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voidhope · 2 years ago

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The Other Woman

(Part 2 FINALE)

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Synopsis: Miguel had left Y/N for another version of his old wife in hopes of getting his old life back. To only realize the mistakes he’s made.

Link to Part 1

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!reader

Warnings: very heavy mental health, ANGST LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, ALL OF THIS IS ANGST, mentions of death/almost dying, long term establish relationship, cheating, swearing, therapy, physical fight, blood, feral protective miguel?

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A/N: hello again! this one is more heartbreaking and longer than the first part oof… Very low dialog up until closer towards the end! wanted to just get through telling the story itself and the emotions. It’s just a very heavy storyline!! I want to say thank you so so much for showing so much support for part 1 i had no idea it would receive that much attention :O !! i wrote this out kinda fast as i didn’t want to loose the momentum of the idea. so apologies for any mistakes! all feedback is greatly appreciated ~

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You used to make Miguel coffee everyday, with one cream two sugars, and he would nag about how he hated the taste. It was to your liking, not his. As you would sneakily take sips out of his mug while working next to him. Why didn’t you just get your own coffee? You claimed you could never finish it and just wanted a taste out of his. Miguel would roll his eyes at you every time he caught you but he adored it. He had secretly grown to love the way you made it and had become his only way of making coffee after meeting you.

Now as this version of his older wife made it the way he is suppose to like coffee, bland and straight, he found himself bothered by it. Going as far to correct her even though this was what he had been claiming to have missed so much. He was now seeing himself teaching someone else how to love him like you did…

He was only a shell of the man he was when he had Gabriella. Even though the copy of his old wife has her same personality, the relationship couldn’t be exactly how it was before because he had changed so much. You had helped him become whole again. His tastes and likings had all switched to everything about you. The charm he found in his old wife doesn’t hold a light to you now and he was getting frustrated. He had wanted this so badly. He felt like those babies who whine and cry wanting to eat a lemon and once they get their way they realize the sour truth.

Miguel never truly realized what it was like to loose you until three weeks after he told you the truth. Over the years the idea of losing you terrified him but he only ever thought of it being in death. He never considered separation when everything was perfect for both of you then. There were times he believed that you were made just for him and he treated you like his queen. Which you truly were to him in his spider society. Why would he ever throw that away? Look at what he did.

He gave himself every excuse in the book before you knew he was cheating on you. ‘This is only for research.’ he would think every time he found himself back in that universe. As everyone knew he was so serious about his work, obviously this is just him getting to know more about certain universes and canons. Lyla was the only one seeing straight through him knowing where he was actually going. Things kept tumbling and the more he found out about the place and spent time with her the more his grief and yearning returned. It was all just there, so reachable.

There was a time his mind tried to snap him back out of it while cheating on you and made him realize the guilt. The first time he kissed this woman you were there in his mind. He came home right after and held you without saying a word. You never questioned him, just showed him comfort as much as you could. Lightly stroking his back, you never over stepped or pushed him when he was vulnerable with you. He only closed his eyes and held onto you tighter processing how you were always too good for him. He was converting to living two different lives; his old self during the day and then coming home to you. He didn’t want to let go of either at the time.

Once he found out he could safely have Gabriella again was when he became distant with you. The shame of using you for research made him become stoic. He didn’t want to admit how wrong he was treating you. All while you were always being so loyal and trusting towards him. Things were slowly slipping through the cracks and he knew he couldn’t up keep it. He wished he could have had that conversation with you so much differently but it was over. Now he had his old life back, a dream he had his mind set on.

He ignored the shakiness in his hands when he returned to her after letting you go. ‘It’s all for the best.’ is what he would repeat in his mind as a mantra. His new girlfriend truly had no idea who he really was or what his background was. Miguel continued to feed her lies to the point where he even started believing them himself getting too lost in avoiding what he’s done. He believed he was happy as he spent time with her.

When she got too close to finding the truth after finding his wedding ring in one of his pockets, he set her off course from it by revealing his spider identity and taking her to HQ. This was the day that everything felt like it was crashing around him. Being reminded of his marriage, having to face his friends with his new lover, sharing his personal spider life, his work with someone who wasn’t you. He excused himself rushing to an unused office room while his chest was tightening. Pupils dilating as he realized it was his first time having a panic attack.

Nevertheless he continued to push it all aside and act completely normal with his girlfriend. He was feeling your absence the most while working. You had became an extension of him. He had trained you from scratch and you helped him build this society he has now. You knew the ins and outs of everything and fought perfectly alongside him. Now that he was on his own he let his girlfriend be there for him when he got stressed, but there always was a knot in his stomach he never could get rid of.

The more his mental health ate at him late at night the more he considered searching out for you. There was no closure between both of you and he never got to listen to how you feel. What was your opinion on all that happened? Do you hate him?

He wanted to speak with someone so badly but he dug himself in a hole too deep. You were gone, he was lying through his teeth to this poor woman he’s kept for some fantasy, he felt too ashamed to say anything to his friends, he would rather die if all his workers found out how big of a piece of shit he is. Anytime Lyla tried peeping a word that wasn’t work related he would snap. He had pushed everyone away and now he just felt alone.

Regardless he would wake up in the morning and swallow all his dark feelings. He would remember his grief of when he lost his family and it would put him back in the moment. He has another chance. He was happy with the direction he was going in now.

Right?

—

The day he found out you were at HQ he felt his heart stop. He was mid mission trying to call for Lyla but she wouldn’t answer. Frustrated he tried looking into what was happening only to see her busy having a conversation with you. It felt like something took over him when he opened a portal in less than a second. Without thinking nor wasting a heartbeat he rushed back. Just a glimpse of you, maybe just to hear a word out of your mouth. The feeling of having you back in HQ was making him ignore all his insecurities. How he would coward at the thought of trying to reach out to you before. You were in his home, your home, and the thought drove him wild.

You were already long gone though. Lyla stared at him not saying a word. The quietness in the room making his ears ring but his thoughts were screaming in his head. He stood there frozen still trying to recollect himself. He was the one that left you, what is wrong with him?

Again he went back and forth in his own head trying to convince himself ‘You wanted this.’ but if he did why is he feeling like someone just killed a puppy in front of him? Why is he here fighting with his self if this is really his dream? Why did he try chasing after you? The wounds of his past grief were too deep. He never took the time to properly heal and now look at what he’s become.

“Miguel, what’s this?” He was startled turning around seeing his girlfriend holidng your watch and skimming through the divorce paperwork addressed to him.

There was no more hiding, no more lying. He swallowed hard even though his throat was dry. He let everything he had kept away rise to surface. It hurt him to see the beautiful face his old wife shared contort into such anger and pain while finding the truth.

She didn’t stay, but for some reason he wasn’t upset. Though he longed for his daughter, he knew it would have never been the same now. He finally closed the door on his past. His heart had made the choice this time but it’s too late. Now grasping onto the divorce papers left by you, emptiness spread through his soul.

—

You on the other hand did not find yourself crying by yourself on a rooftop for long. The shift in the air from your arrival alerted the local spider-man immediately.

“It didn’t work out, did it?” He crouched down next to you as he noticed your watch gone and your missing wedding band.

Peter Parker knew both you and Miguel. Your husband had come to do many rounds of research in this universe when he took you. Eventually offering this Peter a spot in the society, which he politely declined due to just being busy enough here. You both never spoke much but always had an appreciation for each other.

“Do you need a place to crash at?” He continued while trying to get you to look at him. Reaching his hand towards you.

You had absolutely no one and you had been gone so long you couldn’t even go back to the little you had. When you met Miguel you didn’t hesitate to never look back and now it filled you with regret. How naive were you to put all your trust and reliance on him.

You took Peter’s hand. You were ready to start your own life and be your own person now.

—

Peter Parker was nice enough to let you stay with him as long as you needed it. You both had became ‘besties!’ as he would love to poke at you. The first month with him you were a disaster really but he showed you how he liked to cope using his spider abilities.

The first thing he helped you with was getting a new suit. Your old one resembled too much to Miguel’s and you felt suffocated every time you put it on. Peter had taught you to use your current emotional pain on whichever sad little villain was making trouble out in Brooklyn that night.

“Come on, we got multiverse spider-woman helping me keep these streets clean now!” He would taunt at the men while watching you easily take them out a little bit too aggressively. His feet kicking up and down while he sat on the side of a building watching you. The crime rate did go down a bit once word got around how strong your punch was. Peter’s just happy he can now spend some nights to himself.

You got yourself a job at the mart on the corner to help cover bills for Peter and save up. You were grateful enough the owners never batted an eye when you would disappear during a shift to either suddenly go cry uncontrollably or beat the shit out of someone at a nearby robbery. Next thing you were enrolling yourself back in university, wanting to finish that degree you never did.

It wasn’t too long that some of your older spider friends would stop by to check in on you. Seeing them was difficult sometimes, you were internally itching to ask about Miguel. Things were going okay for you on a very slow path of breathing step by step. You never wanted to feel that hurt again and so you very well pretend like Miguel didn’t exist if you could.

You couldn’t ignore the hurt resurfacing when you passed couples on the street. Or when you found yourself going to fidget with your wedding ring just to remember it’s gone. You can’t just move on from a relationship that was so deeply apart of you and lasted so long. You gave everything to him and it will take you much time to get yourself to build trust again.

After two semesters, you finally had your graduation. All the things you learned while in Earth-928 paid off as you barley had to study. Passing top of the class, you immediately got an offer for an internship opportunity with Alchemax and was able to get an introduction tour of the building beforehand.

What you hadn’t realized was that Alchemax had been looking for that girl who snuck into their offices a couple years ago. Who made another dimension’s spider appear and then went missing herself soon after. They had kept as close tabs on you as they could and how foolish you were to think your little break in wouldn’t come back to bite you. The moment you stepped foot back in their building, it was over for you.

—

Miguel had spent a whole year in much deserving therapy. Nothing could stop the embarrassment he felt when Peter B signed him up with HQ’s best spider-therapist after 3 months of constant out bursts. No one could come near the man when he felt like he had lost everything. Those first initial months were difficult for everyone around him.

Therapy did help, he hates to admit it, but it was a very rough ride. He finally was able to understand his deep inner term oil and heal his issues but moving on from you? No, he could never.

You were the only one who had sincerely stood by his side, always rooting for him. He never fell out of love with you despite of everything that he did. He just pushed everything down too deep and was blinded by obsession. Till now he could never deny that he still loves you. Maybe if he just would have went to therapy years ago instead of acting out on unsolved grief none of this would have happened. The guilt always making him toss and turn at night.

He would have big temper tantrums when he would find his coworkers going to visit you time to time and not sharing any details. He needed to know if you’re okay. Did you already move on? He longed to find you and speak with you but he knew he wasn’t ready yet. He was so self destructive and this was what he deserved.

Everyone avoided him completely when he overheard someone saying you were living with Peter Parker. Fighting crime with him and having a cute little home life. Peter followed you around now like a puppy. Miguel did not take the news well at all. Let’s just say, the large bill replacement for his monitor screens was what snapped him out of that rage.

He also wanted to strangle Hobie Brown every time he saw a glint in his eye when your name was mentioned around. Yet Miguel couldn’t hate the kid either, as Hobie was one of the people to try help repair the damage he did to you. How badly he just wanted to hold you and shield you in his arms from any other people taking you from him as if he wasn’t the idiot to let you go in the first place.

Everyone’s big, powerful, scary boss was really just a grumpy, wallowing-in-self-pity, sensitive, lonely man now. Mention your name too much to him and watch him start crying or take it out on whatever he could find nearest to him. He would some nights scroll through your wedding photos while listening to your last tracked log with Lyla. Your words cutting through him deep like long sharp knives. How he urged to go tell you it was all wrong and how guilty he was for making you feel like this.

Despite it all, he still believed in being the best of the best. He used his work to distract himself from his sorrows, to become numb. Even though his divorce paperwork were set next to him on his desk to remind him the pain. He never signed it.

—

“We can’t tell him!” Jessica gritted through her teeth. Small group of spider-people were hovered around Lyla taking in the new found information.

“Her canon events have always been uncertain, we can’t just stop and fix this one?” Gwen Stacy suggested in hopes.

“We have never prevented a canon event of hers or the people involved in it. It could be even more dangerous than a regular canon.” Peter B spoke grimly.

“When ‘as danger ever stopped us?” Hobie spoke up.

“Everyone get your gear.” Lyla added to the stress of the situation.

—

You couldn’t open your eyes properly with a strong blinding light being held above you. Arms and legs secured on top of a metal surgical table. You could feel the warmth of blood scattered on certain parts of your body, slowly starting to dry. It was a mix of yours and the people you had tried fighting through to get out of here when you realize the trap you were reeled into. Different people in lab coats poked and pried all around you while you were tied. Your mask was thrown on another table and your suit had large gashes across it.

Soon you also could feel the presence of Peter Parker being brought to the room, thrown slumped in the corner breathing heavily. They had gotten you too good. They knew everything and had planned this so detailed.

“Now you’re going to help me open the multiverse.” Kingpin loomed around you. All you could feel was searing pain as a laser aimed right at your chest.

—

Miguel was already staring out the window to the glowing night lights of Nueva York when he saw a big hole appear in sight of the skyline. His eyebrows furrowed while he was trying to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t a second later when all alarms started going off in his office.

“Qué carajos?” He exclaimed seeing the alerts of a possible universe collapse. “Lyla! Why wasn’t this being taken care of already?”

“I already sent people.”

“Then what are they doing?” He yelled. His confusion and anger only furthered when he saw a red alarm for a canon event.

“Canon event?” He whispered to himself. He always knew when these were happening, there were none scheduled for today. There was no way he would let one passed him, it’s not like this could magically appear? His jaw dropped in realization… a new canon event.

“Lyla, tell me the truth. Why wasn’t this reported to me?” He made the atmosphere turn cold. She knew he already figured it out.

“A new canon event was received this morning being given to Peter Parker. Of Y/N L/N’s death.” The words from Lyla made Miguel’s body go still. His eyes raced side to side while he processed it.

“No!” He roared, a fist slamming into the nearby desk. His massive strength breaking it in half.

“Boss, you can’t go on this mission only using your emotions.” Lyla warned. However Miguel was already half way stepping through a portal to find you.

He appeared, watching his team struggle to shut down the machine causing the collapse. Outnumbered by the amount of Alchemax puppets. A different kind of rage filled him as he saw you, for the first time in a year, suffering. Miguel was never one to act reckless while on missions but he had no plan here and just ran off the pure adrenaline the fight or flight had hit him with.

His claws tore into the backs of his enemies as he jumped beast-like across the room. Not hesitating spilling blood across the wall while he took everyone down as fast as he could. His team could only watch wide eye with an unsettling fear as they saw Miguel lose himself to his spider sense. While he fought they took the opportunity to take apart the machine.

Miguel was panting heavily, pupils blown wide glowing red, and fangs dripping with venom as the room slowly silenced. Kingpin laid on the floor slowly trying to drag himself after being beaten to a pulp. It was over. Peter B stopped him from doing anything further. Knowing Miguel would kill the man, Peter B let the team finish up to give Kingpin to authorities. Miguel turned frantically to look at you seeing the other spiders step away. Peter Parker was hunched over you in tears. Miguel fought the urge to snap at Peter and grab his hands off of you.

Your vision was too blurry and everything felt like it was burning. A shape that seemed too familiar came into your peripheral vision and you tried to push yourself up.

“Miguel?” Was the last thing you croaked before slumping back passing out. Miguel catching you in his arms before you could hurt yourself further.

“It’s her time.” Jessica spoke behind him. Yet he was refusing to let go. He had never defied the way the timeline worked since he created his society. He would never break the rules and you both had promised each other before not to. If there was a situation like this you both agreed to save the universe first. How stupid was he to think he would listen to that now facing it in-front of him.

He never got to tell you what happened. He never got to apologize. He never got to tell you one more time that he loved you. Even if you in result just spat in his face, at least he was able to talk to you one more time. You were never a placeholder or someone to fill a hole in his heart. His whole heart belonged to you and he couldn’t let you go thinking you didn’t mean anything to him. No matter the consequences, he needed to tell you.

“Call all the teams to control the damage of a possible universe collapse.” He turned to Jess with Y/N tightly in his arms. The spider-people watched speechless as he opened a portal and disappeared.

—

Two weeks you laid motionless in the HQ’s medbay.

The clean up after breaking the canon was a little intense. They were able to get it under control as the event started to fade from your timeline once you were returned and starting to heal in Earth-928.

The spider society would remain silent near the medbay. The lights always being dimmed and hushed whispers between staff to not bother the distressed O’Hara. He refused to leave.

Your Peter Parker had now joined the team, much to Miguel’s dismay. Everyday your friends would come in and check to see how you were. Some telling stories about their day or any gossip updates you missed, in hopes that it would get you to wake up. They would ignore the gloomy Miguel who was basically glued to the seat next to you not saying a word to anyone.

At night Miguel would play with your fingers and softly stroke your hair all while pleading “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. Por favor mi alma.” He knew it wasn’t his place to beg this after what he did, but he didn’t mind the words falling on deaf ears.

Miguel hadn’t eaten in days, he felt too nauseous from anxiety to even try anything. Pavitr had done the favor to bring you and Miguel’s favorite empanadas from a small street vendor downtown. Hoping to get Miguel to at least try the food before he ended up in a hospital bed next to you due to starvation.

You started to blink open your eyes, spots surrounding your vision. You could hear a soft breathing to your right side and you slowly felt your sense come back one by one. It felt like you just had a really rough nap.

“Oh my god that smells so good.” You moaned, sitting yourself up to try to look at where the smell of food was coming from.

You were met with a wide eyed Miguel holding a box of empanadas. His jaw slacked open acting as if he’s seen a ghost looking at you. Confusion hit you first for a second and then you start to panic.

Why was he here? Why was your ex-husband sitting right here? You started to push away from him and Miguel caught on to your panic.

“No, no, no mi amor stop.” He tried calming you. “You’re hurt, you’re going to open your stitches.”

You suddenly remembered everything that happened right before you blacked out. At that moment you forgot the hurt you had towards your ex-lover. Gathering yourself you just stared at him. “I’m suppose to be dead.”

Tears rimmed your eyes. Why did it feel like life just hated you so much?

Miguel engulfed you in his arms as you started to cry. You didn’t care right now. You had ached for this feeling again, so alone, with the comfort Miguel used to bring you. Just for a moment you could pretend like how it was before.

“We can’t do this Miguel.”

He knew what you were thinking. He didn’t want to let you leave his arms yet, as he let his self hold harder and push your head closer into his the crook of his shoulder. The tickle of your breath on his neck, he just wanted this forever.

“She left. Almost a year ago.” He let out to you. A big weight coming off of his chest. You pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes while you watched him avoid your gaze. You felt bad to say you could feel a bit of satisfaction bubbling in you.

“Good, she deserved better.”

“So did you.” Miguel sighed playing with his hands. Your eyes widened when you saw the ring still on his finger. He let you stare. “I-I could never. I couldn’t.” The emotions struggle to come out of his mouth. You understood him though. You always did. Placing your hand on top of his you just nodded.

“Please stay here.” He whispered.

Miguel had broken you in so many ways. Yet he almost ruined another universe just to keep you alive. You both needed time to talk and coming out a coma right now isn’t good timing.

