle. “We fell.”

Drexxel could feel his own face burning a bright shade. He would have been able to laugh it off if it weren’t for his immediate attraction to this man. Impulse guiding him, he offered the man a toying smirk. “You know, I think this might be fate.” He winked. “And I don’t even know your name.”

“M-my name?” The other man stuttered.

He tried to stand, pulling on Drexxel’s hands to pull him up as well, only to lose his footing. He fell back onto the stone, the smaller of the two now sitting perched on his abdomen. The look in his eyes was….entrancing. Intoxicating even. He couldn’t look away. “I’m Vell.”

“Vell…” Drexxel liked the way the name felt when he said it. He let his hands drift to the other man’s chest, watching him with bright eager eyes.

Now, what was that saying about playing with fire?

#the arcana #fan apprentice #apprentice vell #apprentice drexxel #jilljoycearts #straight from roleplay #fanfic #ficlet #my writing #vexxel

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koalatydm · 3 years ago

Text

Hot Brown Morning Potion Podcast Episode 5 - The Deluxe Elf Interview with Devon Giehl and Iain Hendry

Transcription Part 1 of 2 (includes Wonderstorm questions and Kuno's questions)

[Transcriber's Notes: This took me SO LONG to transcribe, like multiple hours and I'm only halfway done... But I will make it through at least this one episode because I want fellow Moonfam enthusiasts to have a text source, not to mention make it easier for deaf/HoH people to follow along. I guess I'll tag @kuno-chan since she said it was OK at the beginning of the podcast, sorry if I'm bothering you!]

KUNO: Hi guys, so I have a personal request for this particular podcast episode if you guys could tweet, post, both at least one piece of information that you learned from this particular episode, that you love, that inspired you, that you thought was cute, whatever. Like, I really—one thing that really tends to happen is that people listen to the podcast and they kinda just go about their day. We don’t actually see the information circulate through the community, which we really try to have creative questions—questions that are fun and explore the characters in different situations. And it would just be really, really cool—it would mean a lot to me to see this actually circulate through the community, actually circulate through the fandom, and see, you know, it would be awesome to see it be inspired—to inspire fan works, fan fiction, fan art, especially fan art. I just—we talked like a solid hour at least—really like a solid hour about Runaan, Rayla, Ethari, that family, um, and Moonshadow elves a lot. We talked a lot about that. And I think this is information that a lot of people really wanted, even if it’s in largely headcanon form. But Devon and Iain were so gracious and we talked so much about that family, and including Ruthari, and of course some Rayllum in there. So if you guys could live tweet, or even just one tweet, at least one tweet. Tag us, tag me, tag Hailey, tag @HotPotion, even if you send it directly to me on Tumblr, that’d be awesome and we’d retweet, reblog all your stuff. It would be good for the podcast and I just really want to see this information circulate through the fandom, so at least one tweet. Alright, um, let’s get to the episode though. Thanks! Hope to see you guys on social media about this.

—————

KUNO: Alright, hey everyone, this is the Hot Brown Morning Potion Podcasts with your hosts Tamika and Hailey, and we are here with Devon Giehl and Iain Hendry, two writers on The Dragon Prince at Wonderstorm, and Devon being actually the recently announced lead writer at Wonderstorm, so say hi everyone!

DEVON: Hi!

IAIN: Hi, this is Iain…

DEVON: Hi, I’m Devon… (laughs)

KUNO: And so we have a ton of stuff to get through today, um, a lot of questions, so—but we’re going to ask Iain and Devon a little bit about themselves first, since I think—I’m not sure if this is the first interview they’ve really had, personally, so uh, Hailey do you want to start—head that?

HAILEY: Um, yeah, sure. Uh, could you tell us about your roles at Wonderstorm?

IAIN: Uh, sure, uh—I’m also a writer at—official title “Senior Writer” at Wonderstorm. I was one of the writing team on the show, not quite as early as Devon, who was basically employee 1 after the founders but um, I joined sort of, end of 2016 when season 1 writing was really starting to get rolling, and was you know part of the process all the way through all the seasons. Uh, and since this—it’s such a small start up company, all the writers take a bunch of other, like, production roles on the show. Like, throughout all three seasons we’ve done, like, continuity notes work, we’ve given feedback on like every step of the production process. And then the other kind of side things we have, like you know, very top secret game that we’re making in here. And like, kind of straddle the line between the show writing and the game so that that’s all kind of on point and feels like it’s in the same universe with the same characters as The Dragon Prince, but ah, can’t say too much about that just yet.

DEVON: Iain does a lot of—a lot of secret work (laughs). Um, yeah as for me, I’m also a writer on The Dragon Prince and my—I was a Senior Writer until very recently, and now I’ve been made into a Lead Writer, which means I just get to flex a lot. Um, but I started in, I think the very, very end of 2015 when Wonderstorm was first getting off the ground as like a tiny, tiny startup. And we were basically four people in a room about, I don’t know, like 20 ft by 10 ft. It was really, really awful—

IAIN: Really smelly.

DEVON: Really smelly, really tiny, like only a skylight for a window, it was great. And I—so I was involved in like the earliest of brainstorming for the show. I helped sort of like put together a lot of the pitch deck when we you know took it around to studios and like, I named like most of the characters—is like my most self-indulgent claim on the show cause I got to do a lot of really silly stuff. Um, but yeah, and then I like help out on a million other fronts at Wonderstorm too because we’re a small company and—yeah, the funny thing about the—the small tasks we have, like you mentioned continuity checks. Um, we often had to make sure that Callum’s backpack and book and Rayla’s bindings were always correct, and that was kind of, the funniest and most intense, like, stage of production ever. Cause you would, you know, watch one shot and then the next shot would come up and Callum’s backpack would have disappeared. So we had to be like, “OK, let’s give Callum backpack back on.”

IAIN: Yeah, and it’s not just for accuracy, but like, the way fandoms operate, like, we just knew if Rayla’s binding reappeared sometime, it wouldn’t be viewed as an error. People would be like “WHAT DID THE KING GET UNKILLED WHAT HAPPENED OVER HERE”.

DEVON: No it was just the—

KUNO: Oh, yeah.

IAIN: Woo!

DEVON: —continuity’s way harder than anyone thinks it is (laughs). It’s a lot.

KUNO: Oh bless you guys for knowing that though cause we—we totally would. Like, think, there was a point I remember saying that they changed Viren’s eye color because they didn’t want too much continuity with Rayla’s eye color and I feel like we were really that close to having a ‘Viren is Rayla’s real father’ issue. We really were. Somebody had to have thought about that issue (laughs).

DEVON: I actually think there is—there’s still at least one shot in the show where Viren has the wrong eye color and if you can find it, congratulations (laughter in background). That’s where we missed—missed it. So it’s in there somewhere.

KUNO: Xadia CSI (IAIN laughs). So you two are married, um, can you tell us what it’s like being married writing partners?

IAIN: You wanna go?

DEVON: Um, yeah, I mean it’s—we actually knew each other professionally before we dated, so it wasn’t like we—it’s sort of like, it was easy for us to—to remain work partners because that was how we existed in the first place. Like I met Iain when I interviewed him for a job and I—he was great (IAIN laughs), he was fun, he was all right.

IAIN: Apparently I passed.

DEVON: But um, so yeah we had a professional relationship before we had a dating—‘dating’ relationship. Um, so it’s strange because a lot of people will say like, “Oh, that’s probably terrible. You probably, like, become absolutely sick of each other” but somehow we’ve managed to—to have like, two relationship patterns where when we’re at work and we’re working on writing stuff we have this very professional thing going on and then at home, we’re just married idiots and we have a lot of fun. So like, I don’t know, I’m never tired of you, personally.

IAIN: No, (DEVON laughs) yeah I mean when we’re writing it’s generally like, Devon’s the one on the keys uh, you know, putting the words in and so on, and it will kind of bounce back and forth between like, I’ll have the idea for the—how the scene should flow and I’ll kinda narrate bits and then we’ll go back and smooth things over. But I mean, I could imagine that with some people it would get tense, but I think Devon and I, we’re just absolutely the most comfortable with each other and neither of us takes it personally when it’s like, “that line that you pitched isn’t working” or “this joke could be funnier”, anything like that.

DEVON: It’s usually Iain who’s—cause I usually type cause I type really too fast.

IAIN: She’s really too proud of her typing (laughs).

DEVON: I type super fast, it’s my only real talent, but—like I’ll just sort of go off on some sort of like incredibly unnecessary, long description of something and Iain will sort of let me get about like four or five lines into this unnecessary nonsense and he’ll just sort start going like, “OK so like, do we really—do we need that? I mean, you know, could we sort of parse this down a little, a little less, a little less”. And then I, just like, “Ugh, fine” (laughs).

IAIN: But um, every word she writes is great.

DEVON: Mmm (skeptically)

IAIN: It’s perfect.

DEVON: Completely not true. Also in our scripts I think like—

KUNO: Aw.

DEVON: —in terms of the way that we work professionally, I think like a lot of my strengths are in—in really almost self indulgent levels of drama and he can kind of pull me back from being too indulgent on those fronts. And then I think that Iain is objectively absurdly funny and so when you kind of look at our episodes usually everything that’s pretty funny and lighthearted and like the sense of levity often comes from you and then if there’s anything that just feels really painfully sad it’s probably me?

IAIN: I’m the funny one.

DEVON: (laughs) It’s true.

KUNO: Aw, I feel such a connection to you Devon, because I’m actually, episode 3 was actually one of my favorite ones because I love all that like domestic stuff. I love just kind of like—oh, I don’t know what you call the trope, like a safe house trope where you go somewhere, you’re still kind of in the adventure but we’re in a space right now, a narrative space where people are safe, if that makes any sense. Like you—if you’ve ever seen How To Train Your Dragon, like (T/N I don’t know what was said here, sorry!), the base is the safe place, that kind of thing. So, I totally get that, I actually see—episode 3 was one of my favorites outside of pretty much every episode where Rayllum was a thing. (laughter from multiple people)

HAILEY: The whole season basically (laughs).

KUNO: Pretty much the whole season, um. I think there was one more question about two.

HAILEY: Yeah sooo.

KUNO: Before we get to the elves.

HAILEY: Yeah, definitely. Uh so it was mentioned that you’re now lead writer, Devon, and can you tell a little bit more about what that entails if you can, and how that’s been going?

DEVON: Yeah, I mean… I actually don’t know what I can say about it, um… I think it—it means that uh, for future Dragon Prince stuff I’ll sort of like take a bit more of an active role in leading the—the development and the storylines and things like that. It also means that from a company perspective um I’ve been kind of involved in some other side stuff that Wonderstorm is quietly looking into developing and um I help a lot with other IPs that we would love to make a real thing someday and that’s kind of all I can say about it I think or I’ll get in trouble.

HAILEY: All right, that’s great, that’s good to know, thank you.

KUNO: The Dragon Prince 2 (laughter from multiple people). I’m totally joking everyone that’s not a thing so don’t take that for—

HAILEY: Wow.

KUNO: I’m joking.

IAIN: Two dragons.

DEVON: The Dragon 2 Prince.

KUNO: Yeah. OK also if there’s anything that you guys say that you want redacted this is probably not going up for another week because I have to get our reaction episode out. So anything you guys think about that you’re like, “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that” just message us and we’ll redact that. Yeah, cause we know that—

HAILEY: Or just say it. Just tell us, like, what’s—

DEVON: Hopefully we have some self-control but—

KUNO: Okay, so we are going to get really indulgent here and I think this is going to be really in Devon’s wheelhouse. We have a lot of questions and a bunch of the scenarios so try to get through as much of it as possible. Um so the first question is can you tell us more about the Silvergrove? What is the government system like in Silvergrove? Who runs it? If you could tell us that is that the only—at least like the leadership role? Um, is that the only Moonshadow elf village? And also do they actually get any real daylight because I noticed when the illusion thing happened it just got shady and I’m like, “They might be taking this Moonshadow thing too far”. Like the elves—do they really like that much? So like tell us about the Silvergrove and where Rayla grew up.

IAIN: So I guess it’s probably worth just starting off with a kind of blanket like, ‘if it hasn’t been in the show, we can’t say it’s 100% fact. A lot of this is just gonna be what kind of we thought, rough shape of things happen in our heads—‘

KUNO: Yeah, absolutely.

IAIN: —going into the writing and so on. So you know, don’t come after me with any, uh, fandom lawyers, anyone. But um yeah, I guess like it’s sort of—it’s most useful for us to think about it in comparison to how the Sunfire elves, like clearly they have very structured society. They have a queen, obviously, and they have large cities and so on whereas we think Moonshadow elves live in, as you saw, much smaller communities. And I think the Silvergrove is not the only one of those, it might be one of the better known ones where clearly the best assassins come from. But uh, I think are other ones out there, um, and maybe even Moonshadow elf people do not know where all the other ones are. Obviously the Silvergrove is hidden and maybe they don’t even have access to all the other ones. So I think there’s a sort of community run vibe to things. I think you know when they decided to—to ghost Rayla, and before that Rayla’s parents, I think that was probably a ‘let’s all come to a consensus before we make a decision about something like this’. I think, Devon, if you want to talk about the kind of like sunlight vibes things, because that was a big part of your driving force behind how this episode looked and felt.

DEVON: Um… well… first, I will say that it was potentially from the top down a complicated visual decision to have episode 3 take place in a Moonshadow elf shady forest grove and also the kingdom of sunlight.

IAIN: Yup.

DEVON: It created a couple production problems in terms of like the way we wanted the Silvergrove to look was very like evening themed and cool colors and you know shaded. And I had this really sort of self indulgent thing where I really wanted it to be as close to night time as possible and yet the story line in Lux Aurea was clearly taking place in the middle of the day. So we came to this sort of compromise that you know it is technically daytime through the whole day and there is enough tree cover that it’s already pretty shadowy but also I think there is some magic at play that’s sort of like generally um shrouds the whole thing in more of like a night time vibe. And my inspiration for that was I’m a big World of Warcraft player, or was I don’t super play a ton anymore but I really loved Ashenvale and some of the night elf regions and they had that similar thing that no matter what time of day it was it always felt like at least dusk or like this sort of like ever—ever shaded feeling. And I indulgently kind of wanted that to be where Rayla came from. So that’s what that’s about.

