#i just needed to put this all down in words somewhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

covenha · 13 hours ago

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Synopsis: seonghwa harnesses the power of manifestation to get himself a girlfriend. Pairings: Simp!seonghwa x fem! reader Genre: crack, fluff, just seonghwa being a silly goofy guy Warnings: witchcraft technically? astrology is also mentioned WC: 1577 a/n: another self-indulgent fic is done! wrote this after i finished an exam so read at your own risk. i might right more bonus blurbs for this but who knows. this is a piece of fiction so it does not reflect who the characters are irl. please read the warnings carefully! and as always, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated 🫶

Simp!hwa had been content with silently pining over you. That is until one day he asked for a sign from the universe if he should confess. He was walking down the streets of his neighborhood while on his way to school with a little skip in his step, excited to see you. He was nearing Mrs. Nesbit’s house, an old lady with a splotchy memory but a kind heart. He stops to wave at her as she sways back and forth on the rocking chair on her porch. Then, as if she read his mind she goes, “Hurry up or you’ll miss it!”

Was this it? Was this the universe finally telling him to shoot his shot with you and confess his profound love for you?

Well, the answer was no. Mrs. Nesbit was referring to the bus two blocks away ready to leave Seonghwa’s delusional ass behind. But it’s fine. He didn’t really care. All he really cared about was figuring out how to get you to fall in love with him so that you guys grow old together and live out your best lives with your two cats and moss ball babies.

Now, Seonghwa knew that he had to approach this from a proactive standpoint. Sure, you and him have been friends since both of your awkward emo teen phases but he really wanted to cement in his chances with you. So he turned to the one place he knew he could get somewhat decent love advice from; Reddit. And with the wise words of Wefishyfishy98 he knew what he had to do. If he really wanted this he needed to use the power of manifestation.

Simp!hwa wore your hair tie on his hand with pride. He read somewhere on twitter that girls liked to “mark their territory” with things like this and he grew weak at the knees thinking about you staking your claim on him. (Of course, in a completely normal and non-a/b/o kind of way.) I mean isn’t this such a boyfriend thing to do? He was clearly using the power of manifestation or whatever that fish guy said on Reddit.

And this is why, when summer grew closer and the weather grew warmer, Seonghwa absolutely did not want to return it to you.

“Hwa, C’mon it’s hot and I don’t want my hair sticking to my neck.”

“Look, I can get you a new set of hair ties! Here, look at these cute ones I found on Etsy.” He tried to distract you with some cute kuromi hair ties he just found. Jongho is just silently observing the interaction between the both of you.

You found it weird that he refused to give it to you even after you pestered him to but you decided to just give up and tough it out. And those ties on Etsy were kinda cute.

“Fine. I guess the weather isn’t so bad today. What are you even doing on Etsy anyway?” you try to take a peak at whatever Seonghwa is looking up on his phone to which he quickly turns it off and puts it screen down on the table.

“Nothing!” You seem a little taken aback by this. “Just… looking for plants for my… aquarium.”

“You mean your aquarium filled with moss balls… a plant. You want to get plants for your plants?” you blink at him.

“Technically they’re algae.” Jongho butts in.

“Right…. Well, at least you’re passionate about your moss balls?” you trail off.

Seonghwa breathes a sigh of relief as Jongho nods on to you changing the topic to something about your mother’s extensive cacti collection. He opens up his phone again and clicks the order on his Etsy cart.

“I hope this works.” He thinks to himself.

That same night, Seonghwa started wracking his brain trying to think of something else that he could do that was “boyfriend coded”. And after much deliberation while staring at the ceiling, it finally hits him. She should be my lock screen! I mean nothing screams boyfriend like a cute candid picture as my lock screen.

So, with this in mind, he scrounges through his gallery looking for a good photo of you to put as his lock screen. Then he spots the perfect candid of you in his living room sitting on the floor with lego pieces scattered all around the floor trying to assemble his lego death star with him. You aren’t looking at the camera, instead you look completely locked in on building the superweapon of the Empire with him. He stares at the image with a warm feeling spreading throughout his body. Without even realizing it he’s smiling like an idiot at his screen and he buries his head on his pillow and screams into it while kicking his feet on his mattress.

That night he dreams of a distant future with you. One where he can call you his. Oh, and of course you can’t forget your two cats Lily and Bongo, and his ever growing collection of marimo balls.

A week and a half later, he’s checking his phone every few minutes and then looking at the front door waiting to see if the delivery truck has arrived. Today was your birthday and the gift that he had bought you was running dangerously late. Which is why when he hears a truck nearing the property he all but zooms off the living room couch and to the front door. He accepts the package from the delivery man and quickly unboxes it.

“It’s perfect.” he thought, smiling to himself as he delicately put it in a bag.

Later that day, as he walks you home just in time for you to have dinner with your family he surprises you with the gift.

“Wha- Hwa? I thought we weren’t doing gifts this year?” you say as you accept the small paper bag from him.

“Well, I say this and I just couldn’t not get it for you.” he just smiles at you shyly as you look at him, surprised at the gesture.

“Now, I have to get you a gift worth two birthdays next year.” you joke.��

“You’re the best gift life has to offer.” he thinks. But he shakes his head, a dumb smile on his face. “Open it.” he motions to the gift.

You open and find a couple kuromi hair ties, just as promised. But also, a jewelry box with a bracelet inside. It had a dainty gold chain and a baby pink stone in the middle.

“Hwa, I love it.” you smile at him. “It’s so pretty.” you inspect the bracelet.

“Here, let me put it on you.” he gets the bracelet from the box and clamps it around your wrist. He smiles at the sight of you wearing the bracelet.

He unfortunately had to leave because it was getting dark and he had to feed his cat at home. But, he swears he feels something in the air that night.

“Please work.” He mumbles to himself.

In hindsight, what Seonghwa felt that fateful night was probably just pollen, because the very next day Seonghwa finds Jongho coming down with a bad case of allergy sniffles. The cafeteria is filled with the sounds of chattering from hungry sleep-deprived college students and Jongho’s sneezes.

“So, did you finally give her that rose quartz bracelet you bought from that Etsy witch?” Seonghwa’s cheeks burn at his words.

“Yea. It was a good time too. Venus was in mercury gatorade or something.” he mumbles while picking at the skin on his thumb.

“Ahem.” You startle both boys with your presence. You raise your eyebrows at both of them and decide to end their misery of staring at you with their mouths open in shock. “What’s this about an Etsy witch?”

“I do not recall saying Etsy witch.” Jongho mumbles quickly then packs up his things, muttering some excuse about buying a gatorade from the vending machine. Seonghwa just sits there, mouth agape, trying to stutter out some excuse but nothing coherent falls from his mouth.

“Hwa, you know you didn’t have to summon the forces of magic and astrology to make me fall in love with you right? I kinda already am.” You blush as you admit your feelings for your best friend.

Simp!hwa’s brain malfunctions hearing this. Heart pounding, mind racing. Did she just... Did she just say that? She likes me? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve been waiting for this moment for what feels like forever. What now?! I didn’t actually think I would get this far. Shit what happens next. Do I shake her hand? No, that would be weird. Just say something, Seonghwa! Say something!

“Will you be my manifested girlfriend?” he asks in a dazed voice. This makes you giggle before you shake your head then decide to kiss him on the nose. “It’s about time.”

Seonghwa wastes no time in going in for a kiss. It felt like fireworks were going off in the background (it was just Jongho having a massive sneezing fit). The moment was perfect. It was magical. You guys stare into each other’s eyes and it felt like all was right with the world. As the both of you pull away from the kiss, Jongho sits down at the table with a purple gatorade.

“You know it's actually mercury retrograde, right?”

#ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez hours #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez scenarios #ateez #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa au #park seonghwa au #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa blurbs #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa hours

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citrinae · 8 hours ago

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forgive me, for i love being bad for you.

sanji x reader (ft. platonic!zoro)

summary; everyone agrees that you and roronoa zoro are like two peas in a pod: cool, unbothered, hitting pubs on the regular. everyone, except your boyfriend sanji—who’d try anything to distract you from your visibly chaotic lifestyle. even visiting a potion shop. or: sanji needs to get out of his head in four acts.

contents; angsty vibes, lowkey love triangle, miscommunication™, abandonment issues, drinking, sex pollen, a little dubcon tbh, piv, oral sex (both receiving), facesitting, multiple orgasms, creampie, college/modern!AU, witch!sanji, jealous!sanji, afab!reader, wc: 7.3k (wheezes), mdni. spooky carnival is still in town, go catch it if you’re in for a bad time.

masterlist.

Zoro sets his glass back on the table with a forceful clink. There’s liquor rolling to the corner of his lips.

“I still don’t get it,” annoyance hangs from his voice as he speaks. “How the fuck you put up with him?”

Your reflection looks back at you from the amber in your glass.

“He’s sweet and he cooks for me,” you mean it. Despite Zoro’s lack of trust in your newfound romance, slightly taking to repulse, Sanji has been nothing but a dream to you. Resting his cheek on yours as you were watching some movie you borrowed for the night, swinging hands as he took you grocery shopping. Everything about him buzzes with the type of comfortable affection one meets in magazines, or in Christmas commercials, and you’re sure to fall harder for him by the day. “Have you taken the time to cook for someone you dated?”

“Yeah?” Zoro washes the accusation away with another sip. “You into cooks?”

“Apparently.”

“‘s he a good cook?”

A smile, prideful. “Nothing but a wizard in the kitchen.”

“Christ, you’re even starting to sound like him,” he teases further. “Putting random words together and expecting to make sense.”

“He’s a good cook, Zoro,” you tell him again.

There’s a pause.

“No kidding.”

At a loss of what to say, you clumsily try to fill the silence.

“Yeah.”

“As long as you like him or whatever,” defeated, waving his hand. “Just keep him outta my sight, will you?”

“Deal,” you say, downing your drink as you do. Bitterness lingers on the roof of your mouth, throat burned and numbed out. Suddenly your mind wanders somewhere else. “Care for another round?”

Zoro’s smirk is sly, devilish. “Now that’s more like my language.”

So you get yourselves a second refill that turns into a third, and a forth, until there’s no more use to bother about keeping count. Your surroundings seem to start whirling for a second. You close your eyes, then open them. And everything gets back into place.

On the day you met him, somewhere around campus, basking in the sun like a stray cat on trim lawn, you and Zoro hit off immediately. Scruffy hair, bomber jackets, eyes looking like he’s about to fall asleep any minute, Zoro is the type to never dwell on things for longer they’re worth. Always a guy of instinct, speaking truths others might opt to stay away from. On the other hand you have a knack for chaos he easily complements, so for over a year now he’s been a good and loyal friend to you, your time together something neither of you would regret or give up on.

He’s the one who introduced you to Sanji. Now it’s clearer to you that Sanji had probably asked him to. Neither of them expected it when you accepted to go out with him, “It’s just a fucking date, chill out. Free meal you know?”; and to your own surprise, your heart skipped a good beat when you saw him that night.

Sanji. Annoying, perverted, absolutely fucking delusional Sanji, lighting up a cigarette in front of his car. Light fell nicely on his rings as he kept a hand around a flower bouquet—the pretentious kind, with a wrapper and ribbon and all. Red button-up, black jeans, coat. Heart-warming smile.

Everything about the scene felt like something taken from those really sugary rom-coms you and Zoro make fun of when drunk. Yet somehow you admired Sanji for putting in the effort. His hand quivered on the door handle, “You look sensational, my dear.” Adjusting your seat belt, you told him that he didn’t look so bad himself, and by the pink crossing his face as you did, you deduced he might not be used to having flattery thrown his way.

At dinner he told you he was raised in a small restaurant down east, and that they sold soy wax candles and herbs right next door. Wiping up your mouth with a handkerchief, you tried to come up with a quip around it, “And you stocked healing crystals and runes as well, right?” But then he just propped his hand in a palm, a wide smile blooming on his face that made you unsure whether he was playing along with the narrative or simply felt happy to talk about his past. “Sometimes we did, yeah. But we were more into the culinary side of things.”

When, a couple days later, you told Zoro that you and Sanji had spent the night together, he didn’t hesitate to let you know that he thought it a bad idea. He warned that Sanji was weird—not in the sense that he had a wandering eye or spent a rent-worth on cigarettes. He was simply weird. Fingers drumming on wood, “Caught him mustering some nonsense crap to a jar once. Like he was enchanting it or something.” Soon you were reliving the conversation you had on your first date. “You mean he’s, like, Sabrina the Teenage Witch?” Zoro didn’t catch it. “Who?” he said, and you waved him off. “Nevermind.”

The sneer he wore back then was similar to the one he makes now, seeing the blue light of your phone fill the room with a notification.

“It’s him,” you say, fingers instinctively hovering to your lock screen. Neither can you help looking at the hour displayed in blinding white: 01:51 A.M.

Zoro keeps himself from rolling his eyes. “Tell him I’m bringing you to your dorm.”

You text; the reply comes in a beat.

“He asks if you even know where my dorm is.”

“Of course I—” Zoro clicks his tongue. Then he snatches the phone from your hands and presses ‘record’. “Of course I know where to go you jackass,” he snarls, throat pulsing.

Taking your phone back, you check the message popping in not long after. “He says he’s coming over.”

“Fine then. Whatever.” It’s low. He sounds irritated. “Let’s pay and we’ll wait for your princess outside.”

And that’s exactly what you do; take care of the bill, grab your jackets and throw yourselves out. Feeling the crisp air on your cheeks, you realise you’re so much drunker than you’ve felt inside. You’re light, feathery, persistently on the verge of being blown out. Concrete flounders around you and you have to put in some additional effort to maintain your balance. Time becomes harder for you to register or something Zoro has just said made you cackle for too long because here is Sanji, your sweet boyfriend Sanji, parking his car not too far away from your forms. You can tell he put on himself the first things he saw in the wardrobe. His hair is slightly disordered, his step heavy as he rushes to your direction.

“Evening Angel,” Sanji chirps, pulling you into a hug, and you cannot help but dig your nose into the soft fabric of his hoodie, closing your eyes, glad to finally have something to lean your weight onto. His tone drops when he looks at Zoro. “Mosshead.”

Zoro’s hands are sunk into his pockets. “Told you I got everything under control.”

“Pardon me if I didn’t believe you.” Sanji is sardonic. “Looking at the state of this slump, seems like I was right not to.”

“Not my idea to come here, bitch,” Zoro drones. His breath fogs the air as he speaks. “Next time get your head outta your ass and listen to people before running your mouth.”

Some of Sanji’s cologne still hangs from the soft fabric. “This was the only place that allowed us to play cards,” you say against his chest.

“Aha,” he flattens his hand across your back. “At least tell me you played for money and bled this loser dry. Tomorrow will get yourself something pretty with stupid mosshead pocket change.”

“You done talking?” Zoro says through gritted teeth.

“Yeah,” Sanji’s lips press into a thin line. He’s slowly urging you towards the car. “We’ll be off in a beat.”

“We didn’t play for money,” you tilt your head to look at him, trying to match his steps as you distance yourselves from the pub.

“What a pity.” Between wry and affectionate.

You raise a loose fist in the air. “Till the next one, Zoro!”

“See ya daredevil,” Zoro shifts his weight from one leg to another. “Tuck your princess in and give him a sweet goodnight’s kiss, yeah?”

“Fuck you,” Sanji heaves, closes the door behind you.