“I finally became my own person when I went back in my universe. I enjoyed my independence.” The words pelleted at him. He could only hold his breath as he waited for you to continue. “I’ll stay… but not for you.”

It wounded him deeply; but he deserved it. This place will always be a home for you even if he wasn’t apart of it. Before he can tear his gaze and turn away, you reached out to hold his face close to yours. Your fingers gently rubbing on his cheeks as you slowly look at him properly after so long. You let your thumb smooth over his frown lines and he leaned into your touch closing his eyes.

“Let’s give us time.” Was the words you blessed that opened every door of hope he could find. He would take it, he would absolutely take it. He has to fight for you, he has to prove to you. He would do anything but for now he’ll be on his best patiently waiting for you.

Both of you sat comfortably without speaking, only the faint background beeps of the hospital monitor making up for the silence, while passing small glances. For once both of you felt a missing warmth you didn’t realize you needed. Sharing empanadas with each other, just maybe it will be alright…

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The end!!! Thank you so so much for your time in reading my story. i really really was so happy with all the comments and feedback on pt 1 it really meant a lot!!!

i hope this was ok ~ i apologize for how long it was i was thinking of doing another part but just wanted to finish this up. I was in such a conflict how to end this. i hope it wasn’t too cliche or anything i’m just a sucker for very wanty needy dramatic stories. It’s a hopeful ending tho~ i couldn’t pick with just happy or sad.

So many of you had tons of amazing suggestions which I appreciated so much. I was such a mess trying to figure it all out. Many of you wanted to see Y/N move on with another person but I ended up going this route. I used Peter Parker as an obv character in y/n’s universe but it’s not tied to any specific one and you guy can think of him more to your liking if you want to!

If any of you would like a small drabble or imagine of another route of this story or just anything angsty/possessive and rarwrarwbarkbark miguel. I’d be glad to help lol!! My request box is wide open~ i had so much fun writing this!

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catcze · 1 year ago

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⠀「 Giving them random kisses (part 2) 」

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Lyney, Kaveh, Alhaitham (separate) x GN! reader

「 ### : 」 fluff n romance ! Some heavy kissing, but tbh nothing that warrants much more of a warning. Kaveh's is... a little sad, but it ends well ♡

A long-overdue part two !! Listen guys pls pls pls dont let this flop i actually efforted on this one haksdj 💔

⠀「 WRIOTHESLEY 」

He's initially pretty surprised, but he recovers quickly and smoothly.

He hasn't had many people showering him with affection, so it's a bit of a learning curve with you being so sweet to him.

Does his best to reciprocate though! He doesn't want you feeling like he loves you any less.

He ends up liking the surprise kisses more than he could have ever thought ♡

"Hey Wrio," you murmur from where you sit on his lap. Your boyfriend is engrossed with the documents in his hand, though one arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding you against him.

Wriothesley doesn't look up when you call his name. His eyes are still trained on the fine print, though he does acknowledge you with the tilt of his head and a, "Hm?"

You take his momentary distraction to reach up and pull his face down so you can reach it and plant a small, sweet kiss on his cheek. It's delicate and chaste, just the press of your lips to his skin, as light as the landing of a butterfly, but from the corner of your eye you see the way his eyes widen and the telltale flush of his cheeks.

He gulps, his entire body turning warm under your touch.

"It's nothing," you say, one hand still cradling his cheek. The documents crinkle in his grip, and you smile. "Just wanted to remind you that I love you, is all."

Before you can even realize, Wriothesley is craning his neck and turning your head so that he can press a full kiss against your lips, heart racing as he steals your breath. The way he kisses you is frantic, rough. Like he can't get enough of you in the moment. Like his heart is about to burst out of his chest, and the only thing he can do about it is kiss you harder.

When you finally separate, you're both heaving for air, foreheads pressed together and breath mingling. Every one of his exhales tickles your lips, and under your palm, you can feel how his heart thumps in his chest.

Wriothesley's breath is ragged when he speaks; breathless like he's just ran a marathon. "Just wanted to remind you that I love you too," he whispers.

⠀「 NEUVILLETTE 」

He's been around humans for a long time. It's to be expected that he's had enough time to observe what humans in love do.

Specifically with kisses, Neuvillette has always been a little intrigued.

What is it that makes the meeting of lips so enjoyable for humans? Is it different from the act of holding hands? From the act of linking arms as you walk down a street together?

It's with you that he finally finds his answers.

"Neuvi!" you call, walking into his office. There's a beaming grin as you close the door behind you, bags of takeout food in your hands. "I've brought lunch!"

Neuvillette raises his head the moment he hears your voice, his lips curving in a soft smile. By the time you've approached, rounding his desk and giving him a kiss on the forehead in greeting, the Iudex has already put away his case files and has cleared a place for you on his desk.

You perch on it with ease, one of Neuvillette's hands coming up to push you up, and place the takeout bags beside you. "Hey," you tell him with a smile, looking down at him from where you sit.

"Hello." Neuvillette's eyes glitter from this angle, and the way he smiles so fondly at you makes him look nothing like the scary Iudex that some people think he is. If anything, with the way he looks at you, he just looks like any other man in love. One of his hands find yours, gently weaving his fingers between yours and caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. "Thank you for bringing me lunch," he says. "You didn't have to."

"Mm, it's not for free, though!" You tell him with a grin, and one of his brows rise.

"Oh?"

"Mhm," you nod sagely, leaning forward so that your lips hover just above his. There's a smile on your face, and one of your hands goes to his shoulder to steady yourself. "I want a kiss for all my hard work."

"is that so," he muses, expression becoming just the slightest bit teasing. "Does the one you took upon arrival not meet your requirements, my dear?"

"That was nice, but I want a kiss kiss, Neuvi," you tell him, pouting just a bit.

Neuvillette chuckles under his breath, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck and pull you in closer. "That can be arranged," he murmurs, just before his lips meet yours.

⠀「 LYNEY 」

A relationship with him consists of so! many! kisses!

My guy acts like he's gonna fall ill if he doesn't have a kiss from you every so often.

Literally, he takes any excuse to kiss you that he can get!

And if you're the one initiating a little smooch? He'll be over the moon!

"If you're trying playing a magic trick on me, you're already cheating," Lyney laughs. He's seated on a chair in the the Hotel Bouffes d'ete, a silk handkerchief covering his eyes. One of his eyebrows are raised, and there's a joking quirk to his lips. Although he can't see it, you roll your eyes and tighten the blindfold.

"You're sure you can't see anything?" You ask when you think you've got it tight enough. You wave a hand in front of his face, and he doesn't even flinch.

"All I'm seeing now is my life if you were not in it, mon amour. Nothing but endless darkness." He's grinning while he says it, but you know he means every word, cheesy little shit that he is. You grumble the thought aloud, and he has the audacity to laugh.

You pull away, keeping one hand on his shoulder so he still knows you're there. "Alright smooth talker," you say. "Give me a number from one to ten."

"Ooh, a very intriguing question," Lyney hums. "I'll take the safe route... and go with five."

"Okay. Final answer?"

"Have I ever been one to take back my words, mon amour?"

You grumble again, and his grin widens. Your hands rise to cup his face, tilting it up for easier access. Lyney is lost for a second, lost on what you could have up your sleeve— then you press kisses to his face in rapid succession. One of his forehead, another two on each of his cheeks, one on his nose, and a last one on his lips. That one you drag out a little longer, feel his lips against yours with a familiarity that only you have ever known, before it ends too quickly. Five kisses, just as he's asked.

When you remove the blindfold, he stares at you, light flush high on his cheeks, lips tingling with the urge to kiss you more.

You grin. "Good enough of a magic trick for you?"

⠀「 KAVEH 」

For Kaveh, your kisses are nothing short of an oasis in the middle of the desert.

When he feels at his lowest, debt and impending deadlines creeping in on him, there's nothing that pulls him out of his headspace like affection from you.

If he feels like he's about to drown, you pull him out of the water.

For that reason, he welcomes every ounce of affection you can spare.

"Kaveh, it's late," you beckon him from under the sheets, a yawn crawling up your throat. "Come sleep. You can continue your work in the morning."

"Go first," he says, leaning over another set of schematics, hand pushed into his hair in frustration, a deep frown marring his face. "I'll join you once I finish this." His voice is distant, distracted, as if he's just spitting out preset lines in his head.

You've been saying that for hours now, you want to tell him. It's hard not to feel a little neglected when your boyfriend refuses to look at you for hours at a time— when he continues to run himself ragged despite all your best efforts at trying to make sure he doesn't break himself in his pursuit of perfection.

When Kaveh sighs once more, slamming his hands on his desk in frustration and groaning so loudly you're sure Alhaitham is cursing him out from his room, you slip out from under the sheets and walk over to him.

"Kaveh," you say again, a hand on his shoulder.

"What," he snaps at you before he can help it, teeth bared. When he sees how you flinch, hand threatening to pull away, he quickly looks down, staring at the sheets of paper with shame and regret. "I'm sorry," he says in a quiet voice, head hung and hands trembling. The fight and frustration drains out of his body, leaving him tired. Tired and feeling terrible.

You sigh— you don't blame him for the outburst. Archons knows he's been on the receiving side for a few of your own bad moods. That's just how some days can be, being graduates of the akademia. Gently you take hold of his cheek and guide him to look up at you, and when his eyes hesitantly meet yours, you smile a little sleepily.

"I forgive you," you say, giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead, moving down to his nose, and then ending on his lips. You can feel just the slightest curve of his smile as you kiss softly, feel the way his shoulders relax just a bit under your care.

"Come on. You need rest," you tell him, gently tugging him to his feet and leading him to the soft, warm bed. This time, he does not protest.

⠀「 ALHAITHAM 」

With him, it's a little difficult to randomly kiss him, because he's very rarely caught off guard.

He intercepts a lot of your attempts!

Whether it be side-stepping you to make you gasp in affront, or stealing your thunder and kissing you before you can kiss him— needless to say it's a challenge.

Good thing you always rise to challenges.

From the moment you enter the living room and perch yourself on the couch beside him, Alhaitham is squinting at you in suspicion. You just grin, not dissuaded by the sharp look in his eye.

"You're planning something," he say, snapping his book close.

You gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. "Who, me? Bold statement, mister grand sage."

"Acting grand sage. Non-permanent."

"Same thing," you dismiss with a wave of your hand. His stare only narrows further. "Now! I need to you do something for me, dearest love of mine. Give me your hands, would you?"

And although his nose wrinkles at the cheesy nickname, he complies, albeit a little hesitantly. One of the perks of him being your boyfriend, you suppose— lessened questions about any shenanigans you might pull.

When you're securely gripping his hands, weaving your fingers together and ensuring that he can't pull away (his brow furrows when he tries. He's getting more suspicious about what you're about to pull) you grin.

"Okay. Now close your eyes."

"I'd rather not," Alhaitham shuts you down immediately, and you frown.

"Please?"

"Tell me why, first."

"Just—! I pinky promise you'll like it. I super swear that you'll like it!"

And eventually he relents, eyes falling shut. You cheer internally, and before he can change his mind, you swoop forward to give him a kiss. The surprise of it catches him off-guard for once, and his hands clench yours, but just as you'd expected he doesn't try to pull away— if anything, he pushes back into the press of your lips, kissing you even harder than you kissed him.

When you separate, your face feels warm and your palms are undoubtedly sweaty, but he hasn't let you go for a second. Alhaitham swallows down a gulp of air, chest heaving just a little, and you feel the bubble of victory in your chest. "See? I told you you'd like it."

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #Wriothesley x reader #Neuvillette x reader #Lyney x reader #Kaveh x reader #Alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #Wriothesley #Neuvillette #Lyney #Kaveh #Alhaitham #genshin impact

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madschiavelique · 9 days ago

Text

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 11 - The Empress

summary : Eris comes over to spend the holidays with you, and drags jayce and viktor in tarot readings. Some bad news linger in the air, but nez beginnings are blooming.

content warnings : lots of dialogue. like a lot. and an enourmous amount of tarot yapping, some angst, and some fluff to close it all

word count : 12,4k

author's note : i hate having like zero perception of my own writing ARGH i hope this is good. gosh this is so long. but hey first writing post of 2025 yey!!!

NOT proofread for now

masterlist : here

Piltover under the snow had a profoundly different atmosphere to its usual gilt. The domes and roofs covered in thick snow gave the impression that all the clouds in the sky had fallen on the town, covering it in a smooth white mantle. It seemed silent, as if frozen in time.

As you emerged from the dormitory building, wrapped in your scarf up to your nose, you were greeted by the incessant waltz of snowflakes falling from the sky, tumbling like white feathers like all the angels in the skies had removed their leaves like the trees, simply guided by the wind towards an unknown destination. But it didn't matter, they were flying, simply free.

Your boots crunched in the snow as you set off towards the bridge to find Eris. The day had come for you to pick her up, and as agreed you were going to meet her at the usual bridge linking the two cities.

The town was all decked out with garlands and lights criss-crossing from buildings to buildings, apparently firmly preventing any colour other than gold from running through its streets. The carcasses of trees stripped of their foliage were lit up again, the majority of passers-by had their gloved hands around a cup of hot chocolate, and children were running after each other with snowballs in their hands ready to fire at their friends.

Still, there were fewer people than usual, the majority staying at home in the comfort and warmth of a well-insulated fireplace. You didn't need to wonder what it was like in Zaun, you had spent enough winters there that you didn't miss it.

The lack of heat in the promenade level wasn't too bad, although it would have been useful to have good chimneys or radiators that didn't break every other day. Some of the holes in the roofs led to leaks, but despite a few power cuts, it was possible to live normally.

Surprisingly, the sump level was the least worst. The constant heat from the machines brought a little warmth back to the bowels of the city, and this time the most hard-pressed workers found themselves in a new level of comfort.

As for the entresol level, it was a terrible in-between. Too far away from the big energy machines, and receiving the freezing snows in certain crevices falling from the top, the entresol level was poorly housed, at least in your memories. Who knows, perhaps public heaters filled with flammable resources had been introduced to prevent anyone from being absent from the streets.

When you reached the bridge, it was almost deserted, apart from the unfortunate enforcers chosen on this day to ensure customs and passage between each town. With your hands shoved into your pockets, you waited for your friend to appear in the distance.

It was always preferable for you to be present and to set up a meeting point like this, just in case the enforcers wanted to cause problems for nothing when looking for papers and for you to confirm that she was with you.

Sky would no doubt have liked to come and meet your friend. You had already spoken to her about your soul sister, and she would have greatly appreciated seeing her. But Sky was already on the other side, spending her holidays with her family on the Promenade level. You hoped she wouldn't have any problems, no leaks, no power cuts.

At last you saw your friend's face, wearing a cap almost as black as her hair, as she made her way painfully towards the enforcers. Mechanically, she took out her papers, her fingertips peeking out of her mittens as she passed them to the officer before quickly stuffing them back into her pocket to keep out the cold. She exchanged an annoyed glance with you as the man made sure everything was in order, earning you a chuckle as she puffed out her cheeks before sighing heavily. He finally handed her her papers, and she gave him a polite but cold smile before moving towards you.

"It's like they take their time on purpose," she breathed, before taking you in her arms.

You hugged her back, despite the thickness of the coats that separated you with difficulty. "You're too pretty for the Piltover standards, they have to double-check if you're real."

With a tired laugh, she backed away from you, squeezing your shoulders and examining you for a moment. "Have you been doing something to your skin or is it just the perfect air of the city that does that?"

You brought your gloved hands to your cheeks, not really having changed your routine. "I'll have to look at what was in that champagne they served at the masquerade."

She raised her eyebrows, then frowned. "Masquerade?"

"Let's walk home," you said as you started to move forward, "I'll tell you one the way."

"You seem to be having a whole lot of fun without me around, young lady. I envy you," sighed Eris. "I don't get many highlights in my days."

"Am I not the highlight of your day?’"

"As long as we aren't in a warm place, you're not."

"Ouch!" you say falsely offended, bringing your hand to your chest. "This vexes me."

"I'm sure you'll overcome this affront." She pressed her shoulder against yours. "Tell me about what I missed. Since when do you go to masquerades?"

You sighed, a wisp of steam rising into the sky as you finally reached the end of the bridge. "After the exams, our dear Jayce Talis asked us to come with him to a masquerade because he was terrified of it."

"Us? Did Sky come with you?" Eris repeated, arching an eyebrow.

You shook your head, as if it was really ridiculous. "If only it had been Sky," you turned to her. "The Emperor himself has honoured us with his presence."

"Are things always this thorny with him?" She questioned.

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"You? Not knowing? That's a first," Eris chuckled.

"It's just... I don't know." You sighed, taking a turn with Eris. "There's change everywhere and I still have to get used to it, change in my relationships, in my mind." You let your shoulders drop. "Maybe I also need a change of scenery."

"Buy a plant." sighed Eris at the sight of the stairs you were about to climb.

"Won't be needed," you sneered. "Turns out we're going to Demacia once the holidays are over, apparently."

"Demacia?" Eris exclaimed, "I'll need to make you a list of things to bring me back."

"Do I need to take a second suitcase if I'm going to bring everything back?" You asked.

"You'll need to pack a second suitcase so I can sneak in and come with you."

"How should I explain this to security?"

She shrugged, pressing her lips forward in a pout. "They'll just pass me off as a national treasure."

You chuckled, Eris smiling back before resuming.

"But weren't your exams supposed to be after the holidays?"

"That's the thing, I've already taken them."

She looked at you deeply confused.

"I know," you confirmed by the look on her face, "had a near death experience. Overworked myself."

"Nobody's surprised so far," Eris confirmed.

"Underslept," you went on.

"As always."

"Under ate."

Eris turned to you. "This is actually starting to border on dangerous."

"So I ended up very ill, passed out and spent a feverish night during which..."

You thought back to that morning, remembering the sunlight streaming through Viktor's hair, his fingers resting on your forehead before returning to his temple, his insistence that you get some rest.

"Which?" asked Eris awaiting the end of your sentence.

You swallowed, sniffling as your nose began to get damp from the cold. "During which Viktor stayed by my side to make sure I was okay."

She arched an eyebrow, a naughty little smile playing on her lips.

"And..." she said, her tone a little playful as you sensed what she was about to say, "are you sure the dislike is mutual?"

You sighed almost brutally. "Not you too."

"Who else theorises my way?"

"Who else but Selene?"

"Ah, the wisest woman alive," she exhaled. "Is he here during the holidays, Vik-tor?"

She deliberately lengthened the pronunciation of his name, making you roll your eyes. "Apparently, yes. Jayce and him are staying over in their apartment."

"Great, sounds like plan for us to meet them."

"You want to meet the number one cause that got me to almost shake hands with death?"

"He is also the number one cause that pulled you out of this situation which I suppose you got yourself into all on your own." She had a point, and you half-closed your mouth, but she just took the wind out of your sails. "Your clit has millions of nerve endings but it's still less sensitive than your ego."

Shocked by the stupidity of her sentence, you laughed nervously, her joining you in a fit of laughter.

"I'll know what to write in my presentation on Zaun's slang."

"I hope you'll give me proper credit."

"Of course I do. I just hope the teacher marking us doesn't put ‘verbal drip’ in the margin. I'd risk 15 years of psychotherapy just to be able to cherish the hope of recovering from that."

"The famous paper you're sharing with the charming Viktor."

"You call him charming when you haven't even seen him."