IAIN: Yeah and I think they’re magical beings. They don’t need vitamin D from the sunlight or anything like that. They’re totally fine if they just get moonlight every so often.

DEVON: But yeah, don’t write a script that has, you know, moon themed place and sun themed place at the same time. It was a… questionable choice (laughs). But I think it turned out—

KUNO: Yeah, ‘cause I was wondering—I was wondering—I was like “Okay” because a lot of the stuff you run through—you run the okay, if I were to write a fanfiction how do I use this. So it’s like, do they just never like—if they like—if Callum were to say live in the Silvergrove would he just have to get used to the fact that like it’s just never totally bright daylight or unless you leave the Silvergrove in the forest, uh, and like—that type of—is that what’s kind of like going on, they just like their shade?

DEVON: I think they like their shade. It’s like Scotland in the winter.

IAIN: Oh yeah, except we all get miserable by around about February when we haven’t seen sunlight in several months. But um yeah, I think it’s kind of like yeah, a combination of ‘oooh, magic’ and also just extremely, like, thick tree cover in the deepest parts of the forest. But I don’t think you have to travel too far. But uh, I think there’s a reason why everyone in that town was a Moonshadow elf and there were no Sunfire elves or random humans just like, chilling and living there. I think only the most goth of kids would be able to live in the Silvergrove without going a little bit mad.

DEVON: I mean you only have to go as far as the adoraburr field which clearly still gets a significant amount of daylight.

IAIN: Yeah.

KUNO: And you said there’s not really like a leader. They do as a community, but is there anyone that like makes decisions, like is there anybody that like if they were to go to somebody, like if they have like village leadership decisions. And obviously, um, blanket statement that all this we assume is kind a little bit of headcanon so it doesn’t have to be like for gospel, but you know for purposes of writing stuff.

DEVON: Um the way I thought about it—well, to back up a tiny bit, there was actually a version of the story where there might have—this was super, super early on, we were thinking about how the story might play out and we talked about there being potentially another Moonshadow elf leader type character that they would meet who, you know, was the one who ultimately called for the Ghosting decision. But that didn’t really fit the sort of, like, very personal nature of the story we wanted to play out with Rayla specifically. Um but thinking about that and the way that we were, you know, trying to shape it—I would imagine that like the assassins are sort of like a specific group that live in the Silvergrove which is otherwise—it’s not all assassins, like, not everybody there is an assassin. And I think that means that like you know Runaan was the leader of the assassins so he might consult with the leader of the blacksmiths who may be someone over Ethari but maybe it’s him now who might consult with the other general leaders—I don’t know. Like I think it’s more of a counsel of different groups than one single authority. It just seems like that would be a better fit for Moonshadow elves than the sort of like very, very strong-army, structured, high-and-mighty feeling that the Sunfire elves have, so, does that make sense?

KUNO: That totally makes sense, a little bit like an oligarchy, I think I had the idea that like they sound like they like a counsel. Like it sounds like a elven conciliatory.

DEVON: Yeah I think like someone might say, like obviously something horrible has happened and Rayla is exactly the person we thought she was. I’m calling for a—a ghost vote. And then you know—

IAIN: With a cooler name than that.

DEVON: No I think it’s canonically, I’m sorry—

IAIN: Ghost vote?

DEVON: The canon is “ghost vote” now.

IAIN: Okay.

DEVON: But yeah, they would all sort of like weight in kind of like a town hall scenario about of like why this is obviously the correct call and they would all sort of like have to come to some sort of agreement about what to do versus the Sunfire queen just being like “mph, time for the light, light decides!”

IAIN: Yeah.

KUNO: Okay um the next question being almost a little on that, does Ethari regret, um, what does he—does Ethari regret doing the banishing spell now that he knows the truth about Rayla?

DEVON: Oh absolutely 100%. But I don’t think he would have the power to—to reverse it. Like I think he could do a quick charm to help reverse it in the moment just to speak with her but ultimately it would take a lot for him to undo it and I’m not—we haven’t talked about what he’ll get up to in the meantime, but I don’t know he would be able to pursue it so directly—I’d have to talk about it, I think it would be an interesting side thought to think about how he might pursue redeeming her in the eyes of her people knowing what he knows, but—

IAIN: Yeah I think given that we said it would take everyone to do it collectively and make an agreed decision it would similarly everyone would have to understand the truth and go back on it and ‘oh I saw her one time and she said she didn’t do anything wrong probably isn’t enough to overturn that. But yeah I think he probably felt some regret even at the moment, but you know he’s in some of the worst grief of his entire life and he’s not going to make perfect rational decisions. And I’ve seen you know some people were slightly upset that he got so angry with Rayla in the moment of seeing her but I think like when you first see the person that you’ve tried to convince yourself sort of took the most important person in your life away from you, you’re gonna feel a big mess of feelings and it will bring up some grief that maybe you thought you were just—just starting to get over, so ah. Yeah I think hopefully he can turn that around in the years to come but they’ve all had a rough time. They’re at war. It sucks (DEVON laughs). Don’t go to war, kids.

KUNO: Hailey did you want to ask the next one or did you want me to?

HAILEY: Sure I can ask it. Could you—so I mean—you mentioned a stuff—a couple things about their government system and whatnot, but is there anything else you could tell us about Moonshadow culture, like what their day to day is like, and what it means to be a Moonshadow elf?

DEVON: Um I do think that a lot of the fandom I’ve been pleased to see has picked up on this sort of idea of a fairly rigid culture and you know there’s a lot of importance placed on things like honor, loyalty, and the ability to commit to things. And um I think that could come off as pretty strict but I actually think it comes from the place of valuing a close knit community. And I think, like, to the idea that we said like they probably have some kind of counsel instead of some single authority kind of ruler. It’s—I think their day to day would be very much going about their business in ways that support each other you know? Like does that make sense? It’s—you go to the blacksmith and he does work for you and it’s friendly and conversational but it’s productive—it’s all very for the good of the community.

IAIN: Yeah I think early on in season 1 even Rayla says that you know they’re not really meant to show their feelings. So I think everyone kind of commits to doing their task for the good of the village and doesn’t gripe about their day to day until something bad happens as the entire series to this point has been driven by. But um yeah I think they uh—they’re just committed to having a good, small, close knit village life and all supporting each other the best they can. And then occasionally the dragon queen tells you to go kill someone and that’s your job so you better go do that without complaining about it.

DEVON: I think we use the words “reclusive yet intimate” in the article we put up about the two moon creatures, the moonstrider and the shadowpaw. And I liked that a lot because I think they’re reclusive in the sense that they’re a little bit shut off from the wider world and they’re um isolationist in their preservation of their own culture but they are very close to each other and that is something that they hold at such an—like a preciousness level but it’s also a bit extreme, like if you betray that in any capacity like obviously they take that very seriously. And so it’s a double edged sword if you will, to have a community that supportive and that close but also your ability to perform all of yourself for the good of that community can be your undoing so—

KUNO: No I actually kinda get that um ‘cause I’m Pacific Islander so I think we’d call that what you’d call a collectivist society where it’s like the needs of the group supercede needs of the individual so I kinda like I—it’s not the extreme I think that they are because they’re very like reclusive but um I kinda live like that in a little bit of way. It’s what I grew up with. So I actually totally get that which might be why I like that so much (multiple people laugh). Um so the next question would be how does the banishing spell work that, um, that was used on Rayla politically and magically? I think we’ve talked a little bit about politically already but magically is—I’m assuming it’s a collective decision or does each person, like, opt in? Like could Ethari have opted out of doing it or did we—did they all have to agree?

DEVON: I think everybody have to agree?

KUNO: And how is it broken?

DEVON: I don’t think you can opt out?

IAIN: Um I think ‘how is it broken’ is something we definitely want to save for—for the future uh we really hope that Rayla manages to undo that. In terms of I think that it’s just culturally ingrained that you wouldn’t opt out. Um I think they would probably just argue forever until they manage to come to an agreement. So I—yeah I don’t think there’s you know half the elves in that village who are seeing Rayla and were like “Oh hey Rayla how’s it going?” I think uh they all came to the collective decision. That’s kind of the political angle. Um sorry, what was the other part? Magically how it works?

KUNO: Yeah? How would you do it?

IAIN: I—again, you know if it’s not in the show it’s not canon, but I sort of inspired by how the entrance spell works where they do a dance and there’s a ritual and I imagine it’s kind of similar. Like I think there’s a lot of that kind of like ritualistic style of magic and it’s kind of like what you see when they put the flowers out onto the water as well. There’s you know a collective dance probably involving a lot more people, a lot more cool intricate runes that happen only with a much more somber mood than the fun, happy times of Callum and Rayla dancing around in the forest. Um so yeah it’s probably—I would imagine it’s probably tied to some whatever the saddest phase of the moon is and that’s when they all get together and really somberly and really sadly uh commit to never seeing this person again. At least that’s the part of the plan. An interesting question that I think could be something that fanfiction writers such as yourself could get into is has any one of these ever been broken before or have they all been pretty sure that they would never need to go back on it? Is that going to be something that Rayla is going to figure out for the first time ever or is there a precedent for this happening. And we don’t have an answer right now but I think that would be a cool story to think about and write.

DEVON: Oh man I love the saddest phase of the moon idea. Imagine if they do it at the new moon because it’s like the moon’s face is hidden forever. Whoo.

IAIN: Whoo.

DEVON: Sad.

KUNO: Maybe we’re birthing things while we’re doing this interview. I actually think it would be like Callum does the Historia Viventum thing and it would be so—cause now I’m just imagining this whole village doing this sad dance which is the Banish Rayla dance essentially. And like that would be so sad for Rayla to witness that just for the drama of seeing her entire village decide to just not see her ever again. And that’s like wow, I’m so sad now.

DEVON: I love sadness.

IAIN: Yeah Callum just crushing a series of Moon Opals to show such a clip show of all of Rayla’s saddest history moments (laughs).

DEVON: Oh god.

IAIN: That’d be great.

DEVON: Thanks Callum.

KUNO: Thanks Callum. Um, she’d love him anyway. But um okay so some of my favorite stuff, what was it like for Rayla when her parents had to leave her to live with Runaan and Ethari and what was that transition like for them all? How old was like Rayla too?

DEVON: This was one that we’ve had a couple different ideas about so this is another one that’s like heavy not quite canon bubble. Like if we actually end up doing a story that involves some of these details it’s likely to change and be slightly different but the versions that I’ve liked have involved her being pretty young. And because honor is such a you know key part of Moonshadow culture I think like overall it was something that she felt you know sad about because she knew that she wasn’t going to be directly seeing her parents very often anymore. And—but it was uh such a huge honor that she felt you know pride in what her parents were being selected to go do. You know, act as Dragonguard and serve as these sort of like honorific, um, warriors that left the collective of the Silvergrove to go represent Moonshadow elves in the service of the Dragon Queen. And I think she had—she grew up being told what an honor that was and how much pride she should have in her parents because that is such a special thing. And then I think like it speaks a lot to how proud she was when she believed that they ran away and abandoned that duty because you know, how could they? If that was their reason for leaving her when she was a child and then they ran away from that job, like, how important could it have really been? And then you know, I’m sure that makes her feel very, very small. It made her feel so hurt that she told Callum at first that they were dead so she took it pretty hard.

KUNO: Yeah.

DEVON: But I think the other thing about it that we’ve sort of kicked around is that like, Runaan and Ethari were Rayla’s parents’ close friends and I think she was familiar with them enough that she didn’t feel like she was being you know left with two strangers. It’s sort of just like, you’re going to be under the care of people who are already very, very close to you and care about you quite a bit.

IAIN: Yeah I think with like Moonshadow elves in general the thing I think about a lot is like the good and evil that comes from suppressing your true emotions to show a different face to the world and I think we see a lot of that in Rayla. Like I think she probably committed pretty hard to Ghosting her parents because she had this like big mess of like sadness that she’d left but at least the soft landing of Runaan and Ethari to live with and so on. But believing like this sadness is worth it because they’re doing something so noble and then the betrayal of that—it just came out in kind of a messy like toxic way, right, where now she’s committed to becoming an assassin at a really young age in a way Ethari doesn’t agree with and so on. But I mean on the other side I think having a strong handle on your emotions is often one of Rayla’s strengths right? Like we saw in episode 5 of this season after she’s going through a whole lot of stuff, both her family situation and this new development with Callum, she’s just able to like operate as a cool badass extremely cool assassin without letting any of that affect her. But you know I think there’s balance in how you handle your feelings and how you externalize them in a good way that people can learn from, but sometimes you gotta—you gotta work (laughs).

KUNO: That makes sense. Oh well yeah I always had this personal headcanon which I kind of like incorporated into my fanfictions where she felt abandoned by her parents so in a way it’s kinda like slightly—kinda like that except it was all those feelings that have been repressed from years and years basically came out when she felt like—like the abandonment came to like the head when she felt like they had left because they had ran away—they kind of like ran away like from her.

DEVON: Oh yeah, absolutely.

KUNO: In a way—their duty to—

DEVON: I think that validates the suppressed feeling, you know.

KUNO: Yeah, since their duty to the Dragonguard was in it’s own way more important and that’s something that was like okay because it was an honor but since they ran away it’s like obviously it was more important in a terrible way, if that makes any sense?

IAIN: Yeah I mean I think it’s like she did her best and she’s trying to be a grown up but it’s hard at a young age to accept that you know there are meant to be higher callings than a bond between parents and children, right? Like that’s hard for her to grasp and she probably didn’t express that openly ever really. But I think it really did help that she had two genuine loving father figures ready to accept her with open arms even if one of them did train her to become the best assassin of her generation, which again I wouldn’t advise to—to most parents out there.