On the way to your dorm, he doesn’t ask about how many you had or lecture about being alone—with Zoro—late at night. Why would he? He’s aware this is a part of you, and he’d lie if he said he doesn’t melt watching the glimmer in your eye and your lips curling into a wicked smirk each time you tell him how much fun you had. Though he does worry about you, sometimes, when you willingly throw yourself in all kinds of dangerous shenanigans. Seeing your head slipping down the backrest, silently Sanji casts a spell on your eyelids to make sure you sleep unbothered until tomorrow morning. Tucks some strands of hair behind your ear, yet his eyes are still fixed on the road, and his hands are both rested on the steering wheel.

Normally, he wouldn’t have been so exhibited with his magic had you been awake. But for now he takes the liberty to carry himself as if he were alone or in the company of the shitty bunch at the Baratie that taught him the craft to begin with. Foliage and plains and cottages move remotely in his wingspan while he continues to think of you. Your smile, your laughter, the nonchalant way you coil your arms around his own to show you around the places that you have so many stories to tell about. To him you are a bundle of new experiences and joy, something pleasant and airy he wishes to emanate himself someday. Always honest, always so easy to approach. Dandelion seeds whirling loosely in the wind.

But the one thing he cannot seem to take his mind from is that having a bent for partying also means having a bent for Zoro.

Lazy, shabby, perpetually absent-minded Zoro.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel.

Sanji has never really liked the guy, for reasons he doesn’t have the time or energy to list. Tolerance is perhaps too much to describe the compromise he’s willing to take; but he attempts it, for your sake. Because no matter how he tries looking at things Zoro adds something to this life of yours he certainly doesn’t have, or doesn’t know how to make up for. No matter how well you fit in his arms, early in the morning with sleep still heavy on your lashes, throaty voice narrating a dream so bizarre it plucks a laughter from his lips, the nights will always be reserved to someone he wouldn’t even bother to understand. Because he doesn’t want to.

Window rolls down; he lights up a cigarette.

Moments pass. His car stops by a pair of victorian-esque gates he doesn’t take long to recognise. He carries you on his back all the way to your dorm room, putting to sleep everyone he stumbles upon as he does; he isn’t supposed to be here, and certainly you aren’t supposed to return this late at night. He’s thankful you chose to sleep in the bottom bed. With this thought in mind he arranges your pillow and places you under the covers, slowly, gently almost like you were made of glass. From his tote bag he picks out a flask and a piece of paper he scribbles on: “for your hangover—sanji <3”

ii.

The sun bleeds through stained glass in dazzling shades of pink and blue and yellow. Wind chimes, cluttered shelves. Dusted books. The air is thick with the smell of wood and incense. Sanji picks at the fingers that he keeps tucked into the pockets of his hoodie. He isn’t allowed to smoke in here, but fuck does he need a drag. Light catches across the variety of bottles and jars lined up in front of him, all displayed in eye-catching colours and labelled in alphabetical order.

Would I? He tries his best not to pick up the light blue piece lingering a little too at hand not to be a work of fate. Should I? Sanji kisses his teeth; he takes the thing into his palm.

There’s a piece of paper attached by lace ribbon. Writing is dainty, yet small and hardly intelligible.

Truth shows itself in wicked colours;

betrayal, freedom, promise.

For they who shall drink this wicked brew

take a night in their beloved’s embrace.

Is their bond seen pure and true,

the Garden sees no place for others.

Like the first lovers on Earth—

runaways from Eden, they shall be.

Sanji takes a deep breath. Flips the flask on all sides, reading and rereading, biting his inner cheek. It’s not like he doesn’t trust you. He does, with all his heart. And yet he cannot help but shamelessly wonder: if Zoro hadn’t introduced you, would you and him have ended up together? Does he stand in the way of something which is meant to be? “I’m pathetic, fuck.”

He tastes blood.

Talking to you about this is out of the question, since that would mean admitting Zoro is a better match for you. Plus, honesty is one of the things he admires about you. He’s sure you wouldn’t cheat. To bring this up would only lead to conflict and the sort of disappointment he’d rather choke to death than see reflected in your eyes.

“This shit is ridiculous.”

The flask makes a frail sound as Sanji throws it in the basket. Stomping the floor with his foot, a cold sweat bobbing at his nape, at checkout he’s greeted by a gorgeous woman dressed in a velvet dress and speaking with a faint voice he doesn’t care enough to pay attention to. There’s a black cat sleeping on a shelf behind her.

“Is this everything you needed?” she asks, carefully placing the goods in a paper pag.

Sanji drops some cash on the counter and leaves without saying a thing to her.

iii.

“What do you think, my dear?” Sanji asks you on the other side of the table. The potion he bought a week ago forms a bump inside the pocket of his dress pants.

You want to be sure of your answer, so you take another forkful of your food, still steaming hot and methodically arranged on the plate. It’s good. No, it’s tremendously good, better than you imagined it to be.

“Sanji, this is incredible,” you say, not allowing yourself the time to fully swallow. “And I’m not only saying this because I like complimenting you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His face brightens, a mix of pride and the unpretentious joy he takes from cooking to other people. However he still looks to be preoccupied by something else you never find the right timing to ask about.

Embarrassment hitching up your throat, you drag your fork across ceramic. Sanji stays silent for a moment; his plate is barely touched. In hopes to escape the tension, your eyes wander to look at his curtains, his shelves, an enframed picture with a gruff old man and a much younger Sanji cheerily holding out a slice of lemon cheesecake. The apartment is small, but tasteful, with decent flooring and a rent anyone your age can afford. White walls, light blue cushioning. A closed balcony where he grows basil and rosemary.

You are going to sleep over tonight. It’s not that you've never done this before; have dinner together before deciding on a movie you’ll never get to watch because his hand grips on your thigh a little too tightly and your knee presses itself somewhere too bold to go unnoticed. But something feels different now, you cannot quite tell why. He feels different. With his avoidant eyes and stuttering words and index finger that frequently climbs to scratch an eyebrow.

“If you wanted to break up with me you could’ve chosen a café, you know?” you hear yourself saying, arms folded.

“What?” His chair scrapes the floor; he tries not to cringe from the sound. “No, no.” It's ferm. It's rushed. “Why would you think that?” goes unsaid.

Fingertips digging into the table, Sanji doesn't know how he ended up on his feet. He takes the opportunity to take the seat next to yours, plate and cutlery clanking along as he does. “No one's breaking up with anyone, sweetheart,” words fight their way through the knot in Sanji's throat.

Sanji shoves his fork in his food which now looks less parmigiana and more like something a primary school kid would make for their art class assignment. Fuck, adding wasted food to his trainwreck fog of thoughts is the last thing he wants for tonight. After he swallows it down, his tone finally relaxes.

“I was actually thinking of proposing something, now that we’re soon to move up to dessert. Something I'd like us to try,” he says.

It registers quickly. “Like in bed?”

“It might sound a little weird, though.” Sanji avoids meeting your eyes. His chest rises and falls in a disjointed rhythm as he tries his best to empty his plate.

“I like weird,” you say, propping your head on a fist, curiosity pushing your mouth a little higher.

He cannot help but mimic your smile. “Well I bought us something.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, I did.” Not wasting any more time, he pulls the flask out of his pocket, displays it on the dinner table—clear liquid bottled in cerulean crystal, ribbon unfastened and label removed. Your eyes widen. “I was doing some grocery shopping, and stumbled upon this,” Sanji explains.

You take it in your hands, blinking, carefully not to damage the contents. “Is this an aphrodisiac?”

“You can call it that,” he says. “It stimulates the senses, so everything should feel a little more intense than usual. I know I haven’t been necessarily adventurous with you, dear,” looking into his plate, then at you. Inevitably he starts thinking of Zoro. “Thought maybe I can start from somewhere.”

Your hand reaches his. “You don’t have to go out of your way for me. You’re perfect for me, yeah? And I have fun with you. Lots of it, actually.”

“I know—” heat rising in throat, he reaches to loosen his shirt collar. “I mean, you’re perfect for me, too, hell I cherish each and every moment we spend together. Kind of felt intrigued to experience this with you, is all. However it’s definitely ok and understandable if you don’t feel comfortable doing it.”

Inspecting the flask in your hands, you give it a second of thought. You know the kind of shops Sanji frequents: equipped with dust and smoke and mysteries. The between-buildings types you have asked about before, and received a response either too vague or too straightforward to be taken seriously. Even still, trust has never been an obstacle. You trust Sanji; he has trustworthy eyes and a soothing voice that feels like a kiss on one’s eyelids. He’s good to you, always has been, when he cradles your face in his palms and calls you his sun and moon and stars, stardust dripping from his eyes as he assures you’re the best he’s had.

“Does this have any side effect or some sort?” you look up to search for his gaze, and like pulled by a magnet Sanji returns it.

“No,” he says. “Wears off in the morning. Like nothing happened.”

If you don’t end up running to Zoro, that is. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach as the thought snipes through his mind. He’s not sure how to feel about lying to you, either. But maybe it’s for the best; if it turns out he isn’t your meant-to-be after all.

Decisive, “Fuck it. Let’s do it, then.”

Sanji’s smirk fades out the anxiety. “In this case our next course will consist of one more secret ingredient.”

Feet swinging, tapping against the floor. Walls drifting apart and closing in. Moments have passed through you like sequences from a dream, and you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater as Sanji sets the dessert on the table—two delicate things, like they were long intended to play the highlight of your night, light pink and beautifully decorated with dried rose petals and pomegranate seeds. For a minute you marvel at Sanji’s attention to detail, the love he puts into any dish as he turns them into something special and palatable.

“Baby,” your laugh is a casual play at fragrancy Sanji takes in with a one-sided smile. “There’s no way I can run my teaspoon into this.”

He takes the seat to your right. “The real deal happens when you taste it, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for a teaspoon of his own, strands of blonde hair brushing one cheek as he does.

And when you eventually do it, run tableware through moulded cream, you relish the sweetness that melts on the roof of your mouth. Sanji asks if you can tell the other thing apart from the dish. You say no, I don’t, do you? I think it’s the pomegranate, he acts like he’s uncertain even though you’re sure it shouldn’t take more than a few seconds. I only used some as decor. But here it’s rather pungent, not that I’m complaining. Child’s play. Halfway through your tasting, a second question comes.

Do you feel anything?

I don’t.

Do you?

No.

Sanji’s heart clutches in his chest. He’s impatient, laughable even, he knows he is, since spells like this should take longer to surface. Three times he mouthed the chant and the potion gracefully vanished into steam as it poured down the servings, no drops left. By the look of that, Sanji might at least expect something to happen. Either bad or reassuring.

Yet you stay your familiar comfortable selves even after you’ve eaten the whole thing, carrying on as such when you help him—at least attempting to, he never lets you lift a finger—clean the table and watch him washing the dishes from one of his counters. Sleeves pushed to elbows, fingers sunk into the sponge, hair pushed into concentrated, concentrating eyes. Water rolls off his wrists—drip, drop. He tells you something, but you cannot hear him. It hovers towards the ceiling and in the back of your head, a muffled sound engulfing you not less like the numbing feeling of being underwater. Shamelessly you ask him to repeat.

Okay, maybe you do start feeling some way.

Sanji turns off the tap. A crushing silence.

“I was wondering if you thought of something to watch tonight,” he turns to look at you, and stops.

He cannot tell if it’s your eyes, suddenly looking bigger, or your collarbones, stretching in and out in anticipation, wet lips looking wetter, slightly parted as you breathe, but he feels helplessly drawn to you, like you’ve been tied up by some invisible rope that keeps rolling up, more and more, thinning the space between your bodies. Air catches in his lungs as he lets himself be torn apart by his awe and not knowing what to do with it.

Just as indiscreetly you wrap your eyes around his shoulders, his chest, his biceps, looking so much more strained under his shirt. Watching him make a step towards you, it seems like his eyes have gotten brighter, cheeks catching a faint tinge of pink, and you have to fight the impulse to dip a hand under your sweater and see how those long fingers of his would feel on you.

Your fingertips bite into the front edges of the counter. “Not yet, no,” you say, a little disconnected from yourself. Sanji’s scent is an intoxicating mix of rosemary and sandalwood. “Guess we’ll have to browse and see what comes our way.”

“Sure. We’ll look.” Stepping forward, Sanji is the most relaxed he’s felt in days, his limbs and shoulders so much lighter as he moves, comfortably numb in the absence of a thought which has weighted on his back like a fiend draining him of his life force. He knows he has been waiting for something tonight, an answer, you calling a name he cannot bring himself to remember, and yet his mind is blank with nothing but the image of his lips crashing on yours.

His presence radiates need, and it sends an electric shiver down your spine as he comes closer to you, fingers running over your knuckles. When your eyes align with his, you find it impossible to look anywhere else. So you sink into the blue and drown. Sanji leans further in, and his breath is sultry against your earshell as he speaks.

“Fuck knows what’s happening to me, dear,” he says, a hoarse sound that makes your thighs squeeze together. “But please tell me you’ll ride my face before anything else.”

But he sure knows what’s going on. He put a spell on you; or something along these lines.

Your body moves by its own as you push forward, biting your bottom lip, pressing your chest against his. “Want me to fuck your mouth, pretty?” your tone echoes the urgency of his request.

His lips trail down your ear and across your neck. Suddenly your legs are wrapped around his torso. “Oh, and even more,” he tells you. “I want you to cream on my mouth so much that you’ll never find any other to please you just as good.”

“Then why am I not in your bed yet?” It comes out more desperate than it should. Without realising your fingers have unfastened at least two of his shirt buttons, and now they seem to cling onto his collar for dear life.

Something flares in him; powerful, primal, which he hasn’t been aware he’s had before, sliding a hand under your hips and picking you up before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss is deep, all tongue. You return it with closed eyes and a breathy moan that pulls Sanji in a frenzied daze. Hands curled at his nape, you lose yourself in the taste of nicotine and pomegranates as you let him carry you past dim lit walls and into the bedroom. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lights. When he hurls you in bed, it’s with a deliberate movement, careful not to bruise you in any way but not the less forceful altogether.

Then you take care of the rest of his buttons and belt, and he moves his focus to your pants, tugging them off while your mouths can’t gather the resolve to leave each other. Your fingers rake themselves through his hair. Smoothing the skin under your sweater, his hands stop to flatten around your breast. As Sanji presses his weight on you, it becomes impossible not to notice how fucking hard he is, greedy and throbbing against your soaked panties. He’s at his most unbridled tonight, and yet he touches you with the ritualistic devotion of a priest, mouthing syrup into your ear like lighting candles on an altar. The full moon spills in her light through the window, blue and delicate, and for a moment there you are sure Sanji’s contours have caught a prismatic glow, colourful flashes whirling in your vision, wavering around him like some sort of aura.

After he breaks away, you are still tied together by a thin thread of saliva. He pushes your panties aside, and your back arches when he slides a digit, and then a second one, into your slit. There’s lust in his eyes, the kind you’ve never seen on him before, drinking in the sweet faces you make while his fingers press in and out of you in circling motions, rubbing your clit just so sweetly as he does.

“Look how wet you are, dearest,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Always such a lovely mess for me.”

“I want you, Sanji,” you say, aware that you cannot hide the way he makes you feel by looking at him alone.

It’s you, Sanji.

Your voice echoes in his heart like water dripping in a cave, let it melt inside him with something close to relief. He wants to thank you; and yet he cannot tell exactly what for. What he does instead is pull you into another kiss, less vicious and more affectionate, keeping you close with a hand flattened on your nape.

The more you kiss him the brighter the room looks. Spectral rainbow fading behind his form.