"What, isn't he charming?"

You thought back to the masquerade, his dark hair with strands falling lightly over his mask, his amber eyes highlighted with kohl piercing you as he sketched a smile that raised the mole on his cheek.

"I suppose by most standards he's not bad."

"Not bad. I suppose I'll see for myself."

"I will use your vocal cords as floss," you breathed once more as you continued on your way.

"Use one of Talis' hair instead, I'm sure it'll be cleaner than anything from Zaun."

"Leave Jayce out of this, poor guy has had enough of our constant bickering with Viktor for his entire life."

"You're already acting like an old couple," quipped Eris.

"I wish you the mumps," you grumbled, "but speaking of couples, Jayce is apparently dating none other than Mel Medarda."

She turned to you. "The counsellor?" She asked in confirmation.

"Yup, met her at the masquerade."

"How is she? Apart from breathtakingly gorgeous and perfect?" Questioned Eris.

"I don't like saying bad things about people, but she's actually nice," you replied.

"Hmm," she hummed. "Did you know that If given access to it, butterflies will happily drink blood?"

You turned to her, the change in conversation seeming strange. "Really."

"Yes," she continued, "they won't bite or harm other creatures to get it though. They are solely taking advantage of whatever foods are available in their environment. So most of those up above aren't too far off. Their beauty and supposed simplicity isn't everything, especially in a world as gilded and polished as Piltover's." Her eyes went to the golden tower of the council. "Do you think she's a butterfly?"

You now understood her reasoning. Sometimes you didn't always understand what she was trying to get across, unpredictable as she was. "I don't think she's much of a butterfly, I see her more like a dove in a golden cage."

"I don't have the material to be one of these birds, but if I was a bird..." began Eris, and you felt a déjà vu of conversation emerge following the end of your masquerade evening.

"What, you wish you could fly?"

"I know who I'd shit on."

You huffed. "Got a target in mind?"

"Not for now, but I guess you got yours?" She kept teasing you, and you knew you'd never get to the bottom of it.

"Apparently not any more, we're currently on a truce."

"A truce," she nodded once, dramatically.

"What does it consist of?"

"Fewer problems, more help, more opportunities, and..." you thought for a moment about Viktor's coat still lying in your dressing room, "less cold."

"Less cold?" She repeated.

"Mhm," you hummed as you finally reached the dormitory area.

"I think I'm going to like this Viktor," she confirmed.

"What, are you going to fall for his charms?"

"I'll leave this task to you, dearest trouble."

Eris had put her things in the bedroom, occupying Sky's bed, which would be free until the last weekend of the holidays. She knew the flat. During the times you'd had it to yourself when you weren't sharing it with anyone, she'd come and sleep there whenever she had the chance.

You couldn't count the number of times you'd both laughed there, the stupid things you'd done, or the number of heart-to-heart chats you'd had at three in the morning.

Despite Eris's many complaints, you took her to see Emmeline, who took her in her arms and, like a distant relative who talks about having changed our nappies when we were babies, kept telling her that she had changed.

With a few sweets offered, you returned to the dormitories, enjoying them while chatting about everything and anything. Her eyes inevitably fell on your tarot cards.

"Did you draw one every day?" She asked, stuffing another marzipan sweet into her mouth.

You swallowed your own mouthful, sucking the excess sugar off your fingers. "Apart from the few days I was too busy to study to do so, yeah."

She grabbed another sweet. "Did you do your reading this morning?"

"I thought that with you here we could get a better and proper reading, to see what I learned?"

"Oh you're a master of the art now?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

She wiped her fingers in a final gesture. "Let's go into the hall by the fireplace. Not that I don't like the flat, but being by a nice fire in a big armchair is much nicer."

And so, taking with you your own card deck, you headed down the hall.

Most of the students had left to return to their families, leaving the building virtually deserted for your own delight. All the armchairs and sofas were free, and it was only natural that you should sit down on the two sofas facing each other by the fire.

Eris placed the box and the small booklet of your deck on the varnished wooden coffee table separating the both of you, keeping the cards in her bare fingers covered with a few tattoos along their length. They weren't her only tattoos, of course. She had a few on her arms, ink under the skin being almost unavoidable in Zaun. They were covered, though, by the long sleeves of the jumper you'd lent her when she arrived.

It felt good to abandon the academy uniform for a moment and dress without restraint. Oversized shirts, oversized hoodies and oversized pants were the watchwords for your holiday clothes, in contrast to the Academy vest that clung to your body all the time.

"A general reading?" She questioned, kocking on the back and front of the deck.

"I guess," you breathed as you leaned over, elbow on your knees, "I just hope I don't end up with another tower again."

"Wasn't it for the best though?"

You thought back over the last few months, the constant torment hadn't been pleasant at all, but the achievements you'd made were undoubtedly a real step forward.

"Yeah," you half admitted.

Eris huffed, knowing full well that you wouldn't fully concede this fact even if it were scientifically proven. In a perfect, expert gesture, she spread out the line of cards.

"Just three cards right?"

"Just three cards, for now at least."

Just like two months ago, you repeated your gestures, letting your hand float over the cards like a storm cloud looking for the highest point to strike with its thunderbolt. Once the three cards had been drawn, Eris folded the clean cards back into a perfectly straight deck.

"Let's see what we're working with."

She turned over the first card. Four of Swords. The card was covered in grey, a surprise considering the rest of her deck's twins always sported a variety of colours.

"Good start." commented Eris before moving on to the second card.

Two of Wands, a man in a carmine cloak, was looking into the distance.

"Adds up," she confirmed before finally reaching the last card.

The Lovers.

Your eyes met Eris's, pressing her lips and eyes hard as she tried to stop herself from laughing.

"Whatever you're about to say, don't," you decided.

She had to take a deep breath to refocus and stop herself from giggling.

"I'm not the one who pulled the cards," she almost coughed as she grabbed the deck and looked at the shadow card. "Interesting."

"How interesting?"

She turned the deck towards you. "Interesting."

The Empress reigned under it.

You swallowed, thinking back to the Emperor card drawn for Viktor, your eyes drifting inevitably to the lovers card.

"Much more positive than our last draw, if I may say so."

You say nothing, simply sighing as you place one of your hands in the palm of the other. "Just start it."

She cleared her throat, putting the deck down again and letting the Empress reign over the top of the deck. She picked up the Four of Swords card.

"That's pretty much in line with what's been going on lately, and by that I mean relaxing."

"So I'm just... resting?"

"Not just resting, you're resting like a hero. Not everyone has their recumbent in a church. I take it the exams went well all things considered?"

"First place," you replied.

She pressed her lips into an inverted smile and shook her head. "So mediocre, I expected better than you."

You smiled at her sarcasm, you missed her teasing.

"In any case, you left a part of yourself there that was no longer useful, because to have a recumbent on your grave you have to be dead."

You thought back to the death card you'd drawn and Sky had read to you. The reaper had done his work so that with his sickle the weeds were cut down and new healthy plants grew there.

"In the stained glass window," she continued, "you can see two figures, one kneeling before the other. It's easy to see from this card that, through stability, it's peace that we're looking for - especially after experiencing pain - as opposed to the anguish of not being sure, of not even knowing if tomorrow there won't have been something that will have made us see everything differently."

The champagne hadn't betrayed you by making you agree to things you would otherwise have thought you'd never have said yes to.

"It was a situation of stagnation that you cut out," Eris pointed out, "values inculcated by parents or other authority figures that you had no use in following any longer, that you took on yourself without questioning them."

"So basically I was stupid?"

"Why are you saying this in the past tense?"

You giggled, "Shut up."

She smiled, continuing her explanation. "It was mostly a refusal to reconsider things; resentment or refusal to give a second chance. You stayed in that place that didn't suit you because you were already there, it was something you knew and there's nothing more reassuring than things you know - even if they hurt you." She reassured following your question. "It's a card that represents retirement, isolation, sleep and illness. An excellent moment of respite during which you can contemplate the past, learn from it and make peace with what you've been through."

‘’Right, enough about my past.‘’ You sighed, realising that the cards were obviously well aware of what had happened. "What about my future?"

"You're skipping a step here," she said as she put the card back down, taking the Two of Wands, "because before your future, there's your present."

"It's just a transition between past and future, present doesn't exist, there are only 2 times."

"There are four times," Eris pointed out. "Past," her fingers pointed at the Four of Swords as if she had a pistol, "present," she pressed them against the Two of Wands, "future," her fingers reached for the title of the Lovers, and just as you thought she'd be pointing at the Empress, she pointed one hand at the it while the other aimed her fingers at you, "and forever. It's a time too often forgotten since it's the only time we live entirely, but it truly exists."

You sighed, nodding at her lesson as she picked up the Two of Wands card.

"After the four, whose monotonous stability has taken us out of repetitive circles, the two is an encounter, but not just any encounter."

"Am I going to meet someone again?" You huffed, the prospect not thrilling you any more than that.

"Not necessarily. As you probably know from the tarot's classification of colours, the wands represent desire, the swords rule the realm of the mind, the cups are the emotions, and since there's nothing left in us after those three, what's left is the material, which is governed by the pentacles. What can desire encounter? Nothing but the world, against which it will have to measure itself if it wants to achieve."

"So I'm going to conquer Demacia, am I?" You leaned back, looking at the card. "That's still in the future, not the present."

"That's because Meeting plus Desire equals evaluation. You're evaluating in the present what's going to happen."

You understood the intriguing twists and turns of the multi-card tarot reading more and more. It was completely different from the simple one-card readings you used to do for yourself.

"The first thing desire does as it develops is confront reality." She brought both hands towards her, all her fingers together as she pointed at her shoulders. "I have my desire, I realise there's the world, so I wonder how I'm going to combine the two. It's evaluation time."

It was when Eris was working on the cards that you realised just how professional and educational she was. She was patient in spite of your useless remarks and knotted the lines of the cards together to make a clear and precise explanation.

"Behind the battlements," she continued, pointing to the symbols, "the man dominates the landscape: planning requires height and perspective. The globe in his hand," she pointed to the drawings one by one, "reminds us that the world belongs to him if he manages to combine his desire with reality. The village facing the ocean gives the idea of openness; the strategy in place allows us to open up our horizons. The blooming blasin that appears in the niche recalls the roses and lilies of the fool. Where the latter is in the thick of the action, the man on the Two of Wands is still observing. But in both cases, it's the same thing - which is it?"

You looked at the card, going over what Eris had explained to you. "Apply your will to the world."

She snapped her finger, pointing it at you. "Exactly. The whole point of these cards is that," she took the two cards in each of her hands to show them to you so that they faced each other, "where we've abandoned patterns that no longer interest us and that we followed blindly with the Four of Swords, the Two of Wands reminds us that now that a new world is open to us, it would be a good idea to evaluate it before you can forge your true will and apply it to the world around you."

She put the cards back down straight as she crossed her legs. "It's the evaluation of a project, a partner, an opportunity - gathering information, studying feasibility, a skills assessment or whatever to observe and ask ourselves if it's really what we want, and if it really corresponds to the expression of the need."

"Do the cards tell you all that?"

"I'm the card whisperer, haven't you confirmed that?" She designated her body, sweeping the air from her shoulders to her thigh.

"You do your readings to all your customers like this?"

"You're a very special client, I have to adapt to my audience," she said as she straightened, her eyes returning to the card. "It's also all about planning and preparing for a big trip, I hope Demacia will have a stoic enough stomach to digest you. In any case, you're asking yourself a lot of questions. Is it really what I want? Is it really possible to get what I want, given the circumstances and the means at my disposal?"

Were you ready to accept Viktor as a friend in your life? The last few months had worn you down so much that you were sincerely wondering how things were going to go. Would it be the same bickering every day? Would it be different? You still didn't know where you stood on the question, the map was right.

"Now," she rubbed her hands excitedly, "the future." She took the card in her hand, raising it to your eyes. "What do you see?"

You bent down, looking at the illustration. An angel filling the sky, a crown of leaves encircling its head, its carmine wings reaching down to a woman on the left and a man on the right, both naked. Your eyes returned to Eris', a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Please don't tell me it's about me and Viktor getting naked." You asked, your tone almost plaintive and asking for pity. Why did it always have to be about him?

She stretched her lips. "I'm not saying you and Viktor are going to get naked, but I definitely wanted to hear you say it."

You rolled your eyes, resting your chin on your palm.

"The lovers' card isn't necessarily to be taken literally, I thought with your immense sense of deduction you'd have come to that conclusion." She turned the card towards her. "The Lovers card is a card of choice. In the Original Tarot, it represents a, arrowed angel over a man hesitating between two women, one young and seductive and the other older and rather severe. It sometimes shows the crossroads between vice and virtue, with the idea that one should obviously choose virtue." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Only, if you had to have virtue, it would be by discipline, so the Cupid on the old card would have no place there. The Tarot should help to better understand who we are; therefore, the card of choice should teach me how to make the right choice for myself, not for moral teachers."

She turned the card back to you. "The central character in the old cards hesitates because he has as many reasons to go one way as the other. It's easy to imagine that the older woman is wiser than the younger one, but the younger one is kinder than the older one..." she swung the card between her fingers like a pendulum. "But the older one is more experienced... and so on. So the message is clear: when it comes to making the right choice for me, reason isn't going to help me. Choosing your career on purely objective criteria is the best way to make yourself unhappy, because it's choosing what anyone should do, when you're not just anyone."

She held the card out to you like a mirror, the varnish on the thick glazed paper gleaming in the firelight.

"How do I make the right choice for me?" You asked, your eyes moving from the card to find hers.

“By turning to the only thing at your disposal that isn't commonplace, your sensibility.” She smiled. "When it comes to the choices that matter, reason can only lose us. So you have an essential tool for the journey ahead of you," she says, her free fingers resting on the Two of Wands. "To make the right choice, your reason knows it's useless on its own, so it turns to your sensibility, because it's connected to something higher, something that's never wrong."

Your eyes drifted over the silhouette of the man and woman.

"This is the path to harmony. We mustn't forget that it's just as valuable as the path to glory, although we're only bombarded with examples of the latter, because to be known, you have to surpass the others."

Your first place seemed more bitter than the sweetness it had brought you when you learned of your victory. Your cheeks warmed as you thought of all the comments your little family Eris and Selene made had suggested.

"And the lovers' card has no sentimental connection?"

She offered you a benevolent smile. "It's the card of love as the most obvious cry of affection. The card of mutual attraction, of the sentimental relationship, of the soul mate - becoming one. A balanced love relationship where one matchs the other, where the partners are complementary and in tune with each other as opposed to love at first sight which can leave us in shock like a certain arcane number sixteen you know all too well, burning sexuality like that of the wands and their insatiable desire, or illusory relationships."

The man and woman on the lovers' card weren't necessarily just opposites, they were mirrors of each other.

"It's a bit scary," you admitted.

"The veracity of the cards?"

"That, and..." you pointed quickly at the card, "them."

"Love is either sought after as the solution to all problems, or shunned like the plague. It's neither. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Yeah well," you sighed, "can't help but be scared of something I never experienced."

You hadn't really had time to dwell on love affairs, so much so that until today you didn't have a single ex to your name. You had been so determined to achieve academic perfection that you had pushed any potential distraction out of your way. And now, with the possibility of a breakthrough on the horizon, you were terrified.

If love struck, would you be able to fight back?

"Let's not close any doors to the future," pointed Eris, laying down the lovers' card, “especially with a card like the one we have for the globality of this reading.”

She picked up the Empress card, presenting it to you again as if you were the artist's inspiration for this illustration.

"The Empress is the card of creation and fertility."

You recoiled slightly in surprise. "Please don't tell me that by some misfortune I'm going to get pregnant."

"It's not necessarily fertility in the literal sense, although that's part of it in certain specific cases," she cackled as her attention returned to the card. "It's the card of generation from within yourself. You have to have depth if you want to create, because to create is to bring something out of yourself. If the creative process is so mysterious, it's because it takes place in our deepest recesses. She is depicted in a sensual pose, creation being a matter of love and pleasure, as much in the flesh as in the intellect, because ideas germinate in the mind that conceives them."

You looked at the cards again, frowning.

"I see you're beginning to understand."

"So," you tried to summarise, "taking a step back from the situation and creating my own convictions is going to lead me to... fuck my way up to the top?"

Eris bobbed her head like one of those spring-loaded dolls, rolling her eyes at the sky. "Among other things." She put the card down, pointing as she had before at each symbol. "Three is a creation number, given that if you put 1+1 and turn off the light, it's through their power of generation, sexual, that they will become 3 by creating a child." She moved her finger. "The ball-shaped sceptre represents the total domination of the Empress of the Earth. Her crown extends her reign over the entire cycle of the year. The stars are six-pointed, the triangle forwards and backwards: her power is both material, nature, and spiritual, intelligence," she explained, her hands weighing the words our like a balance.

Your eyes drifted back to the Two of Wands, resting on the globe that man held.

"The eagle on the shield of the Original Tarot represents intelligence; this bird flies high and has a piercing gaze. However, its wing is still in its infancy. Its creativity has no other purpose than itself, so it can fly off in all directions without producing anything usable. The Emperor's eagle, on the other hand, will be complete because it will have added what the Empress lacks in order to master the whole process of the material world."

She exchanged a look with you. "She represents the creation of harmony from disordered elements so that the matter develops freely, like building a system or a plan. It's also femininity in full bloom, sensual, self-confident, seductive," she winked at you in an exaggerated way that made you smile. "It's about building a relationship with for mutual development, but not only that." She moistened her lips. "It's what you create out of yourself, the protector, the one who cares, who develops, who accompanies. The one who helps a company, a group or a project to grow."

She straightened up after this listing. "Something is born, brought into being, cultivated or made to believe: a vocation, possibilities. It's Abundance, and being ready to share its wealth with others, out of pleasure and love." She turned her eyes for a moment to the fire in the fireplace. "A simple ‘want’ is not enough to move the fixtures that business creation requires, nor is a desire rooted in selfishness or hatred, like doing something only to break someone else."

She described a loose, descriptive movement over the cards with her arm. "So the Empress represents the power of generation, naked creativity, cool. But there's something missing," she smiled, "someone who's very creative can give birth to a whole bunch of great ideas... without ever achieving anything, because they go off in all directions." She turned to the deck and the card the Empress was covering. "You need structure and discipline for that."

She grabbed the card, bringing it close to the Empress's, and your lips parted in shock.

“The Emperor will bring them both to us.”

The Emperor's card was there, its presence unchanged, its meaning weighing on your warming heart. She placed the last two cards on the table with an air of satisfaction. You looked at the deck for a moment, the cards interlocking. You took the Empress's card in your hand, hovering over every detail of ink and colour on it.

Was it really you? This charismatic, strong-willed being? Could you really become this, this abundant being?

"Wow," you breathed, setting the card down on the table as Eris picked up her sisters to put them away again and you slumped back on the sofa. "That's something."

"Yup," Eris confirmed.

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment as your eyes drifted towards the fire, thinking about the huge bag of information and truths that Eris had just dumped on your thoughts and that you were probably going to be thinking about for a very long time. And yet one name kept lingering in your mind.

"Say," you asked, your eyes returning to her, "why do you all think that Viktor and I could be... something?"

She giggled, leaving the deck on the table before resting her elbow on the arm of the sofa and resting her cheek on her fist. "You're asking me that as my first question after this reading?"