DEVON: I do think like even that was considered, you know, honorable. It was you know, you’re going to—not only are you going to get to live with Runaan and Ethari, like Runaan is the leader of the assassins, or at least maybe at that point in time he wasn’t the leader but he was very up and coming. I don’t know, it could be either or, but that I think was probably something that she fully embraced and fully wanted, like you know, ‘this is my purpose in life, this is my calling, my parents have gone off to do their calling and it’s a great honor for them, and this is my path and what I’m going to do with myself’. And that didn’t end up being true but it was probably a comfort to her at the time.

IAIN: Yeah.

KUNO: That makes a lot of sense. Moving on, okay, this, we’re getting real indulgent now—do you know what Ethari and Runaan’s wedding was like and what are Moonshadow elf weddings are like in general?

DEVON: Um, I have a, so a lot of the dancing stuff is because I have an enormous soft spot for tropes involving cute dances, like, just a huge, huge soft spot. And the thing that comes to mind is, if you’ve seen the movie Prince of Egypt, which is such a weird reference—

KUNO: Yeah, I love that.

DEVON: —the scene where he and the girl, I forget her name, they do the thing—

KUNO: Tzipporah.

DEVON: —with the ribbon and they do the cute little dance with the ribbon. For some reason that’s what I think of when I imagine what a moment in their wedding would look like would be a dance with a ribbon that they sort of use to—you know, Moonshadow elves love ribbons, I guess, but this is a good ribbon! It’s a love ribbon. But anyway, that’s just my idea. I love that specific—that song that, “Through Heaven’s Eyes”, it’s during that sequence but that—

KUNO: Yeah.

DEVON: —would be my go-to inspiration for like, it’s like that and then you know, everybody dances with them because Moonshadow elves like to dance.

IAIN: Yeah, I kind of like the idea of the—there’s a lot of these symbols that are sometimes extremely sinister. I mean I think Ethari even kinda calls this out when he shoots the—the Shadowhawk arrow to inform the queen that her son is in fact alive. But like, Moonshadow elves believe that death and life are not good and evil, they’re mirrors of each other and an important part of the cycle. And you know, the moon has cycles and that’s an important part. So I think thinking about all the rituals and stuff that they have, which initially you’re introduced to as ‘let’s go murder someone party’, like if that was—there was a kind of inverse to that that was a big part of their wedding ceremony I think that would make a lot of sense to Moonshadow elves because this is two people binding their lives together forever. Binding for a shared purpose in a good way and not the grim ‘let’s go kill Prince Ezran’ kind of way.

KUNO: Yeah. Cause naturally this is involving like several ships so I’m like, I had to ask that. And on the piggyback of that, as detailed as possible, can you describe courtship customs for Moonshadow elves?

DEVON: Oh man.

KUNO: I mean like dating—dating customs, like a headcanon even if it’s just headcanons.

IAIN: Devon is deep in thought (laughs).

DEVON: I’ve never—like for some reason the—the headcanons that I’ve thought about are more specific to like, Runaan and Ethari than I’ve really sort of like branched out into thinking about how Moonshadow elves do this in general. So I imagine there’s intended—there’s some formality to it, I would imagine, in that like, because they’re so, you know, purposeful and thoughtful with how they express their feelings if at all, I think it would be, you know, exchange of gifts like small favors and making your purpose known in a way that starts small but has purpose. So I think like, there’s versions where Ethari would put extra detail into the work he was doing for Runaan which you know, could be perceived as a sign of affection or Runaan was coming to Ethari asking him to work on his weapons or metalcraft stuff a little bit more than was necessary and—stuff like that, where it’s a bit stiff and difficult but I think like once—once there is clear reciprocation I think there can be more of an open discussion about it, does that make sense? But I think Runaan probably struggled with this a whole lot, like, ‘cause he’s—did I, it might have been you who I responded to on Twitter but someone asked me something along these lines and I think Runaan had a really hard time even with this first sort of like simple offerings of affection because that’s just him. Like he sort of takes that aspect to an extreme. Like he has a hard time being like “here is the way I wish to express myself in a soft way and not with a—a sharp object. So I think Ethari had an easier time because he’s just more naturally soft (laughs).

IAIN: Yeah I sometimes think that Runaan is the most Moonshadow elf of all Moonshadow elves, but like, you know, it’s—

KUNO: I was gonna say that.

IAIN: Yeah, um, you know when they have such a hard time showing their feelings and they sometimes feel like they’re not supposed to and so on, and so Runaan is trying to pick up on the tiniest possible hints through professional exchanges and so on. And I think when it’s actually time to confess that there’s a feeling there you would, I think especially Runaan would have to be 100% sure and then do it entirely in private, the most private situation possible where there could be no possible spies who could see this if it was going to go wrong because that would just be the end of his entire life, obviously.

DEVON: Yeah he would bind himself to his own death (laughs).

IAIN: Yeah, that’s it. Gonna assassinate myself because I confessed love and it didn’t get reciprocated. That’s that.

DEVON: It’s over.

IAIN: So yeah, lot of—lots of awkward advances where they’re trying—trying to have the escape hatch of “Oh I didn’t really try to suggest that I liked you, this was just me asking you for a professional favor by let’s never speak again”.

DEVON: And then he comes back the next day (DEVON and IAIN laugh).

KUNO: Oh my goodness. Uh I felt—I—I kinda like headcanoning now that Ethari tells Rayla all this “how I met, you know, your surrogate dad” kind of stuff. Like, and that’s how she—she’s like, this is how you do love apparently.

DEVON: I do think that like, yeah, he had a much easier time and probably picked up on stuff. And to me there’s a side of Ethari that you don’t really get to see in the episode because he’s very sad. I think he’s a—he does have a playful side and I like to imagine that while Runaan was doing his, like, really just not-the-best attempts to display affection early on, like Ethari would pick up on them but not necessarily give the full signal back. And he played a little bit oblivious but he absolutely was—he’s just more emotionally in tune. So I think, “Oh hey, you’re back again, wow. I thought I did fantastic work on your blades last time. I cannot believe they’re already dull!” Like and he just sort of like, he knows—he knows there’s something there.

IAIN: I think like this kind of gets echoed in Rayla, like where Callum in an effort to pick her up and be honest about how he feels that she’s just an incredible person. Like to her that’s like, ‘person being entirely open with their feelings in a positive way? That’s a love connection!’ And then it goes wrong for one entire episode and then it turns out that Callum was also not fully aware of how he was feeling and so on. But I think like, yeah, I think that’s why she was like immediately “Wow, this is clearly meant to be romantic and this is—this is going exactly the way I want!” and then it didn’t. But then it did! So we’re all happy.

DEVON: Aww.

KUNO: I am! I’m certainly happy. Um—uh let’s see—the next one is—okay. What was Rayla like as a child growing up in a household she did—household? Um, she mentioned going to school and we’d love to know how baby Rayla fared as a student and just a child growing up in the Silvergrove and what that experience is like for a Moonshadow elf child?

DEVON: You want—you want me to do this one?

IAIN: Go for it.

DEVON: Yeah, um, I think Rayla was feisty (laughs) in a word. I think she—for some reason there’s a scene in the beginning of Korra where she’s already mastered like, three elements and she like comes out punching. I kind of think about that when I think about baby Rayla. She knows she’s—there’s that end credit scene where she’s got the two sticks and she’s posing with them and Runaan’s sort of lifting one of them up and I’m thinking like, okay so sheg’s like, from a tiny, tiny age thinking like, “I’m gonna be the coolest assassin the Moonshadow elves have ever seen!” and she’s like rambunctious about that almost, because you know, as a child you don’t really understand what the ramifications of that are but it’s considered like a highly, highly valued, honored position and so she’s obviously like, “Yeah I’m gonna do that and I’m going to be the best at it and there will never be any complications whatsoever!” In terms of Moonshadow elf childhood, I think with the way that I would think about it is—we talked about the sort of community aspect. I imagine Moonshadow elves have pretty, like, what’s the word, like, a lot of general education, sort of, like, “this is what weaponsmithing is like and this is gardening and raising crops and things to provide for the community” and so I think they would have a lot of ‘school’ that covers a lot of just like, life basics because you are expect to find a place that contributes to the collective whole. Does that like—?

IAIN: Yeah, I think like it’s also lucky for Rayla that a big part of Moonshadow elf culture is what we would call PE. Like I think she excelled at striving to be an assassin warrior and so on. Especially like, she’s trying to live up to her parents who at first were honored Dragonguard and you know, Runaan as well. I think in terms of like, more academic stuff like if there was Moonshadow elf history lessons and “let’s go out and understand the, you know, ecology of the Moonshadow forest” and stuff I think she was probably a bit kinda like, rambunctious and not super paying attention and running off and not really giving it her all and so on. Um, you kind of get that impression from early on where she knows what Primal sources are and she’ll explain that to Callum but like, when she’s talking about ‘how do you do that Moonshadow form thing’ she’s like “I don’t know, it just feels right”. Like I think that’s—she did everything very intuitively and focused on the things she cared about and understood and kinda did what she—did what she could on the other subjects, I guess, but didn’t care as much.

DEVON: Yeah I feel like if you imagine the kid that is going to grow up to be an artist is doing doodles on their math homework and just sort of like doing the math homework but—but you know, clearly the effort is being placed elsewhere. I think it’s that but she was excelling at PE and assassin training and therefore fell very, very easily into her supposed path.

KUNO: The—this isn’t on the thing, but did—did she ever—did she ever really have any friends? ‘Cause she doesn’t really mention—ever mention friends. I—maybe that has to do with the whole assassin thing where if she wasn’t learning being at school she would probably doing assassin stuff with Runaan or assassin training stuff—I guess not really assassinating. But um did she have really friends growing up?

IAIN: I think if she had friends they were not super close. And I think she valued her alone time. There’s a sweet moment early in—well end of season 1 where she like tries to cheer up Ezran by saying that fitting in is overated and I think she felt that a little bit. Um and you know I think there’s some amount of when you’re being trained in the art of an assassin like you’re probably somewhat taught to—to keep people at arm’s length a little bit, right? And I think she—she took that to heart. So I think that’s a big part of why when she was first traveling with Callum and Ezran there wasn’t that much trust between then and it was kinda like, it was Ezran honestly that bridged the gap being most empathetic number 1 child. And yeah, I think having a close friend is relatively new to her.

KUNO: Makes sense. Like just few, not the many. Um okay then next question before we get to Hailey’s batch of them are um, what are Runaan’s feelings toward Rayla as of right now and everything that’s happened since season 1? I understand he’s in a coin, he’s in a finacial crisis, he’s probably not thinking about it too hard—

DEVON: Oh my god (laughs).

KUNO: But you know, like he’s gotta be—you know he’s not doing anything right now, I’m assuming, so like what would be his feelings about her at the moment?

DEVON: I mean he’s got a lot of time to think, wherever he is. I think like—I got into this a little bit on Twitter in a self-indulgent rant at one point where I think he went through a lot very quietly during the first few episodes of the show where he very, very much wanted Rayla to succeed, even if he wasn’t necessarily like being the dad on the sideline of the soccer game, like, cheering for her. But he thought this was her moment, this was her time to prove that she really was more dedicated to you know, her cause and her people than her parents were because they had, you know, been the subject of such shame. And then ah, everything goes the way it does, I think he has a brief crisis of, “Is this my fault? Did I fail to train her well enough? Like, was Ethari right?” Because he always thought she had, you know, a softer heart. And I think like those are the types of things that he’s still stewing on, um like did—”did he overstep? Was it something—was he so eager to give her the opportunity to prove herself that he, you know, ultimately put her in a position where she could not succeed?” I think like, the other thing that I mentioned on Twitter was I think he took her off the mission both because he very, very much wanted to give himself and the others a chance to complete the mission even if it meant their deaths. But it also meant that Rayla had the chance to survive even if it was potentially going to be misinterpreted and she’d get slapped with the Ghosting, I think he believed that her alive was better than everybody being dead. So I think like, he’s got a lot—a lot to work through and I think like—I think he feels guilty. I think there’s the smallest part of him that he has the—again, a lot of time to potentially stew on and reflect on is he does feel like he put her in a position that was, you know, not fully taking into account the type of person she was and more projecting onto her the type of person he wanted her to be and gift he wanted to give her of redeeming herself in the eyes of her people for her parents. And I think he’s gonna have to work through that. Poor dude.

KUNO: That’s so sadly heartfelt. That’s so sadly heartfelt. Here I am thinking that he’d be, like, maybe a little angry with her, ‘cause obvious reason, but now it’s like, oh he feels guilty. Like, “Oh, okay, let’s just slap the angst on, okay”.

DEVON: I mean, I think like—

KUNO: Yeah, mm-hm.

DEVON: Sure he’d have some anger, like, “Awgh, I gave her everything. I gave her the exact opportunity she needed”. But I think like the guilt and the reflection leads to the “Maybe I—maybe it was me who stepped too far here”.

IAIN: Yeah, I mean another part of it is like, we don’t know what it’s like being trapped in the hell coin dimension, right?

DEVON: Oh I do. I—I mean—

IAIN: Oh you do?

DEVON: It sucks.

IAIN: Oh it sucks?

DEVON: When it happens to me on the reg (IAIN laughs).

IAIN: But you know, does it feel like an eternity is passing? Does it feel like no time has passed? Is he in eternal pain? Because if it’s like real bad—

KUNO: Oh my god.

IAIN: —in there I can imagine that like yeah there’s definitely some of those kind of anger feelings that you don’t want to feel in but you do sometimes, right? Like it’s like, if he has a snap moment of “I wouldn’t be in here if she hadn’t gone off and disobeyed our orders and, like, lied to me and so on”. So if he ever comes out uh don’t know what side of the emotional coin he’s gonna land on.

DEVON: Ohhh, please leave.

KUNO: Oh my god.

DEVON: Get out, oof, ouch.

IAIN: Finger guns.