“Could you shift your hips for me?” Sanji eventually suggests. “Let me taste you, honey.”

It doesn’t take long to figure out what he means by that. Like a thing of habit, you let Sanji take your spot on the bed, then climb your way onto his face. You take yourself a moment before starting to move, but all wariness disappears the moment he drags a flat tongue across your slit. His voice vibrates into your core as your taste has him mumbling seared praises against your folds. Further you drop yourself on his mouth, and more he laps at your pussy, wet and desperate, coaxing you those sounds that fill the room and blend in with the moonlight.

Sanji’s tongue has always managed to make you shiver. But this time is different, because you can feel everything; nose and beard and lips, drenched in your slick, white-hot as they rub themselves against your favourite spots. You can feel it when his eyes close and open, taking his time to savour the moment, and when he lets out a pleasured sigh to let you know how grateful he is to be allowed the luxury of tasting you, there is a delirious sensation rushing from your heat and climbing to your back like an electrical shock. It makes you thrust your hips harder against his mouth, call out his name with the urgent solemnity you didn’t know your voice could be able to reproduce.

Looking at the way Sanji’s lower body tries to helplessly grind against nothing, cock straining in the confines of his boxers, bulging and stained with precum, you come to realise he must be feeling the same as you do. Oh, but Sanji revels in seeing how sweet you can be for him, and how good he can make you feel when he eats you out. He doesn’t mind the pain as long as he gets to lick you off his chin after he’s done. Never someone to dismiss your pleasure over his own. And yet.

As his mouth diligently works on the heat that is now building in your stomach, and your movements pick up in pace to reach the high, you cannot help not to stare at his cock, thrusting the air to catch up with your rhythm. Hands running a touch across his stomach, you lick your lips. Sanji moans into you when you lean down to tug at his boxers.

“Angel, what—” you hear him saying.

Not allowing him the time to protest, you press yourself onto his face. “I’m so close, please,” you inform him, in a voice you don’t recognise. “Please don’t stop.”

So he doesn’t, running his tongue around your clit, not letting a single drop go to waste. You’re almost there.

“Good goddess, fuck,” he huffs, feeling your hands on his balls, and shortly after your mouth kissing him at the tip.

He comes that instant; let heat shoot in your mouth and down your throat as you wrap your lips around him, swallowing and licking off everything you can. There is something wrecked in his voice as he’s taken through his crescendo, something like a prayer sent to an all-mighty, and even then he continues to kiss your folds and drag his tongue across you until you come to climb a peak of your own. With Sanji’s taste lingering on the roof of your mouth, tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you call for him, over and over again, enveloped in pleasures you never thought that existed.

Only when you’re brought back, a panting mess, you realise Sanji remained just as hard as you left him—something only that weird sex drink could’ve made it happen. You take the opportunity to lift your hips from his mouth and better adjust yourself at his crotch; he starts shifting awkwardly the moment you do.

“There’s no need to, really.” Sanji is hesitant as he looks down at you, lips red and goatee still soaked with your slick.

“But I want my meal,” you say, already licking at the tip. “It’s only fair you let me have one too.”

He’s having a hard time saying no to you; but how can he, when you talk with that voice, and when you look at him with those pleading eyes that reflect the gates to Heaven and more? Your mouth takes a little more of him, hot tongue trailing up and down his cock, and his eyes roll back into his head in visible defeat.

Sanji runs his fingers through your hair. His tone takes to yearning, “So my precious darling is hungry, huh? Cute and silly for my cock?”

“Mhm,” bottom lip rolling up, wetly.

Half smug, half dazed. “Then it’d be cruel of me not to keep you fed.”

Deeper you push your mouth around him, until he’s twitching in your throat and you start to gag. Sanji’s thumb finds your cheek—please don’t do anything you don’t want to. But you wouldn’t stop. You cannot stop. Not when you get to hear the whimpers he makes as your lips press around the skin ever so slightly, when you look up at his heaving chest, his parted lips, pushing out a broken exhale, the eyes that now flood with wavering reflections of the moonlight and tears threatening to wet his lashes.

“Oh, my angel.” It’s coarse, struggling for air. His eyes shut close. “My sun, my everything. Yeah, like that. So fucking good.”

Hands coated in spit, you reach to give his balls a gentle squeeze, continue to fill your throat. Once praises have started to spill from Sanji’s mouth, they don’t stop, and they touch a point at which the words feel like no more than babbling, trashed and incoherent, with his hair blown in both of his eyes. His hand sometimes runs to his forehead, other times he uses it to caress your face and pet your hair, but no matter what Sanji stays loud in letting you know how good whatever you’re doing to him feels.

The moment he sets both of his hands on your head, you know it’s because he’s getting close. With a fearful thrust of his cock into your mouth a growl leaves him, and soon after his second release spills down your throat, warm, somehow sweet. You swallow; his chest expands and contracts in attempt to catch his breath.

Specks of light dash off Sanji’s lips. Pulling you at his level, he clashes them against yours into yet another kiss, sloppy and greedy as he runs his hand down your curves, sinks his fingers into your skin. The touch sears everywhere it reaches; and you cannot do anything but melt in his arms, let yourself be moulded by this growing need that somehow can never quite satiate you.

“Hope you don’t think you won’t be rewarded for that,” Sanji breathes into your mouth.

Your lips rolling to his jaw, you say, “Hope you don’t think I’ve had enough of you.”

“I’m here for you to take,” with a quivering hand Sanji squeezes your pussy. “Will always be.”

His fingers send a delightful shock throughout your body. Something close to a moan tears from your throat. “You're such a whore for me, Sanji.”

“Can you blame me?” Sanji rubs his tip against your inner thigh. “Darling, please look at yourself.”

“For the love of god—” wet and breathless against his ear. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Your impatience endears him, has his heart beating so much faster than it already does. Still he starts slowly, pushing you onto the pillows, taking his time to relish your expression as he lifts your legs and lovingly sets them atop his shoulders. Sanji almost laughs at himself, because even under the influence of this potion that brings out anything wild and viscerally troublesome he has in him, nothing delights him more than getting to unravel you with the same care one deseeds a pomegranate in the kitchen.

Placing a kiss on your calf, he croons, “Say, sweetheart, what about you? Who do you crave for just so?”

Not wasting a beat, “You, Sanji.” It’s you.

He could get off by these words alone.

“And what do you want from me?” he starts to coat himself in your slick, pressing the tip on your clit every now and then. “Do you want me to fuck you, maybe? Fill you up and call you beautiful?”

You can only nod, legs coiling around his neck in anticipation. “Yeah, yeah. Please fuck me.”

Then you can feel him burying himself into you, and it rips a sound from your mouth as soon as he does. Your hips lift to increase the friction. You accommodate him easily, trembling under him and through the persistent knot in your stomach that has you wanting for more.

When he bottoms out, his voice is low, hypnotic. “Like this?”

“Like this,” you echo, drowning yourself in the wild glimmer flaring in his eyes.

Fingers dug into your legs, his temples sweaty, Sanji pulls out, then drops himself back in, each motion steadier than the other. Wet sounds fill the sheets as your bodies coil and flatten together like nothing matters in this world but you and this moment and the moon capturing your contours in ethereal glow. Nothing, no one. Sanji speeds his hips, chest flushed and sweltering. Usually you’re not as permissive with your sounds as he is, but tonight they seem to just pour themselves out of your mouth, every sigh and moan and whimper, sugar waterfalls thickening the air as Sanji moves you into each thrust.

“Ah,” you hear him say, a man aflame. “Refresh my memory, would you, angel? Who did you want to fuck again?”

Through an exhale, “You—” a pause. “Only you.”

“You feel so good,” he whines, collapses with a slapping sound. “So sweet, so perfect for me.”

Blue and pink and yellow; just as vivid when you close your eyes. He goes in deep, deeper, and your thighs are shivering against his torso.

“Yeah? You like that?” legs tightening their grip around him. “Like it when I take you good and confess?”

“More than that,” Sanji is breathless. “Makes me insane. You’re making me go insane.”

You wouldn’t admit it, but you know how it feels. To have your sanity run scarce by a voice telling you how faultless you are, that no matter how you see yourself you will always be a cosmos in someone else’s eyes. If anything, you should know this better than anyone else, the maddening feeling of being fed honey and sugar glaze as your thoughts are pressed against body heat. Lost in his trance Sanji picks up the pace, and there’s a wet, debauched mewl that overrides even the careless crash of your skins.

Lip caught under your teeth, “Want to, mh—wanna hear another confession, baby?”

“What’s on your mind, my sweet?” Sanji’s lips ghost over your calf.

“Think I—” with a thrust your eyes are hurled to the ceiling. “Fuck, I think I love you.”

Vulnerable.

Suddenly his chest drops against yours, a chance for your legs to flatten across his back, pulling him the closest you can. His fingers interlace with yours as he sinks into the crook of your neck.

Reckless.

The pace doesn’t slow down, but you can very well tell it’s become sloppier than before. A lost rhythm. When you look at him again, you are quick to notice the dampness pushing at the corners of his eyes.

“I love you too,” glad to finally word it this way. “I love you so much.”

Then he continues to rut into you, shaky voice fogging your neck the moment your nails pierce into his back. Your hips thrust themselves up, desperate for tandem. Heat erupts inside you. Another peak you’re yearning to chase.

“‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna come,” you tell him, cheek brushing over his hair.

“Let go, my dear,” in a frail tone. “Let me hear you.”

With a squeeze of your hand Sanji fucks you the way you need him to—viciously.

He could try. He could at least try to make you fall so hard for him that you will keep your words even after the spell wears off.

You pull at his hair, mean and senseless as a sudden burst of pleasure tears through you. Your lips move without being able to hear the words. There must’ve been something you said, though, you’re sure there was, because Sanji’s soon chasing after, hung on a mournful vowel, flooding you through his end.

The moon soaks into your bodies.

iv.

Sanji wakes up with tinnitus. He blinks, once, twice, waiting for the specks of colour before his eyes to rearrange into furniture. The next thing he recognises is your breathing, small and lukewarm on his chest. Instinctively his arms wrap themselves around you, and there’s a long exhale when they do. You’re naked, both of you. His head becomes heavy with flashes of last night, lips pressed together, bending sternum, and soon they are replaced with the sound of a name he thought he couldn’t remember. Sentiments he thought he discarded.

He thought he would lose you.

But you are still here.

Before knowing it, his arms are shaking, and like he’s done many times when he finds it impossible to contain himself, he covers his eyes with an elbow.

He starts crying.

Muffled, subtle, more worried about waking you up than about having to figure out an excuse for his tears. Droplets roll off his cheeks and onto his collarbone. His chest jerks up and down in a pathetic staccato. He wishes he were someone with more control over his emotions, sometimes, during moments like this. But he isn’t, and he cannot change, just like he cannot be many other things.

A soft rustle beneath the sheets. Arms squeezing his torso.

“Sanji, hey.” The words come out rasp, still filled with sleep. When he doesn’t answer, there’s a thumb wiping across his cheek. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can manage.

Warmly, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups again. “I’m so sorry.”

Because he doubted you. Because he cannot fucking stop doubting himself. Heaven knows he’d tell you all these things, were he a braver man. Instead there’s only one thing that seems to be coming out of him, a broken record.

“I’m sorry.”

You wouldn’t want to pressure him. Without saying anything else you keep Sanji in your arms, squeeze him tighter as his tears blend with your hair and your fingers move to soothe his frantic shoulders. Salt pours on his bottom lip. Sanji accepts the comfort despite his better judgement, burying his face into your neck, trying to focus on the sound of your breathing. You stay like this for a while.

There are so many things he’d want to tell you; the kind of things that eat through his guts and tear him apart. Silly images of him taking you to the Baratie, teaching you the way around potions, topping your hand as you sign your name in blood and knowledge, are you to feel rebellious enough.

And he will, one day; talk to you about everything he’s ever seen and touched. Now, however, he closes his eyes and hopes you will somehow catch a flicker of all the love he has in him; everything that makes him foolish.

by far the longest thing i've written in years & it's a boring au. now excuse me but i need to go lie down for a while.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece smut #sanji smut #mdni #spooktober 2024

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dazzlerwriting · 2 days ago

Text

call me & i’ll come

robert ‘bob’ floyd x singer!reader

Pictures are not mine, credit to pinterest!

3.5k words

summary: inspired by “Watermelon” by Jane + John Q Public. after bob joins a D&D campaign to make friends in San Diego, he gets talked into also joining the band that is formed within the group. Over time he and the lead singer slowly get closer and closer. What happens when they kiss, but don’t talk about what the kiss meant to them?

warnings: slight miscommunication! fluff fluff fluff. a bit angsty at one point. the end gets a bit heated so 18+ MDNI!!!! Reader uses she/her pronouns, but theres no other descriptors! petname “darlin” is used twice. use of y/n (i tried so hard not to lol) flashback is bold and italicized

authors note: first off, thank you @lewmagoo for posting about drummer rhett, which in turn helped inspire this story! & everyone posting their Atta Boy stuff was also a huge inspiration to this!! only my second fic and i wrote so much. i just kept going and didnt stop until it was finished! im so sorry lmao. but i hope you enjoy!! this is mostly from bob’s pov!

Bob Floyd has a secret. Well, two. The first one is that he plays in a band in his free time, specifically, he plays the drums. Anyone who may watch how Bob acts when he thinks no one is paying attention, they would see him drumming on his lap, on the desk, or on any free surface. But the Dagger Squad isn’t that astute when it comes to their fellow workers lives. Natasha knows but, there’s a certain trust to be had between a pilot & their WSO. So Bob told her, and while she was taken a bit aback that the quiet Bob Floyd played the drums in an actual band, she was supportive.

Now, the secret that not even Natasha knows, the one Bob would swear he would take to his grave, is that he has a crush on the lead singer in their band. It's not just a silly crush that would go away with time; no, this crush has stuck since he first met her at a community D&D meetup.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Flashback

He saw a sign that read “New Dungeons and Dragons campaign, starting Wednesday! All leveled players welcomed!” on the board at the grocery store a week after being stationed in San Diego. He decided he needed a creative outlet after work and maybe to make friends that weren’t pilots. So he went, and that’s when he saw her. She was their Game Master and she was wearing a renaissance faire-esque outfit. From that first sighting, he was a goner. He would look at her theatrical storytelling during their sessions with a fondness that rivaled the way Orpheus looked at Euridyce. Quickly he would look away before she caught him, but if he had kept looking, he would have noticed her looking at him the same way.

Somewhere along the way, another member of the party, named Blake, noticed Bob drumming on his thigh when the game would die down for a bit. They suggested Bob joined their band, seeing as they were in desperate need of a new drummer, the last one leaving to hit it big time. He went on a whole spill about everything having to do with the band and Bob was apprehensive at first, performing was way out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t like Rooster, he didn’t think he had the proper stage presence to perform for a crowd, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

But that’s when she walked over to the two, a smirk on her face as she looked at Blake and said “Blake… go easy on Bobby boy here. I’m sure he doesn’t need a whole infomercial on why he should join us.” She turned to Bob and put her hand on his arm, and for a second he was sure his brain short-circuited. Now with a soft smile on her face, she gently said “Bob we would love for you to join us, only if you’re comfortable. I know you could be called away at a second’s notice, but regardless it would be an honor to have you as our drummer.” He sat there for a second just taking her in, from the casual way she was dressed, to her kind demeanor. He realized at that moment he was royally fucked because he would do anything she asked. He looked her in the eyes and responded “I-I’ll do it,” stuttering a bit but getting through it. Her smile widened, her eyes lit up with what Bob thought could be adoration, and she jumped up a bit clapping, “Great! We rehearse every Saturday, usually, gigs are small just hangouts for friends or family! I’ll text you all the details.” He missed the warmth from her hand as soon as it was gone but her reaction was worth it. That night while Bob was getting ready to sleep, his phone lit up with a text.