You sighed, your knee jerking repeatedly as you lowered your eyes to the floor. "Just... answer the question."

She knew there were certain limits to bickering. "Well," she began, "from what I've been hearing from you, you truly respect him, as in the name at the top of your 'list of respect'. He practically saved your life when you were fighting against your own stubbornness, and..." she seemed to search for words for a moment. "I get the impression that he's the person you make the most effort to be accepted by in your entourage."

"And... on a deeper level?"

"On a deeper level, in my humble opinion as the heart sister and friend you've known the longest in your life, I get the impression that, subconsciously, you're seeking his approval. Because now that he's given you a taste of what it was like to lose on your own ground and made you realise how much it was destroying you, you're grateful to him even if you refuse to admit it, to others and to yourself." She watched you for a moment, circling you under her skilful, sharp gaze. "I think he's the first one who's reached your level, and managed to keep up with you without ever tiring, always trying to bring out the parts of you that you don't show to others. And that scares you," she shook her head, "but I honestly think the fact that he's come into your life is the best thing that's happened to you in a long time."

That's what you liked about Eris, her honesty. She didn't care about hurting people's feelings or exposing them raw to the eyes of all, time was too short for pointless little lies, and she realised the truth of that very early on.

And you weren't offended, but you felt stripped bare by her words. That was probably what frightened you, finding yourself and the truth shining through for everyone to see. That was probably why the lovers were undressed. They saw each other stripped of all lies, hearts open as they created harmony.

Only two people knew you completely, the two members of your family. But that you could find someone who wasn't part of this circle and who saw all these things in you and accepted them no matter what, to lead you towards the best? It was new, and there's nothing more terrifying than the new. But surely, that was the lesson of the cards.

Yet your train of thought was interrupted when two figures you recognised all too well entered the hall.

"I think " you croaked, Eris following your gaze and turning towards them.

Jayce and Viktor, in casual clothes, were approaching you.

Eris turned back to you, shocked and shaking her head. "Is that what you call not bad?!" she almost shouted in her whisper.

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your hands. "I said by most standards!"

"I'm going to end up having heart attacks if your judgement's this poor."

"Hey there!" called Jayce as he approached. "Didn't think I'd find you here."

He wore a charming smile, dressed in a chunky cream hoodie and brown jogging bottoms. You'd already described to Eris what Jayce looked like, bringing back one of the class photos from your year so she could really see him.

Viktor, on the other hand, was wearing a brown turtleneck covered by a black cardigan, as were his wide pleated plaid trousers. He was frowning, his eyes shifting from you to Eris in confusion.

Eris turned to you, waiting for you to make the introductions.

"Jayce, Viktor," you pointed at Eris, "this is Eris. My sister."

"Pleased to meet you, Jayce," the latter smiled, extending his hand to shake hers as Eris stood up.

"Eris," she replied as Jayce gave way to his sidekick.

"Viktor," he said, squeezing her hand.

"I know," Eris smiled proudly as she turned her gaze back to you, "I've heard a lot about you."

You pressed your tongue lightly against the inside of your mouth as you laughed tiredly. Of course, now that he was here, she was going to be as playful as could be.

"Really?" Said Viktor, surprised as he turned to you.

"Absolutely," Eris replied.

"You never mentioned Eris was your sister," Jayce remarked.

"Best friend, sister, it's the same thing to me," you ranswered simply.

"Is that a Tarot deck I see here?" remarked Viktor.

Jayce riveted his eyes on the object. "You guys were playing?" he asked curiously.

"Eris was giving me a reading for the times ahead and other advice," you corrected.

"I'm a professional reader," she confirmed, "that's my job."

"How does that work?" asked Jayce, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of discovering something new.

"I can do a reading for you if it's okay with your schedule?" she suggested.

"Oh, we're just here to read and chat by the fire, nothing will be disturbed." Viktor assured her, resting his eyes on yours.

"All right then, let's go," she said, grabbing the deck.

Without missing a beat, Jayce took his place on the sofa where Eris was sitting. Viktor exchanged a glance with you, and you shrugged your shoulders and pointed to the seat next to you. Eris's words echoed as the leather slumped not far from you and Viktor placed his cane against the table.

"Alright, let me explain," began Eris as she rolled up her sleeves to reveal her tattoos.

Jayce seemed blown away by them, and you could feel his lips burning with the famous ‘did these hurt?’ which he never dared to say.

"I'm going to shuffle the cards so they're well mixed, then I'm going to...’’

But the conversation slowly faded into the background when Viktor spoke to you.

"I didn't think you'd dress like this on the daily," his voice was low, obviously not wishing to disturb the explanation to Jayce who seemed far too excited for this activity.

"What, you thought I slept in my uniform or something?" you questioned back.

He shrugged. "A bit."

You couldn't help but crack a smile before redirecting your gaze to Eris, looking at you both with a knowing glance.

Your smile faded as you straightened up, curious to see what Jayce would come up with.

"So all I have to do is take three cards?" He asked again.

"Yes," confirmed Eris.

"And can I show them or not?"

"Jayce, it's not a magic trick," informed Viktor.

Jayce turned to you, apparently waiting for your opinion too.

"Just pick three cards Jayce, the ones that call to you the most," you replied, resting your cheek on your fist.

"How do I know if they're calling me?" He questioned.

Viktor was already bringing his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as Eris explained again. "Just take the cards you wish to take."

He straightened. "There are no traps are there?"

You and Viktor sighed in unison as you just urged him to take his damned cards.

"Alright alright fine," sighed the latter, raising his hands in the air, "left hand, right?" He asked to Eris.

"Yes," confirmed the witch.

"Right, off I go."

You exchanged glances with Viktor, both of you rolling your eyes as Jayce finally picked up his first card.

"Where do you want me to put it?"

"Anywhere," laughed Eris. "Jayce, you can't make any mistakes with tarot, you know that, right?"

‘’Right,‘’ he nodded, placing the first card in front of him above the card line.

The ace of Pentacle arrived on the table.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Jayce asked immediately.

"That depends on what you draw next," laughed Eris, ‘just keep pulling.’’

Jayce then drew the eight of pentacles, immediately turning to Eris to gauge her reaction as she looked at him with eyes that said ‘you know what I'm going to say’.

He then drew his last card, the nine of cups.

"Okay," smiled Eris as she picked up the rest of the cards and gathered them into a compact pile, turning it over and smiling at Jayce.

"Is it good?" He asked, turning to you and Viktor.

"It's horrible," you breathed.

His face decomposed. "Is it?"

"No, I just said that to tease you, you've got a good game," you turned to Eris, ‘’right?"

She giggled, uncovering the sun like shadow card.

"It's splendid, my dears."

Joy returned to Jayce's face like a dog presented with a bone. Viktor propped his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers as he watched the set.

"Well," began Eris, clearing her throat, "I'm going to proceed as I usually do with my dear inexterminable microbe here and make a simple reading. One card for the past," she rested her fingers on the Ace of Pentacles, “one for the present,” on the Eight of Pentacles, “one for the future,” on the Nine of Cups, “and one card that will give the overall colour to the spread and potentially give us some advice.”

"Okay," Jayce replied, eager to hear what she had to say.

"First of all, we have the Ace of Pentacles. The Ace is used to place us in the field we're going to work in; for this one it's the material field, and this one is fraught with possibilities."

She took the card in her hand and turned to an angle where you could all see the card.

"The divine hand emerging from the clouds reminds us that the material realm, like the others, is a given; it's up to us to do something with it. A garden of lilies is traversed by an alley that passes under an arch, flowered with roses and leading to the mountains. Thought is born of matter and, in any case, you can't rise without the necessary material foundations. As for the pentacle, it's a sign of protection - upright, it's a representation of man with his head, or spirituality and consciousness, at the top and his two feet at the bottom, anchored in the earth. That's the attitude you need if you want to prosper in and with the world."

"Am I in the right inclination?" Asked Jayce.

"Absolutely," reassured Eris. "Now that we know all these elements, how can this help us? Well, the Ace of Pentacles represents a material opportunity, something to be developed in the concrete domain. It's the birth of a new interest or a new energy in the material and financial spheres. Didn't you have a career change last summer or something like that?"

‘’Yes,‘’ Jayce exclaimed, ‘’how do you know?" He turned to you. "Did you talk to her about it?"

"Talked about what?" You said with a shrug. "I'd only told her about the explosion in your flat and my concerns about your trial, that's all."

He seemed to soften at the word "concern".

"In any case," continued Eris, "the Ace of Pentacles often represents a job offer and the possibility of professional advancement. It's synonymous with a new project, and sometimes an influx of money from an unforeseen or unexpected source.’

You thought back to the few bills he had given you without any difficulty so that you could purchase a dress.

"That's incredible," he mumbled, all surprised, "don't you think Vik?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but I'm waiting to see the whole result.’

"Let's move on to the present, the Eight of Pentacles." She put down the Ace to take the next card. "We remain in the realm of the material and following the financial influx that the Ace of Pentacles was able to bring, there is the expression of the free with the eight and the lemniscate for its infinity. We have the talent, the materials, the knowledge and the ability to concentrate, so we can produce without hindrance."

Jayce seemed to be hanging on her every word, while Viktor seemed increasingly interested and methodically observant.

Eris's slender finger traced along the card. ‘The Pentacles are neatly lined up on the fully-covered beam and spill out onto the floor, and the craftsman has so many of them that he doesn't know where to put them. The bench can be seen as a representation of the skills he can rely on. The small village behind could mean that the craftsman can devote himself freely to his work because he knows that the other members of society will provide for his other needs." So she turned to Jayce. "I suppose living here in such a small flat can't be very practical for carrying out your projects, is your apartment still being refurbished?"

Jayce looked at her with wide eyes, turning to Viktor who maintained an inflexible phlegm, but you knew him well enough by now to recognise that he was intrigued by this discussion.

"How do you know that-"

"I don't know anything," smiled Eris, "I just read the cards and follow my intuition which, luckily, is rarely wrong."

"Well, that's just it," Jayce breathed, turning to you, "I got the go-ahead yesterday to move back into the flat."

You straightened. "You're moving out?"

"We're moving out," Viktor corrected.

The news, strangely enough, fell on you like a weight. Your eyes darted back and forth between Viktor and Jayce.

"When are you leaving?" you asked.

"Tomorrow morning," Jayce replied. "We finished packing up a few things today. We were going to come and see you later to tell you the news but," he smiled, "you were already here."

You turned to Viktor, who lowered his eyes. 'Just here to read and chat by the fire,' as he'd said. Why hadn't he just said they wanted to talk to you? Why did he change the subject?

You should have been relieved, to finally be rid of him on a daily basis, but you couldn't.

"What about the future?" asked Jayce as he turned back to the deck. "What's announced?"

You tried to digest the information as quickly as he had, but it was simply impossible. You forced yourself to, letting Eris resume her explanation as your heart seemed to weigh its weight down your throat.

"The Nine of Cups is pure and simple satisfaction. The Nine is the very last single-digit number, so it's an achievement. But the Nine is still an accomplishment in the weakest sense of the word, because it shows us what it's like when you see something through to the end - you don't go beyond anything, you just achieve it and that's all there is to it. For cups, it's 'filling the feeling of lack to the end, to the point of satisfaction’." She pinched the card between her two fingers, twisting it back and forth. "It's wish fulfillment, getting what you want. It's not having to ask anymore, it's one partner always there for the other no matter what, and the other counting on it."

Eris's eyes moved from Viktor to Jayce with a gentle glance.

"And the sun assures us of this with its warm presence. It brings self-confidence, the ability to assert oneself with kindness and to share happiness and the joy of life." She put the card down again, bringing the reading to a close. ‘I don't know what you're working on, but I hope it's something good for the world.’

Jayce exchanged a knowing smile with Viktor, who always returned it with mischief in his eyes.

"Well, that's really surprising!" Jayce exclaimed. "It's so right... I didn't know you could deduce all those things from cards."

"There's nothing random about arcane blades," asserted Eris. She turned to Viktor. "Would you like one too?"

He seemed taken by surprise, parting his lips and lifting his chin with his hands as his eyes moved from Jayce, to Eris, to you.

"I," he cleared his throat, "I don't know if this thing is really for me."

Viktor? Hesitating? that was definitely new.

"What," you chuckled as you turned to him, "scared the cards are going to be bad?"

"I'm not particularly fond of the idea that they could be right and doom me to think that i am doomed." Viktor explained. "What if they are bad?"

"What if they're not?" You suggested with a shrugged smile.

He considered you for a moment. "Haven't you ever regretted one of the readings Miss Eris here made for you?"

You sighed heavily. "It's sometimes painful," you returned Eris's gaze for a moment, she wore an infectious smirk that wasted no time in stretching your own lips to the side, "I have a very distinct one in mind that I deeply disliked. But..." you looked back at Viktor, "the cards were right, and for the better. Believe me."

He remained motionless for a moment, finally nodding.

"Alright," he nodded, turning to Eris who was already shuffling the cards.

She made a perfect line of cards, and Viktor moved his left hand forward to take his first card.

The Ace of Swords.

Viktor drew a second, and you frowned.

The Knight of Pentacles. Your tarot was a real player when it came to pulling out cards apparently.

"Him again," you breathed.

"What do you mean again?" questioned Eris.

"I'll explain some other time."

"And the last one?" Asked Eris as Viktor picked up another card.

Page of Cups.

Having two aces as first cards for both acolytes was interesting.

"Intriguing," admitted Eris as she collected the cards into a single deck to observe the shadow card.

Her eyes landed on you, stunned. You could feel what was about to happen.

"No," you breathed, "not him."

"Yes," confirmed Eris, "him."

Eris then held up the Emperor's card, and you brought your fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

"That bad?" Inquired Viktor, surprised.

"No, it's not bad." You laughed to yourself for a moment, turning your gaze to his. "The cards are just very playful, that's all."

Eris set the deck down on the table, the Emperor facing Viktor.

"I suppose you met this Emperor in another reading?" he suggested.

You moistened your lips, tilting your head to the side. "Not just that."

Eris laughed with her nose, catching herself as she straightened up.

"One day," you said to Viktor, "I'll explain the whys and wherefores, don't worry."

He nodded weakly, turning to Eris. He seemed a little nervous, and you were discovering this phenomenon in him. He could be tense, but nervous?

"To begin with, then, the Ace of Swords, like the Ace of Pentacles, is a possibility, a spark that hasn't yet produced anything, but which puts us in the right field. The crown indicates that intelligence is the queen faculty. The palm on the right and the laurel branch on the left are symbols of victory."

Viktor like victory, of course.

"Intelligence is the highest of our faculties, enabling us to rise to the highest heights; it is what makes us a thinking creature. As for the mountains, they represent elevation, the sometimes arid and cold summits of thought. It's a card that represents intelligence and the fact that you can count on it in any situation."

Viktor turned to you, smiling. "You'd rather have that card for yourself than for me, wouldn't you?"

You chuckled. "Maybe once, but now I'm leaving it to you."

He seemed surprised by your answer for a moment, pressing his lips together for a second as he turned back to Eris who was changing cards.

"Now it's the Knight of Pentacles' turn. He represents reliability. He's down to earth, he does what needs to be done without question. This is the card of routine. In terms of symbols, on his helmet and in the horse's ears, there are oak leaves to remind us of what is rooted, powerful and takes time. The soil has furrows in it, so it's about being rooted to the earth, about regular, long, cyclical work like farming, where you have to show stamina and well-applied physical strength.’

"My perfect picture, I am the very definition of athleticism while my colleague Jayce Talis the skinny watches me do my thing in my corner," Viktor joked as he retrieved his cane in hand.

"Don't put the blame on me," interjected Jayce, "I offered to train at least your upper body when you sometimes come with me to the forge."

Viktor rolled his eyes, waiting for the rest of what Eris had to say.

"In any case, the Knight of Pentacles is the definition of moving slowly but surely, with methods that may not be original, but are tried and tested. It's a knight slow to anger who won't take the first step without being reassured of the other's intentions. If there is to be a meeting, it must take time to develop into a solid friendship before it is possible to move on to something more."

Viktor seemed to be playing with his cane, but was listening carefully to what Eris had to say. You remembered the day you read the information on the Knight of Pentacles' card. Physical and sensual. You began to blame the fire in the fireplace for the heat that was rising in your cheeks.

"Now let's move on to our last blade, the Page of Cups." She picked up the card in question. "The Page of Cups discovers, so in the emotional frame of the Cups, he discovers an idea. We welcome new information; we examine a way of thinking or a way of relating facts, of news that affects us."

Again she began to point to the various symbols one by one as you bent to see them better.

"The little fish swimming in the cup, to which the Page gives a sympathetic ear, represents the little voice of intuition, that elusive mystery that lives in our depths and sometimes comes to speak to us. The water lily flowers on his shirt can refer to sleep and the messages of dreams, as well as to the sacred nature of sensitivity that takes root in the depths. On all the cut figures, the water represents the changing and fluid nature of emotions, as well as their depth."

She placed the card on the table. "This is the card of announcement, of wonder, of joy, of something that touches. I should point out that it's still a card that's recognised as being very romantic, but not only that. It's the card of love, but it's also the card of a new friendship, the one that makes you discover that you really care about someone."

You bit the inside of your lips, the heat spreading from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, which you covered with your hand, a ghostly memory of Viktor's breath washing over you.

"At last," Eris grasped the Emperor's card, "the card of stability and anchoring that is the Emperor represents you here."

"Me? The Emperor?" Repeated Viktor, pointing his finger at himself.

"Yes," you said under your breath.

He turned to you for a moment, and you knew full well that when he found the time to discuss it with you, he wouldn't miss the opportunity.

"The Emperor completes the Empress's teaching by introducing the idea of rule, law and structure. Discipline doesn't mean giving in to the first distraction. He is a man who teaches us to take responsibility without deviating, to defend our principles without failing, to be obedient without letting ourselves be influenced. That's where his authority comes from - this lucid examination, it's the foundation that makes us sure, and allows us to act without wavering." She then placed the card back on the deck, closing the reading.

You had a feeling that Viktor wouldn't be the only one thinking about this reading. The cards reflected each other so perfectly it was impressive.

"Any questions?" Eris asked simply as she gathered up the cards and put them back in the box.

"How long have you been practising," Jayce asked, turning to her.

"I'd say... seven years?" She said, turning to you to make sure she was right.

"And a half," you added as she handed you the box of your tarot.

"Is this yours?" Asked Viktor.

"Yes, I draw one every morning to see what the day has in store or for advice," you explained.

Viktor turned to Eris and said, "Where do you practise?"

"In one of the streets on the entresol level."

"Could I have the address?"

She seemed as surprised as you, glancing at you then back to Viktor. "An interest in spirituality?"

He exchanged a look with you. "Now yes."

After giving her shop address to Viktor, he and Jayce excused themselves and left to make sure all the boxes and other luggage were ready for the next day's departure.

You and Eris were back upstairs, you preparing the evening meal while she rushed to the shower to warm up from the absence of the fire she already missed so much.

You couldn't stop thinking about Viktor, about the changes, the ideas swarming around in your mind without ever finding respite or giving you any. You felt that the fact that he would no longer be in the building tomorrow gave you the impression that his absence would force you to think only of him.

But another subject was about to hit you, bitter, fearsome.