DEVON: I do think like that sort of complex—

KUNO: It sounds—

DEVON: —emotion is just, I don’t want to give any time to that pun, we’re moving on. Like that sort of complexity of emotion and relationships is something that I really like in the show overall. Like you said earlier, you saw some people that were a little bit upset that Ethari was so willing to lash out at Rayla at first and I think like to me that was always part of the big, big thematic of the show, which is this sort of endless cycle of people being willing to hurt each other and not forgive each other and not, you know, accept that you can choose peace. It’s, you know, it’s—Runaan having that impulse to anger is a very natural thing and it doesn’t—I don’t think it necessarily makes him a bad person for feeling that. And I don’t necessarily think that Ethari having his moments of grief lead him to actions that are ultimately like, regretful, like I don’t think he would want that to define him in the long run. Like those are very human things but those are the things as we acknowledge them and as are—so long as we are capable of recognizing how flawed we are and how violent and…

KUNO: Messy.

DEVON: Messy! Thank you, that’s like, I was going to say like churning, messy is good. Like messy emotions can be and how they can like, dictate the way we treat each other, um, but forgiveness and patience and acceptance are ultimately just so much more powerful than those negative perpetuating lashing outs. That was an inelegant way of ending that screed, but yes.

KUNO: I actually really love that um ‘cause I from the beginning I’ve loved their father-daughter relationship so I love how complicated it is, ‘cause the truth is you know every parent-child relationship is a little complicated, except theirs is a little more complicated with assassination going on in the works, the family trade. So I love that it is this complicated ‘cause I know I remember in the beginning where people were like you know—you know she does have a dad. And it’s like I know she has a biological dad but until I am told otherwise that’s her father. I don’t care and I love their relationship so I love that that really reflects that. Another—the next question out of me before we get to, um, Hailey’s, which are all about different elves, is um, course I have to ask, my policy is one Rayllum question per interview. Um what are Runaan’s feelings—whah, no, whoop, how would Ruthari and Runaan react to Rayla’s relationship with Callum considering he’s not only a human but a human prince? ‘Cause as far as we know Runaan really hates, um, humans and I’d love to see that story later, both individually and as a couple. Because as far as I know, Ethari probably doesn’t know that their in a relationship unless he sensed it?

DEVON: Oh man, I—I think you should take this one, but I do want to say that I saw one comment on Tumblr at one point where someone said that they wished that Ethari had said something to Callum along the lines of like, “Take care of her”. And I want to travel back in time and pretend that was in the script ‘cause I think that would have been really, really nice. And I do think like, he picked up on the fact that Callum was important to her even if it—he didn’t necessarily read it as romantic right off the bat. I think he mostly was like, “Oh this guy is kind of like a cute—he’s a human but he’s, you know, a friend to someone I care about and that in and of itself is valuable and there’s something there”. So I think—pretend that was in the script. I wish I had thought about something like that but—

KUNO: I will (DEVON laughs).

IAIN: Yeah.

KUNO: That’s canon as far—as far as I’m concerned that’s canon.

IAIN: I think uh it would be best for everyone involved if they found out together, uh, because I think Runaan’s impulse would not be good immediately. I think like, when you spend so much time as an assassin and you drill into your head that the people that you’re meant to kill are not people, they’re the enemy right? Like I think that’s—sometimes that’s a thing he turns on to do the job and so on, but I do think that’s gonna bleed into his personality and it’s—you know, especially given his extremely recent history he’s not got the best feelings about humans. So I think it would inspire an immediate negative reaction in him that would not be pleasant for Callum and Rayla, but I think Ethari just has a much softer heart and that is where Rayla kind of got that side from. So I mean I’m not going to say that he would immediately—you know, they’ve been at war for hundreds and hundreds of years with humans and they’ve been told all through their history that humans committed the original sin of dark magic, et cetera et cetera, but like, I think it would take not that much time of seeing Rayla and Callum together for Ethari to see that there’s something there and then I think Ethari would have the ability to ah, to talk Runaan down pretty quick. But I also think that like, Runaan might not even show any of this, there might just be a kind of seething resentment that he’s not really talking about inside. Um unless it was like on the battlefield or something and he was like, “That’s a prince that I’m meant to kill” or something like that. But overall I think Ethari would sense that Runaan was not like—was not taking this well and they would be able to talk it through. At least that’s my gut.

DEVON: No, that sounds right (DEVON and IAIN laugh).

KUNO: I feel like poor Callum is just always on the edge of “Am I going to die tonight?” while he’s there, “Is this gonna be it?” Just gonna be like, “Oops sorry I had an accident—hey I had an accident in the middle of the night, you know, just a knife to the throat, that’s all”.

IAIN: I mean, he’s doing pretty well, like he said as they were about to meet Ethari and Rayla was like, “Remember Runaan?” He was like “Oh yeah, that guy who tried to kill me as soon as he met me? Cool guy”. Callum’s doing pretty well on the acceptance front these days.

DEVON: I do—

KUNO: Yeah.

DEVON: I do want to say that I think Ethari and Callum would get along really well because I think they both have sort of like a soft hearted friendliness to them that they would have a fun rapport. And that’s the sort of like “Trees to meet you” line is definitely supposed to be like—they’d you know, crack some goofy back and forths and I think that would soften Runaan too because he couldn’t ever hate someone that Ethari liked.

IAIN: Yeah, I think it’s a weird—

KUNO: Aww.

IAIN: —reversal where like Callum’s the one doing the dad jokes and Ethari’s like humoring them and Runaan’s like, “I don’t understand. Trees do not meet.”

DEVON: “Please stop saying ‘trees to meet you’.”

KUNO: Aw it never gets old. I love that. Um alright, Hailey, take it away. Your turn.

#The Dragon Prince #Hot Brown Morning Potion Podcast #HBMP Podcast #TDP #Ruthari #Moonfam #HBMP Podcast transcription #TDP interview transcription #my posts

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jolynej · 4 years ago

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Hello!! I love the aesthetic of your blog 😳 is it alright if I ask for headcanons of La Squadra (If it’s too much, Risotto, Prosciutto and Ghiaccio are fine!!) with a really head strong and stubborn S/o? Like on the outside they act like they think they’re better than everyone, but really they’re just a huge dork on the inside ☺️

thank you very much!! and it’s not too much at all :) i’m not sure whether or not you wanted an s/o who was involved in the gang or not, so i did a mix of both! i hope that you like it!

Risotto, Prosciutto, and Ghiaccio With a Stubborn and Headstrong, but Dorky S/O

his somehow turned into more of a drabble than actual headcanons, woops! hope you don’t mind that it also became a little more hurt/comfort!!

Due to his position as the leader of the group, he’s used to having to work with strong personalities as each of his subordinates stand out in their own ways, and he’s appreciative of all of their strengths — yours being no exception. He also makes it a priority to become familiar with his squad member’s weaknesses so that he is better able to assign them missions and implement training regimens to improve their skills.

As his partner, he has an extra watchful eye over you and is quick to point out mistakes and areas for improvement, but don’t misunderstand his blunt remarks as ones of distaste. He owes a debt of gratitude to your confidence and your tenacity as it has come to his aid on multiple occasions, but he’s an extremely perceptive man and can pick up on little things about you that would usually go unnoticed by others. He’s a quiet, introverted man, and by nature a good listener. He picks up on little tells and mannerisms of yours and eventually pieces a few things together.

It’s after a particularly rough mission that he is able to prove his little hypothesis. You’d barely escaped with your life after the confrontation with your target went sour due to you pulling a risky move that was almost certain to end in failure; it was a complete deviation from the plan that Risotto had gone over with you. He was upset, and you were, too, as the target had gotten away, but instead of reacting in anger and immediately enacting some sort of punishment, he looked over at you from across his desk where you sat with a pout and glassy eyes, eking out an uncharacteristic apology instead of a snide remark or even an eyeroll.

He’ll still have to reprimand you for screwing up the job, but for now he was pleased to see a more vulnerable, honest side to you. “You understand that what you did was wrong, don’t you cara/o?” He looks over at you, torn between comforting you and scolding you.

Risotto is so glad to see you becoming more open and comfortable around him, but he doesn’t say much as he doesn’t want to scare you off. Instead, that evening, after you’ve been informed of the oncoming dread that is the punishment of both paperwork duty and a boring stakeout mission, he holds you a little bit closer and tells you that he loves you, which is his way of telling you that it’s okay to not be strong sometimes.

He knows that tomorrow you will bounce back to your usual self, dorky jokes and all, but for now, he’s more than content to share this private moment with you and fall asleep with your head resting on his chest, lulling you both to sleep with his hand lazily rubbing your back.

Dating a man in the mafia would be taxing on anyone, but if anyone could deal with, Prosciutto thought, it would be you — his strong, cocky, dorky partner

His views are a little more traditional, and I can see him as someone who really likes the idea of caring for others and being a provider — and he’s more than happy and willing to provide that — but at the end of the day, there’s nothing better than coming home to someone like you who isn’t afraid to challenge him and will speak their mind. He already has to pretty much babysit Pesci half the time he’s at work, and the other men can act immature and really get on his nerves, so it’s just nice to have someone he doesn’t have to put on airs around, and he finds your sassiness sexy

He worries about you, of course, but he’s well aware that you are someone who can and will put up a fight and not let yourself be taken down without resistance. Also, he is a little more inclined to share certain aspects of his job with you, as he believes that you have the emotional capacity to handle some of the more grim details — even though he still leaves the majority of it out for your sake. He likes that he doesn’t have to sugarcoat things with you, and it’s good for him to have someone to talk to

Your stubbornness and arrogance can lead to arguments, but more often than not they end up with one of you kissing the other or the cliché of daring the other person to shut up. At first, things were a little more explosive, as he is a very dominating person and was not at all used to being challenged in that sort of way, but as your relationship deepened, he grew to like your little spats and that cute glint in your eyes when you become angry

Because of your stubbornness, it may be more difficult for you to apologize, but he won’t hesitate to call you out and tell you that you’re in the wrong, and he’s very calm and level-headed about doing so. When he’s in the wrong however, he usually comes around and apologizes rather quickly, but he can be kind of petty about it. He does make it up to you though, always. One of the benefits of him being a little old-fashioned is that he’s very keen on the idea of not going to bed angry

The more caring, nurturing side of him finds your dorkiness endearing, and whether or not its a television series or movie that you’re geeking out over, or even just a goofy joke, he’s happy to indulge you and listen to what you have to say. He’s not always the most up-to-date on pop culture references or media, so he doesn’t always get what you’re talking about, but he loves you so it doesn’t really matter to him what you’re going on about (you could ramble about the history of something as inane as can openers and he’d still say “that’s interesting, Amore”) He’s a sucker for all things domestic, really

Now this relationship may be a little more turbulent then the others, as I can see the two of you being very loud, but it’s very sweet in its own way

He’s a huge hothead, and with your stubborn demeanor the two of you will most definitely butt heads, but his outbursts are something that you’ve come to expect and they’re never filled with any real malice — it’s just the way that he is. The rest of the gang like to tease you both about being an old married couple, and you think it’s cute, playfully tugging on his cheek while he’s fuming and Formaggio and Illuso are cracking up in the corner

Ghiaccio will be the type of boyfriend to feed into your ego and because you’re his s/o, everything has to be perfect for you, for you deserve nothing less in his eyes. He can and will chew out the waiter if you so much as comment on your food being dry or too salty or just not up to par

As far as your dorkiness is concerned, Ghiaccio may not always understand “what you’re going on about this time”, but he’ll still listen and try to indulge you with some commentary here and there, which will most likely come across to an unknown spectator as pure sass and displeasure, but you know better; the snark comes with the territory of dating the ice man -- and you love it

If he ever catches wind of someone making fun of you or even just making an offhand comment about you or something that you like to geek out over, then he has no qualms about going off on them

#risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #ghiaccio x reader #risotto nero #prosciutto #ghiaccio #la squadra #dedicatedrisottosimp #thank you for my first request doll!

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cozycryptidcorner · 4 years ago

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The Mad Prince, Chapter 13 (slightly nsfw)

tw: alcohol/drinking, drunken consensual groping.

“What are you doing?” Clementine asks, almost amused.

You’re busy rummaging around all available cabinets in the kitchen, several of them open, plates, glasses, and other kitchenette stuff laid out on the counter. While you’re pretty sure there’s a far better kitchen below your feet, this one appears mostly for aesthetic and midnight snack reasons. You, though, have a very intentional way of searching, fingers nimble as you run your hands over the inner panels, just one.

“I’m bored,” is all you say, as if that’s the only explanation she needs. Unsatisfied with what you’ve found so far, you begin to put everything back, sealing the cabinets firmly on the latch. Jumping down from the upper counter, you continue on your quest on the lower compartments.

Once you resume your rummaging, it doesn’t take you too much longer to find a strangely shaped bottle, glass long and ornately spun around a strange purple liquid. All you have to do is unlock the seal at the top, and the scent of the thin, violet liquid makes your eyes water. You haven’t had a single thing to drink with any kind of percentage since the Starward Matchmakers™ took you into their loving flock, and to say you’ve been itching for a goddamn shot would be an understatement.

“Holy shit,” you half gasp, half wince. Whatever is in the bottle smells like paint stripper, your body is already trying to cough back up the liquor you haven’t even had a chance to drink.

“What are you going to do with that?” The shell slips as a touch of her real personality peeks through, her face scowling before she catches herself.

“Drink it, duh,” you can’t read the label, the large, swooping lettering elegant and filled with opulent promise.

“Is that a good idea?” Clementine prods further, arms on her hips.

“Oh please,” you glance over your shoulder just to make sure no one else is eavesdropping on the conversation, “if I couldn’t keep my mouth shut while drunk, I’d never have a job. Besides, I have a super fun idea.”

“Super fun,” Clem echoes, eyebrows arching.

“Come on, bestie, let’s go find two other players.”