Y/N: Thank you for agreeing to this Bob, it truly means a lot. I’m glad you decided to come to our session that first night :)

And after replying, he fell asleep with a grin on his face, not regretting his decision one bit.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Now after a few months, Bob and the rest of the members have gotten close. They hang out outside of rehearsal and game sessions, and they’ve even been to Bob’s apartment for dinner. That’s when he told Natasha that he was in a band, and introduced them to her. They had a great night and Bob felt like he had found his group of people. The thought of leaving them for a mission, where the outcome was unknown, was scary, but the idea of having them all there to come back to, outweighed the formidable thoughts. Especially when he thought about the kind, charming, and beautiful singer who made it her mission to text Bob every day to ensure he was having a good day. Over the few months they had learned a lot about each other, she made sure to ask him the same questions he would ask her. Including dreams, they had as kids, favorite movies, biggest music inspirations, etc. He opened up to her about the constant teasing from the Dagger Squad, including the “Baby on Board” joke. And he learned she was the biggest nerd outside of D&D, texting him updates on the latest comic she had read, the newest Doctor Who update, and random fun facts about his favorite movies. With every text he received, Bob fell deeper and deeper into Cupid’s chokehold.

It all kinda got turned upside down when he and Phoenix suffered from a Bird Strike during training, and they had to eject. Early morning, after leaving the hospital and getting home, he texted the band group chat to let them know he would be missing both D&D and band practice. He was bombarded with questions regarding his well-being, and texts lending out sympathy to him. But y/n had been quiet, that is until he heard a knock on his door. When he opened it, he saw her standing there with several bags full of groceries and a shy smile on her face. “Hi,” she said softly “I’m sorry for the intrusion but I just wanted to make sure your recovery was a stress-free time, and well, I just, I’m sorry I can drop all this off and go if you want me to. I should’ve texted beforehand and I..” she was rambling now and he thought he couldn’t find her any more endearing than he did right now. He adjusted his glasses and stepped out of the doorway, “N-no come on in, you are welcome here at any time, you know that.” At that, her shoulders dropped a bit in relief and he could see her let out a breath he doubted she knew she was holding in. He led her to the kitchen and watched her get to work doing whatever she was here to do.

“Okay so I have the stuff to make baked potato soup, Alfredo, and I also brought peanuts, chips, Gatorade, and a bunch of other snacks for you.” She quickly got everything out of the bags, putting things in the right place, and Bob was hit with a daydream of this being a normal occurrence. A domestic life with her, both of them dancing around each other in the kitchen, making dinner while dancing to songs like “I’ll Be Seeing You” by Billie Holiday. He was so caught up with his daydream, he didn’t even realize she was talking to him. “I’m sorry what did you say?” He asked with a bashful smile. She shook her head with a gentle laugh, and said “I was just saying you should go get comfortable, I’ll be in here for a while.” He looked at her and gave a soft nod, immediately going to lie down on the couch and continue his daydreaming. For a while, he could hear her gentle hums coming from the kitchen, and he let that lull him into a peaceful sleep where he dreamed of a future where they were together.

A few hours later he was woken up by someone gently shaking his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes, put his glasses on, and when he looked to see who it was, he swore he was still dreaming. She looked almost angelic standing above him with a caring smile and a bowl of something in her hands. “Sorry to wake you, it just hit 4, so I thought you might be hungry,” she gave a soft shrug and looked a bit nervous to see what his reaction might be. He took the bowl from her hands and gave a soft thank you with a smile he hoped was kind, and not some kind of grimace from still being a bit tired. He realized it was baked potato soup and he had to admit it was the best soup he had ever had, “This is amazing, thank you so much.” She gave another shrug and replied “It’s the least I can do, need our best sorcerer and drummer to get better soon! I put the rest in the fridge along with the Alfredo. The snacks are still on your island, but I should get out of your hair now. If you need anything please know I am a call away.” He really didn’t want her to leave just yet so he did something that even shocked him, “Do you want to stay, I’m sure you’re hungry as well and we could watch a movie or something?” Her eyes widened and a bright smile appeared on her face, “I would love to if you really don’t mind.” Of course, he didn’t mind, was she crazy?? If he could he would spend all of his time with her. “I don’t, please you’ve done so much for me today so please stay.” He didn’t mean to sound so needy, but it didn’t seem to deter her. In fact, her smile got brighter and she nodded her head.

They decided on watching Wall-E, it seemed like a good idea at the moment, but now they are both sniffling on the couch. “God who knew a cute robot could turn two adults into an emotional mess?” she said while turning to him, wiping the tears from under her eyes. He looked at her and she was gorgeous he thought. They sat looking in each other’s eyes for a moment and in a flash, their lips were on each other. He doesn’t know who leaned in first, all he knew was her lips were soft and he could feel her breath from her nose. As soon as it started, it was over and he chased her lips when she pulled away. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so- I’m gonna go. Thank you Bob.” she rushed out, quickly grabbed her stuff, and practically ran from his apartment. He sat there dumbfounded, had he messed it up so quickly? Did she not like him in the same way he did her? He didn’t know, he kept wondering what happened while putting things away, and he fell asleep asking himself what happened.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few weeks have passed, and things have gone semi-back to normal. There’s an awkward tension between them every session, every band practice, and the texts from her have stopped outside of letting him know of any changes to the schedule. Natasha could tell something was going on with her backseater, but he wouldn’t budge. He just told her it was nothing and that he was fine. But anyone with any common sense could see he wasn’t fine, he was distracted at work, he didn’t have the band members over for dinner, and he just seemed lost in thoughts every time someone talked to him at Hard Deck. But Natasha wasn’t having it, so she contacted Y/N, she told her Bob was acting strange. Y/N let her know what happened, and that she felt as if the kiss had only happened because Bob was emotional. She also let it slip to Nat that she had been harboring a crush on Bob since they first met, and despite trying to ignore it, it continued to grow. Nat told her the band should perform at the Hard Deck that weekend, and Y/N agreed only if Bob was okay with it. She texted Bob and he decided it was time to overcome the fear of the Dagger Squad knowing he was in a band. If he couldn’t overcome the fear of telling her how he felt, and how the kiss made him feel, then he could at least do this. And so it was set, the group would be performing at the Hard Deck, and Bob let that distract him from whatever else he was feeling at the time.

Saturday finally came, and Bob was a ball of nerves. He was sure the squad wouldn’t be too harsh towards him, but when it came to Hangman, he could never tell. When he arrived at the bar to do sound checks, he saw her again and a bit of his nerves calmed. She looked at him with a gentle but nervous smile “Hey Bob, glad you made it. We’re just gonna run through a few songs, and then we’ll get going with the show. I also brought a new song, it’s not too much but it will be the last song for the night.” He nodded his head, a bit lost in her eyes. He pushed his glasses up a bit and got his drums set up. After sound check, people started filling in the bar. Nat came up to him with a bit of a smirk, “I know about your kiss with Miss Gorgeous Singer up there.” She then lightly punched his arm, “Why wouldn’t you tell me, Bob? This is important information and I thought we were best friends.” She had a faux pout on her lips now and he shrugged, “I don’t know what happened Nat, it was going so well and then she just ran out.” He looked down, twirling his drumsticks, and she realized he was quite upset. She’s guessing the two idiots haven’t even talked about it. “I’m sorry Bob, but hey maybe things will work out after tonight,” she said with a comforting smile. It was at that moment, Jake, Javy, Bradley, and Mickey realized it was their own “Baby on Board” on the drums for tonight.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Jake said with his usual smirk on his face. “Cut it bagman.” Natasha quickly replied, she realized it was time for the band to start so she gave Bob a final comforting smile, then quickly pushed Jake and the rest of the guys back.

You got on stage and introduced the band. The show started and everything was going well. Bob was keeping up, concentrating hard and using the quick time between songs to push his glasses up his nose. Finally it was time for the new song, and he was a bit nervous, seeing as they hadn’t rehearsed it yet. He heard you clear your throat as you said “Hey y’all, this last song is a new one I wrote about a week ago. Sometimes you just meet someone and realize you will always be there for them no matter what.” With that, you looked back to the group and nodded to let them know it was time to start.

I’m the watermelon slammed into your driveway

Crack me open so I feel the air inside me

Bob stared at her while playing and realized that in someway, she had cracked his introverted shell. She helped him become more comfortable. She even was a huge reason he had a group of people who cared about him, outside of the dagger squad. He quickly looked at Natasha in the crowd, just to see her smirking right at him.

Music boyfriend I’m your yum yum

Call me and I’ll come

Y/N’s words from weeks prior echoed in his head as she sang, “If you need anything please know I am a call away.” And it hit him in this moment that maybe just maybe, she did feel the same way about him.

Am I dreaming or did you just kiss me

You don’t know it but you already miss me

He looked back at her and realized she was looking at him. Singing this song to him. She had a bashful smile on her face, and he could tell she was a nervous.

Fuck the rest of them

Fuck em all

Fuck em all but us

In this moment, everyone else in the bar seemed to fade away. It was just them, and he made the decision to admit what he was feeling after the show. She was breathtaking, and he thinks he may not make it if he doesn’t tell her tonight. She finally turned away in time to sing the last line to the crowd.

Fuck em all but us.

When the song ended, the bar was full of applause, even the squad looked impressed by the show. Bob watched her walk off stage after saying her thank yous, and head for the back deck. He got up to follow but was immediately stopped by the Dagger Squad, they were all patting him on the back and smiling at him. “Didn’t think you had it in you Bob, but that was truly amazing. And it seems as if the singer thinks so too.” Jake said to him with a genuine smile on his face. Natasha pushed Jake out of the way and gave Bob a hug, pulling away she said “Go get her, we’ll all still be here when you get back.” With that Bob gave a quick thank you and rushed toward the back door.

He saw y/n standing there, arms crossed over the railing and head up to the sky. When she heard the door open, she turned her head and she had a sheepish smile on her face. He thought she looked so beautiful, a bit sweaty from the show, the moon as backlighting. Her beauty rivaled that of the ocean. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word.

“You did good tonight Bobby. Thank you for letting us come play here.” She said softly as he made his way over to her. He felt warmth crawl up his neck at the use of his nickname, and he put his hand on his neck as he told her “You were gorgeous tonight.” She gave a soft laugh and bashfully turned her head. Before she could respond he continued talking, “Thank you. For everything. You invited me to this band, not even knowing if I was a good drummer. You texted me daily just to make sure I was doing okay. You made me possibly the best food I’ve had in forever. Don’t tell my ma I said that, she would never let me live it down.” He chuckled while saying that, he took a deep breath in and continued, “You have changed me as a person, so thank you.” She looked back at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. She had tears lining the bottom of her eyes, as she rushed over to hug him. “I’m so sorry I ran out of your apartment that night. I was nervous you were only kissing me because of the emotions from the movie and the tiredness. But that kiss meant everything to me. I haven’t stopped thinking about it or you since it happened.” Her speech was a bit muffled from the way she was pressed to Bob. Now it was his turn to look a bit shocked, he hadn’t even thought about how she might have thought it was all her fault. He held her and said“Darlin’ I think we’ve both been a bit idiotic. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I met you, and after that night I thought I messed everything up. I truly like you, I think I might even be falling in love with you if I’m honest.” She pulled back a bit and looked him in the eyes for the slightest sign that he could be lying, when she couldn’t find one she put her hand on his neck and pulled his lips to hers. This kiss was different. This kiss held all of the unspoken feelings they’ve both kept bottled up for months. He grabbed her hips and pushed her back against the railing, she opened her mouth to gasp, allowing his tongue to slip inside.

She tugged at his hair and he let out a quiet groan. Just as he was making way to pick her up, the loud noise of several nosey aviators cheering burst their bubble. She pulled back and leant her forehead on his chest, shying away a bit. He turned back to see the group smiling, clapping, whooping, and hollering. He turned back towards her and lifted her face up to his, “I’m sorry about them. Also I’m sorry I feel like I’m doing this a bit backwards, but would you like to go out for dinner soon?” He felt a bit nervous asking the question but she just looked at him like he hung all the moon and stars. “Sure, how about we go talk to your friends for a bit, then go pick up some food, and maybe finish what we start at your place?” She asked with a flirty smirk on her face. Yeah she was going to be the death of him.

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd #lewis pullman #bob floyd x female reader #top gun maverick #top gun bob #bob floyd x y/n #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd angst #bob floyd fic #top gun maverick fic #tgm

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cobaltperun · 5 hours ago

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Darkest Part (4) - Died In Your Arms

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 5.3k

-Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight, it must've been some kind of kiss, I should've walked away-

This was a good life, hot chocolate, paper taped to the desk as you drew your third sketch of the building you had in mind. Away from all the worries and for a moment free from any obligations.

“How’s it going?” your mom came up to you and leaned over to kiss your cheek.

“Mom, you shouldn’t-“ she didn’t wince, her back didn’t hurt, yeah, it would end soon, and you desperately wanted it to continue. Wanted things to get better, wanted her to be healthy again.

Your phone had other ideas, as the alarm rang and the sound of it startled you awake. Curse your need to constantly change your alarm ringtone, otherwise you’d get used to it and sleep right through it. This new one was ridiculously awful, like someone constantly ringing the bell, but it got the job done. “Am I ever going to wake up well-rested again?” you wondered, feeling like you barely slept a wink. You just couldn’t get used to this house.

Well, considering the tales about it, maybe that wasn’t that strange.

Or it was just the reasonable explanation.

As it was, last night your exhausted body just collapsed onto the bed and you fell asleep, and then got woken up by the chill of the night, because of course you were too tired to cover yourself. What followed was you spending way too long trying to warm up. Winter River indeed, it really was cold. Why couldn’t this be some pleasant warm place, somewhere you could still go around wearing short sleeves instead of already needing several layers of clothing.

The only thing worse than the cold was the Chihuahua that was also in the house. “Why the fuck would I let her be on my mind first thing in the morning?” you slapped your forehead, now even more annoyed. Of all the people you could have thought of at the start your day, it had to be her.

Annoyed, you threw the covers off and immediately came to regret it as the cold air made you shiver. On second thought you should probably stay in bed a bit longer, so you went back under the covers into the warm escape from the chilling cold. You swiftly unlocked your phone and figured you might as well check up on your mom and Alex. You sent each of them a message asking how they were and if everything was fine and put your phone away. It was still too early to call them and if you had to be awake it didn't mean you had to wake them up too.

~X~

Halfway through the day and a lot of packing later, you sat down at the table exhausted with the hot cup of tea in front of you. You really needed that as the warmth of the tea seemed to seep into your very soul. Actually, you also needed a blanket around your shoulders and the nice warm fire accompanied by perhaps movie. It's been a while since you've watched ‘Kill, Baby, Kill’ and you were really in the mood for it after these past few days.

Seeing your favorite movie again would probably make your life a tiny bit better.

No, instead of that you had to deal with someone rather happy getting inside the house with an obvious bounce to their steps. You raised your head, confused and for a moment even terrified that someone actually broke in and just didn't care about making noises. And then that someone walked through the door into the dining room and you would have been a lot happier if it was a burglar.