Eris stepped out of the shower, droplets of water beading from her hair and running down her tattooed arms. She crossed her arms seriously, pressing her shoulder against the doorframe as she crossed her leg.

"Do you remember my letter, when I mentioned there was something I needed to talk to you about?"

You stirred the forest pan over the stove, not looking away from the task as you expected mere gossip in the rising streets of Zaun. "Mhm?"

She sighed, watching you sternly.

"The child disappearances have started up again."

You froze in your tracks, the sound of the hood and the oil cooking the vegetables fading into a distant blur of sound.

You turned to Eris, almost trying to get her to repeat what she'd just said, as if she'd just resurrected an entire graveyard. "What?"

"Not just in Zaun," she continued, just as austerely, "I've had customers from Piltover. It's starting here too. It's very small and tiny as a disappearance compared to Zaun, but it's still there."

"Are you absolutely sure?" you asked, registering this information almost robotically.

She nodded. "When Renata Glasc came into my shop and I made her reader, she said his name."

You huffed, as if someone had just punched you in the stomach and expelled all the air your lungs held.

"Is the situation under hand?"

"Glasc is on it from what I know."

You huffed with difficulty. "Could you um..." you felt your throat tighten, "could you continue cooking? I'm think I need a shower.

She smiled at you, a thin, empathetic one. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," you barely managed to say before moving towards the bathroom and carefully closing the door behind you.

Silently, with hasty movements as if all your clothes were ten times too hot on your skin, you got rid of each layer at record speed and turned on the water.

Your whole body was shaking like a leaf, your breath coming fast as you passed under the hot spray. Your eyes clouded over in a blur of tears, your whole face tensing, your brow furrowing as your nose scrunched up and your lips curled. You drew a huge, rapid, jerky breath, anger and despair contorting every feature of your face until your forehead ached as your hands ran over them as if trying to erase it, to dilute it under the shower water until everything was smooth and clean and you were pure again.

Your back jolted despite the warmth of the water running down your spine, the sobs attacking you as you placed one hand on the wall to keep yourself upright while the second pressed against your mouth to prevent any sound escaping from the prison bars of your fingers.

You only gave yourself a few moments to cry before letting the salt on your cheeks be washed away by the clear water of Piltover and turning off the shower. You didn't want to abuse it, even if all the drops it could have spilled down your body would never have been enough to bring the rain that would wash away the past!

Today had been too full changes, of emotions, of movements and unpredictable things that weighed on your mind like an elephant.

When you got out of the shower, Eris had already prepared the table and served your two plates.

"You know," she said with her mouth full, raising her fork in the air, "it's a bit hard to tell how you and Viktor stand."

You were still relieved at Eris's understanding. She had seen you cry very little over the years, the habit of choosing the excuse of the shower to have a moment when your sensitivity could take over and go beyond the limit of your eyes having come early in your friendship. And when you came back, she always had a different subject to discuss to take your mind off things.

With a tired smile, you took the chair opposite her and sat down.

"What do you mean?"

She took care to chew her mouthful to the end, winding her index finger in the air to ask you to wait. "Well," she finally swallowed, "I saw you staring at each other. I just can't be certain if it was sexual tension or murderous rage."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes still stinging from your tears and wrinkling with admiration for her.

The evening continued on a variety of topics, with countless teases about Viktor, who seemed to be burning a hole in her lip.

And when you both went to bed to find respite, the walk in the cold having knocked Eris out with sleep, yours didn't come. The cards all came back into your head like emblematic figures from a distant story, a fairy tale with final lessons for little children.

You thought of the Empress and the Emperor. You thought of yourself, of Viktor.

The same warm palpitations in your heart and stomach returned as you thought of him. You brought one to the one, the second to the other, like a stethoscope trying to discern any worries or disturbances.

It was warm, sweet, it was a hope that sprang up in your soul and filled you completely.

Did the Empress have a metaphorical womb pregnant with a budding love, ready to grow?

You thought back to Eris's words.

I think he's the first one who's reached your level, and managed to keep up with you without ever tiring, always trying to bring out the parts of you that you don't show to others.

Was it the warmth that sprang up deep inside you, like a candle in the darkness of a cavern containing thousands of crystals ready to sparkle, that he brought out?

When morning came, you had given up on the idea of sleeping and sat on your windowsill to watch the sun emerge in the distance.

You had thought for so long in the silence of this room that the inside of your body was a constant echo of thoughts reverberating against the walls of your skin and every corner of your mind. The sun was the first to say hello, and you smiled at it as it caressed your cheek with its warmth.

You'd fought with it so much that it had made your cheeks red. And you wanted to catch him, to hold him close to your chest so that he could feel the warmth of your heart, so much so that the night fell away. And now that you'd got to know the moon thanks to him, you told yourself that you'd just put everything out like a poor cigarette. But we're talking about the moon, and the sun, that's not nothing.

His reality had made the wheat grow, and the truth had made men eat, but reality was coming towards you little by little with a flag, staggering.

Down below, approaching the building in the soft silence of the morning and the waking city, a van pulled up.

The day was here, and you wanted to bury it in a suitcase to let the night stay a little longer, to keep the moonlight on your skin and in the glow of your eyes.

Your gaze turned away from the truck for a moment, back to the dressing room. The coat.

In the greatest of hasty silences, you pulled on a heavy jumper, trotting on tiptoe to the dressing room to pick up the coat that still had his smell on it. You gently turned the key to the apartment, moving from the silence of the bedroom to that of the corridor bathed in half-light.

You hurried down the stairs, praying that the van hadn't left, that they hadn't left, and that you'd be able to say ‘see you soon’.

When you got downstairs, Viktor was standing in front of the entrance, just beyond the door, outside, with his back to you.

You inhaled, trying to hide your miserable gasping breath deep in your chest.

You were moving forward, feeling cold. The coat could have given you that warmth, but you didn't put it on. Your hand came to rest on the handle of the golden door, and you pushed it open despite the trembling you presumed to be due to the fatigue of a sleepless night.

Viktor turned and his eyes fell on you. His expression wasn't wide with surprise, and his eyebrows weren't furrowed, but you could feel a flicker of regret on his face that was swept away as soon as he realised it was you.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the stillness of the morning making you both feel as if the whole town would wake up at once if you spoke.

"Hey," you managed to say softly.

He gave a surprised little smile. "Hey."

You breathed in, swallowing as you tried to work out if all the ideas you'd been fed about him wanted to come back through your throat.

"So uh," you jerked your chin towards the van, "you're all set to go ?

Miserable small talk.

Viktor looked at you calmly. ‘The removal man is still inside picking up the rest of the boxes."

"Oh," you nodded, "Jayce isn't with you?"

"He's gone to the flat to settle the last few things that needed his attention."

His eyes never left you, his face a peaceful, unchanged emotion. It feels like a dream, you thought, but it's not, and that's probably the most reassuring thing about it.

You tightened your grip on the coat slightly, and finally let the breath you'd been holding expel itself from your lungs.

"You're fierce as my rival," you admitted, "but I think I prefer you better when you're not."

Viktor remained motionless for a moment, the light breeze in the air combing a few strands of his hair. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, barely rising.

"What good is a truce if we're not rivals anymore, then?" he asked.

"The truce can just turn into a deal," you suggested almost hastily, "a friends' deal."

He smiled at last, and your stomach warmed in the dead of winter.

"Friends," he repeated as if testing the taste the word had in his mouth, "I like the sound of that."

You smiled back, and relief washed over you.

He changed the grip on his cane, straightening up. "Any clauses you want to add to the truce, Miss?"

You couldn't help asking. "Why do you call me Miss all the time?"

His eyes remained serenely in yours, silently letting a moment pass.

"I can't say yet. Someday, maybe," he replied as if he'd just come back from somewhere else.

You nodded. "Alright." You straightened your back and cleared your throat before raising your eyebrows. "I just have one clause then."

"Go on," he nodded, curious.

A satisfied smirk spread across your face. "All your coffees are free if you come by the Brown Bitt, so you better come often with such an offer."

He laughed softly, his eyes dropping to his shoes for a moment before returning to yours.

"I'd be a fool to refuse such a discount."

"Well," you shrugged, "there is some kind of dignity being the first fool of the academy."

"Last time I checked," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you're the first of the Academy."

"Last time I checked with Eris, one and two together make the three of creativity." You smiled. "What did Heimerdinger say again? About us joining our forces for the presentation."

Viktor sighed, starting to recite. "There's no need to point out that you two are the sharpest elements of this class - you're well enough aware of that, as is the rest of the school certainly. None of the fellow teachers in this establishment seem to have brought to the table, however, a possibility which seems to me to be the most interesting for both of you."

"Teamwork," you both pronounced, nodding and smiling.

"You remember it so vividly," you grinned, impressed.

He nodded. "Eh, better have a sharp memory and wit to follow with Heimerdinger, if you can't race."

Your lips parted, remembering a little too well the first day we worked together. "Please tell me Jayce never heard of this."

"I recite your words to him every night before sleeping like a prayer," he sneered.

Another moment of silence passed, both your breaths billowing in the air.

"When we'll all be settled," he finally said, "come to the flat."

You clasped your hands together. "Is that a challenge?"

"No," he chuckled, "just an invitation."

‘"As long as you don't organise masquerades in Jayce's apartment every other night, I will."

"Nah," he admitted as the wrinkles in his nose crinkled for a moment, "we keep that outside our explosive apartment."

It was refreshing to be able to listen to Viktor's comments and not find annoyance in them, just laughter.

"Speaking of masquerades," you realised as you handed him his perfectly smooth coat, "I took care of it."

His leather-gloved fingers closed over the dark fabric.

"I'm sure you did," he said, his eyes moving from the fabric to yours.

Behind you, you heard the distinct sound of castors on the floor of the hall, and turned towards the man dragging a trolley with a few boxes piled on it.

"All clean," he warned as he passed you both and began to stack the boxes in the back of the vehicle.

He quickly closed the boot and climbed into the front seat next to the steering wheel.

"See you to the demacia boarding airship?" asked Viktor.

You smiled. "Don't be late."

He gave you one last smile.

"No chance."

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fanaticsnail · 11 months ago

Text

Two More Times

Masterlist Here

(Image Source:)

Word Count: 4,300+

Synopsis: A meet up with a beautiful Captain has you feeling unworthy of being by Shanks' side as his partner. Shanks does not like being ignored - he wants to showcase his pretty girl sat on his knee. He reminds you of your importance to him, while punishing you for behaving like a brat. His brat.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, p in v, afab!reader, dom!shanks x brat!reader, overstimulation, Shanks begs a little bit, Shanks is a hypocrite, prolonged eye contact, inappropriate use of mirrors, has plot I swear.

Notes: This little fic was brought to you by Aussie shenanigans write night while nursing mutual hangovers. A gift for and beta-read by @sordidmusings.

Tag List: @writingmysanity, @feral-artistry, @gingernut1314

The searing burn of a scorched gaze had been fixed on your body all night long. The feel of the attention on your back as you departed, the focus pinpointed on your face as you entered; the gaze wanting so desperately to meet with your own searching within your eyes - eyes that you refused to return the longing expression to find purchase against his rust-coloured orbs.

No illusion, nor discrepancy, had you hold any disillusion that this man - the captain of the Red-Hair Pirates, was completely smitten with you. The way he was such a gentleman for you: ordering your drinks at the tavern, ensuring you were the first to cross the threshold into a room by holding the door ajar, his body always finding itself thrust between you and harm's way. He was a captain: a man of great myth and fierce legend. His legacy will live on forever by his works and deeds alone. And he wanted you, he desired you.

He was with you.

You desired to be by his side fingertips granting warmth to one another through presence in proximity, the almost brush of your lips meeting as your eyes glazed over. Your bodies almost always found each other in one form or another, but tonight, you were yet to clasp the final link in the heavy chains binding you physically to one another.

The small, insignificant thing holding you back from committing to the bit; returning his gaze and advances, was the pang clashing harshly against your ribcage and desire rolling off your body in waves. This meeting with a potential Nakama for the Red-Hair Pirates; a captain as beautiful in appearance as she was in nature had you feeling inadequate and unworthy of harboring the affections of a man such as Shanks. He was yours, and you were his through and through - but she?

Oh, she? She was spectacular.

Instead of being Shanks’ loyal partner by his side, you engaged with your crew ensuring their drinks always remained topped up while lying idle in conversing with the new allied crew. Making polite conversation with the Nakama crew came incredibly naturally to you. You had a knack for making all those around feel special and cared for, a skillset Shanks greatly appreciated in you.

As you maneuvered your way around Lucky Roux and Lime-Juice to meet your interlaced hands at the bar top counter, those eyes you were avoiding burned you with the same intensity you had been feeling all night. Eyes you knew should hold their intense focus in the meeting with the potential Nakama captain in front of him. You flicked your hair over your shoulder, checking on your crew while sparing a fleeting glance at your redheaded captain through your peripherals.

His rust-coloured orbs sat unblinking and hyperfocused on your body; exactly where they shouldn’t be to ensure the meeting went smoothly. Regardless of how desperately you desired to saunter over to Shanks, quietly reprimand him in his ear with a small kiss on his cheekbone, and flee without another word: you held back to allow him space to discuss the intricacies of the meeting space with the foreign captain.

Shanks was incredibly upset about your absence at his side. He wanted his pretty girl to sit on his knee whispering praises and playful jests into his ear. He wanted to look up into your face, smiling his broad dopey grin as his pretty girl was on display for all to see.

Instead he sat, cradling his chin in his hand and ignoring this captain he knew he should be paying his undivided attention to. But his attention did remain divided, held completely transfixed by your surliness and the subtle swing of your hips as you leant against the bar. His every sense swelled with desire to have, hold and showcase his pretty girl in front of this captain - her own attention fleeting as she held her undivided gaze on a member of her own crew.

“Something on your mind, Red-Hair?” she asked him, watching intently as her first mate approached the bar beside you. Shanks was finally roused from his hold of contact on your back, to float to the man the captain beside him held her attention against.

“Have you ever been in love?” Shanks uttered, smiling as he elevated his tankard to his lips. The woman beside him chuckled, looking down to her own drink and swirling her index finger over the rim.

“I am in love, Captain,” she confessed, claiming her glass in her hands with her fingertips gripping the rim; her index finger gesturing to the man beside you at the bar, “My first-mate and I have been in a relationship for quite some time. He continuously thinks himself unworthy of my affection, which is completely and utterly ridiculous.”

“I completely understand,” Shanks said, his smile stretching over his lips and up to the peaks of his eyes, “My pretty girl is at the bar next to who I assume your first-mate be.” The captains both take a moment to watch their spouses ignore them, both engaging in polite conversation and clinking cups against one anothers.

“They’ve been awfully quiet while we’re in our meeting, wouldn’t you say Shanks?” her brow quirked at her question. Shanks grunted out a small ‘aye’ in response, holding his eyes once more over you as you began to sway to the music swelling from the band in the corner. After a few moments of silence, both captains began to turn their smiles up into smirks as their eyes darkened.

“A small amount of reminding them of their importance to us would be in order, do you agree?” her tone quirked at the corner alongside the elevation of her lips. Shanks huffed a laugh into the rim of his tankard, the playfulness returning to swirl with the darkness within his twinkling eyes.

“Aye, that I can agree on,” he admitted with a small nod. The foreign captain’s first-mate glanced over his shoulder and their eyes finally met. The first-mate visibly shuddered beneath the woman’s gaze, anticipation wracking through his body at the promise of what’s to come.

“It seems we have far more in common than we initially thought, Captain,” she nodded, rising to her feet and placing her empty glass on the table. “I shall see you in future, Red-Hair. May our newfound Nakama flourish.” Shanks nodded politely, watching the aura this captain seemed to hold over her crew. With a simple brush of her fingertips on the back of her first mate, his brows upturned and he obediently followed her exit through the threshold of the tavern door.

And there you were: finally alone, isolated and waiting for him.

You felt a firm hand clasp the back of your neck, tugging at the flesh and turning your head to face the presence behind you. Squeaking out a small whimper of shock, your lips met with your red-haired captain as he pressed a bruising kiss against your startled mouth.

His lips moved expertly, the hum of his voice pressed its rumbled vibration into your mouth. His brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose sucking in an elongated breath. Rolling his tongue over his lips, he sought yours out and brushed the organ against it slowly and deliberately.

Whistles, hollers, cheers and snickers from the Red-Hair pirates had Shanks smiling into the shameless kiss; the firm grip of his hand on the scruff of your neck rendering you helpless to do nothing but take the affection he was pressing against you. A sign of the promised punishment your present surliness held for you in your future.

---------------------------------

The rough slaps and quickened snaps of your hips meeting with his echoed within the small room. You tried to halt your soft sobs and whimpers from overstimulation, eyes tightly shut and tears pricking at the corners as you rode him.

"No," his voice commanded you softly. You felt his hand travel up from your thigh to rest on your face, thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek.

Regardless of his verbal command, you continued your quickened pace: the heat of your walls sucking in his shaft at the same elevated rhythm you set earlier.

He was yet to climax, and you had been at this for hours. He had your peak rise and fall for the upteenth time by his lips, tongue, thigh and fingers: each time, the lights dancing behind your eyes and the soft call of his name cried from your lips.

You were desperate for him to cum. You wanted to have him share in the same bliss he had offered you so many times earlier today, the shoots of his seed buried deep within you with your name spilled as recklessly from his lips as yours did his.

"No," he commanded once more, your relentless pace you set continued ceaselessly. You continued bouncing your body and sheathing yourself fully on his cock, feeling the twitch hitting against the top of your cervix.

You knew he would cum like this, and you wanted him to feel his release just as he had you reach yours. You continued hastily riding him, him granting you a shuddered groan growling from between his clenched teeth. You felt him close, the small quiver of his cock depicting truly how thoroughly he was enjoying your hasty pace. Just as you felt him near his release, you expected him to fuck up into you, burying himself deeper and writhing beneath you as he came.

Instead, his arm trailed down from your cheek, shoulder and hips: hooking around your body and holding you fully sheathed on his cock, halting your movement entirely.

"P-Please," you whimpered, your pace fully halted by his firm arm. The twitch of his cock at your plea had you continue, "I-I-’s too much. W-Want you to feel good. P-Please Captain."

The twitch of his cock granted you the telltale sign that he halted his orgasm from shooting up into you. He lazily rolled his hips into yours, the grind of his pelvis meeting your clit and caused another cry from fleeing your lips.

"You can take it," he whispered, rolling his hips against yours; his buried cock twitching once more, and stretching you deliciously. Your arousal coated his pubic hair and tops of his thighs, the wrap of his arm halting your every movement with the incredible strength he held you with.

"Captain I-I-," you tried, Shanks halting your cry by sitting up while remaining still within you. You snapped your eyes open to meet his, the warm rust of his irises held a foreign emotion depicted behind them. One you had not seen for some time: overall unreadable, but not an unwelcome flavor painted on his face.

You knew you had been a tease to him earlier today. The swing of your hips, the twitch of your smirk and the looks you shot him over your shoulder were enough to warrant him clawing out climax after climax from you as punishment. Your surliness was his undoing: your refusal to acknowledge his eyes by meeting yours against them.

As his eyes met yours now, and this new position held his cock buried deeper; his gaze no longer held that punishing brutality mixed playfulness he offered you earlier. This foreign expression you had yet seen depicted in his gaze, his words not speaking its unconfirmed intention. It was no longer the aggressive, lustful look he always threw at you during the bedroom hours, mixing with his boyish charm and humor.