It doesn’t take a lot of time to locate the prince, in his own makeshift office he’s turned one of the rooms into. The desk has a holographic screen hovering just slightly over the slab of dark metal.

He looks at the crystalline bottle in your hand, then back up at you. “Yes?”

“I thought we could have a fun game night.” You say, gently swirling the bottle around and offering it up like a vicious cat bringing its master a dead thing as a gift. “Involving liquor, of course.”

His eyes widen as his brow arches, a quizzical gesture, you’ve come to learn, and you feel his gaze flicker over your shoulder and land on Clementine, who is probably doing her best to appear like she thinks that this idea is the motherfucking best. Then he looks back at you. “And what games are you thinking?”

“Well…” you try to wrack your brain, “I was thinking poker, but I’d be fine with blackjack, diamonds five, lemon lemon…. Or like, old maid. Monopoly, even, if you like.”

The prince blinks. “Most of those are forms of gambling.”

You feel Clementine’s aggressive aura on your back, but you offer up a nonchalant shrug. “I suppose so, but like… we don’t have to play for money or anything. Winner or loser, doesn’t matter.”

There’s a beat of silence, you can see the synapses firing within his brain as he thinks over the suggestion. Then, calmly, he suggests, “I suppose that there are things we can gamble other than money.”

“I like your style!” You shake the bottle, “I was thinking about inebriation.”

”Babe,” Clem says, her voice slightly grated, “fun idea… but no.”

Oh, now it seems like the prince is very much interested, but only on account of Clem’s quick attempt to shut it down. “What do you mean?”

You’re quick to talk over Clem’s continuing protests, “instead of gambling money, the loser of the round takes a shot. Uhhh, but since your body’s like three times bigger, you get to take two.”

“Oh, I get to take two?” He asks, cocking his head with a slightly amused look. And he’s not immediately refusing, either, you knew he wouldn’t, but you supposed he wouldn’t actually consider it so seriously. “Is this something humans do?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding, “for fun.”

“And you would like to play it with me?”

You nod again.

He mulls it over, looking back at a now-silent Clem, and says, “and will you be playing.”

“I suppose,” she says, pursing her lips.

“We were also hoping that Elias would play as well,” you say, almost slyly, “to make it an even four.”

“I will let him know.” He says, completely serious, as though he’s talking about affairs of the state, and not about getting drunk while gambling.

“Okay,” you say, bouncing on the edge of your toes in excitement.

“Okay,” he echoes, as though tasting the word on his tongue.

“See you later, then,” you take a step back, trying really hard not to smile.

“Oh my god,” Clementine mutters as you turn around, quietly enough for only you to hear. “You two are ridiculous.”

“I hear most couples are,” you whisper conspiratorially back at her as the door to the office closes.

“And here’s to thinking you were at your wit’s end just a day ago,” she says, and you can feel the motion of her eyes rolling even though you’re not looking at her. “I can already see you making out with him in your head.”

“Okay but also consider: inebriation makes for honest conversations,” you say, running your fingers along your scalp, “and I plan on having a very calm and collected conversation about things like how many people he thinks are planning to kill me, while you, my dearest and most precious friend in the entire universe, are going to be keeping Elias distracted with your fantastic tits.”

She chokes, scrabbling for words, voice cutting in and out as though her brain is fried. “He does not think my-”

“You may be trained to clock someone’s fighting style twenty klicks away by the way they shake their ass, but I,” you turn around and walk backwards to drink in her glaring face, grinning, “have been teaching myself to recognize carnal lust on sight.”

“Princess,” she says, her voice full of warning, “you’re on thin fucking ice right now.”

“See you later!” You sing, escaping into your room before she sees fit to smack you into the next century.

---------------------------------------------_

“Okay,” you say, shuffling the cards between your fingers, “rules are simple.”

To your right side, the prince, and to the left, Clementine, with Elias sitting across the table. The bottle of liquor is in the center of the table, four shot glasses in front of each person as a grim reminder that you’ll have to drink the moment you lose your hand.

“So the loser of each hand has to drink the shots placed in the betting pool,” you say, cheerfully, “except for Aksanos, who has to take an extra two because his blood alcohol level is more difficult to raise since he’s bigger than my first studio apartment.”

Their first mistake: letting you deal.

“We bet with alcohol shots based on how confident you are with how good your hand is.” You begin to deal out cards, mentally counting to five for each stack. “High card is when you have no matches, two of a kind is when you have two of the same numbers, three of a kind is the same but with three-” etcetera, etcetera. The winner isn’t the important hand, here, it’s the loser. “Folding in this context means that you take the shots you threw into the pot. Any questions?”

“I don’t understand why I have to be here,” Elias says, holding his cards like this is a game of Go Fish.

“I mean any questions in regards to the game rules?” You skip over him, just for the sake of being annoying.

“What does the winner get?” Clementine asks, lounging with one arm swung over the back of her chair. “I think the person who wins first the most should get something.”

“You mean besides an intact liver?” You ask, taking a peek at your cards. Nice, unless everyone has a really fortunate hand, you should be alright this first round. “I don’t know, I’m not exactly in a position to hand anything out.”

All eyes turn to the person with the fattest wallet, and, to his credit, the prince actually looks like he’s pondering the question. “A favor,” he seems to conclude.

“From you?” Clementine asks, sounding suddenly like she’s ready to put her competitive hat on.

“Yes.”

“And what if you’re the winner?” She asks, prodding.

“I suppose that my prize will be peace of mind.” He says, looking at his cards. “Since I won’t have to offer up my services otherwise.”

“Awesome,” you say, reaching over and pouring the potent liquor in every single one of your shot glasses, sliding one into the center of the table. “Let’s begin.”

When you first pitched the game, you thought your only real competition would be Clementine. After all, you’ve seen soldiers like her lay waste to the poker tables before, especially since ceasefires make for bored tacticians with little outlets for their strategies. As predicted, Elias continuously seems to either fold or lose, he doesn’t seem to have much of a grasp for the game in general, nor does he even care to try. The prince, however?

He starts out slowly, cautiously. Like he’s testing his boundaries. He folds once or twice, watching you closely as he throws back his shots of purple liquor. After you’ve leapt into a significant lead, the thrum of hot alcohol from your folds burning through your blood, he seems to take a sharp turn and starts winning, as in, beating you as time eats into the night.

As you shuffle the card stack once almost every hand possible could have played, you observe him closely. He’s staring at your hands, intently, watching the way your thumb flicks one half into the other, head shifting slightly as you twist your wrist to part the deck once more. Almost in an accusation, you don’t look down at your hands as you shuffle, knowing this movement by heart, and then begin tossing everyone their cards.

Elias doesn’t even look at his hand as he folds, face and ears a mottled blue as he nurses a glass of water. Clementine is ‘resting her eyes’ for ‘just a minute,’ head slumped over on the table, her bra hanging from the side of the chair (when did she even take that off?).

The prince has already learned to only look at his cards once, hand over the backs, then gauges you for any sort of reaction as he pushes his filled shot glasses in. Luckily, though, the more you drink, the less your face works, so all you offer up is a resting bitch face that would kill any human man, matching him without hesitation.

You lay your cards out, revealing a four of a kind.

He lays his out, revealing the same hand… but with straight aces.

Four shots. You have to take in four shots.

“Careful,” he says, as though he has no cares in the universe, “I hear alcohol poisoning is a terrible way to go.”

You drink the first, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and refusing to give him the satisfaction of wincing from the burn of the liquor. “I’ve had worse.”

The second shot is harder to drink without making a face, you think your nose twitches despite your attempts not to move.

Your body is sending warning signals to your head as your fingers wrap around the third shot glass, not exactly nauseous yet, but with the knowledge that you definitely will be if you finish what you started.

“I fold,” the prince says just before the liquor hits your lips.

“What?” It takes you a moment to process what he just said.

“I fold,” he repeats, pushing his winning hand to the center and grabbing the remaining shot glass.

“You can’t fold after you’ve played the round,” you say, though your body screams in relief at not having to finish the shots.

“I don’t remember that being in the rules,” he says, “besides, it’s not going to be fun if you’re passed out on the table like your friend here.”

“-’m wrake,” Clementine mumbles, her words so slurred you can barely recognize their meaning.

You wait for a beat, then put the glass down and push it in his direction. “Fine. Here, don’t forget the extra.”

“I would not dare,” he says, amusement in his tone. True to his word, he pours another shot, drinking all three in quick succession.

For a while, you didn’t think he was getting drunk, blaming his more spidery bits for his supposed immunity to alcohol, but the more you stare, the more you notice unusual symptoms in his body. Like the flushed skin around his eyes and nose. Or the way his shoulders slant as he sits. How he’s started to rest his chin on his hand.

Slowly, you begin to shuffle the cards, keeping an eye on how he seems to be watching you with more intensity than before, and you realize something. Oh, oh, for fuck’s sake, you should have noticed it before, but now that he’s drunk, he’s not hiding it so much.

“You’re counting cards,” you accuse.

“And you’re playing with a marked deck,” he responds just as snidely.

You hesitate for just a moment because you hadn’t expected to actually get caught, and then you realize; oh. OH. That’s how he started making a heavy-hitting comeback, he figured out the almost nonsensical pattern on the back of the cards is actually a code.

Fuck.

And then you think further, hands folded like you’re praying. Yes, your mind is clouded with drink, but you’re still capable of weighing the pros and cons of an extremely critical concept. It’s not about the how he figured it out, you decide, but the fact that he quickly adapted, continued playing, and even started winning… without saying anything. He could have demanded a new deck in the face of fairness, but he didn’t.

That’s so…

So…

“Hot,” you say out loud.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“I mean,” you lean back in your chair, clarifying, “if you’re going to continue being so smart and attractive, I’m going to have to have sex with you.”

Elias coughs into his glass, bless him, you forgot he was even there, with his eyes bugging out of his skull. ”Keias,” he almost sounds like he’s begging, “please excuse me for the night, I’m afraid in order to best serve you, I will need to rest and recover.”

“You are dismissed,” the prince says, face a shade of blue you didn’t think he was capable of having.

And oh boy, does Elias leave like the entire goddamn room is on fire, though with the efficiency of an incredibly drunk individual. Even though his first few steps are wobbly, he still manages to flee the thick sexual tension your aura is probably emanating through the air, shooting out the door and disappearing into the ship.

Mercilessly, as soon as the door shuts, you turn back to the large drider at the receiving end of your arousal. To his credit, he seems to be so unused to blatant invitations to use someone’s body like a goddamn carousel that he’s at a loss for words. On the other hand, you have a variety of positions you would like to try out if what the anatomy charts they showed you back at the Starward Matchmakers™ are accurate.

But first… you need to take some measures to dull the oncoming hangover.

“Let’s raid the kitchen,” you say, knowing the sudden change of pace will give him whiplash.

“I’ll call someone to carry her to bed,” the prince says, gesturing to Clem’s body, “someone who isn’t inebriated.”

“Excellent idea,” you say, knowing full well you would drop her halfway through the hallway and somehow end up breaking both your noses in progress.

A servant is ridiculously quick to retrieve her, as though they had been lying in wait just outside the door at the prince’s beck and call, but you find yourself not caring about that creepiness factor in the face of food.

“Shall I call the chef?” He asks as you push through the doors leading into the kitchen.

“Nah,” you say, “they’ll need all the sleep they can get for the breakfast we will collectively want tomorrow. I can cook, I’m not an animal.”

Already, your vision blurs as the last two shots fully hit your system. Even with the glass of water you absolutely chug like a dehydrated lava scrapper, you know it’s going to be a hot minute before you start seeing straight again if you don’t start shoving carbs down your throat. So, quick as you can, you start rifling through the many different cabinets and the three (?!) refrigerators to locate something that your drunk stomach positively craves.

“Normally,” you say, “during my nights out, I go to one of those hover-stands that park out by the clubs and stuff specifically for the drunk hungry people leaving. I don’t know how to describe just how good Abuelita’s Tacos are when it’s three am, and you’re stumbling out of the club, exhausted.”

“And is that something you often do?” He asks, voice slightly slurred.

“It’s a good way to meet people,” you climb up one of the counters, rifling through bags of food with labels you can’t read. “Especially if you’re freelance. You never know who needs to transport cargo if you don’t start asking around.”

“Mmm,” he muses, “and do many pilots tend to frequent bars for customers?”

“Only the ones that aren’t in a guild or privately hired,” you say, hopping down from one counter and heading for the other.

“And you’re not?” He’s wheedling you for information, but you’re comfortable with offering up more than usual.

“Do I strike you as someone who likes being told what to do?” You ask instead of answering. “Oh, my god, the guilds have so many rules. Cut your hair like this, wear these clothes, go to those places, don’t do drugs. Gets old fast when someone is in charge of how you live your life.”

“Hm, we will have to agree on that.” The way his hands are cradling his head is… cute, you think. “Unfortunately, sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

“Yeah I’ve heard that your mom’s a mega-bitch,” you say, surprised that you’ve never outwardly spoken against the queen before.

For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, but then he laughs. He laughs. And it’s a beautiful laugh, you think, head empty but for the warmth of the sound. Sweet. Gentle. Nothing like the stories of a cruel, maniacal shriek, you have to stand there, speechless, committing that fucking delightful voice to memory.

“What?” He asks when he notices you’re uncharacteristically still.

“You’re cute,” you say, resuming your hunt. Aha, bread! Finally! Your stomach gurgles with joy, and your liver sighs with relief.

“Oh,” you can hear a bashful tone tangled with his words. “Thank you. It’s not every day I am observed to be so.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just tell you every day from now on.” You find a knife and a slab of plastic you assume is a cutting board, and unwrap the bread from the clear wrapping plastic. Everything in your body screams for protein, so you begin to rummage through the fridge for anything that smells vaguely like it will satiate the craving.

Once you bring a pile of stuff to the counter, the prince says, almost like he’s taking a gamble, “you’re not exactly what I was expecting.”

You start cutting slices of bread. “You mean today? Or just in general.”