No. Instead it was the fucking Chihuahua what a wide, frighteningly bright, and happy grin on her face and the world was going to end any moment now. You were fairly sure, and not at all being too dramatic, that Astrid Deetz, also known as Chihuahua, being this obviously happy was one of the eleven signs of the apocalypse.

“Oh, of course you're here. Well, it doesn't matter, not even you can ruin my mood,” she just walked past you, still happy, and not throwing insults at you. She didn’t do anything! Absolutely nothing! Not even glaring at you and you could not remember the last time you were this frightened.

You scrambled to your feet and rushed outside. “Delia!” you cried out hoping the woman would have some kind of help for you maybe some medicine for hallucinations or a plausible explanation or anything really as long as it helped. You desperately needed someone to convince you that just made what happened up in your head!

It was all in your head. There was no other explanation, which made it even more concerning because Astrid Deetz being in your head and part of your hallucinations was not a good sign for you. Frankly, at this point you had no idea which was worse, Astrid being happy or you thinking about the damn Chihuahua to the point of hallucinating seeing her happy.

~X~

“Damn it Delia, why couldn’t you just get this delivered to the damn house?!” you hissed, a lot like the creatures inside the box you were currently carrying. You knew you had fear of heights before, but apparently you also had a fear of snakes. Which was made a lot worse by the sounds the snakes were making and you were praying that the people Delia bought the snakes from didn't scam her and actually defanged them.

Sure, in theory you were safe. The box was sealed, and safe, but your brain still came up with frightening scenarios. As safe as the box probably was you were still frightened that they would somehow find their way out and bite you and you did not want to die due to snake bites.

‘How many times am I going to risk my life in one single week?’ you wondered, and you really shouldn't have because you had a few more times before the end of this trip.

You finally reached the house and couldn’t have been happier to see it as you rushed up the stairs and set the box on the table for Delia to do whatever she intended to do with the snakes. You really hoped she wouldn't make you go with her because at that point you might actually think staying with Rory would be more pleasant. And just to be safe you immediately turned to Delia when she walked into the room. “I'm done with the snakes, I did my part the rest is up to you,” you urgently informed her before she could get more great ideas.

Delia just laughed. “They are defanged, don't worry,” apparently they were, you weren’t about to check.

You slumped slightly, doing your best puppy eyes to get her to let you stay out of this. “I am still not comfortable around snakes, so please don’t ask me to help you with them,” well at least she didn't look like she would push you to join her as she smiled and patted you on the shoulder.

“Come on, I'm not that cruel,” she smiled at you and then shook her head in amusement at the relief showing on your face. “I thought it would be a good experience is for you to watch, but it’s fine if you don’t. Oh and Y/N, you can rest tonight, you don't even have to go to the wedding,” she was telling you one good news after the other. “We have a few more things to do tomorrow morning and then you can go back home,” Delia surprise you but maybe you should have expected it. She had her moments of kindness and you've been on the receiving end plenty of times, despite all the less pleasant, more dangerous and difficult moments you had with her.

“Thanks Delia, I really appreciate it,” you told her as Astrid joined the two of you.

“Snakes?” Astrid looked at the content of the box, surprised by what she saw and for once you couldn't blame her. Personally, you didn't quite get why Delia got them herself but she wanted them and she got them. Something about Ancient Egypt and Pharaohs from what you understood.

“Actually asps,” Delia corrected her, and you had to admit she actually sounded excited about them.

“Why? Are they a wedding gift for Rory?” Astrid asked, hopeful that the answer would be yes.

“Now that would’ve made it worth carrying them,” you knew that wasn’t their purpose but no one could force you to stop happily imagining Rory freaking out over the snakes.

For the first time since you've known her, Astrid actually didn't have a rude remark or an insult for you, and actually just rolled her eyes with a smile which was almost freaky but not exactly an unwelcome change.

“Too late they've be defanged, guaranteed harmless! And they're for me.” Delia shattered your dreams well, yours was never even allowed to begin because you knew from the start what she wanted to do with them. Still for a moment you could hope that she would at least use them as a prank. It’s not like they were one se only! She could use them for more than one thing. After all, she already got them, why not just use them on the bastard as a very funny prank. It would not change anything about the snakes, and they could still be used for the ritual thing she had in mind.

Well, you were left with only your dreams.

You left the two of them to check if there was anything left unpacked, you were just about to head back upstairs when Lydia rushed down and you turned around, not sure how to react to the frantic woman.

“You got your wish, we're leaving! Pack up your things, I'm driving you back to school,” Lydia seemed absolutely frantic, like she just saw a ghost, which, well, she was supposed to be able to see them. You watched from the stairs as she went by you and toward the front door

“Wait! What happened” Astrid called after her.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Lydia denied answering Astrid’s question. That actually made sense, especially if it had something to do with ghosts, which this house apparently had at one point. So going by their relationship and the issues Astrid had with her mother you guessed it was something paranormal in question.

Delia, however, did not make that connection. “Oh you're calling off the wedding?” she went after Lydia outside and just for a moment you and Astrid exchanged looks do you just shrugged finally realizing that you couldn't even begin to try and have a normal conversation with her. That's how used you were to just fights and banter and insults and everything that came along with this hatred between you.

Eventually you just pointed at yourself then point upstairs and then point at her and outside. The message being clear, you would, rather regrettably, check up on Rory while she would go and check up on her mother.

To that Astrid, just as unsure of how to interact with you like a normal human being, just went and gave you a thumbs up and you both went your separate ways, one up the stairs to the attic and the other outside to talk to her mother.

~X~

Lydia was stuck in the office, just contemplating everything about her and Astrid’s relationship.

Apparently, her daughter was not gay. In fact, she had a date with a boy. Her first date was with a boy, not with the girl as she expected it would be. Did Lydia really mess up that much that she wasn't even capable of seeing how things actually were? Her daughter, who she believed was gay and actually had a crush on you and was just unable to properly act up on those feelings, threw her a curveball and was going on a date on Halloween night with a boy she met 2 days ago.

How did she miss the signs?

Her concerns were now even bigger because, unlike you, this boy was a complete unknown for Lydia. She didn't know his full name, she didn't know his parents, granted she didn't know your parents either but that was beside the point, she didn't know how he spent his time, what his interests were. She didn't know anyone who knew him, and she was now overthinking it and panicking and was getting even more nervous and afraid for her own daughter because this was a mess, and she was disappointed in herself as a mother for mistaking her daughter’s sexuality.

Maybe Astrid was just bisexual. Maybe. Maybe Lydia just got so deep into preparing for a girlfriend that she forgot that there were other options, all equally daunting for her as the mother of a child that would soon start, that actually just stated dating, and find her own love and heartbreak and everything Lydia herself went through all those decades ago.

Also did her daughter actually just tell her that she crashed through the fence and that's how she met the guy? Like it was just something people did for fun? How did that even happen?

Lydia began breathing deeply, huffing and taking very loud, very deep breaths. She could not go down that train of thought.

~X~

He liked her.

Jeremy liked her. Astrid knew that much, she could see signs that he wanted to kiss her, that he really didn't want to spend any time handing out candies to the kids and instead actually wanted to spend time with her.

And she, at least logically speaking, wasn't opposed to the idea. At least it would prove to her that some feelings she may or may not have were, in fact, not real and just her heart playing with her brain so she would kiss him to prove her heart wrong.

Astrid let him approach her, she felt his hands on her, hugging her and she hugged him back, and he held her like he hasn’t been touched in years. Like he was desperate to feel someone’s touch, someone’s kind and positive touch. Astrid could almost feel his breath on her lips and then she just couldn't do it, because there was an infuriating Barnacle plaguing her thoughts at that very moment.

She pulled away, separating from him even though she knew how it looked. “Sorry I just I think we are rushing too fast into this,” she apologized and he seemed understanding at first. At least from the looks of it, he just turned to the window and looked rejected “I'm not saying I'm opposed to kissing you eventually, but we just met two days ago,” she tried to cheer him up but then he turned to face her.

“No, you’re right, I'm- I'm sorry I just got excited because you can see me and for over 23 years no one saw me and I just thought we had something,” she must have heard him wrong but then she looked down and saw it.

He was floating and that's when she realized all the stories her mother told were actually true and she was actually seeing a ghost these past few days

~X~

You were in the living room, with everyone aside from Astrid and Rory, plus Jane, just lazing around on the sofa and texting Alex. You weren’t in a costume, you had no intention of dressing up for the Halloween.

The truth was, you kind of hated Halloween. Well hate might be a strong word, mostly reserved for Astrid and maybe another thing or two. No the actual word you were looking for regarding Halloween was more like indifference brought upon by that's one time you got dressed as a pumpkin and got teased for by your classmates.

It wasn't fun. It was actually horrific and ever since then you just didn't bother celebrating Halloween. So, what if Astrid was currently on her ridiculous date? It had nothing to do with your current mood. Even if you did hated the guy more than you hated her for some reason. You should have felt sorry for him, after all he was the one who had to deal with being on a date with the Chihuahua.

So, no, you did not care about Astrid being on a date with some random dude.

You just realized you’d be all alone. Delia would be at the cemetery doing whatever she seemed to want to do with the snakes and Lydia would be preparing for her wedding and Rory would be giving out the candy. And you were fine with that. You would just be hanging around on the couch in the living room waiting for Delia to sign all the papers and then you could just go ahead and leave, just start packing what little things you brought here and get ready to go back home. Luckily Delia promised she would arrange a car to come pick you up.

“Where's Rory?” Lydia asked out of blue, almost as if she was asking out of obligation, because she should know where he was and not because she actually had to know where he was. Especially since she had Chihuahua’s first date to worry about.

“Supermarket swapping out the candy I bought for carrot sticks, because Rory loves to fun suck everything even Halloween,” of course Delia did not miss a single chance point out the kind of person Rory was, because Lydia apparently couldn’t see him for who he really was. Even if it didn’t change anything you figured she did feel the need to, in her own way, warn her stepdaughter about him because as far as you knew telling Lydia that Rory was not who he was presenting himself as wasn't working. “Gotta run, see you at the church,” she turned back to Lydia and with a hopeful look added. “Unless you're calling off the wedding.”

“No Delia,” Lydia sighed and just noticed Delia was leaving, that was how focused on Astrid she was. “Wait, why are you going to the cemetery?” Lydia asked. It just crossed your mind that she in her panic earlier today did not see the snakes Delia bought.

“To commune with my dear husband spirit,” was all Delia needed to say. She quickly waved at you and was on her way leaving you alone with Lydia and Jane and from the looks of it, Jane was going to leave soon so that would just leave you and Lydia alone in the house for a while. At least until she would go and get Astrid. Oh, and until Rory came back.

Still, it could be fun. You haven't had the chance to be on your own wait the Lydia Deetz and you actually were curious about her. And it had nothing to do with maybe not wanting to be alone while a certain Chihuahua was on a date with a guy she met two days ago, while she spent so damn long hating you. Yeah, that had nothing to do with it.

Nothing at all!

You did not care where that stupid Chihuahua was or how quickly she fell in love like dumb ass.

“The closest we ever got to Disney was when Astrid dressed as Cinderella’s dead mom,” you absolutely did not filter out what Jane mentioned about her daughter and scouts or whatever group her daughter was in and you absolutely did not think Astrid’s costume sounded exactly like her.

Jane said something something fruit salad mortgage something something non triggering and then asked the question that was annoying the hell out of you, that is, she asked where Astrid was.

Lydia had this soft, yet somber smile on her face. “On a date,” she said, like a parent learning to accept their child was growing up. “Her first. I think I'm more nervous than she is. The boy lives over on Jefferson,” Lydia really did sound nervous when she said that, and you guessed between their rocky relationship and all the things that happened Astrid’s first date at this moment wasn’t something Lydia was entirely prepared for.

Something something perfect sales records something something on the market for years something something once more you're pretty much tuning out the words of the woman the Deetz family hired to sell their house. And you were doing good, tuning her out, that is until she said three words: the murder house and you immediately sat up and stopped texting Alex. A sinking feeling inside of your guts was almost telling you to pay attention because you just had a bad feeling about what was going to they said next.

“Murder house? Which house?” Lydia asked now frantic and you sort of pieced together that's maybe the house show left Astrid at wasn't that far off from looking like a murder house. Because if the house looked normal and if Lydia you got to see the parents or that boy she would not be looking this afraid right now.

“125,” James said and just from the look of Lydia's face you knew that was the house Astrid was in and so you jumped to your feet and rushed to get the car keys.

“Fucking hell Chihuahua, what did you get yourself into?” just as you've got the keys you saw Lydia rushing out. “I'm going with you!” you quickly told her and followed after her into the car. The woman was clearly in shock but all she cared about was just getting to Astrid, nothing else mattered.

You did not dare to tell her you would get there in time. You had no idea how all of this worked, sure you believed in ghosts and you've been seeing glimpses of strange things throughout your life. You still had no idea how any of that actually functioned. You had no idea if they could harm Astrid.

If the guy she was with was bad news then she probably was in danger and especially if Lydia, the most competent person to judge if her daughter was in danger from ghosts was also panicking. “He killed his parents 23 years ago!” okay, Astrid was definitely in danger. “If I just didn’t let her into that house, if I just went in with her! What kind of mother am I if something happens to her-“ Lydia was mostly talking to herself.

“Hey, wait, wait, don't go there you couldn't know!” You tried to get her to calm down. “You're the expert but you couldn't know! Just focus on saving her so you can berate yourself later,” you needed her focused because if she wasn't, you had no hopes of getting Astrid back in time. And you really, as much as you didn't like Astrid, did not want her dead or in danger.

~X~

The moment the car began slowing down in front of the house you just ran out, without even waiting for it to stop and ran up the stairs ignoring the for sale sign in front of the house. You ended up bursting through the doors so hard the handle might have gotten a bit damaged because the doors were old.

You stumbled when you entered the house, you felt sick for a moment when you saw the man. But you did not see him clearly, it was like there was a mist around him.

"Astrid!" Lydia yelled and it snapped you out of your confusion. That man was a ghost, mist meant ghost, at least at this stage of your ability to see ghosts. So, you rushed right through the woman going down the stairs.

"Wait! Deetz!" you yelled as loud as you could as you ran up the stairs two steps at a time. You saw the light and broke through the door, but Astrid just walked through something.

"What the? Barnacle?" your eyes met and you reached out to her but the ghost guy grabbed her forearm and pulled her along and the portal closed before you could reach out and grab her hand.

"Astrid!" Lydia cried out, but it was too late as well.

If only she reached out to you. For the first time since you met her you cursed yourself for not being at least civil with her. "Damn it!" you slammed your fist on the old table, right next to some thick book. "What do we do now?"

Lydia grabbed the book on the table, your outburst probably caught her attention. "Come on, I have a crazy idea," you saw uncertainty in her eyes, fear that maybe not even what she had in mind would be enough, but she had to hope. You both rushed down the stairs, every second mattered and you couldn't waste time on just talking. "Can you drive?" she asked, clearly intending to go through the book.

"Of course," you nodded and ran to the car, starting the engine once more as Lydia sat down next to you.

~X~

You had no time to waste, as you drove around the house and parked the car right in front of the entrance to the house, not even caring that you would somewhat block the path for the kids. They could avoid the car, it didn't matter, you just had to be quick and find a way to rescue Astrid, so up to the stairs you drove.

“Y/N?! Where’s the rush? You're nearly drove into the house!” Rory exclaimed as he was on top of the stairs preparing to hand out the candy to the kids, but you just ran past him not really wasting a moment to stop and chat. You didn’t even turn the engine off, just parked the car.