His eyes were dark, a hue of pink flushing his cheeks with a dusting of heat. Lips parted, eyes searching between yours as his breath caught in his throat. The closest you could place this expression was compared to ‘awe,’ but that was still not entirely correct.

He began rocking you atop his lap, slow grinds of his pelvis and throbbing pulses from his cock bringing another pleasured whimper from your throat. He continued to hold your gaze, his lips parting as a slow groan fled his lips. The quiver of his jaw, the flutter of his eyelashes, and blown pupils darting its focus on your eyes held more emotion than you were used to seeing.

"You can take it," he gasped again, "I know you can, pretty girl." You whimpered once more, feeling the slow rake of his cock pull itself out before burying it again deep within you.

"Jus' want you to feel good. P-Please let me make you feel good," you cried once more, the swell of your exhausted tears within your eyes spurred Shanks' smile to rise against his lips.

He halted his rocking all together, his forehead falling forward to meet against your collar bone. You cried out at his halt, desperately attempted to start your pace once more - his arm halting you by the sheer strength he held alone.

"Just want you to cum. I’ll be so good. Please, Shanks. Please, please, please. Need it-... N-Need you-," your cries were answered by the surge of his hips and thighs propelling themselves forward, throwing your back to hit against the plush mattress.

This small resurgence of his playfulness returning had your prior desperation for him morph into a laugh of joy - a sound mirrored by his own soft laugh.

He propped himself up by his hand lying beside your head. As his cock slowly buried itself once more within you; mutual groans, mixed with laughter and sighs, joined together harmoniously. He sunk his weight onto your hips, his full weight halted it's descent by him angling down onto elbow beside your head. His hand began brushing your hair from your face, his playful smile never leaving his lips.

He lunged forward, sheathing his cock completely within you and holding himself firmly there.

His smile approached you, capturing your lips within his and brushing his tongue over your parted lips to brush against your own - his smile never leaving his lips. Pulling away his claim on your lips, he began slowly rocking his hips against yours, gasping at the feeling of your walls sucking him in further.

"You're so desperate to feel me cum, love?" He asked you, the uptick of his voice and soft huff of laugh colliding with a sinful groan fleeing him, "You should've thought of that before behaving like a brat."

You whimpered out a cry of bliss as his sheathed cock brushed with your g-spot, the slow, rhythmic slap of his hips colliding deeply with yours slowly echoing once more within the room.

"No, love," he growled into your ear, successfully caging you beneath him with the hover of his body, "No. You don't get to feel me cum until I bring out another two from you. No cry of mercy or relentless fucking up into me will have me cum in you-."

You cried as a particularly harsh snap of his hips had his weight topple down onto you. His pace quickened, the wind of the coil within your stomach began its tightening once more.

The feel of being completely trapped beneath the weight of his body, the only movement breaking your entrapment away from his body was the small rise and fall of his hips harshly fucking into you slowly and deliberately.

You groaned, arching your back and writhing as you felt your toes and fingertips begin to quiver at the approach of your climax. Shanks chuckled into your shoulder, his teeth slowly clamping down on the tender flesh and soothing over the bite with his tongue.

"That's it, pretty girl," he complimented you, slowly picking up the pace of his thrusting, "You've finally realized, huh?" You whimpered, the depth of his cock brushing up against you and the pick up of his pace held your mind fuzzy and jaw slack.

"You're stuck," he growled against you, "And you're going to remain helpless and stuck through two more before I cum in you. Make no mistake, love-..." he continued to elevate his pace, the depth of his cock sinking into you brutally.

"I will cum for you, pretty girl," his promise felt hot in your ear, scorching you as his gaze did earlier in the evening, "But not until I make you scream for me two more times."

You whimpered, the slow and deep pace he set now deliberately scraping against the tender spot within you. This new set of rhythm had your lips parting and walls condensing and squeezing against his cock. He huffed a small grunt against your ear, eyes rolling at the feeling. Wrapping your legs over his hips, you keened into his shoulder at the slow intwine of another elevation of your approaching climax.

“There you go. Atta girl. I can feel how close you are,” He struck you with his cock, repetitively hitting the sensitive part by hooking his cock expertly within you, “C’mon now, pretty little thing. Let me hear you cry out for me.” You scrunch your eyes tightly shut, feeling the familiar buzz starting within your toes behind his back.

Slowly pulling away his hips from your own, resheathing his cock back into you deliberately had your walls shifting and quivering for him as you cried his name through your bliss. He claimed another orgasm from you, the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes by how tightly you clenched them shut. He pulled his face away from your shoulder, huffing in your ear before glancing at your face contorted in pleasure.

“No, no, no, pretty girl. Open your eyes,” he slumped on his elbow, soothing over forehead and removing the hair stuck to your brow. You shook your head, physically unable to open your eyes as he shepherded you through your bliss. “Hey, hey. Open. Now.” You arched your back, your head falling away from his as you kept your eyes shut.

“Alright then,” he uttered, feeling your high fall as you regained some semblance of your consciousness back through panting and deeply sighing. Your momentary calm was seized by the storm raging within Shanks, him unsheathing his cock from you and throwing you over his right shoulder and walking towards the tall mirror. The bob of his hard cock from each step he took had a proud smile on his face and a chuckle fleeing from his lips.

Unceremoniously, he placed your feet back onto the ground, facing the mirror and lined his cock back up with your quivering and overstimulated hole.

“This is what you get for being a brat and not listening, pretty girl,” he laughed into your shoulder, immediately surging forward and plunging his cock deep within you, “Keep your eyes open and watch.”

He hooked his arm around your right hip, claiming your left hip bone beneath his palm and anchoring himself against you. Kicking your feet to part further, you had no choice but to watch his face contort within the metallic, silvery reflection as he fucked into you. The cries of your voice muffled as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“No. You let me hear you,” Shanks’ breathy voice whispered against your skin as he pressed his cheek against your shoulder blade. He scrunched his eyes closed and focussed on your gasps, cries and moans. You obediently unclenched your teeth from your lip, brows knitting as you whined his name repeatedly and ceaselessly.

He groaned into your skin, baring his teeth down on your flesh to silence his own whimpered growls. The quiver of your walls sucking his cock within them had Shanks opening his eyes only to roll them back into his skull at the sensation. The grip on your hip bone held on firmer, his rhythmic thrusts and grinds becoming slopier, heavier and staggered. He was so close, closer than he would ever admit to you at this moment.

Your abdomen began to burn beneath his bruising grip, the sensation of being trapped and helpless to him using your body in this way stoked the fires into a blaze of passionate release as he chased your climax. He held your body against his, the pick up of his rhythmic thrusting within the security of his arm had your lips parting. Your overstimulated and fucked-out expression within the mirror had Shanks chasing the spots that had you crying for him the loudest.

“Good job keeping your eyes open, pretty girl,” he praised you, his tone prompting a high whimper to pass from your parted lips. The slaps of slickened thighs and hips became louder and heavier; Shanks now opting to no longer pull all the way out of you while chasing his own high. His knob brushed its shined tip against the back of your quivering and tingling walls, your cervix being kissed with each deep thrust. You cried out for him, standing on the tops of your toes and arching your back for him to get a better angle with his cock sheathed within you.

“You better c-cum,” He stuttered against your shoulder. The hitch in his breath and the whimper within his tone alerted you that he was once again so close to his climax. He continued to chase your release, but was unable to fully tip you over the edge just like this.

“Play with your clit,” he ordered you, watching you over your shoulder as your dominant hand sought your firm, leaking bud. “Th-That’s it-... nghm-... That’s my girl. Play with yourself while you take my cock. Little circles, pretty girl. Little circles while I fuck you through it.” You had no choice but to listen, your fingertips brushing with your aching clit while exhaustion overtook you.

“Good girl,” he whined into your ear, his eyes meeting with yours while he watched you obediently play with your clit while he stuffed you roughly with his cock. Just his expression alone would’ve made you cum: his brows tilted up, pupils blown with list as his jaw hung slack. But the overstimulation was too much for you to continue. You whined, unable to push yourself over the edge for him as he requested you.

“Don’t you dare stop,” he growled, watching as your hand began to halt its ministrations against your aching clit. “Make me proud, little thing. Cum on my cock and I’ll let you have mine. C’mon pretty girl. Cum on my cock again. J-Just like you did before. Cum for me, cum for me-.”

“A-Ah, Shanks!” you cried in bliss, his voice falling from your open mouth like a scream. Your arousal gushed around his cock as you came for him, your walls attempting to milk his cock of the precum he began to paint you with.

“G-Good girl. Such a good girl,” he praised you, continuing his bruising pace while you watched him huff out his own cries of bliss, “Now you’ll get my cum. I-I’m-...mmff-... O-Oh, I’m cumming. I’m cumming for you. F-Fuck.” Ropes of his long withheld load splashed within you, the sheer force and amount prompting your shiny juices to pool down your legs as you both cried for one another. He roared your name, biting your shoulder with the clamp of his teeth over your flesh.

As he rode you through your highs, tears began to pool down your cheeks at the sheer relief of earning his orgasm. You sobbed, body falling limp as he carried you back to the bed. He unsheathed his cock from you and caged you beneath his body, searching your face for any issue that ignited this release of emotion.

“Are you okay, love? Did I hurt you? What did I do?” he asked, wiping a tear with his thumb as you met his eyes with your own. You shook your head, angling your chin away from the brush of his thumb and pressing a small kiss against the pad of the shorter digit. He gasped, his boyish smile returning to his face while his eyes held that unfamiliar expression within them. He huffed out a breath, soothing over your hair as he whispered into your face.

“I am so in love with you, pretty girl. My pretty girl,” he confessed, closing his eyes and nudging your chin with his forehead. Your lips parted in shock, this being the first time either of you uttered the words remaining unspoken between you. You attempted to find the words to speak back to him, your voice cracking harshly from the amount of cries he pulled from you in your bliss.

“You don’t have to say it, love. I know, I know,” he confessed further, leaning up to press a firm kiss against your forehead. “You just lay back and relax while I clean up our mess, alright?”

You weakly nodded, laying back completely against the mattress as exhaustion overcame your body. Sleep claimed you, soft and deep breaths propelling each moment for more rest to find you.

As Shanks returned to your place on the bed, he sighed at the beautiful picture you made painted against his sheets. His pretty girl was all tired from the amount of times he made you cum, exhausted with the softest rise of heat within your cheeks.

The next time you felt inadequate and undeserving of such treatment and attention, he would be so glad to provide you with the reminder of your importance in his life. He began to look forward to a longer and more worshipful way of showing you how much he truly loved you, and only you.

He began cleaning up the mess he made of your bodies, maneuvering a warm cloth over every mark and splash of fluids and hungry kisses. He dried your body with a plush towel before tucking you into the bedsheets, crawling in them behind you and lacing his right arm over your hip and pulling you closer.

“I love you,” he whispered against your neck, you stirring slightly within your slumber, “And I’ll happily remind you of how much I do any time you think I don’t.”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks smut #shanks x reader smut #red hair shanks x reader #op shanks #one piece shanks #op smut #one piece smut

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goldfades · 9 months ago

Note

y/n moans way too loudly during sex. paige has to shut them up with kissing and/or covering their mouth

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 ─ PB⁵

─ word count | just straight filth, absolutely no plot LMAOOO, fingering, paige being kinda mean, rough??

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut! read at your own discretion.

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

Paige's fingers thrust in and out of your cunt, your head falling back on the bathroom mirror as your head spun. You could barely think straight anymore, your whole body felt like it was about to give out any second now ─ the only thought in your head was Paige, Paige, Paige.

You don't have any memory of how you ended up in the bathroom with Paige, her fingers going in and out of you but you do remember what happened before. It began with an offhand comment from one of your friends, prompting Paige to excuse herself to the bathroom, with you soon following suit.

Next thing you knew was Paige's tongue was down your throat and now, you were here: sitting on the sink while Paige fingered you roughly. Her forehead was against yours as her other hand gripped your hips, making sure you didn't try and move away from her touch.

Paige observed you as you took in her fingers graciously, letting her take complete control of your body. Her face began to move to give you a kiss on the jaw, and then on your neck. She began sucking a harsh hickey on your neck as she pumped her fingers sharply, causing you to arch your back off the sink

Then, her thumb began grazing over your clit. You couldn't help a loud cry, causing Paige to snap her head up and put her hand over your mouth. "Shh, you want us to get caught?" She sent you a glare as she placed her forehead against yours again.

However, her fingers didn't falter as she hushed you ─ if anything, her fingers began moving even faster. You weren't even sure at this point, you were only focusing on your oncoming orgasm.

A few more deep thrusts from her fingers and you came all over her fingers, your whole body shaking with pleasure as you did. Paige's lips were on top of yours, swallowing your moans as she helped you through your orgasm.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#uconn #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fluff #ncaaw #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaa wbb

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spiderlandry · 2 years ago

Text

Love Language — ethan landry

Description: You regularly hugged all of your friends besides Ethan. He wonders why.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Warnings: reader is shorter than ethan, some teasing, confessions, no ghostface, mention of a dead childhood pet once, lmk if theres anything i should add !!

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s note: is this very specific to me? yes.

BLACKMORE UNIVERSITY, FRESHMAN YEAR

When Ethan first met you, he thought you and Chad were dating.

The first time he met Chad’s friend group and inevitably became a part of it, there was talk amongst them of a link in their friendships currently studying a semester abroad, which he quickly found was you. They talked greatly of you, and Chad said you’d known them since freshman year of highschool besides Sam. The Woodsboro murders only brought you five closer together.

Safe to say Ethan had quite high expectations. There were photos he’d seen, and you were…attractive, to say the least. (If Ethan was honest, he’d say hot.) And by the way everyone talked about you like you were an angel, he wasn’t actually expecting you to be the closest thing to a deity he’d ever seen—but he was proven wrong.

You were introduced when you finally came back for the spring semester, and Quinn teased him afterward for being reduced to a bumbling idiot at the mere sight of you. (It was even worse when you talked to him.)

But after a week or so, your intimidation levels went down significantly. You weren’t just an angel by looks, you were an angel by character. Even if Ethan hadn’t known you for long, the thing that stood out most was your compassion. How you cared so deeply for others that it only inspired those around you, including him.

What made him contemplate your relationship with Chad were the hugs.

Ethan was there when they picked you up at the airport. You hugged your friends from Woodsboro and Anika (since you’d known her over Facetime), then waved an awkward introduction with Ethan as he desperately tried not to stutter out his name.

He thought, okay, that was normal. Hugging your friends you hadn’t seen in a long time.

But as time progressed he noticed that every time he happened to see you, either on campus or when some of them would grab a bite to eat and you were invited, you would always be hugging Chad.

Ethan’s data was only gathered during this short week after you arrived, and he realized he was completely wrong when he began to hang out more with the rest of the group, not just Chad.

You hugged everybody.

He put it together when he spotted you at a popular lunch spot with Tara, embracing her for a good minute or so. He also went to Quinn’s place of residence which happened to also be the Carpenter sisters’, and Sam was holding you in the kitchen while something was cooking.

He started noticing it every single time. There was Mindy and Anika, who you drunkenly hugged at a lame party (in which he’d never admit that he attended just to see you), then Quinn at some point when he ran into both of you on campus.

Throughout the next few weeks, he accepted that it was just your way of showing you loved your friends. And he wasn’t close to you yet, but he was looking forward to the day he would be.

SOPHOMORE YEAR

The diner a few blocks from your place became familiar with you and your friends constantly hanging out there, and even if it could get rowdy, the staff couldn’t help but appreciate that you all tipped well despite being college students.

Ethan didn’t put much thought into the hugs a year into knowing you, his thoughts were replaced by how much you spent time with him. You asked him to hang out. You texted him. You even did study calls over discord, and you’d be able to hear Chad teasing him in the background and you always laughed it off.

Soon enough, you consumed every corner of his mind, and every good thing he saw would come back to you. He saw the moon come out every night and was reminded of how much you loved it. Whenever he encountered a stray cat, he thought about stories you told of your childhood cat, a picture of her still in your wallet though she died years ago. At a store, he would remind himself to grab the chips you liked.

You occupied places in his psyche so much that it felt like he was drunk on you. He guessed that’s why he forgot about the hugs pretty quickly.

At least, he forgot about them until you were at the diner with him, Chad, and Tara. They were always the most available, often down to do whatever when you’d text to the groupchat if anyone was free.

Chad was frowning at his phone, brows furrowed.

You were sitting across from him, next to Ethan, when you noticed.

“What’s wrong, C?” You inquired, putting a piece of fry dipped in milkshake in your mouth.

Ethan was focused on his milkshake, and how you occasionally would dip your fries in—without double dipping, of course—it made his heart flutter even if it was the simplest of actions. The domesticity of it. He may as well be your boyfriend, he fantasized.

“This quiz is wrong.” Chad scowled.

Tara, right next to him, peeped at his screen. She laughed. “Why are you taking this?”

Chad shrugged exaggeratedly, almost reminiscent of a moody kid. “I was watching this video essay about love languages last night, so I got curious.”

You smiled, taking in the context. “Did you do a quiz on what your love language is?”

He nodded.

“Can I see?”

He handed you his phone, and it read Physical Touch. Ethan scooted closer next to you to read it and you tried to ignore the faster beat of your heart when you thighs began to touch.

“Y’know what? It’s kinda right,” Tara chimed in.

“Really?” Her boyfriend turned to her.

“You have your hand on my thigh right now.” She chuckled, a soft sound as she leaned in closer to him.

Reading further, it also said Words of Affirmation was a close second.

Ethan finally spoke, “You should listen to your girlfriend, Chad.”

You handed the phone to Tara when she motioned for it. “Words of affirmation also seems right,” she added.

“Seriously?” Chad asked, his tone lifting to showcase disbelief. “Does everybody know this but me?”

Ethan pulled a memory from his brain. “You always hype me up at parties. Remember when you kept calling me a snack at that Halloween party last year?”

His roommate gave it a moment, then responded, “Alright, fine. I guess you’re right.” He looked to Tara with an unsaid question that only she knew how to read. A question that was ‘are they actually right?’

“Well, I can’t exactly say it at the table.” She said it teasingly at Chad, but with a lilting tone that told you it was, to say the least, inappropriate.

Ethan put a hand on his face, “Please have some decorum, guys.”

“Yeah, come on.” You joked. “I’ve had enough of you two lovebirds.“

Chad glanced at you, feigning offence. “Don’t act like you’re not the same!”

“Woah, woah—“ You interrupted. “With whom?“

He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes going to Ethan, who had a panicked look.

“What? What makes you think that? Why are you looking at me?” Ethan said a tad too quickly which made Tara almost snort.

“Let’s not…” You shook your head slowly, “start this.”

Now, what did you mean by that? Ethan thought.

Chad shrugged. “What about you, roomie? What’s your love language?” He asked, moving away from the subject of you and Ethan which you were eternally grateful for. But the question still plagued Ethan, unbeknownst to you.

“Um…” He thought for a second. “What are the love languages?” He asked when he realized he didn’t actually know the other ones.

“I think yours is acts of service,” You interjected. You were looking him up and down, as if you were scanning him for something. He couldn’t help but almost cower under your wandering eyes, but he stood his ground, a mental battle inside his head of which you were completely unaware.