“You were such a meek little thing when we first met,” he says, almost dreamily, “I was afraid you would be so easily crushed by my enemies, and so I tried to protect you like a little, delicate flower.” He holds his hands out, as though simulating how he might hold the aforementioned plant.

“But?” You prod, adding a slab of… meat? Maybe. Cheese? Also maybe. It’s a gauntlet of stuff you’re adding to your strange sandwich.

“But, I now see that you’re a manipulative, lying cheat.” Even though those words should make your heart sink, he says them with such fondness you don’t feel an ounce of rejection. “It takes a very smart person to outdo my careful planning, and you’ve done so many times.”

You lick your thumb clean of a spread you found in the door shelf, finding it strangely savory. “And… you like that?”

“Absolutely,” he says with no hesitation. “You challenge me in all the best ways. No one does that, not anymore.”

Trying to come up with a response that doesn’t involve crying on the floor, you slide the finished sandwich in his direction. “Oh.”

“That wasn’t very romantic,” Aksanos seems to realize, eyes snapping back into reality. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound so terrible-”

You kiss him. Hard. Without the tentative shyness you had kissed him with before. Oh, no, this kiss is hungry, it’s starving, it’s full of desperation and adoration, laced with heated attraction and stifled desire. It doesn’t take long for you to introduce a tongue to this equation, and even though you don’t think he’s familiar with that concept, he’s a fast learner.

The cold metal of the counter presses up against your ass as you use it for leverage, lifting one of your legs and slinging it over his waist, pulling him closer. His hands come to rest on your hips, gilded claws pressing through your clothes, you can tell that he’s unsure of what your boundaries might be. So you help him out, breaking the kiss long enough for you to find the hem of your shirt and lift it up over your body. Just as quickly, you unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

He stares at your breasts like he’s never seen a pair of naked tits before, and you suppose that anatomy differences between your species might be throwing him for a loop.

“Wow,” he says, and immediately looks like he regrets it.

You laugh softly, tracing his jawline with your fingers. “Thanks, I grew them myself.”

And then you’re kissing him again, guiding his hands up to your chest as a way of encouragement. He’s careful and slow, the cool sharpness of his claws ghosting over your skin, lips and fangs so eager to please. There’s a heat building between your thighs, one that the seam of your pants only marginally relieves as you grind up against his waist.

“Give me your hands,” you manage to whisper, breaking away from him long enough to draw breath.

He’s a tad confused but obeys.

“I’m going to show you where to touch me,” you murmur, “but those knives strapped to your fingers need to be off.”

“Good idea,” he breathes in agreement.

You take his dominant hand in both of yours, taking a quick moment to kiss the heel of his palm. Then, carefully, you reach for the piece of clawed jewellery on his index finger, picking at the clasp with your fingernail until it comes loose, pulling it off and setting it to the side. You keep your hands as steady as you drunkenly can, knowing each individual ornament is worth more than what you would make in a year.

Next, pants- you need to get the last barrier between him and you off and gone. Hands shaking, you manage to undo the button just above the zipper, clasping that tiny piece of metal between your fingers-

The door opens to someone who looks like they immediately regret every single life decision that’s led them up to this point. And, in fact, they look like if you and the prince weren’t staring at them at this very moment, they would duck out and act like they never laid witness to this mess.

“A- a thousand and million apologies-” they begin.

“State your business.” Like a switch is flipped back on, he’s a regal and terrifying monarch again.

“It’s first shift for the kitchen staff, my keias, I didn’t- if I had known-”

You look up at the clock, realizing just now how late- or early, really, it is. If you were still on the planet, the prince would be getting up to start his duties soon, so... conceivably? A cook would need that head start for a fancy breakfast.

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, twisting your body to protect your nakedness as you find your shirt. Though, through your panic and drunkenness, you can’t seem to locate your bra. Oh well, the sooner you’re out here, the better. “Sorry we wrecked the place, this should have been a bedroom activity, anyways.”

And then you drag the sole heir of Lolth’s monarchal throne out of the kitchen before he decides to kill that poor cook.

#drider #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lovers

109 notes · View notes

tuanyiems · 4 years ago

Text

Cookies and Cream

Yugyeom x Reader (f) fluff x smut words: 4k plot: annoyed by some (really just one) of your gratuitous “self-care” rituals, he decides to teach you a little lesson about indulgence, established relationship!au warnings – dom!gyeom, oral (f receiving), fingering, teasing, overstimulation, praise kink, squirting a/n – sorry for the delay, coincidentally I also had to work overtime for work this week lol now if only I had Gyeom too…but in other news, got7 is coming back in 3.5 more hours!!!!!!!!! I’m so excited y’all!!! // part of Le Chocolatier drabble series, which you can find the masterlist for in my blog. feel free to read this as a one-shot or part of the series, in any order you want <3

It’s 9PM on a Friday when you decide to turn off your work computer and call it quits. When you blink, the blue shadow of your screen still flickers behind your eyes and for the past two hours your right lid has been twitching every few minutes. When you stand up from your office chair, the world spins and you are briefly nauseated. You swallow down the feeling with a huff, throwing on your jacket and purse.

It’s quiet on your floor, everyone else having left already. It’s been like this the entire week ever since your project manager proposed a new venture and put you in charge of actually making it happen. Yugyeom tells you to just quit, but you figure it’s partially your fault too. You don’t know how to say no.

So instead, you stop by the convenience store next door and buy yourself a couple of bath bombs. As an afterthought you throw in a box of Ferrero Rocher at checkout.

It’s another thirty minutes when you finally get home. Your whole body aches from being crouched at your desk. As you kick off your flats, Yugyeom greets you with a much too eager smile.

“Babe!” he exclaims, his black hair practically bouncing with every step towards you. “The boys are having game night tonight!”

You let out a yawn as you put your things down. “Sounds great, Gyeom, you go have fun.”

He let out a pout, “You don’t want to come with me?”

You answer with a tired smile and only grow even more weary when you see his infamous puppy dog eyes. “Gyeom,” you plead softly.

“I’ve barely seen you all week. Don’t you miss me?”

“Of course I missed you baby!” You pull him into your arms, nestling your face in his chest. You take a deep breath, his distinct warm bergamot tones filling your senses. You truly have missed him. Two years in and coming home to him every night still isn’t enough. Boy, are you in deep, huh?

“Then come with. Someone needs to put Bambam in his place. He bought a PC and suddenly thinks he’s a gamer,” you feel the rumble of his chest as he squeezes you closer.

And you feel your own resolve breaking the longer you stay in his arms, but when you blink, your eyes still sting from the strain of overuse and fatigue.

“But…I bought bath bombs.”

Yugyeom pulls away slightly and you offer up a weak smile. He knows you’ve been working hard this week. He assumed you would enjoy letting go and playing games for the rest of the night, so your rejection blindsides him. He was really looking forward to spending time with you and the guys. From above, he can see the bags under your eyes more clearly and you do look tired.

“Are you sure?” he offers up one final plea and you answer with a firm nod.

“Go and have fun for the both of us,” you assure, pulling away and heading towards your shared bedroom.

“Are you sure?” Yugyeom repeats, following after you like a shadow. “Want me to stay in with you?”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you pull out a pair of mismatched pajamas from your drawers. “Please, I don’t think I can handle all your energy right now.”

“Hey!”

“You are the love of my life,” You press a kiss to his frown and watch how easily the corner of his lips lift. “I love you, I love you, I love you, but please Gyeom, go out and have fun and I’ll enjoy myself at home and when you come back, I will welcome you into my arms and we can have the whole weekend together, just us. Okay?”

Seeing your exasperation, Yugyeom puckers his lips before breaking out into a boyish grin. “Oh alright! Go have fun with your bubble bath, I guess.”

“I will,” you press one last kiss to his lips before shooing him away.

It’s not long before you finally have the apartment to yourself. Humming, you slowly disrobe as you make your way to the minibar, breaking out a glass of wine. And just as you are about to sashay over to the bathroom, you pause and decide to take the whole bottle with you.

Impeccably timed, the water you left running is filled to the perfect level as you enter. Taking in a deep breath, you smile as you sip at your wine. The bath bomb you bought fizzes in the water, dispersing in the hot liquid in pastel purple and pinks, and fills the small room with the aroma of vanilla and lavender. For a convenience store bath bomb, it does its job perfectly, which is great because you honestly needed this one win for the week.

When you finally sink into the water, it feels like heaven on your aching muscles. For the first time in what feels like this entire week, you feel your shoulders untensing from the heat of the water.

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath.

And you almost fall asleep right there before you remember the chocolates sitting at the edge of the tub. Picking up one of the golden orbs, you bite at the curve of your lips and admire the crinkled foil before your eyes shift furtively to the bathroom door like a thief. Despite being alone in the apartment, you can’t help feeling like a child up to no good.

Yugyeom has a, well, disliking towards convenience store chocolates. He believes they dishonor the art of chocolate making with their “sick capitalist greed” (even though he happens to own a chocolate store). As a result, you very rarely ever ate chocolates that were not made by Yugyeom, himself, which was great because who doesn’t love free, expensive chocolates? But sometimes, you missed the taste of other chocolates.

Especially, Ferrero Rocher. Back in high school, these were your “expensive” desserts. Almost every month, they were your go-to treat whenever you were nursing your period pains and hormonal mood swings. When you entered adulthood and your self-care treatments became more expensive, so did your taste in chocolates.

But now, here you are, savoring the chocolatey, nutty flavor of convenience store goodness on your tongue while your lover is away like a wife with a dirty secret. Your life has come full circle.

You giggle, hand already tearing the wrapper off another piece before the taste of the first is even fully gone. Man, did you miss this flavor. If you could have it your way, you’d put Nutella in everything! The hazelnut spread was like crack! You make a mental note to buy yourself a jar on your next grocery run.

With the delicious taste of hazelnut glazed over your tongue, you sink back into the tub and watch mindlessly as the pastel water swirls around you.

Suddenly, the door creaks open and a hand pops through with your pink bra hanging by the strap on a finger. Yugyeom pushes open the door, revealing his amused face.

“So eager to kick me out that you left a whole trail of your clothes on the floor?”

You smile up at him before sinking your lips into the water.

“And here I was thinking you’d be so lonely by yourself,” he pouts, setting your bra on the sink counter and approaching you.

You sit up straighter, lifting your head fully out of the water, as he gets closer. “I left a trail so you could find me.”

“Too late for your lame excuses,” he chuckles, sitting at the edge of the tub. His eyes follow your movements as you hug your legs closer to your chest. Most of your makeup has washed off, though the ghost of your eyeliner still tints the ends of your eyes, and though your lipstick has rubbed off, the inside of your lip is awkwardly wine stained. The ends of your hair are wet by the water and the strands stick to your skin in clumps.

And you are so beautiful. Not because you look particularly different in this moment, but because you look so real. It makes him think back to when the two of you first started dating. You had been so nervous, waking up early to put on makeup before he could see you and wearing lingerie every time he slept over. Back then, you’d even refrained from your regular self-care routines because you had been so worried he would think you were too high maintenance.

But now, he is blessed to have you here, completely bare to him, literally and figuratively. All curled up in the tub, smiling up at him without an ounce of fear—it makes his insides all gooey. You do that to him.

The guys had given him a hard time about leaving game night early, but now that he’s here, he’s sure he made the right choice.

“Babe,” your soft whisper breaks him out of his reverie. Your eyes brighten when he meets your gaze. “Wanna join me?”

Yugyeom closes his eyes, tilting his head up, and lets out a loud exhale. “You are perfect.”

You giggle, nose scrunching, until you hear the sound of crunching plastic. You watch, in slow motion, as Yugyeom’s gaze drops to the floor and the both of you freeze.

You blink up, swallowing. The residue of chocolate suddenly tastes sour in your mouth.

“Is that…” The words get caught in Yugyeom’s throat. But his silence feels worse when he’s staring at you with wide, accusatory eyes.

“Gyeom, I-I can explain!” the words come jumbling out of you in a rush, your mouth suddenly dry.

“You…You…In our house, babe?”

“All the stores were closed by the time I left work. I just-I just wanted a quick snack!”

You feel like drowning in your own guilt when Yugyeom looks at you so sadly.

“You could’ve asked me to bring you home chocolates. Unless,” he pauses and a frown forms on his face, “you didn’t want to?”

You hurry to stand in the tub, water splashing from the sudden movement, but you don’t care. You twine your wet, raisined fingers between his.

“Baby, I love your chocolates! They’re my favorite, you know that,” you squeeze his fingers, ignoring the cold air around your bare skin.

“Do I?” he sulks, looking back at the half-eaten tray of Ferrero Rocher.

You sway to the side, angling your body so your eyes meet his again. “I went into the convenience store to buy bath bombs and grabbed these chocolates at checkout as an afterthought. If I knew I was going to crave chocolates when I saw it, I really would have called you. But it was already late at night and I didn’t want to bother you.”

Yugyeom sighs. “You don’t have to explain yourself. You’re allowed to eat and love whatever you want…but just so you know, you’re never bothering me. I will make you chocolates even if it’s the middle of the night and you’re on the other side of the world.”

“Gyeom,” you pout, endeared by his words even as he’s saying it with a frown on his face. You press your palm to his cheek, guiding his lips to yours. “I love your chocolates, and I love you.”

Finally, Yugyeom smiles and you meet his with your own. It’s not long before he’s edging his tongue through the seam of your lips, tangling in your mouth. It’s been too long since you’ve been able to taste him on your lips like this. The quick morning kiss goodbye could only keep you going for so long.

You’ve missed this so much. You’ve missed him. How long has it been since the two of you had sex? A week? No, ten days? For the both of you, that was like an eternity.

You can feel your hunger stirring against the pliant muscle of Yugyeom’s tongue. You forget to breathe as he sucks at the bottom of your lip until it is red and swollen. It’s not until your lungs feel like they are burning that the both of you break away with heaving breaths.

Yugyeom makes a face of disgust despite the shine of your saliva on his lips. “You taste like that stupid generic crap.”