Lydia gave him some excuse or whatever as you both rushed upstairs. She already told you where to go so you just grabbed the crowbar on the way upstairs and started removing the boards Delia and Lydia put there just an hour or so ago. By the time Lydia came up the stairs as well you were almost done and you both pulled the last wooden board out of the way and went into the attic and from that point on you could only watch her as she found the solution.

The first thing that caught your eye was the small scale model of Winter River, done in amazing detail, and if things were any different you would have spent hours studying it.

“I can't believe I'm doing this,” she took a deep breath. “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice!” you had no idea what was going on as she repeated that word? Name? Whatever it was three times.

And then the freakiest thing happened the mist slash smoke surrounding the paranormal vanished from your vision as the zombie-looking guy with green hair and striped suits and rather unhealthy-looking skin emerged from the Winter River model. “The juice is loose,” he said and vanished, only to appear right next to Lydia.

“I need you to tell me what this means,” she skipped the formalities and just showed him the pages of the book she found in that room where Astrid was.

“Let's have a look,” he pulled out a magnifying glass. “Long story short, your daughter is screwed,” well, fuck! “She decided to trade lives with a boy, he gets to come back while she's stuck on the other side, permanently. One way ticket to the Soul Train,” this guy, Beetlejuice, explained and you were just absolutely confused about what was going on. Afterlife actually existed, and people could come back.

More importantly… “She did what?! Why would she do that? Who does that?” you demanded. Astrid was smart! What did that ghost offer her to make her accept giving up her life? Or did he just outright trick her? “Shit, we need to get her back,” you turned away from Lydia and Beetlejuice and ran your hand through your hair, not even sure you would make it in time.

“The Soul Train?” Lydia asked for further explanations.

“That's right! The last stop, The Great Beyond,” he said and you just leaned back against the wall. Was there even anything you could do at this point? Astrid was on the other and you were over here in the living world. But then again Beetlejuice was from that other world. Was that why Lydia called him? Because he could somehow move the two of you into the world of the dead?

Wait, were you about to go into the world of the dead for Astrid? Not knowing the risks, or the consequences, or if it would be dangerous? You knew nothing about it, it was a complete unknown that you weren’t even sure existed five minutes ago!

Somehow you knew the answer was yes. You would take all those risks to take her back, because you plain and simple couldn’t live with yourself if you just let her die.

“Can we go in after her?” You asked as you once more turned toward Lydia and Beetlejuice.

“Quid pro quo, I want something in return,” while he replied to you he was looking at Lydia, as if he would only accept something from her.

Maybe those were the rules? Since she summoned him?

“Of course you do. What do you want?” Lydia asked ready to give him anything he asked for as long as it would save her daughter.

“Well I've got this ex-wife-“ Beetlejuice began and you've spent enough time with Delia and you knew a tangent when you saw one.

“Get to the point!” You exclaimed. Each second could be vital in keeping Astrid alive, and you did not want to waste it on his tangents.

“You want me to marry you,” Lydia knew what he wanted, and you just turned to look at her because what the fuck was that about? How would that even work? All of this was too much and the only reason you were keeping your sanity was because you had a goal in mind.

You weren’t sure you’d be keeping your sanity for much longer as so you watched this Beetlejuice act like getting married was Lydia's idea, like she just proposed to him because she wanted that. And then he made her sign some contract because apparently, he needed that in writing. You were in the most absurd situation possible and you half- expected to just wake up and see that everything was fine. Like this was all just a fever dream and you would wake up go to the work at the library you'd see Astrid there being annoying and being a Chihuahua and getting on your nerves and not on the way to swap lives with a ghost and die.

“What's the plan on getting in?” Lydia had enough of his bullshit as well and just demanded to know how you all would get in.

Beetlejuice just vanished again and appeared in front of the wall, crouching and drawing a bomb with the fuse. He then just went and lit his thumb on fire. This was all absolutely ridiculous because the drawn fuse just lit on fire and the bomb exploded and instead of looking outside of the house you were looking into some office.

“Deetz, you're gonna be the death of me,” you said, ready to just go through.

“Trust me kid I know the feeling,” Beetlejuice said.

“I did not ask,” fuck it, you were going in, and you were not getting out without Astrid.

Taglist: @alexkolax @osnapitzmel1 @bee-keeping @nebthetautora @lololauser

@nwestra @rroyale-109 @gemz5 @social-pomegranate @mirage018

@the-thing-withfeathers @hello-mtf @leafanonsforest @jaxon-nathaniel-drake

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

#astrid deetz x reader #astrid deetz x female reader #astrid deetz #beetlejuice beetlejuice #x reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x reader

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dianadiaries · 2 days ago

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⩇⩇:⩇⩇ : the ocean blue. 🍵

summary : when the boats clash, and the sea rises, the straw hat pirates (luffy..) always gets hungry. That leaves the new girl and Zoro home alone at the boat. Daring it is so quiet.. for now.

status : finished, reader is she/her. Zoro

has big dick energy... strawhatpirate!zoro strawhatpirate!reader

"Don't forget to get the dried out meat!" I say to the rest of the crew, as they leave me and Zoro on the boat, as their bodies turn to a shadow and glint. I felt of glee once they left, and I could finally finish the pearl necklace I had been working on for a while. The shiny. pearls found in Arlong Park, Nami tells me it reminds her of luffy and Nami beating Arlong's, fish man ass.

"Hey, I need something." I felt his voice from a mile away. It was Zoro. His voice so effectively, the deepest part of it too. Made my cunt automatically wet. Or was I that obvious that I had a small flutter in my heart for him? Maybe. But, I could never say it outloud, Nami and Sanji would tease me. Then I went back to reality, I get a bit startled but try to pronounce some words while shuttering like a mess or something.

"Oh yeah, um sure!" I say, smiling gladly, getting up as quick as I can to help him. Zoro heads to the edge of the boat, where he mostly trains at, to be, of course, the world's best swordsman. "I cut my self last fight we had... I was wondering if you could heal it." He groans, sitting down. Zoro's limp hand touching the mark where he got harmed at. The mark was under his shirt, I gulped. He didn't seem to notice to much about my nervous state. He just thought I wanted to do my job. "Be the best healer in the all blue".

I clear my thoughts as Zoro lifts his shirt off. Placing my hand on his mark, my face probably cried with blush at this point. My hands roamed the area of harm. Zoro's rough eyes gleamed at me, my body heating up as if I was some type of oven. Well, he can put his bun in me anyway. Quickly, I snap myself back, the devil fruit in my viens helping to heal the bloody marks on Zoro. His hand wanders to my face, and I let out a choked expression. "Zoro..?" I say, muttering softly to a whisper. "You seem cold. You keep shaking. Come sit." He says, patting his lap, as Zoro lifts your limp body, shadowing his lap. My hands covering my face.

Was I embarrassed, no. Was I scared, no. I felt my guts heat up even more, I wasn't shaking because I was cold. I was shaking to stop myself from doing something I would have regretted. I pull a blank and take my hands from my face, staring at him. Except he only smirks. "Like what you see?" He says with a condescending look on his face. But something changed in me, I simply nodded. Maybe it was something in the air, or those stupid shiny pearls. But what ever it was, made my cunt twitch for him. "Really princess, little healer needs her cunt healed from the heat right?" Zoro says mumbling in my ear. Had I said everything out loud? I'm stupid. His hands having a soft grip on my plush ass.

"zoro..pl-please!" I say, my body dry humping his jean of his pants. He only chuckles, as if I'm a laughing stalk. Finally, me and his lips connect. Sloppy, but still some what neat. Zoro's tongue entered my mouth, my moans getting the best of me. His sword tight like hands, unbuttoned my shirt, breast popping out of the bra. He made sure not to waste time and get the fabric of the bra out of the way. "So sensitive." Zoro says as his nimble fingers twisting and playing with my nipples. My moans are coming out and into Zoro's ears. "w-want you.." I say whining, my head down on his shoulder. "So needy to aren't you," He says, playing with the hem of my pants. Before dragging them off my heated body, putting them off somewhere else into the mess of a pile of clothes. At this point, Zoro had no shirt, and I had no clothes. Well, except for my soaked through panties.

Zoro chuckles again before laying my back on the hard board of the ship. His nimble fingers toying with my clothed cunt making my body squirm at the feel of it. "Zoro! So wet.. please!" I say as my body jerks closer to him. "Never met a girl in the East blue as wet as you." He says, smirking as his fingers ghost around my panties and pull them off. The pads of his fingers playing and toying with the bundle of nerves. As one finger prods near my wet sopping hole. When it finally gives in and pushes its way in. Gasps and groans coming from my mouth, my mouth gapes open for everyone to hear. Squishy and wet sounds coming from my cunt as he pushes in another finger. "She is so talkative fa' me." Zoro says, smiling at the noises. My body humping back on his fingers as he decides to speed up the pace. "Ngh. Fuck me. Please, please, zoro!" I silently scream as his fingers become soaked in juices leaking from my cunt.

"So, pretty princess." Zoro says, pushing another finger now up to his third. My cunt feeling washed up, as the boat silently rocks against the board walk. "So.. close!" I moan, scratching the back of Zoro, as he grunts. His fingers playing in my cunt as if I was a toy to him. Soon, my orgasm came over me. Squirting all over the hard wood panels of the boats. My legs shook over Zoro's body. High pitch squealing and moans coming out of my gaped mouth. Soon, my head comes back to reality, I realized I had squirted all over Zoro's pants.. "I—I.. I'm so sorry!" I say with embarrassment written all over my face.

"the crew won't be back soon. let's go to my bedroom."

notes : OML SORRY I have only watched the live action one piece. I WILL WATCH THE ANIME, but oml, they ate every time !

#roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #smut #zoro x reader smut #one piece #one piece smut #zoro #zoro x you #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew #fanfic

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novashelby · 2 days ago

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The First Patient-Tommy Shelby x Reader

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader Warnings: Mention of war Word Count: 1.2k Summary: She knew that she knew him from somewhere, but couldn't place where. It all came together when she saw the blueness of his eyes and the softness of his hands. Please enjoy, comment, and reblog!

She met him once, but was unsure of where. Skimming through her brain’s log, she played around with all the scenarios in which they could have met. Was it in passing? A simple small street with hardly any room for one. A short second eye contact and she just so happened to imprint him in her brain? If she could guess anything about herself, she’d say that she was rather curious, meticulous, and observant. But, no, that wasn’t it. She heard his voice at one point and there was a conversation of sorts. It was a strong dialect with some slang she’d never heard before. And they shared a tea.

She stared at him through the pub window noting that it was quite unusual for him to smile that way. She’d seen him around multiple times, but those weren’t the times she was thinking of. Those were surely in passing, and almost always, he never wore a smile. Always smoked, always held his head down. Not in submission, but in mystery. He was the type to lay low for a reason or two, she guessed, but pondering that business seemed unwise. The way he nursed his whiskey, it was neat. He was the type to always have it neat, wasn’t he? Like many, he’d leave just sober enough to navigate one foot in front of the other or not sober enough. There was no in between, really. Men, mostly, talking about old times hardly ever moving on. Most think their wives hardly understand a thing, but most forget their wives, sisters, mothers, and daughters were their nurses.

Nurse. A war nurse. She was a war nurse. And the closer she looked at him, the closer she saw the metal cots and thin mattresses. The more she heard the desperate cries and weak whimpers. She slipped in the pub, the warm, stuffy air breaking the bitter cold. It wasn’t unusual to be the only woman in a pub like this. Many eyes looked at her as she walked, zoned in at the table in the back. She was about a two meter distance from when he paused from his drink and looked up.

Before he could say anything, she asked, “what is your name?” An odd sense of urgency overlapped her genuine curiosity. The knit brows and slightly agape mouth told her that he was a classic man; pretty startled at the fact a woman can speak.

“Why do you need to know my name?” he asked, not at all hostile, but stoic.

“Is it a crime to ask a man his name?” she retorted.

He swallowed, putting down his glass. It was funny to her. A man has gone to war, but she can’t handle a woman with a slightly above average tone of voice. He leaned back slightly, folding his arms defensively. “Most people here know who I am-”

“I haven’t paid much attention to gossip.” Her eyes wandered to the person on his right and then to the person on his left. Similar in resemblance. They were a bit more amused than him. “And I don’t care about street gossip-”

“You’re not from here,” he decided, listening to the dialect in her voice. “More south-”

“You fought in France,” she said, cutting him off.

“A lot of men fought in France,” he said. “What is your name?”

“I asked you first.”

He dropped the intensity, easing his shoulders and letting a small smile show through. “Do you care for a drink?”

She matched his smile. “I do, but I’m not fond of this place. Take me somewhere else.”

“Are you a whore?”

“Are you asking if I’ll make you pay for my company?” He gave a single nod. “No, I won’t. But I think perhaps we are in debt enough that you have to join me for a drink…elsewhere. You owe me a drink.” He stood, buttoning his sports jacket and grabbing the woolen coat. They didn’t say anything else to one another until they were met again with the cold air.

“Where do you suggest we go?”

She looked over him. “My flat is just a short walk.” Again, silence the whole way there. Not a peep from their lips. Only the soles of their shoes pressing up against the wet concrete. In her flat, just a one bedroom dinky thing, she put on the kettle. “You can’t drink alcohol with your medication.”

“Sorry?” he said, and she turned to him. Walking over, she outreached her hand and gripped his jaw lightly, studying his eyes. Bluer than the water she sailed on to get to France. No one could forget eyes; so intense, so unique, so crystal-like. They were opposite to hers. He had no clue how to act, and so he allowed her to study him. It was when her fingers fell to the buttons on his jacket that he reacted, holding them. “Are you usually eager?”

She smiled to herself, feeling the warmth within his hands. She remembered them, too. It came together like a puzzle. “May I?” He nodded and she undid his jacket, allowing it to slip from his shoulders. His pocket watch glimmered in the dull light that flickered. She read the engraving. He warned her gently to be careful, that it was the most expensive thing he owned. He unhooked it from his blue vest and placed it on her small table. All she needed was to get under his striped blue shirt.

He wanted her to slow down, catching her hands once more to go in for a kiss. Both of them read the situation differently. “What?” he whispered, lips just about touching hers as he leaned in more.

“Forgive me,” she whispered. “But I simply just want to see something-”

“Eager-”

“No, curious,” she said and pulled his shirt from his trousers. Slowly, she kneeled, rolling up his shirt, creating creases and wrinkles. Just as she expected. Her eyes zoned in on the right side of his abdomen. It was when her thumb just lightly caressed it that he knew who she was. “You made it home.”

“You were my nurse,” he said. “When I got my appendix out in Paris….”

“And you went home after?” she asked, eyes fluttering up. Smiling, she let out a small laugh. “You were in the infirmary for a week. I remember you, now. My first patient.” She slowly stood. “And we fought a bit because you were stubborn. Still wanted to fight.”

“And drink my whiskey with my medication,” he said.

“Mmhm. Did you go home?”

He laughed lightly, and asked her, “I think you knew then whether or not I went home-”

“You stubborn sod. You fought the bloody discharge.”

He nodded. “I’m restless.”

“You’re stupid. You’re a stupid fool, Tommy Shelby.”

“And you do know my name?” he teased, his brow raised. “I told you, everyone knows my name here-”

“A nurse never forgets her first patient, Mr. Shelby.”

“And I don’t think a patient can forget a pretty nurse.”

#Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Reader #reader insert #reader x character #reader fic #x reader #fanfiction #fanfics #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic

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farieofshampoo · 2 days ago

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THE WOLF & THE DRAGON (6/?)

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC

word count: 4.2k

tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage

rating: 18+, !MDNI!

Blood upon the snow

To my dear sister Alarra,

The days are longer without you here. Ser Wildrow seems more bored than ever, not having you to torment him. I hope you are well and I hope your sword has not touched the scales of any dragons yet. I have been busy with duties so I have not had the time to write. I assume you are just as busy as I have not received a raven from you just yet. I hope to hear from you soon, I am only a raven away after all.

Cregan

Alarra set the letter down, leaning back in her chair. She missed Cregan terribly. And now the guilt was beginning to eat away at her. She didn’t know exactly what to say to him. She could tell him the good things, how great things were with the little princes. She would not tell him about how awful Ser Criston Cole was, how he tormented her at every waking moment. And she doesn't know why. She assumed he was envious. But why should a knight be envious of a princess? Alarra picked up her quill, filling it with ink before she started to write to her brother.

Dear Cregan,

I am angry at you for not warning me of the waves. They made me terribly sick. My food did not rise like the others but it was still awful! I am well, my dagger has not been in use just yet. I do miss pushing you to the ground. The princes have been a pleasant replacement for you. Jacaerys reminds me of you. I want to come home

Alarra erased the last bit, putting a thick line through it. She crumpled up the piece of parchment, throwing it somewhere across her room. The door creaked open, a knock sounding after.

“Still in your nightgown, my lady?” Eyla entered the room, heading for Alarra who was sitting in her vanity, her hair a tangled mess. “‘Tis early.” Eyla countered, her hands running through Alarra’s hair before she reached for a brush on the table. Eyla noticed a pile of crumpled paper by her bed and let out a tiny snicker.

“Writing is not as easy as it seems.” Alarra grumbled as Eyla tugged through a rough knot in her hair.

“Not as easy as swinging a sword, is it?” Eyla teased, working through the knots. Alarra sighed, leaning her head back as the brush glided through her hair, the knots disappearing slowly. “Just tell him what you truly feel. That is what letters are for are they not?”

“But I do not want him to worry. He already was skeptical about this arrangement-”

“Your brother cares for you, my lady. He only wants to hear from you,” Alarra glanced at the discarded letters on the ground, the words “I want to come home” still etched freshly in her mind. Alarra was still unsure of what to say to Cregan. Maybe she should just pour her heart out to him, telling him exactly how she felt. But, Alarra would not do that. That would only make the girl seem weak. And Alarra knew one thing for certain: she was not weak.

“Jace, you need to fix your posture.” Alarra reprimanded the boy, standing behind him as he was hunched over slightly. Alarra pushed his back lightly, so that he would stand up more. And he instantly stood up, turning his head to glare lightly at Alarra. Alarra grabbed a wooden sword from off of the ground, the one Lucerys had been previously using, and set it between Jace’s shoulder blades, within his arms. He looked like a duck flapping its wings, and he groaned, turning annoyingly to Alarra.

“How am I supposed to yield a sword now?” He slashed mindlessly and unsuccessfully (the sword barely raised above his head), unable to move his arms properly.

“You have to keep your body upright. No more slouching. This will teach you.” Alarra was now in front of him and he gave her an unsatisfied look.

“Go on!” Alarra waved a hand, gesturing for Jace to swing his sword. Lucerys was lightly giggling from behind Jace, and Jace whipped around facing his younger brother. Lucerys quickly stopped laughing, and cleared his throat.

“What is funny Luke?” Alarra had instructed Luke to work on his balance by standing on one foot. He was no longer doing that, and was laughing at his brother instead. Luke straightened up, looking at Alarra with wide eyes. He quickly stood back on one leg and Alarra tried to hide her laugh.

“Alarra?”

“Yes, Luke.” Alarra sighed, her hands on her hips. She had decided to wear a tunic and pants today, for she and the princes were alone in the courtyard early that morning. No one else was to be around, so Alarra deemed it appropriate.

“How much longer do I have to stand like this?” He was wobbling slightly, starting to fall but he caught himself.

“Until I say,” Alarra responded, and Luke paled, starting to wobble more. Alarra let out a laugh, approaching the boy. “Alright, that’s enough for today.” Luke sighed, standing on both of his feet. Alarra had been training the boys for about a week. They were both skilled in swordsmanship but they had a lot of improvement ahead of them. Alarra enjoyed spending time with both of them; they reminded her of home. Alarra felt like Cregan whenever she reprimanded them. She felt closer to him every time she picked up a sword. Jace and Luke left the courtyard after thanking Alarra for her time. Alarra always told them to not thank her because she was glad to share her skill with others. She was happy to help them, it may help them later on.

Alarra was walking through the halls, ready for a bath after sweating all morning, when she passed by a room, the door slightly ajar. Coughing was coming from the room, loud and it echoed into Alarra’s ears. She jolted for the door immediately, instantaneously thinking of her father. The door creaked open loudly, and the king was hunched over his desk as another cough rang out of him.

“Your grace!” Alarra rushed over to him, her hands reaching for his shoulders. The king waved his hands before Alarra could help him, a cough coming from him again before he spoke.

“No, no I am alright!” The king was irritated, his voice coming out harsh like pebbles hitting rocks. He coughed again, breathing in a ragged breath. It was quiet while he breathed in and out and Alarra cleared her throat.

“I apologize, your grace. I was only concerned-”

“What is your name?”

“Alarra, your grace.” He hummed, sitting down harshly in his chair.

“And you are a servant? What are you doing in these parts of the Red Keep?”

“No I-”

“A harlot then? Get on your way-”

“No!” Alarra’s voice was louder than she proposed, and her face was contorted into one of pure disgust. She cleared her throat, wiping her face clean of any open expressions. “Your grace.” She muttered, stepping back a foot.

“A handmaiden, perhaps?” Alarra rolled back her shoulders, tucking her tongue beneath her throat holding in a remark.

“Yes, a…handmaiden.” He clicked his tongue. Alarra figured he wouldn't remember her anyway, a tiny lie would not hurt. He was old and deficit, his brain slower than molasses.

“I knew I’d seen you before.” He muttered quietly to himself, staring at the desk in front of him as he smiled, hundreds of papers laying untouched. Alarra hesitated, glancing at the frail, hunched form of the king as he looked over the pieces of parchment. The king was barely recognizable now, weakened and tired, his hands trembling as he rose them. Alarra slowly backed away, turning to leave the room when the king rang out once more.

“Faces are a blur, and names fade yet you remind me of...” Alarra stopped walking, turning around to look at the king again. The king shook his head, mumbling something before turning back to the scattered pages. “A woman with pants! Now that is a sight to see.” The king yelled as Alarra left the room hurriedly, closing the door tightly. She stood outside the room, looking around the halls to find no one in sight. Alarra really needed that bath.

Otto Hightower scoured the halls, the king nowhere to be found. The king couldn’t have wandered off, somewhere not too far. The hand stopped walking when he heard a cough from inside the king’s study. Otto burst open the door, scaring the king slightly. Otto bounded towards the king, looking exasperated.

“You are assigned bed rest, your grace. You cannot just-“

“I am the king! I will do what I want.” Viserys looked up from the desk at the hand, dropping the papers that were in his palm. Otto glanced at the pages among his desk.

“I told you- the council and I will take care of your affairs.”

“Only I can take care of my affairs. I don’t need you or a girl with pants and a sword at her hip to tell me what to do.” Otto ignored the last part: the king was old and sick after all.

“You can barely speak or walk. I will get a guard to carry you to your chambers.” The king was silent and Otto left the room to find a guard.

Alarra stood outside her chambers, just about to enter when she noticed her door was left cracked open. Alarra knew that she locked her door, she knew for certain that she shut it at least. Her hand hovered above the knob, gazing into the thin gap.

Someone was in there.

It was now nighttime and Alarra did not remember the time of day and how the sun had slipped past her. The room was dimly lit with candles in every space and crevice lighting up the room. She ventured into the room and realized it was unfamiliar.

This was not her room.

Alarra felt that everything was strangely distant, as if veiled in a cloud of mist. Alarra walked further into the room and pale blonde hair appeared in her view. The figure turned around and it appeared to be Helaena who was in her room. She looked deathly afraid, her lip trembling slightly.

“Helaena-” A babe’s cry erupted from Helaena’s arms.

“Protect them.” Helaena whispered, soothing the saddened babe as the crying got louder and louder. The babe had a head of black hair and Alarra gasped as the room seemed to shift, Helaena and the babe now gone from her sight. Alarra’s hand reached out but all that was in front of her was her own hands. She looked down at herself to see a thin white nightgown on her body. When had she put that on?

“Helaena!” Alarra turned, her breath getting caught in her throat. She was now in the hallway but not in the Red Keep but Castle Ward. Her home. Alarra's heart pounded as she took in her surroundings. She hadn’t set foot in Castle Ward in months, yet here she was, standing in the very corridor she knew so well: the cold stone walls, the flickering torches casting shadows along the tapestries she remembered from childhood. The familiar scent of pine and firewood lingered in the air, yet everything felt unnervingly hollow, as though a fog hung over the hall, dulling its colors and muffling its sounds. Alarra paused at an unfamiliar painting. It was larger than the rest and Alarra realized quickly that it was a painting of herself.

Alarra froze, staring up at the painting that loomed over her. In the waving torchlight, her own likeness gazed back yet it wasn’t quite her. The face was familiar, yet older, with shadows cast beneath her eyes and a hint of sorrow etched into her expression. She looked regal and hardened, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword, her posture proud yet burdened. She wore armor emblazoned with the sigil of her house, though it was marred by scratches and dents, as if she’d been through a long, grueling battle. Alarra’s fingers brushed over the frame hesitantly, feeling a chill run through her as she did. A low, distant sound, faint but clear, echoed down the corridor. It was the cry of a babe, the same haunting sound she’d heard moments ago.

A bright light shone down the end of the hall, and Alarra followed the path, the wails getting louder. Alarra peeled open the door at the end of the corridor to find the source. What lay in front of her now was her mother, laying on a bed with a babe in her arms, the crying ceased. Alarra’s eyes shimmered, able to see her mother again now. Tears pricked at Alarra’s eyes as she took in the scene before her. Her mother lay on the bed, looking as she had in Alarra’s memories: soft-eyed and gentle. Her mother held a newborn, swaddled tightly in soft cloth, the babe’s tiny fist clenched around a lock of her mother’s hair. The child’s cries softened at the gentle touch, settling into soft whimpers as her mother rocked him, humming a lullaby Alarra hadn’t heard in years.

“Mother.” Her mother did not notice her, for she was engulfed in the baby before her. Her mother spoke quietly.

“I shall name you…” And then her mother was gone, and Alarra let out a muffled cry, shaking her head. Alarra’s fingers passed through the empty mist that was once her mother and she staggered forward falling to her knees as the ground turned soft. Alarra was in a field of long thick pale needles and flowers of marigold and plum. Her fingers whispered amongst the shrubbery, lightly feeling the tall grassy hill. It was vast, and spread all around her but she could not see too far in front of her for a thick fog encapsulated the air. And then it started to snow.

She first saw a tiny spec of ice fall from the sky and land delicately in her hands. And then the ground was flooded with snow, encasing her legs as she knelt on the ground. It was not cold nor was it hot. Alarra felt at peace. Alarra closed her eyes just for a moment. For what felt like a second, letting the cool icicles settle on her skin as they softly melted away at the touch of her warm face.

The atmosphere around her was still and tranquil, almost as if Alarra was suspended in time and nothing could disturb the serene spirit of the snow. Alarra opened her eyes, the pure white snow had now been stained with a dark crimson color. The snow had been littered with blood all around her and Alarra’s breath caught in her throat again and again. She gulped in the air, turning head in a panic to find more blood scattered in the snow.

“Blood?” Alarra whispered to the emptiness and of course there was no answer for only the stillness of the snow clung to her.

“Vezhvenor.” A figure had appeared through the mist, approaching Alarra. Alarra’s head rose as she looked around her, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Helaena was with her once more and she kneeled in front of Alarra.

“Wolves bite…” She started, her eyes scanning Alarra. Alarra finished the sentence for her.

“And dragons take flight.”

Alarra jolted awake in her bed, the sweat slick on her forehead. She was breathing heavily, and she felt her heart as it beat out of her chest. Alarra swung her feet over the edge of her bed, trying to comprehend her dreams. Her visions. The book she had been reading was frozen on her nightstand, and it lay untouched since she had grabbed it from the library. She was scared to read it. To see what it had within its pages for her to read. Alarra rose from her bed to grab a lit candle by her desk, returning to the edge of her bed. She sat the candle next to the book, reaching for the spine.

She sat the book in her lap, flipping open the first page. A picture of Bran the Builder was printed, and she traced the picture. Alarra grew up hearing stories of her ancestors. She knew almost everything about her family. Except what Aemond had shown her. And she was afraid of what the rest of the prophecy entailed. She had marked the page and she played with the book before turning open to the page of the prophecy. She scanned the page, reading the prophecy as a whole.

A prophecy forgotten by the Gods…

A Wolf from the North will bleed into the South.

Blood of a Wolf can start wars, but the blood of a Dragon will end the realm.

When one dragon meets fate, a Wolf will seek refuge.

Packs are large but dragons are much larger.

A Wolf from the North. A Dragon from the South.

Wolves bite, and dragons take flight.

The dragon's flame will burn the sky,

But in its ashes, a Wolf will rise.

Beneath the door, a path will unfold,

A bond of blood to be known by both shadow and light.

The Wolf will reign where it once bled.

For blood and bone is thicker than fire and steel.

Alarra finished reading the page, looking to the next to find that the rest of the next page had been ripped out. Alarra flipped through the rest of the book and it contained nothing but her past. Her house's legacy. Alarra scoffed, slamming the book shut. She knew exactly who did this and where he would be.

“Why did you rip out a page in this book?” Alarra slammed the book down in front of Aemond and he raised his eyes to meet hers, an irritated look on his face. He glanced at her before looking back down at the book on the table. His hair was draped carelessly over his shoulders and Alarra watched as he paid no mind to Alarra’s intrusion.

“That book is centuries old-” He started but Alarra would not have him avoid her inquiry.

“Answer the question.” Alarra bent down, setting her hands on the table inching forward towards Aemond. Alarra knew that she could not intimidate the prince but she still tried.

“The book was like that when I read it.” He responded while maintaining a steady gaze with Alarra. Alarra pushed herself backwards, away from Aemond. She huffed starting to get agitated with him. Liar.

“You are deceitful. And a liar-”

“I do not lie.” Alarra’s gaze hardened.

“That was a lie. All men lie.”

“Well I do not lie.” Alarra paced the floor while looking through the slim windows at the shine of the moon. How had she found herself alone with Aemond again?

“Do you dream during the moon’s rule, my prince?” Alarra raised an eyebrow at him and Aemond froze for a moment before responding softer than before.

“Dreams are not real.”

“But they can be. Your sister-”

“Do not bring my sister into your nightmares.”

“I never said they were night terrors.”

“I can see on your face that they were not pleasant,” Alarra gripped the table with her hands, a flash of anger contorting her features. “Alarra the Fierce scared? I did not think I would rue the day to see such a frightening individual cowering at ink on paper.” Alarra turned around from staring through the window to shoot him a sharp look.

“I am not scared.” She gritted below her teeth.