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Tara agreed. “Yeah.” She reiterated, more sure of it.

“Listen to your partner in crime, roomie.” Chad smirked.

You tilted your head at the partner in crime part, you’d never heard yourself be referred to with that regarding Ethan. Not that you minded.

Ethan shot him a very stern look, as if they had a silent conversation. (To your obliviousness, it was because Ethan referred to you as his partner in crime to Chad a few days ago, giving his roommate more ammo to use.)

“Why do you guys think it’s acts of service?” Ethan shifted the topic back.

“Well,” you began. “You always bring me chips when you come back from a store.”

“He only does that to you, though.” Tara said.

“Does he?” You turned to him for an answer.

“Well—I do stuff for other people too.”

“Like what?”

“I do the dishes at our house. I mop the floor, I do stats homework for Anika.”

“That’s all true,” Chad agreed. “Okay, so yours is acts of service. Y/N, what about you?”

“Definitely physical touch.” Tara nodded, certain of it.

“Oh, for sure, for sure.” Her boyfriend concurred.

“Wait, what makes you guys so sure?” You smiled regardless of your questioning tone, appreciative of the way your friends paid attention to your actions.

“Do we even have to start?” Tara asked, “The hugs?”

“Yeah, you’ve been doing it since high school.”

“Within two days of knowing me, you hugged me in Ms. Thompson’s class,” She added.

“Okay, you’re right, but—“ You started.

“What else could there be?” Chad interrupted.

It was then that a quiet voice piped up from next to you, so quiet a whisper you could’ve missed it if the diner weren’t empty. “You’ve never hugged me.”

Ethan sounded so dejected, so…defeated?

It broke your heart.

He regretted it even before he said it, and judging from everyone’s faces apparently he needed to rid himself of the habit of saying things out of turn.

Tara’s eyes were a little wide, while Chad puffed air from his mouth.

He refused to look at you.

“Never—nevermind,” He waved it off.

“I was just getting to that,” You furthered. “My love language is different for certain people!” You exclaimed.

“Is it?” Tara questioned, eyes narrowing. (You’d realize later how much of a bait this was.)

“For you guys, I’ve known you for a while so I’m comfortable touching you.”

Chad had the same expression as his girlfriend, “But you do the same to Anika and Quinn.”

It dawned on Ethan that they were pretty much backing you both into a corner. “Guys—“

“But—that’s—that’s different,” you insisted.

A long pause. Nobody could decide if it was awkward.

“…Is it?” Ethan finally spoke, a piece of courage in exchange for dignity. He needed the answer.

You fidgeted in your seat, not knowing how to say it. But you wanted to, badly. The answer was etched into your bones, weaved into your DNA.

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Wanna know the truth? I was going to say, before you interrupted me, that my love language changes when it’s romantic, okay?”

The answer was Ethan.

You didn’t know what was going to happen next. At this point, your heart was in your feet and you’ve scooted away from Ethan.

He was breathing shallowly as if he’d just ran a marathon. “Can you…elaborate?”

You took a deep breath, “Do you seriously not know?”

He shook his head.

Then you did something he never expected.

You reached for his arm and guided him out of the booth, heading for the door and ignoring your friends’ looks when you exited the diner.

Chad and Tara were left to anticipate.

Right outside of the dimly lit diner, on sidewalk, you positioned yourself right in front of him.

You stared right into his brown doe eyes, and hugged him. You put your arms around his torso, under his arms, your head on his upper chest.

It took him a good second to reciprocate, but it was worth it. The warmth that radiated from his touch was one you never forgot, even if you couldn’t feel it again for a thousand years. (But you’d never let that happen.)

You were hugging him because you couldn’t face him while you said what you were about to say.

“I don’t hug you because if I did, it would mean different.” Your voice was muffled by his jacket. “I don’t love you the way I love my friends.”

With your head where it was, you felt his breath hitch. “What—what do you mean?”

You laughed, and Ethan revelled in the rumble of your joy in his chest.

“I mean…I spend my time with you differently because I love you differently. I hug my friends, but I spend time with you, because I…”

He didn’t know if he had the strength to keep himself upright.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

He was silent.

“And—and you don’t have to even…feel the same, but I didn’t want you to wonder if I loved you or not because I couldn’t let me being scared take that from you. Because you deserve to know. I think.”

Your voice was so unstable that it tapered off by the end, as quiet as Ethan was.

His embrace tightened, trying to pull you closer. He leaned down and put his head on your shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’d say that—that I don’t have to feel the same.”

Now he felt your breath hitch.

He continued, “I think I already loved you when we met. Is that weird?”

You laughed. And he memorized that sound.

“It’s not weird. I think it happened to me too.”

The biggest weight on both of your shoulders were lifted, something you thought wasn’t possible.

He breathed you in, memorizing the edges of your body as you kept talking.

“I’m sorry they kept teasing you because of me. Tara knew, so Chad probably knew, too.”

He pulled away slightly, looking at you.

“I thought they were teasing me because Chad knew.” His eyebrows were pinched, and you put two and two together at the same time.

Your eyes snapped to the window of the diner, seeing Chad and Tara’s heads disappear from the view when they ducked down, trying to avoid you from spotting their peeping. But you saw it anyway.

You focused back on Ethan, and while he was still looking at the window, you put a soft hand on his cheek and guided his head to face you again.

“It was a set up,” He sighed.

“It was.” You nodded.

“Should we be mad?”

“Are you?”

“Not when you’re in my arms.”

You grinned. “Since when did you have game?”

“I have you, don’t I?”

You playfully slapped his arm. “Wanna go back to my place?”

“If I ever say no to that, kill me.”

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #scream 6 x reader #scream x reader #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #jack champion

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dailydragon08 · 9 months ago

Note

I'd love to read about the Falcon gang realizing Luke has a crush on you, and I'm clumsily trying to hide it from them

I love this prompt so much, thank you for the ask! Sorry this one got away from me a little bit, I just really love writing about Luke with a crush/pining Luke.

My masterlist is linked in the pinned post on my page! Don’t forget, if you like the fic, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Let’s start with Luke and what he’s doing. I don’t know if I would say he’s really going out of his way to try and “hide” his crush from you specifically, per se, but he’s also not shouting it from the rooftops. I could see all eras of Luke not really minding if you figure it out, just so you could maybe talk about it and see if being together is something you’d be interested in. But all eras of him tread a bit carefully at first (in my mind, ESB Luke is the most bold while ROTJ Luke is the most careful), just doing little things or sometimes purposefully giving little hints here and there to kind of test the waters and see how you react, if you like what he’s doing, if you’re starting to get more comfortable around him, etc. But oh boy, does he really want to hide it from the Falcon Gang – at least until he figures out how you feel and what path you’re taking forward. For one, he doesn’t want to annoy or burden them by constantly talking/asking about you, and for another, he wants to take things at his own pace and doesn’t want any of them to try and interfere to speed things up lest you get spooked and run the other direction. The older he is, the more he also worries about how being with him could put a target on your back and wants to make sure you can protect yourself and/or he’s able to protect you.

How clumsily he hides his crush on you would really depend on the era that he’s in. ANH Luke is the most likely to trip over himself, get caught most often staring at you with the biggest puppy eyes, and is always the first to rush forward and help you with something with an excited “I’ve got it!” He’s also most likely to let a compliment slip out that he thought was only in his head, then look a bit like a deer in the headlights when he realizes that was out loud. Once the rest of the gang figures it out, this era of Luke will talk the most openly (not completely spilling every thought in his brain, but just the most willing to talk at all about it) and ask the most questions about whether or not you’ve said anything to them or given them any clues as to your feelings.

ESB Luke is, like I’ve said in previous posts, a bit better about hiding his feelings, but it’s very obvious to those who know him. He still gets caught staring at you often and isn’t the best at looking away before you make eye contact with him. Now that he’s got more combat and Force-related skills under his belt, he’s a bit more protective of you (he always was, but now even more so because of his newfound confidence and rank) and is the most prone to jealousy out of his three eras. I could see both ANH and ESB versions of him going out of their way to try and impress you (and sometimes comically failing) if it seems like someone else is trying to catch your attention. Once he’s found out, he’s a bit more close-lipped, but will admit to liking you and being unsure how you feel about him. He’ll talk for a few minutes at a time about all the things he likes about you before saying he’d just like to take it slow and see where this whole thing naturally goes, but then that’s the end of the conversation.

ROTJ/post-ROTJ Luke is a bit more settled in who he is as a person, what’s happened to him, and who his father is, but he’s still going through a lot. How he handles his crush will really depend on exactly where in ROTJ he is. Between saving Han, finishing his training with Yoda and staying by his deathbed, finding out Leia is his sister, and knowing there’s a strong possibility that he’ll die facing Vader and the emperor, he’s got a ton on his shoulders. For this reason, I could see him becoming more distant because – despite still having strong feelings for you – he’s afraid to get involved and then leave you heartbroken if something happens to him. That, along with Obi-Wan’s ghost telling him to “bury his feelings deep down” and honor the original order’s no attachment rule, he’s also a bit confused on what his future will even look like and if having a crush will even be an avenue open to him. It’s my personal headcanon that post-ROTJ, as he learns more about who he is, the kind of jedi he wants to be, the kind of order he wants to cultivate, and the importance of connection and how it’s different than possession, he decides to do away with the no attachment rule and make teaching about connection (healthy) vs. possession (unhealthy) part of the jedi training. He did save his father because of their attachment, after all. So this era of Luke is the most likely to let himself really experience a crush and falling in love for the first time, in my opinion. He takes things slow and still gives you little hints here and there vs. big, grand gestures – but he also is doing things with the intent of letting you know how he feels while patiently waiting for you to either return the gestures/initiate a talk about your feelings whenever you’re ready, or is watching for signs that you’re not into what he’s doing. He’ll be sad, of course, but he’ll respect your wishes.

Whew, okay, I didn’t realize I had so much to say, sorry. Moving on…

Leia is the first to realize what’s going on. Even if she hasn’t realized she’s Luke’s twin or Force-sensitive yet, she’s always been very in tune with him. If she knows you well, she’s shipping the two of you much earlier in the process and practically banging her head into a wall when Luke says he’s unsure if you return his feelings when to her, it couldn’t be more obvious. In this case, she wants so badly for him to just be direct about his feelings so you can make use of every second you have in your crazy lives, but she lets him make his own decisions. If she doesn’t know you that well, she’s keeping her eye on you to determine whether your interest in him is genuine and not just because of his fame, power, and accomplishments. As she gets to know you better, she comes around. In both situations, she’s doing whatever she can to play subtle wingwoman – especially with her rank within the rebellion, she’s making sure you two are on missions together as much as possible, your rooms are close to each other, you both always happen to have the same days off every time, she’s slipping little comments in to him about what your favorite things are, your hobbies, likes/dislikes, etc. If he really does want to take his time, Leia makes sure he’s armed with all the knowledge to best make use of it. Even though she’s chomping at the bit for you two to get together, she does still try to be (or at least, start out) gentle when she gives Luke advice or asks if he’d like to talk about you or his feelings, and is always combating Han’s horrible dating advice with reminders that he just do whatever comes naturally to him with what he knows about you – because at the end of the day, if you can’t like him for who he naturally is, then there’s no point to any of this.

Han’s reaction depends a bit on Luke’s age. The younger he is, the more obnoxious and frequent Han’s teasing is. Especially if it’s before he and Leia get together, he’ll make comments to Luke about whether he thinks you’d make a good SO for him, or he’ll flirt with you when it’s just the three of you just to ruffle Luke’s feathers. As they both get older and become closer though, the teasing will die down a bit to comments about how Han notices Luke’s doe eyed-stare, suggests you won’t be single forever, and of course, gives the worst dating advice that have Leia and Lando face-palming so hard in the background. Especially once Luke becomes a jedi knight, really the most he’ll get is a gentle elbow in the ribs with some wiggled eyebrows, maybe followed by some prompting to go talk to you when you’re standing/sitting alone. At the end of the day, he really does just want his friend to be happy. Like Leia, if he doesn’t know you well, he’s watching you extra closely for a bit and maybe even trying to get to know you better himself so he can determine whether you’re a good match. Despite his devil may care attitude, Han is very attentive to his friends and is aware of all the pain Luke’s been through – that being said, he doesn’t want to watch him go through potential heartbreak after all that either. Again though, like Leia, he eventually comes around and counts you as one of the Falcon gang – although he’s a bit more oblivious to when you two are having a moment and the others sometimes have to comedically yoink him out of a room before he interrupts and ruins it.

Although Lando also wants the best for Luke, he doesn’t know him or his background that well, so isn’t as protective. However, if you’re a newcomer, Lando is the most immediately welcoming of the group and can tell you’ll be a great addition – whether you and Luke get together or not. Lando is very astute when it comes to listening and watching and waiting for the right moment – so of course, he picks up on the subtle yearning glances, the slight blushes, compliments, any sort of physical affection Luke is willing to throw your way, how much more gentle he suddenly becomes with you (he was already gentle before, but he’s somehow even softer when you’re around), the way his face lights up when you walk into a room, etc. He clocks it immediately and at first, just lets it be since he doesn’t want to pry. Eventually though, when he and Luke get a moment alone, Lando makes a comment about how great you are to gage the jedi’s reaction and how willing he is to talk about it. He strikes me as a great listener and is very validating to all Luke’s feelings and concerns, but gently reminds him that someone like you won’t be single forever and does he really want to live with that regret of watching you get with someone else when he was never brave enough to really make a move? After this conversation, he immediately goes to Leia ready to make the Ultimate Wingman Gameplan and is ready with his full resources, funds, and even wardrobe to make whatever needs to happen a success. He and Leia may or may not orchestrate some “oops, we’re stuck in x situation together” happenings, or invite you two to things like fancy Rebellion/New Republic gatherings where they split up and help the two of you get ready in ways that wow the other, etc.

Once Chewie (platonic) realizes you’re not a threat to one of his closest friends, the two of you become his OTP. He has a sneaking suspicion, but is usually busy with Han and/or fixing yet another part of the Falcon that broke, so isn’t around as much to collect evidence and the others have to fill him in. Not many people can understand his language, so there’s not really a risk of him spilling the beans. But he’s 100% doing little things here and there to meddle, like pulling you both into a giant group hug and squishing you together, pitching the Falcon while he pilots so you fall backwards into Luke’s lap, bumping into one of you so you’re now standing or sitting close together, physically pushing Luke towards you with a grumble in Shyriiwook, etc.

R2 has to be the one to explain what’s going on to C-3PO (platonic). At first, the protocol droid goes, “wait, what do you mean?” But once he figures it out, everyone has to reach to cover his mouth as he starts to cry in the middle of the busy hangar, “oh my goodness! That’s wonderful to hear that Master Luke fancies mph-hmmphh-umph-mmmm!” To be honest, no one really wanted to tell him in the first place because he’s so bad at keeping his mouth shut, but 3PO overheard some comment someone else was making and just wouldn’t stop asking questions. Cue everyone constantly covering 3PO’s mouth until you and Luke get together, as he almost makes comments and spills the secret many times – and sometimes, they just shut him off mid-sentence. He’s not allowed to be alone with you again until after the two of you get together, but when it’s just him and R2, he’s constantly raving about how he’d love for his master to be happy and how he’s using this to study what two humans who are interested in each other romantically do. Of course, he’s been programmed to know about it, but seeing it in real time is fascinating to him and is where the majority of his comments that almost get him in trouble come from.

R2-D2 (platonic), like Chewie, can’t really rat Luke out verbally – but also follows the Wookiee’s example and meddles to get you two closer faster. He even stole Chewie’s methods of bumping into one of you from behind to get you stumbling into each other’s arms and pitching the ship so Luke has to catch you before you fall. When he’s really feeling like a little shit, he’s been known to lock the two of you in tight spaces together for an extended period of time. When one of you gets injured or needs help, he always immediately rushes to find the other, even if there are other people close by who could help – and sometimes even blows things a little out of proportion just to get you two alone together. Like he’ll rush to tell Luke you’re trying to get something up from a high shelf and are about to fall and Luke runs in to find your footstool the tiniest bit wobbly, but otherwise stable while you’re not even that far off the ground.

Taglist: @kaleidoscope1967eyes @masterlukessaber @coffeeorsomething-irl @eveningserenityyy @victorian-nymph @lxstfathier @rogue-kenobi @lavandula-ipsum @sonofthedunes @pomplalamoose @lex-the-flex @ilovemarkhamill

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heartfeltcherie · 10 months ago

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i had this idea pop into my head a couple nights ago and i finally put it into words! hope u all enjoy <33

wc 662

☾. °. ࿐ ` , •

yet another meeting.

charlie had gathered everyone in the hotel’s lounge area for a rundown of new team building exercises that she wanted to explain to everyone. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested in helping out, you were.

it was just the fact that the couch cushions you were currently sat on were providing the utmost comfort and it also wasn’t helping that you were trying not to nod off in between sentences — you swear you closed your eyes at “trust fall exercises” and opened them back up at “writing out your feelings is also important”

and then there was the red radio demon you were sat beside.

alastor.

everyone feared his presence, wouldn’t dare to even look in his direction. but the way he was with everyone else, he wasn’t the same way towards you. you didn’t know how to describe it; sitting beside him right now, you felt a sort of… warmth. and of course with that usual smile he has plastered on his face, you don’t know which emotion he’s feeling.

but it doesn’t make you wanna run away and hide. instead, you feel contentment. you feel safe next to him, even though you know that he could have you dead in cold blood within seconds.

and this is perhaps the fifth time he’s watched you, out of the corners of his eyes, nod off for what seems like five seconds, only to almost jolt awake again in what seems like… panic? oh you poor little thing.

“you know, cher” he’s not even focused on charlie’s tangent anymore, instead on you, the tired little doe that can barely keep her eyes open. he still keeps his eyes trained forward. “if you’re feeling so out of sorts, i could provide you with a tad bit more comfort, if you truly desired” his voice is a low whisper, careful not to disturb the other hotel stayers as he’d rather not bring attention to the fact that he maybe cares about someone. how preposterous.

you look up at alastor through your tired eyes. he has one leg crossed over the other, his hands resting on his kneecap — you think he looks so handsome sitting this close to you. he meets your gaze with a turn of his head, careful not to cause such a commotion as he glances between you and his shoulder.

oh?

it’s a very sweet gesture. especially coming from the radio demon himself because you know he hates when people invade his privacy. and even though you’ve always wondered what it’s like to fully be in his touch…

you’re scared, shy, all of the above.

and you think the dust of pink on your cheeks gives it all away.

“no need to get so bashful on me, sweetheart, it’s just a simple gesture. besides i can’t have a belle like you being exhausted all day, now can i, hm?”

alastor trains his focus back towards charlie as you shyly take his offer, slowly laying your head down on his suit-clad shoulder and it’s… very cozy, you decide. the small amount of contact feels very serene as you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. and god forbid anyone looks in your direction, otherwise you probably wouldn’t hear the end of it. especially angel dust who’s been bugging you about your little crush on the radio demon.

you decide to go a bit further and link your arm around his, only for a bit more warmth your mind declares is the perfect excuse while your heart fluttering in your tummy, watching for any disapproval alastor has. but he shows none. it’s the greatest feeling in the world to be this close to him. you shouldn’t get used to this… but god, do you want to, so bad.