He kicks at the tray of chocolates on the floor and you giggle.

“I don’t know, Gyeom, it seemed like you were enjoying the taste,” you tease, tongue poking slyly out the corner of your lips.

It’s then that he realizes your bare state and a smirk replaces his frown.

“You wanna have a self-care night, right? Let me teach you something about self-care.” Without another word, Yugyeom taps twice at your thigh and like a trained puppy, you jump for him. Clinging to his neck, you wrap your wet legs around his waist and let him carry you into your bedroom.

You let out a squeak of surprise when he tosses you roughly onto the mattress.

“If you want to indulge, I’ll give you something to indulge in,” Yugyeom grabs at the bottom of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head before flinging it across the room. You watch with hungry eyes as his hands move down to his jeans, veins protruding up his arms as he undoes his button. You can’t help the disappointment that fills you when he stops there.

His brows arch at your expression. “Only good girls get rewarded, baby.”

“I’ll be good for you,” you plead, crawling to the edge of the bed to meet him. He cups your face in his large hands sweetly.

“You promise?” You nod eagerly, making him scoff at your desperation. “Good girls don’t break their promises, so keep that in mind.”

“I promise,” you breathe out as Yugyeom trails his fingers down your cheek before grabbing you sharply by the chin.

“I don’t know, kitten, it seemed like earlier you didn’t even want me in the house. Feels like you didn’t miss me at all.” Your eyes flicker up to meet his gaze, brows arching with concern. He points his nose in the air haughtily, but if experience has taught you anything, there was definitely a hint of hurt in his words.

You touch your fingers to his wrist softly. “I missed you so much,” you utter softly. And contrary to the gentleness of your voice, your gaze is strong and sure. It’s only when Yugyeom’s lips twitch into the slightest of smiles that you relax into his touch again.

He pinches your chin between his thumb, forcing your head to tilt back further. His eyes returning to their dark, demanding gaze. “What exactly did you miss so much, kitten?”

“Everything—your touch, your taste, the way you make me feel wanted and loved and safe and warm,” your eyes glaze over, conflicted between giving into your lust or your love, and feeling it all jumbling inside your gut. Both your chest and your core aches for him and it’s so apparent in the way your body seems to melt into the grip of his hand. “I miss feeling you inside me. No one else can make me feel that good.”

“Oh, I’ll make you feel good tonight, kitten,” he smirks, releasing your chin. “Spread out for me baby.”

As soon as he utters the command, you are rushing to the pillows. With your head sinking into the silk pillowcase, you open your legs wide for Yugyeom to admire. And he admires, taking his sweet time to follow you onto the bed, eyes glued to the heavenly sight of your cunt just absolutely glistening with lust for him.

His mouth waters just looking at you spread out for him. “Pretty pussy, so wet for me already.”

He trails his hands slowly up your inner thighs and you are practically vibrating, careening for more of his touch. Yugyeom smirks as he stares at your pussy. Even in his peripheral vision, he can already tell you’re on edge. Brushing two fingers up your wet pussy lips, he spreads your folds apart with the V of his fingers.

Your shaky inhale is audible, much to Yugyeom’s satisfaction.

“So impatient, kitten,” he chuckles darkly, enjoying the way your cunt clenches around nothing. He lifts his fingers off of you and raises it to his mouth. He watches you closely before releasing a low moan at your taste on his tongue. When you bite your bottom lip and watch him quietly, Yugyeom releases his fingers with a pop and lifts his brow. “You’re really trying to keep your promise, aren’t you?”

You nod fervently, making him laugh.

“Then as I promised, good girls get rewarded,” he smiles, a shine in his eyes that promises mischief.

With that, Yugyeom presses his two fingers back between your legs and you release a loud sigh at the feeling of his fingers stretching your walls. The ache is delicious and you find yourself whining a little too loudly at just his two fingers alone. You’ve been so wound up this entire week, the sudden stretch of his two fingers is almost overwhelming. Already, your walls are quivering around his digits.

You feel your cheeks heat, eyes diverting from Yugyeom’s gaze to the ceiling. When you hear his dark chuckles, you know he’s noticed too. You’re already so close, it’s embarrassing. When Yugyeom curls his fingers into your soft, velvety flesh, a moan releases from your throat as you feel a fluttering straight in your core.

It feels too good too fast and soon you are whining, palms flying to cover your face as the knot in your core tightens.

“Gyeom, wait, I-”

“Aw, is kitten going to cum already?” Yugyeom coos sadistically, fingers curling faster against your walls. “What’s the rush baby? I haven’t even tasted you properly.”

“Please,” you whine, tensing at your abdomen in a sorry attempt to fight off your orgasm.

“Missed me that much, baby?” he laughs, feeling your walls squeeze against his digits.

“Yes!” you admit, feeling the telltale signs of your cunt contracting, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Your back arches off the bed as your orgasm hits you, making your body quiver with pleasure. Heat spreads across your limbs as you ride out your high.

Yugyeom’s fingers continue to stroke against your pulsing walls as he watches you cum on his fingers. His smirk grows when you open your eyes again, looking at him with surprise. Your hands come to his wrist.

“B-babe,” you stutter, body shaking from his continued ministrations. “It’s too much.”

“Shh,” he strokes his fingers softly against the swell of your walls while his other hand gently lifts your hand from his wrist. “You can do this, kitten. Be a good girl for me.”

You swallow, letting his fingers intertwine with yours as a thrill runs down your spine. Finally, you give a small nod, and he smiles at you with crescent eyes.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers encouragingly. “You’re so beautiful when you cum, baby. Show me how you cum, okay?”

You nod, squeezing his hand as he presses a third finger into your sopping hole. As soon as you’re stretched by his third finger, you can already feel your core tightening. Your heart races in your chest as Yugyeom curls his fingers into you faster, chasing the delicious high that is just tipping you at the very edge.

You let out a whimper, eyes squeezing as your walls tighten around him for the second time. His fingers dig into the perfect spot inside of you over and over until you are exploding with pleasure. All thoughts leave you as your mind fills with hot white pleasure.

As you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm, the fog slowly lifts from your mind and you are relieved to find Yugyeom’s fingers have stopped moving inside you.

“You did so great, baby,” he praises you and you feel yourself glowing from his words.

And then you feel his fingers move again.

“Gyeom,” you whine weakly.

He chuckles, pulling his fingers out of you. He smiles, coming up to press a kiss to your lips.

“You’re amazing, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “I love seeing you cum around my fingers.”

You pout, running your fingers through his hair. “Only for you.”

You feel him smile against you before he moves to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You can do one more for me, kitten,” he murmurs, breath tickling the shell of your ear. It makes you shiver, and he can already feel you arching into him. “I missed your taste, baby.”

At those words, you groan. God, you missed his tongue on you.

“That’s a yes, isn’t it?” he chuckles, brushing his wet fingers between your folds. You whine, nodding. “Such a good girl. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

“I know,” you exhale, already shivering from his touch. You watch him with hooded eyes as he smiles from your admittance.

Slowly, he makes his way back down your body, tickling your skin with butterfly kisses down your neck and sucking red bruises down the valley of your chest. Planting a sweet kiss to your mound, Yugyeom pulls away to blow air at your glistening folds, admiring the way you shiver at the sensation.

Finally, with eyes on you, he dips down and licks a stripe up your pussy. He smirks with satisfaction as your eyes flutter close. He taps your thigh, bringing your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me, kitten.”

You whimper, nodding, and you rise on your elbows, gaze fixed on him. Pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, Yugyeom gives you one last smile before pressing his lips around your clit. You suck in a breath as he laps at the bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue in intoxicating circles. His mouth feels so warm and soft around you, you can’t help the sigh of pleasure that escapes you.

“God,” you moan, feeling the tightening of your core once again.

Yugyeom answers you with the press of his fingers at your entrance again. You let out a loud moan, feeling your walls quiver at the familiar intrusion. Despite yourself, you find your body clenching around his digits.

The room fills with your heavy panting and the loud squelch of his fingers thrusting into your sopping entrance. But you can barely hear anything, your brain buzzing from oversensitivity. It almost hurts, how good he makes you feel. When he groans around your clit, it sends vibrations straight to your tightening core.

“Gyeom!” you whine, eyes prickling with tears as he sucks harder.

Your legs shake out of control when he curls his fingers against your g-spot, sending you hurtling into another orgasm. A guttural wail of his name leaves your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut. Tears run down your cheeks as your head hits the pillow and you shake against the mattress, overwhelmed by the wave of pleasure erupting throughout you. Wave after wave of hot pleasure spreads across your skin and Yugyeom watches in awe as your pussy squirts all over him and down his bare chest.

“Fuck, baby!” He laughs when you finally come to. “You just squirted!”

You feel your cheeks heat as you look down at his wet body and the mess on the sheets. “I-I did,” you mutter, suddenly shy.

“Don’t get embarrassed on me now, kitten,” he smiles reassuringly at you. “That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever done, babe. I just want to eat you out forever now!”

You suck in a breath when he dips down and laps at your cum. You shiver at the sting of oversensitivity, pushing his head away.

“Too much, Gyeom,” you whine weakly.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your thigh before sitting back up.

The smirk returns to his face as his eyes darken again. “Too much, kitten? But I’m just taking care of you. I know you love your self-care nights so much.”

Your eyes grow wide as you follow his hands. You swallow, seeing the bulge of his jeans. And despite having orgasmed the hardest you ever have just moments ago, you find your pussy clenching against air.

And the ache for your boyfriend returns, tenfold.

A shiver runs down your spine as he presses his red, hard cock to your swollen pussy. A little indulgence never hurt anyone right? After all, you had a very rough week.

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #got7 smut #kim yugyeom #got7 series #fluff #smut #fanfiction #writing #le chocolatier series

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statticscribbles · 4 years ago

Text

Strongest Pt 2

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader Request: Pt 2 to Strongest

“Listen I don’t want to cause anything; but is everything okay between you and Sweet Pea?” You turn confused to Betty who sits next to you. “As far as I know it is; why? Is he saying something?” “No it’s just; Jughead’s been seeming more stressed lately and it seems to constantly lead back to Sweet Pea.” “I mean maybe its cause he’s been trying to actually take paying work? Since I’m taking any shifts I can at Pop’s but even then it’s not much; or near enough when it comes to being able to have any sort of savings.” Betty nods chewing her lip.

“I know it’s probably a bit late to be talking about this; but are you going to keep it?” You nod. “Yeah; I mean I thought about you know; just getting rid of it; and then about what happened to Polly; going to the sister’s giving it up for adoption but I just; I got scared. Like the thought of this kid just getting rejected right from the get go; like all the Southsider’s deal with shit, we’ve all been rejected or overlooked but the though of having abandoned it; just; I couldn’t do it.” “Well I think it’s really good that Sweet Pea’s stepping up to actually help. I was pretty surprised when he told us he got another job to help support you. It’s sweet.” “Surprised?” You furrow your brow.

“Well yeah I mean Southsider’s aren’t known for their parenting skills. I mean you’ve heard what happened to my mom.” “Like father like son.” You mutter chuckling to yourself freezing when Betty glares at you. “I can’t believe you’d imply that Jughead would do something like that to me! That’s horrible of you; just because you don’t have the mind to be safe about these things.” She snaps and you can’t help the red you see; you thankfully have the excuse to blame hormones for now. Although even as you’re saying it you’re regretting it. “It’s not an implication; it’s fact; who do you think he was slumming it with when you threw a fit and broke it off with him?” “He what?” You swallow shaking your head. “Nothing it was a low dig I didn’t- Betty wait! Fuck.” You hold your face in your hands.

“Y/N? You okay?” “I just fucked everything up. I’m gonna die.” You look up to see Toni and Cheryl standing in front of you. “Betty knows.” “Oh; well shit. I mean that’s not really your problem; it’s Jughead’s. Don’t stress about it.” Toni awkwardly pats your shoulder. “How about something to cheer you up?” “Cheryl I don’t think anything can cheer me up; why are you handing me your credit card.”

“Because yesterday Fangs told me you were stressing about clothes because you’ve been spending most of the pay checks you’ve been earning on practical things like diapers and food; like hell if I’m letting my god child be dressed in rags.” “Cheryl you don’t have to, really it’s fine.” “So I am a god-parent.” She smirks and Toni raises an eyebrow. “Well yeah, both you and Toni are like live savers for me right now and-“ “Cheryl calm down. People are staring.” Toni sighs smiling at you as Cheryl untangles herself from the hug she’s given you. ————————————————

You look confused to where Sweet Pea sits half asleep half holding a book. “What’re you doing?” “Reading?” “Sweets you just got home from a double shift you can read whatever it is later; you need to rest.” “You’re upset at me cause I’m reading?” “I don’t care about the books; just rest please.” “No not about the books; something else then.” He hums when you nod sinking onto the couch. “Betty knows; I fucked up and let it slip and now she knows and she hates me and Jughead is gonna kick me outta the serpents and-“ “Whoa hey babe, no he’s not; no he’s not; come here love. It’s okay; it’ll work out.” He moves over pulling you onto his lap instead of where you’d settled on the couch. “Did you know-“

“Babe please, please don’t tell me any weird or scary pregnancy facts” “I was just going to say I love you.” “Oh.” your face flushes and he beams. “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed you know that right?” “I’m not; I’m awful and-“ “Please don’t finish that sentence or I’m going to have to start learning poetry to combat your self hatred. I love you; no matter what you look like; even if you’re gonna go all stereotypical and complain how fat and horrible you think you look, I don’t think that and nothing you can do will change my mind.” ———————————————————————————-

“Listen Y/N; I know I’ve been a huge asshole lately but I want to try to help.” “Is this cause Betty threatened to break up with you again?” “No, Betty has nothing to do with this.” “So you already broke up then?” “Will you listen? Christ I’m trying to be helpful and here you are acting like-“ “Like what Jones? You have something else to say to make her cry? Or anything to add to her stress levels? You really want to ‘just talk’ I mean it’s obvious how Betty’s not talking to you again.” “Sweet Pea this doesn’t concern you it’s between me and Y/N” Jughead snaps and you watch slightly amused as you remember the last confrontation you’d heard.