“Mhm, you call me a liar but you are a liar. Something is bothering Alarra the Fierce.” He said her name like he was mocking her and Alarra’s eyes hardened even more.

“You mock me.”

“I mock no one.”

“You lie again!” Alarra yelled, starting to move gradually towards Aemond. “I knocked you on your royal arse and you would be wise to not humor me.” Aemond stood from his seat, a small smirk on his face.

“Is that a threat?” Alarra was getting hot now.

“A promise.”

“You speak with such certainty…like a dog.” He snarled, slowly making his way over to Alarra. He now stood in front of her, his body towering over hers slightly. Alarra did not know what to do at that moment but remained still. “Do you obey your master like a dog as well?” He questioned, his head tilted to the side. He wanted to get a rise out of her. His hand rose as if he were going to grab her, and Alarra flinched. Aemond hummed lowly, his hand sinking back at his side. Aemond leaned down his face dangerously close to hers. Aemond didn’t know why he touched her. Why did he feel the urge to trace her scar, her face? Why was he so close to her?

The proximity was close; too close and Alarra held her breath for what felt like minutes; hours, waiting for the prince to speak. Aemond’s eyes scanned her face and his hand rose to her face, tracing the line of her scar. He dug his finger, his nail catching the healing skin, and Alarra blinked rapidly, her eyes watering, biting her tongue to swallow down a low groan of pain.

“Threaten me again and you will learn to obey.” His breath fanned over her face now, and Alarra swallowed as his finger traced her scar towards her lips before his hand stopped abruptly and he pulled away from her. He looked at her for a pregnant pause before swiftly turning and leaving the library. Alarra stood there, her thoughts a mess inside her head. Aemond had touched her. He had touched her face. Her scar. He had reached his hand voluntarily to touch her. Alarra raised a hand to touch her scar, feeling the blood already dripping on her cheek. Aemond was provoked by Alarra. But, Alarra was not angry.

No, she was fierce.

In the morning, the first thing Alarra did was visit the princess Helaena. She felt obligated to speak to the girl after her odd dreams. She wanted answers. And she thought that Helaena would give them to her, no matter how confusing her words might be. Helaena was standing on her terrace staring outside at King’s landing before her. At the structures and buildings, at her city. Alarra was behind her and Helaena turned, unafraid as if she was expecting her.

“Lady in Red.”

“Princess, I don't mean to intrude-”

“We spoke last night.”

“I'm sorry, I do not recall-”

“In the mist, we spoke in the mist.” Alarra approached the princess slowly, setting her hands on the railing of the balcony as she looked out into the city. Birds flew past in the morning dew and the sun was just starting to rise from below the skyline.

“I’m…scared.”

“We should all be scared for what is to come,” Helaena walked towards Alarra, standing next to her as Alarra still stared at the city.

“But, why-”

“I do not know. Answers are a precarious thing. Answers are something we seek but cannot find. They are hidden for a reason,” Helaena paused, seeming to gather her thoughts and sucking in a quiet rasp. “I dreamt of you, Lady in Red.” Alarra was getting slightly agitated now.

“Helaena, I do not wear red.” She said swiftly but Helaena’s eyes widened as if she were on the verge of tears and she grabbed Alarra by the shoulders tightly.

“It is not red that you will wear but the blood of those you have slain. Alarra the Fierce; Lady in Red,” Helaena shook Alarra as she held her and Alarra blinked, her face scrunched up in pure astonishment. “You, Alarra, have already begun the path. The door has closed and there is no return from what is to come.”

Cregan,

I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home.

A/N: Thanks so so much for continuing to read! I'm really excited to get more into the fantasy aspects and what roles Helaena will play in this story.

Tags: @mamawiggers1980, @kritara

#a song of ice and fire #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #game of thrones #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n

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inkedaway · 2 days ago

Text

What's in a name (Dandadan)

Title: What's in a name?

Notes: People wanted more, so here you go, have more! I'm glad people liked the previous chapter. This one takes Okarun's POV and runs with it. I hope the distinction of thought process makes it through in a coherent manner when he's transformed and you know, not. I'm happy to add more to it, as mentioned - I just need scene ideas to put into chapters. There's no end here, it's just a collection of one shots at this point. If an idea sparks and I wish to explore it, I will gladly add to it. Thanks again guys, feel free to leave ideas if you wish!

Pairing: Momo/Okarun romantic undertones, this is pure fluff

Rating: G (there is one instance of the word Fuck, but... )

Summary: This wasn't to say he didn't appreciate the nickname she had given him, because he did. It was without a doubt, the first thing genuinely given to him by another person, and he treasured it dearly; it had meaning, power behind it, and whenever anyone called him by it now, it reminded him instantly of her.

Ao3 link: Here

Can also be read under the read more here.

Ken hadn't really given his name much thought before. It was just... a thing, a word imposed on him, and it had never held that much importance. That was, until he'd stumbled across someone that, for whatever reason, hadn't wanted to say it. It had bothered him at the time, and even now, something about her not calling him by it rankled in the back of his mind, somewhere deep, deep down, where he threw all thoughts and emotions he didn't want to inspect too closely.

This wasn't to say he didn't appreciate the nickname she had given him, because he did. It was without a doubt, the first thing genuinely given to him by another person, and he treasured it dearly; it had meaning, power behind it, and whenever anyone called him by it now, it reminded him instantly of her. Not that he needed it to be reminded of her though. Momo Ayase was never far from the forefront of his mind now a days, and he often found himself thinking stray thoughts that had never occurred to him before came along and catapulted herself into his life.

Thoughts like, oh, she'd like this, or oh, she'd absolutely despise this other thing. More than once, he'd found himself squirreling away a shiny rock he'd found that reminded him of her earrings, a small piece of candy with an alien themed wrapper, or even entire magazines on the single notion that she'd like them, and he should thus, of course, present them to her. Never once had he actually gone through it; not once had he actually scrunched up the courage to actually give her the thing he'd secreted away for her, much too self conscious to do so when the notion actually caught up with him. He liked to think it was the intention that matter, and that he just needed a push, and maybe some day soon he'd manage.

Despite what some people thought, Ken was not an idiot; far from it, in his personal opinion. It'd taken him his first journey into her room, back when they were still trying to figure out what to do about Turbo Granny that first day, to realize exactly why she hadn't been able to say his name out loud, and he hadn't taken it out on her. Despite being slightly naive about many things, he wasn't exactly slow, and what he lacked in wisdom, he made up for in other ways. He was, perhaps, not as sharp as Ayase herself in the heat of the moment, but he was no slouch.

Still he'd decided to make no comment on the elephant in the room at the time. He'd not brought it up, and had kept his mouth shut. In a way, he'd come to adopt the nickname like it was his first name, and he'd just felt grateful for it. Even so... it still poked at a small, insecure part of him, deep, deep down in his soul, that she wouldn't say it, even when he didn't want to admit to it out loud.

It was perhaps, some small part of those feelings that slipped through when he was transformed. He couldn't really say.

She'd asked him several times what if felt like when he transformed, and he couldn't quite put it into words correctly. Did he go anywhere? Was it still him in there, fully? Did something else take over? And... no, nothing took over. It was just him, but, maybe... more. It was like his feelings were enhanced, not just his senses, but his actual emotions (and God, what did that say about him, that depression was the one in the wheel house? He didn't really want to poke that thought too much, given what it said about him). He'd noticed he was prone to be much more honest with his feelings and surroundings in that form, like there was no filter between brain and his mouth, and what he felt, he just blurted out.

Emotion fueled that form, at the end of the day.

The first few times he'd slipped into that form unbidden, it had been rage fueling it. Rage unlike anything he'd felt before that had sparked change into existence. He'd never been a particularly angry or argumentative kid; he'd never really fought back against bullies. Has never really tried to, never thought it was worth it to do so. Ken figured it had to be something about Ayase that brought it out of him, because he distinctly recalled clapping back at her several times that day, in a way he'd never thought of doing to his bullies. She'd just been worth it, from the very start.

She'd asked him why he called her by her first name in that form, and truth was, he'd wanted to do so since the first day, honestly, but he'd not been able to. He hadn't hadn't found the courage to do so. Afraid of being inadequate, of just not being enough, and in his defense, this was all just new to him. There wasn't a book to drive him through the very real messy process of actually having a friend.

And again, Ken wasn't stupid. He wasn't an idiot. He may have been awkward, and he may have been new at the whole friendship thing, but he smart enough to have realized after a while that some of the thoughts he held for her were not exactly in the friendship department. He hadn't even begun to untangle that mess, and he wasn't ready to poke and prod at it, but he wasn't stupid. He knew himself at least.

Something about that form however, just seemed to destroy most inhibition, and thus, the name just slipped out, time and time again. It wasn't that he didn't want to say it; he very much did. Ken didn't think he could help it, as much as he couldn't help the strangely spindly arms and anatomy he gained, or his hair from changing color.

It was just a thing, and he'd had to get used to it. It was what it was.

Specially because anger wasn't exactly the only emotion that could trigger a transformation. Fear was just as capable of it as well.

He'd found out the hard way, when a particularly loud sound had crashed through her temple one day when she'd gone outside to fetch something. She'd left him in her room, promising she'd be back as soon as possible, and to make himself comfortable. Ken had sat himself on the floor and had been admiring the organized chaos of the room, and the certain lack of posters he could remember from the first day there, when the sound had caught his attention. Metal like, loud and in his fear hazed mind, entirely out of place.

He'd been up on his feet, transformed and zooming outside her room faster than he'd been able to react or even process thought in a coherent manner. The burst of speed enough that he was outside and in front of her before the sound had even stopped reverberating across the premises. The fear that something had happened while he'd been upstairs and she outside had been visceral, and when he found her looking owlishly at him, with pipes around her (clearly the source of the sound), the relief had been just as visceral, "Momo..."

Demonstrating once more that innate sharpness, the girl took one look at him, and somehow managed to read him in the space of time it too him to process that she was fine, and that they were, in fact, not under attack, "Ah," it was a soft sound of understanding as she took her eyes off of him and turned to look at the pipes scattered on the stone floor at her feet, "Sorry. I noticed them over there, and figured I'd get them moved for grandma behind the main shrine before she had to do so later. They're not heavy for me now, given circumstances," as if to emphasize this, she made a small grabby motion with her hands, and the pipes lifted into the air as if by themselves, "But... I got distracted by something and dropped them, my bad," she left the obvious unsaid; she hadn't meant to scare and startle him, and he was grateful to her for not pointing it out.

"Momoooo..." The gratefulness for her continued safety seeped through him like a cold bath, and he found himself taking a step forward and flopping his head in an almost boneless fashion against her shoulder. His forehead was resting against her body, his posture hunched slightly over her, and by the time he'd done so, he couldn't be arsed to move away; she'd push him away anyways, it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered anyways.

To her credit, rather than do that, after a just a moment, Momo's hand went up and patted the top of his head, "There, there, you big idiot, it's fine, see? Everything's fine," he hadn't told her, back when she'd let him use her lap to nap, but that was likely the first time someone not blood related had offered him any sort of physical comfort. He wasn't used to touching. He wasn't used to any of this, which, granted, didn't mean he didn't want it, just... that he was unsure when it was okay to ask for it, or if it was out of the question to do it back. The strange thought processes of his transformation made it very muddy and he seemed to rely on her body language to read what was and wasn't okay to do, "Feeling better?"

Ken took the moment to catalogue his feelings and well, "Still bummed," he said, head remaining pressed against her, and Momo let out a sigh, her hand lowering from his hair to rub his back in a comforting, circular motion.

"Yeah, that about tracks," she said, "I meant more along the lines of if you've calmed down now."

He offered a small nod against her shoulder, his vision entirely blocked by body, what with his forehead pressed against it, allowing at least one sense to be muted.

"Cool, 'kay," after a few more seconds, she lifted her hand and tapped his side slightly in poke poke poke fashion, a movement that seemed to indicate without words or a push that she wanted him to move, and thus he did. Ken lifted his head off her shoulder and watched her through near unblinking eyes, "Help me move these pipes to where I was gonna take them, and then we'll figure out... this" she gestured to him, head to toe, and again, because she asked, he did exactly what she wanted without protest. He scooped up the few pipes she wasn't carrying with her powers and followed her to the back of the main shrine, where he'd spent that first night.

He was quite sure she could have, at this point in time, asked him to fetch her the moon and stars, and despite the impossibility of it, Ken was sure he would have given it his best try regardless.

"Right, okay, lesee," the moment they had gotten rid of the pipes, Momo had turned to gaze at him, looking him up, then down, and then back up again, "You stayin' like that then?" he had no idea what to tell her, and just watched her, which was apparently enough for her to roll her eyes, "Right, always forget you get super weird like this. So... tell me. What do you think would help?"

Well, Ken wasn't exactly sure what would help in this state. Maybe nothing would. Everything felt so... useless when he was like this, like nothing quite mattered either way, and thinking about it was stressing him out further.

Something about his expression, which he hadn't figured had shifted whatsoever, seemed to indicate enough to her that she rolled her eyes, "Stop overthinking everything, dummy. What do you think would help at this precise moment. What do you need?"

Well, need was a strong word. He didn't need anything, but he figured there was something he wanted. The moment the notion flashed through his mind, his mouth opened, and out it came, absolutely no filter, "Can I hold you?" It was immediately clear from the way she looked at him, absolutely flabbergast, that out of all the things she had expected him to say, this one was nowhere on the list. Her mouth opened and closed two times without sound before Ken decided that honestly, nothing mattered anyways. In for a penny, in for a pound, "Just need a moment to calm down, and last time, when we were running, having you close helped."

She blinked owlishly for another two to three seconds, looked away from him in thought and seemed to come to a conclusion. Like with everything Momo did, when she turned back to look at him, she'd planted her feet and looked determined, clearly not about to back down anymore, "Sure, 'kay, let's do that," and she spread her arms in an awkward initiation of a hug.

Having gotten permission, he angled his body not to hug her, but to pick her up off the ground like one would have a small pet animal, eliciting a startled yelp out of the girl. He then allowed himself to flop on the ground, setting her on the ground in front of him and processed to wrap himself in a near boneless fashion around her, his upper hand leaned over her shoulder, legs spread out in front of him, and instantly... things were marginally better.

"Okarun!" Momo had found her voice again, and though she did not squirm out of her position, did reach out to give his head a light smack, eliciting a huff out of him, "A little warning next time!"

"You said I could though."

"I was expecting to be held, not to be picked up swaddled by your limbs!" despite her words, there was no real anger in her voice, and she slowly relaxed her back to lean against his chest, "You're lucky it's hot as fuck out and you're cold," this was said in a murmur, which was dumb, in his opinion. After all, if she didn't want him to hear her, murmuring near his ear was not exactly the best course of action.

Silence fell and for a good amount of time, during which he closed his eyes and took in the signs she was alive (her scent, her heartbeat, the way her chest expanded each time she took in breath), he moved not an inch.

"Better?" it was reminiscent of the question she'd asked him a bit earlier, and he offered, well... not a nod, but a simile of it, his whole cranium flopping over like it was too heavy for his neck to hold. Momo's response was a sigh as she once again patted his head, once twice before her arm fell back upon her lap, "Good."

Ken expected her to poke him, tell him enough was enough, push away even, but the girl did no such thing. He opened an eye to watch her slide hers shut, and thus, following her example, he did so too.

For now, it seemed like she was as content to sit and bask as he was.

#dandadan #momokarun #ken takakura #momo ayase #fanfic #fic

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