“Its about my girl so it concerns me; about my family too.” “Don’t pull that shit we both know it’s not your kid.” “Oh; so everyone knows you’re just like your dad? Abandoning your kid before they even realize what’s happening? I’ve told you before Jones; you don’t get to be involved unless Y/N needs something; does she need you?” “Well obviously I’m the actual dad.” “Did you ask her?” You sink in your seat and can feel Toni nudging you. “Stress is bad. You want to bounce?” “It is kind of fun to see them awkwardly try to fight. Does everyone really know about Sweet Pea?”

“No I think Jughead’s just trying to rile him up; FP knows though; apparently he’s livid so I’m sure Jughead is stressed from that.” “FP knows?” You laugh a little and Toni looks confused. You pull your phone out scrolling through your photos. “After that little shopping spree Cheryl dragged us on; I was putting stuff away and assumed I must have gotten it as a joke; but I guess FP snuck it in.” Toni snorts smiling and nodding. “Please you have to put the kid in that. Please.” You nod laughing looking up when you hear a cough. “Put him in what?”

“My dad got you something?” You shrug showing the picture to Sweet Pea who grins laughing. “Your dad has good taste Jughead; I’ll give him that.” Jughead rolls his eyes at the tiny leather jacket. “I don’t see why you didn’t bother finding out the gender; it would make the whole clothes shopping easier you know.” “And what would you know about that?” You shake your head at him and he shrugs. “Well if you let me help;” “You just want to get back in your dad and Betty’s good books.” “Speaking of Betty.”Toni mumbles and you turn when she walks up.

“Hey Y/N can we talk; alone.” She glares at Jughead and you nod following her out of everyone’s earshot. “I’m sorry about how I reacted earlier. I shouldn’t have been so upset at you.” Her hand brushes your shoulder. “I mean you had a right to be; you’d found out your boyfriend slept around and then knocked up one of the people he was sleeping around with.” “It doesn’t mean I should take my anger out on you.” You shrug. “You didn’t really.”

“Toni and Cheryl told me how it was stressing you out and-“ “Betty; a lot of things are stressing me out; I’m becoming a southside statistic; I’m working any chance I get at Pop’s or the Wyrm when Sweet’s doesn’t notice. He’s pulling double shifts. We’re trying to get something saved up for hospital bills; not to mention just regular baby stuff; so you being a little bitter cause your boyfriend caused all this is okay. I am also a little bitter.” “If it makes you feel better FP is making him use part of his tuition money.” “For what?” “Whatever you need according to how pissed FP was.” “I should talk to him.” “Jughead?” “No FP.” Betty nods. “Do you want company?” ———————————————————————-

You tap at the trailer door. Waiting until FP opens it. “Jughead isn’t home; but I’m guessing that’s why you’re here. Come in.” “You don’t need to make him use his money on-“ “Y/N calm down; I’m not making him; I strongly suggested it and then explained why it was the best idea; if he puts money towards the kid now; you’ll be less likely to wreak havoc later; not saying you would but just in case. Besides the rest of the Serpent’s are already pitching in and- Don’t you dare say no; we’re you’re family, and family take care of there own; besides you know what they say about baby rattlesnakes right?” “Is this another famous snake fact?”

“Yes, yes it is; baby rattlesnakes are more venomous than the adults. That kid is going to be so protected bubble wrap will be out of a job.” You laugh and FP smiles. “Seriously Y/N just cause my son doesn’t want anything to do with his kid doesn’t mean I want the same thing.” “I dunno you, being a grandfather? I can’t see it.” “I’m already retired, besides I heard your mom kicked you out; you’ll need someone to babysit who has experience.” “You heard about that?”

“Yeah, apparently you told Sweet Pea not to tell anyone? Like I said, we’re family; we’re here to take care of you. You’re a kid; you need help; please ask for it. Please.” You nod sighing. “Come here.” You lean into FP as he hugs you. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess; I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Jug; I’m sorry I can’t do more to help.”You nod wiping your eyes. “It’s okay dad don’t sweat it.” You can tell he lets the slip up go. “I won’t. I just have one request..” “I’m not naming him Forsythe if he’s a boy.” “I was going to say to not get me any of those ‘worlds best grandpa things’ but that too.” “Well now that’s all your getting.” FP glares but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. ————————————————

You frown when you see your mom sitting on the couch. She dangles the spare key in front of you before setting it on the table as she stands to hug you. “Y/N I’m so-“ “Don’t.” You cringe back and she sighs. “Honestly this entire mess can still be resolved if you just go to the sisters or-“ “Mom. Please stop.” “No you’re going to throw your entire future away for some child that the father doesn’t even want; you’re slumming it with some lesser Serpent cause he said whatever he did to get in your good books so he can sleep with you; you know that right? Whoever he is doesn’t actually care about you or the child; nobody cares about it besides you sweetheart; it would be better to just get rid of it.” “Mom just, please leave I get you think I’m making a mistake but it’s my choice and-“

“Exactly, it’s your choice you’re just a child; you can’t make a decision like this and expect to pick the right answer. Until you change your mind; until you make the right choice, the only choice I can’t be a part of this.” “I never expected you to be. It’s why I left; why I came here with-“ “Y/N I don’t care anymore. You’re free to ruin your life without me. I just came to let you know is all.” “You came to rub it in my face you’ve kicked me out of the house?” “Not to rub it in your face just to say goodbye for now; until you reevaluate your life.” She smiles as she leaves patting your shoulder. ———————————————————

You try your best not to wake Sweet Pea but when you shift over and sniffle slightly too loudly his hand twitches and he mumbles sleepily. “It’s okay Sweets; it’s nothing.” You assure him; you know you probably sound a little panicky a by product of the nightmare you’d just had. You swallow shifting backwards in the bed hoping he can’t feel you shaking. “You sure? Is Peanut okay?” “Peanut?” You watch as his face pulls back sheepishly. “Been calling him peanut in my head, easier that saying it, or the kid every time. I can stop if-“ You kiss him softly and he pulls you into his arms sighing. “It’s not peanut; just had a nightmare.” “You want to talk about it?”

“You weren’t there. I don’t know why but you just couldn’t make it and no one else was there and I was alone and-“ “Hey; hey baby it’s okay. I’ll be there I promise.” “Don’t say that.” “Well I did; and I’m going to. Can you sleep more right now its only four am.” “No I can’t.” You grumble and he smiles kissing you on the forehead. “We should probably figure out what to do whenever peanut decides to come out huh?” “Yeah I guess.” “You guess? You expect he’s just going to ask us if it’s convenient? Send us a letter or something?” You laugh shaking your head. “Just pack a bag and go to the hospital; like normal people.”

“You could always schedule it; it’d cost more but probably better in the long run.” “Oh yeah let me just call Peanut and see when he’s free.” “No babe; like a c-section. You can-“ “I don’t think that’s safe.”You shrug and Sweet Pea frowns. “ Did you know-“ “If you tell me any scary pregnancy facts I’ll cry.” “Babe… It’s just numbers about teen pregnancy; which you are, sort of. Most teen pregnancy births end in c-sections; it’s safer for everyone involved. You can’t just pretend nothing bad is ever going to happen.” “I can and I will, denial is my best friend right now.” “Y/N; what’s actually going on? It’s not just the nightmare is it.”

“My mom came over earlier.” “What did she say love?” You shake your head hiding your face in his chest. “I’m gonna end up like her and you’re going to leave; peanut won’t have his dad around and he’ll hate me.” “That’s not going to happen; you have me. I’m here; no matter what.” He kisses you and you smile into it. “I know; I love you.” “I love you too; but back to the Peanut issue. A C-section might-“ “No. That’s surgery; that’s too expensive we can’t afford that.” “Cheryl-“ “No I’m not asking anyone else to do shit for me and-“ His hand runs through your hair.

“Y/N; she almost strangled me when I told her and Betty you didn’t want a baby shower; she keeps tipping me fifties when Toni lets me take her shifts. Just ask, that’s all I’m asking.” You chew your lip. “It would make sure I could be there; you wouldn’t be in pain.” “Like FP won’t let you take off for you own kid being born…” You glare at him and he laughs. “I wouldn’t put it past him.” He coughs and you frown. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” “Sweet Pea; I can tell something just happened.”

“It’s nothing.” You watch as he snuggles closer to you, you can feel him smiling into your hair. “Sweets. Come on; I just had a nightmare. I’m having your kid; tell me what made you happy.” “That.” He grins and you look confused at him. “I had a nightmare?” “No, that’s horrible; I meant the thing you said about peanut.”

“What about him?” You chew your lip thinking back to everything you’ve said. “Is it about the C-section?” “No it’s just; don’t make me say it.” “No I legit don’t understand what’s got you so happy?” “You said he’s mine.” You nod dumbly at him. “Yes? That’s kind of a fact? Why is that making you happy?” “It’s nice to hear you say it.” You nod still slightly confused. “I mean you are his dad? You’re the one taking care of me and him.” “Or her.” He corrects grinning and you roll your eyes. “Or her; you’re the one who’s got me saying him; I think Fangs is the only one still on the ‘it’s a girl train.’ Cheryl was but Toni somehow convinced her.” ——————————————————————

You glare at Sweet Pea when he walks in. “What’s wrong?” “Cheryl agreed.” “To what? There’s a lot of things I asked her for in the- I’m joking babe, I’m joking! I didn’t ask her for anything. Besides that fancy ass crib she- IT’S A JOKE Y/N.” “The 15th at 9 am. That’s only a week early. I called FP already so he knows; so you have two weeks after that off.” “Oh, oh shit!” You watch his face and laugh when it clicks. “Yeah.” “Holy fuck we’re going to be parents.” “Yes? We’ve known for months?” “Well yeah there’s a date, and time now. It’s serious; like real, really real. Holy fuck.” He mumbles walking over to lean over to kiss you.

——————————————————-

“I expect you to be more stressed.” Sweet pea shrugs and you arch an eyebrow. “One, I can’t feel anything from my waist down; two since this is all scheduled I’m pretty much waiting for them to call me back.” “Surgery’s kind of a big deal.” He reaches for your hand and you squeeze it. “Didn’t you read all sorts of statistics about teen pregnancy and c-sections in the books you got?” “Well yeah; but it’s different seeing it on paper and it being you.” “How is that different?” “Well I love you; I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” “It won’t. If you start listing all the thing that can go wrong; I won’t; let you hold peanut.” “You can’t make me not hold my own kid Y/N that’s the dumbest threat I’ve ever heard.” “But it’s still a threat.” “A real threat would be putting Jones’ name on the birth certificate.” “Isn’t that what she’s doing?” Fangs question and you laugh as he drags a parade of balloons into the room. “Cheryl made me get both.”

“I get the pink and blue cause we kept it a secret but uh, why are there four; it’s not twins.” “From her and then from Toni I guess.” Fangs shrugs. “Is that a toy snake?” “Yeah, gotta make sure she loves snakes duh.” Fangs grins and you shake your head laughing. “You have to tell us the name!” Toni interrupts; Cheryl following her. “No I’ve already told you we’re not revealing that or the gender until they’re born.” “Killjoys.” Cheryl laughs smiling at you. —————————————————–

You wake up to the room being empty save for Sweet Pea curled on the chair; you watch him for a moment debating alerting him you’re awake before you can he turns back towards where you can hear the beginning of crying. “Hey whoa, no, no need to get so upset; come on you have to let mom sleep a bit; she can’t take you home unless she’s slept; I know you miss her it’s okay I do to. Now, we have- don’t look at me like that I need your help. Yeah exactly.” You watch Sweet Pea nodding as he looks down at your son, you can see his hand waving, he must have gotten it free while he was sleeping.

“Okay business time and then we can wake mom up yeah? Good; now, black or green? I was thinking green cause you know Serpents but blacks traditional. What do you think? No I’ll show you it in a second you have to help me choose, it’s a family thing after all. So; black or green.” He grins and you only hear laughter in response, you shift pretending to wake up and Sweet Pea grins. “Shit.” You hear him mumble shoving whatever he was holding into his jacket pocket, you can hear it clank and try your best not to get excited about the idea of him giving you your own key.

“Look it’s mom!” You can’t help but smile, Sweet Pea handing him over and you laugh when he cries. “Aw do you miss dad? It’s okay he’s like not even a foot away. You’re just unable to tell, you’ll get your object permanence soon.” “Hey you read some of the books!” Sweet Pea grins and you laugh nodding. “Of course; I was pregnant; I sort of had to.” Sweet Pea nods. “Hey listen this is kinda silly but can I take you out to dinner soon; like a proper date?”

“Yeah? They said I need like six weeks to heal from this; movement wise at least; but I don’t see why we can’t go to Pop’s or somewhere else later in the week when we’re a bit more coherent.” “So you mean when you’re not so drugged up you can’t feel your toes.” “Basically yes; why? We went on a date the other day.” “Yeah but I want to go on a date as a family, well like us; you know celebrating we’re a family.” You can see how his face changes, how he stutters and you can tell he’s nervous about whatever he’s planning. You laugh. “What?” His face falls as you grin. “I heard you, well the tail end of your very important conversation.” Sweet Pea’s face pales. “You did?”

“Yes, if you’re going to give me a key you know I don’t care about the colour.” Sweet Pea nods and hides his face. “Aw come on it’s not that hard to figure it out Pea.” “I know just I wanted to surprise you.” “It’s okay I’ll probably forget half of this by tomorrow.” He nods grinning.

“Hopefully.” He winks as the nurse explains you can go home, he helps you into the wheelchair and when you shiver he drapes his jacket over you. He’s distracted with loading everything into the car when you slide your hands into the pockets confused to feel an open box. You fish your hand around deeper trying to figure out where the key meant for you is instead finding a ring catching on your finger.

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