“you gonna put me to bed too after this?” you whisper jokingly in alastor’s ear, seeing his ear twitch just the slightest. how can an overlord be this adorable?

“don’t push your luck, cher”

please reblog/comment if you enjoyed my work, it’s greatly appreciated ♡

#❥ lexi’s daydreams #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #alastor imagine #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fluff #alastor fluff

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maple-the-awesome · 9 months ago

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The Chain Meets You, His Partner || 3/3

Part 1 || Part 2

Pairing: Time, Wild, Four x GN! Reader

Requested by @temporarilyablog: i see requests are open still so im coming to you with a thought i had recently:how about a Link from the Chain interacting with the reader, another Link’s s/o from their original adventures, when *their* Link isn’t around. i can see some teasing another Link with the reader that they’ve only known through little stories here and here, or others grilling the reader relentlessly because another Link was so shy about their relationship and partner, and wants to know how that Link is like around someone he allows himself to relax.its kinda like when the Chain met Malon for the first time and interacted with her for stories about old man Timeand as always stay awesome, i love your writing!

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

Concerningly delighted or eerily eager - the Chain can’t quite agree on which descriptor best described their teammate the best once he realized they had all landed in his Hyrule. Bubbling with excitement ever since while maintaining a pace some of the other boys have to jog after, Link doesn’t waste breath saying where he’s leading them, although that giddy smile upon his face - as much as he tries to hide it - is plenty for the wiser heroes to get the hint…

The Chain already knew about you - Well, they knew the Old Man was hitched. To exactly who, he'd never say for his lips were always sealed with a mischievous smirk that kept the boys betting against each other.

Some insisted that their leader's mystery lover must be Princess Zelda, but Twilight felt that was a preposterous assumption. He tended to agree with Legend's guess that they had to be someone simple; someone who could make an extraordinary man feel ordinary in the best way possible...which was the correct prediction, of course.

As it would turn out, you are, in fact, not a noble or royal princess. Instead, you're an average farmhand living a calm life on your friend's ranch where you miss your husband greatly after many months of him being gone, so please excuse the passionate kiss shared between you both once finally reuniting at the front of the property.

Time isn't at all shy to show you off. Having been married for so many years, it's only natural for his arm to feel most comfortable wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to his side where he can easily connect kisses to your forehead and cheek. If the boys have a problem with it, it's best not to spoil the mood. Perhaps one day they'll understand the intoxicating love that is felt whenever in the presence of their most beloved.

"You just missed Malon and Talon. They went into town for a few deliveries and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon," You explain to your husband while leading the boys to the house. He hums thoughtfully and you don't miss the way he 'subtly' tugs you even closer.

"It’s good timing on our part then. 'wouldn't want to leave you stuck doing all the chores on your own."

"Now Link, you've been off on the road for months. Rest and I'll -"

"- Is there anything I could help with?" A young man from the group pipes in shyly from behind, "I grew up on a ranch myself, so it wouldn't be any bother."

"Oh, no. You boys are our guests. I'd hate to -" You begin, turning to face him with an appreciative smile, however Time is quick to object.

"- Nonsense. They're all capable young men and boys. A little work won't kill them, darling."

"- But -"

"- And it won't kill me, either," He takes your hand, lifting it to his lips where he places a gentle kiss upon your knuckles, "If anything, we could all use the distraction."

"...Well, in that case..."

There is plenty to be done around the farm and you only have two hands of your own, so, aware that you wouldn't win an argument against your husband anyways, you take him up on his offer. The other heroes do seem more than willing, happy to provide their services for tasks that don't involve risking their lives against cruel monsters, you know, minus the cuccos.

Time and you each take four of the boys with yourselves. While he directs his half to the animals they'll be tending to, you lead yours to the barn, making sure to point out the layout of the ranch along the way so that none get lost when left on their own.

You're happy to find that they're all very polite, particularly the young man from earlier who remains close on your heels throughout each step. He seems adorably eager to engage in conversation with you, asking many questions and adding comments to whatever you say. It makes sense, you suppose, since he certainly does look to be the small homestead-type based upon his build and knowledge of ranch life.

"You said this is your friend’s ranch. How long have you lived here yourself?”

"Gosh, 'seems like forever. At least since I was ten. It wasn't long before I met Link, I know that."

"You guys have really known each other for that long?"

"Uh-huh...but of course, it doesn't feel that long," You sigh fondly, "'seems like just yesterday we were sitting out there in that pasture as he told me about his home in the forest and all his adventures…Funny how time flies when you're havin' fun."

Speaking of the devil, you spot your husband at the pasture's fence, clearly waiting for you to finish up. Inviting the boys to find you if they have any questions, you leave them to work on the chores they've been assigned while you, yourself, head to join Time.

"Did they give you any trouble?"

"None at all. By the way you made it sound in your letters, I thought they'd be far more troublesome," You cross your arms over the fence, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin, "But maybe you’ve just been too harsh on them."

"You've only spent a few hours with them. Give ‘em a chance and you'll start going gray, too," He rolls his eye, his lack of amusement towards your playful accusation telling you that those boys really must be a handful sometimes. Either way, deny it as he might, you know that look in his eye. Even as he leans here on the fence next to you, he watches the boys work with a softness hidden in his expression. He certainly cares for them.

"...You know, one of them is a descendant of ours," Time mentions casually, breaking you away from your straying thoughts.

"What?" When you look at him, he's still facing the distance, "...You're joking?"

He just smirks, only glancing at you through the corner of his eye.

"You're serious...?" You blink in disbelief before quickly pushing yourself off the fence, "Which one?!"

"Isn't it obvious?"

You place your hands upon your hips, making your own lack of amusement clear now, "There's eight of them. At least give me a hint."

Time pretends to consider your request, but ultimately shakes his head, "...No, I don’t think so. That would ruin the fun of having you guess."

"Liiinnk..." You whine, although even your pout proves ineffective. Your husband merely chuckles as he pushes himself off the fence and begins walking away to resume his chores, "You better not be lying to me!”

"I would never lie to you, my love. I know better than that~"

"I'm going to find out which one it is even if I have to interrogate them all!" You shout after him, huffing when he doesn't reply.

Part of you is tempted to do exactly as you said by confronting each boy until you receive a proper answer, but you also promised the Champion you'd show him the kitchen to start dinner soon. You'd hate to keep him and everyone else waiting with rumbling stomachs, especially if one of them is your descent in question.

Now truthfully, you do already have a guess in mind - or more so a hope - however it's too early to decide. You'll just have to keep a close eye on them until this evening and if no one sticks out then, you'll be left to force it out of your husband who should really know better than to mess with you like this.

"Hey, I'm back!" It doesn't matter how long he's been away - days, weeks, months - those three words always seem to take a massive amount of weight off of Wild's chest every time, washing over him with a sense of belonging and domestic bliss that replaces all the strict expectations set for being a 'hero'.

"Link!" This feeling is easily reinforced after one look at you. Your glowing smile as you appear at the railing upstairs, his name sounding like honey from your lips…It's automatic for him to drop his heavy bags and weapons beside the door before opening his arms at the bottom of the steps just in time for you to jump over those last few right into his embrace which you’ve both missed so much.

"...Welcome home..." Sometimes that whisper in his ear is enough to make Wild cry. It's such a pleasant sound and reminder that he does, in fact, have a home because as much as he loves sleeping under the stars or following his heart across the vast kingdom of Hyrule, there will never be a day where it doesn't yearn to be beside you.

It's a cute scene to witness - two lovers reunited after so long apart - although the Chain does have a few questions swirling in their minds, namely who the heck are you? A pretty face just casually leaping into the Champion's arms before sharing a heartfelt kiss? They'd be happy for the guy if not for the fact that he has never once mentioned having a lover and you seem far too well acquainted to be a random friend.

"O-Oh, um, hi," You finally take notice of your audience, breaking away from Wild to send them all an awkward smile which they return, some with a few small waves.

“Oh, these are the guys I’ve been traveling with,” Wild explains, which seems to put you more at ease.

“Nice to meet you all,” You give the group a bashful nod before introducing yourself. Your name does sound vaguely familiar - perhaps having been mentioned in mere passing at some point or another - but the Chain still can’t say they recall Wild ever identifying you as a partner.

“And are you guys…Um…?” Sky gestures between you both, trying to keep his smile from seeming too surprised. He’d hate to offend either of you.

“We’re dating,” You confirm comfortably, looking at Wild with a smile he mirrors as your hands interlock.

“Dating? As in romantically involved, right?” Four raises an eyebrow, his question catching you off guard.

“Y-Yes, well, I believe that’s what dating entails -”

“- How’d you manage that?” Legend interrupts, the question directed at Wild while pointing to you with a look of disbelief upon his face. Apparently he doesn’t share Sky’s concern towards delivering any offense…

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It’s just - You never mentioned being in a relationship,” Hyrule mumbles.

Wild is quick to blush and duck his head in embarrassment, his words defensive, “It’s not like any of you asked! I - I just never thought it was important to bring up! It never seemed relevant!”

“He mentioned it to me,” Twilight admits, taking everyone’s attention off the flustered Champion, but only temporarily.

“See! I could’ve said something and you just didn’t listen! Did you think of that?”

“Or you only told the rancher. You two are always sharing dirty little secrets and leaving the rest of us in the dark.”

This…goes on for a good moment. Rest assured, the argument does eventually subside after Time knocks their heads together allowing you a chance to swiftly change the subject by inviting the boys fully inside your lovely home. From there, you offer to get started on lunch, figuring it will be an excellent opportunity for you to get to know the other heroes better and spend some quality time with your boyfriend who is always quick to relax in the kitchen.

You begin chopping some vegetables while he gets the soup base shimmering, the two of you humming quietly amongst yourselves as you work. Your tranquil smiles and practiced teamwork is enough to make anyone feel jealous of such a strong relationship, although it’s all in good spirits. The other boys hold no resentment towards their friend, instead reflecting his joy as they eagerly tell you stories about their shared adventures in return for some information about yourself.

As it turns out, you’ve grown up in Hateno your whole life and had met Wild rather early in the beginning of his quest to defeat Calamity Ganon. He must’ve made quite the first impression - that or perhaps you took a lot of pity upon his confused state - because you willingly left your small village to help him navigate an unfamiliar Hyrule. Over the course of your journey, you grew close and never really found a good reason to leave each other’s sides even after the kingdom was saved, thus you’ve been together ever since.

“This house had been abandoned for years before we bought it. It’s nice because it’s still a part of Hateno, so we’re close to other people and my family, but far enough back to have our own peace and quiet,” You explain in a dreamy sigh as you turn to look over your home and admire the work you’ve done to this old place.

“What’s with the construction back there?” Four asks, nodding his head towards the many boxes and tools that block the wall under the staircase.

“We’re adding another room,” Wild answers simply, not taking his attention away from the soup broth that he frowns at because it’s certainly missing something. More salt rock? Maybe a dash of Hylian herb?

Legend scoffs, leaning back against his chair at the table, “How much space do two people really need?”

Wild and you pause, glancing over your shoulders to meet each other’s eyes before going back to your work with flustered smiles. Clearing your throat, you give a shrug, “...Well, the plan is for it to not just be the two of us forever.”

Many of the boys raise eyebrows at this comment, the realization slowly but surely daunting on them. Their faces explode in shades of red once it does.

Time coughs into his fist, the first to break the silence, "...We'll be sure not to keep the Champion away from you for too long then."

Wild nearly gives himself whiplash looking back at Time with what can only be described as a modified expression of betrayal, his face beet red and mouth agape in shock. You'd be lying to say your own face doesn't feel awfully warm, too, although you humor the Old Man’s promise with a laugh, "You better not. This kingdom’s already demanded too much of his time away from home.”

Four has never been one for unnecessary fanfare, especially not in regards to his personal life. With that said, while he doesn’t mind discussing the intimate details of who he is outside of his role as a hero, he also doesn’t typically go out of his way to spill his guts about it either which is precisely why it took the Chain so long to find out about you.

Their friend had been rather vague as to where he was leading them after arriving in his Hyrule. They had already met his grandfather and even spent some time helping with chores, but Four insisted there was at least one more stop he wished to make before hitting the road again so that he could - get this - drop off a book for ‘someone’...

Now, being entirely honest, the Chain did internally judge his priorities just a bit, but they also weren’t about to kick up a fuss over it. Although Four failed to specify the identity of this mysterious ‘someone’, the other heroes simply assumed them to be an old friend, the gifted book acting as a mere excuse for Four to see them again. It’s only natural for a Link to begin missing his loved ones after adventuring for so long, and their resident smith must reeeally love you if that kiss you share is any indication.

It happens so quickly that the other boys can barely process what their eyes bear witness to. One moment Four had been standing at the doorstep, book in hand as he assured everyone once again that his visit wasn’t going to take long. Then the door opened to an attractive stranger and next thing anyone knew, their Smithy was standing on his toes locking lips with said stranger - And with no hesitation whatsoever!

“Link! It’s good to see you…Are these your friends?” You ask the question in such a casual manner as if it’s just an everyday occurrence for your boyfriend to randomly return with a whole new entourage behind him after months of being away.

“Yes. I’d tell you their names, but you know them already,” Four replies with a similarly calm demeanor, although his smile is now much more pronounced than it had been on the walk over, “Everyone here is named ‘Link’.”

“Easy enough to remember,” Even that information doesn’t seem to faze you beyond an intrigued eyebrow raise.

You’re quick to introduce yourself, not only by name, but also by the important title of being Four’s partner. Again, there’s no hesitation towards this establishment and he doesn’t so much as blink at hearing it, showing that this definitely isn’t a recent development for either of you. That little shit’s been dating you for a while, hasn’t he?! They should’ve known something was up seeing how annoyed he got following some of the other boys’ attempts at setting him up with a flirtatious local in the last visited town!

“It’s nice to meet you all. Link - Well, my Link has mentioned you in his letters before, so I was curious if our paths would ever cross.”

“Really? Cause he didn’t mention you at all…” Legend mumbles before getting elbowed roughly by Twilight.

“Will you all be staying? I can make tea or something -”

“- No. We’re only passing by so that I could give you this,” Four turns down your offer while handing you the book he’s been carrying around practically all day. How easily he’s able to do this surprises the Chain further, after all, most would jump at the chance to spend more time with their beloved. Surely just a few measly minutes can’t be enough to fill his quarter around you, can it?

“Ah, come on! You’re just going to introduce us and leave? That’s no way to treat a lover,” Warrior shames through a mischievous smirk.

“We have a job to do. I wouldn’t want to delay us any longer than needed,” Four narrows his eyes at the Captain in return, yet that doesn’t stop the rest of the Chain from looking to Time who eventually sighs under the pressure of their gazes.

“...It would be rude to simply leave as suddenly as we came. I suppose there’s no harm in staying a short while - only if we are welcomed, of course.”

“Wonderful! I’ll get started on that tea then!” Four grimaces while the Chain cheers and enters your home without needing any more of an invite. Noticing his dampened mood, you place a hand on his shoulder and frown, “Do you not want to stay? I wouldn’t be upset -”

“- Of course, I want to stay,” He sighs, his hand quickly placing itself over your own, “I’ve missed you, I just don’t want them embarrassing me. They can be a bit…much sometimes.”

You chuckle, gently leading him inside, “They can’t be that bad, can they?”

“Hey Smithy! Why didn’t you say anything about having a lover before? After all we’ve been through together, too; we should be hurt!”

“...Can they?” Four deflates, and your smile turns more sympathetic.

“Was it supposed to be a big secret?” Hyrule asks innocently, followed by Warrior’s scoff.

“I hope you aren't ashamed of them now.”

Four huffs in offense at that last comment, crossing his arms while shifting his weight to one side, “No, I’m not ashamed of them, and it was never a secret, it’s just that none of you ever asked. What was I supposed to do? Randomly start going on and on about my love life as we all ate around the campfire?”

“The Captain has no problem doing it,” Wild mocks, earning an insulted glare.

Hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, Four rolls his eyes sarcastically, “This is my partner and I love them…There, you guys know now. Happy?”

“But we still don’t know any details!” Shy whines, “Like, how’d you guys meet? How long have you been together?”

“Are you married? Do you want to be?”

…Dear Hylia, Four can already feel a headache coming on. Seeing his plight, you go ahead and answer the questions for yourself, “I’m afraid it’s not that interesting of a story. We grew up together and were always close until one day, we simply decided our relationship was more romantic than platonic. That was about a year or so ago. Not sure if we’re going to get married anytime soon since we’re still pretty young…but it’s a nice thought for the future.”

“You seem to have a very comfortable life here,” Time acknowledges, having a look around your home which is cozy and filled with books, many having been gifts from your boyfriend who has always made a point of bringing at least one back after each of his adventures.

“Laidback and uneventful in the best way possible,” Is how someone else describes it, “We can see why you’d like our Smith then.”

“True,” You snort before sharing an amused smirk with Four, “Although he can be quite the handful sometimes.”

The boys raise their eyebrows, not certain what you're alluding to. The Smith a handful? Are you certain you're talking about the same guy now, or does he have a secret polar-opposite twin hiding around here somewhere? Now that’s an actual secret he won’t be telling them anytime soon.

#link x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #legend of zelda #lu time x reader #lu wild x reader #lu four x reader

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selineram3421 · 11 months ago

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*stumbles in and door slams into the wall* Ding-dong💘

Soft Love

Alastor X Chubby Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ food mention-desserts and strawberries, hurt/comfort, italics=thoughts, insecurities, mentions of murder, mention of cannibalism, slight implied/suggestive ⚠

Life in Hell was hectic.

Love in Hell? Nearly impossible to find.

Especially if its real.

Alastor knew you as the kind, soft demon that everyone got along with in the hotel staff.

Kind even to him.

Your work at the hotel was mostly in the arts. The Princess has you in the therapy area to help sinners express their emotions with different mediums.

Such an interesting demon you were with many hobbies. Painting, singing, dancing, baking, designing, cooking, knitting, photography, drawing. The list could go on possibly for a while, you haven't shared all of them.

He was curious, wondering exactly what damned you to Hell.

"Alastor!"

Speak of the devil, you called.

"Yes dear?", he looked up from his book.

He sat on the lobby couch that was just across the bar, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"Could you try something for me? I made some lava cake for desert but I want to make sure yours is the right amount of bitter."

Yes, you were also very considerate and attentive.

"Of course dear!", he stood from the couch and whisked his book away into the shadows. "You know I always look forward to your baking."

He followed behind you, smiling a little wider at the pep in your step.

The Radio Demon knew that he had feelings for you. It took him a while to come to terms with it but let it happen anyway.

You were also the only person that he touched (respectfully) often. Holding your hand, linking your arms together, squishing your cheeks, holding you close for a dance. All excuses just to feel your warmth and softness.

Sure, he's let his friend Rosie touch him but she knew that he didn't like physical contact too often unless it was needed for dancing.

"I made your cake less sweet too!", you turned to look back at him with a smile.

"I appreciate it."

Once both of you entered the kitchen, you showed him the cakes and got out two different chocolate mixes.

"The lighter one is the sweetest, and the darker one is quite bitter.", you placed the bowls on the counter. "I actually want to try it with strawberries too.."

"Sounds appetizing!", he stepped closer and placed his hand on your lower back, leaning forward. "I wouldn't mind having a bite."

You blushed and avoided his gaze.

How adorable.

"I'll get a spoon for you to try the chocolate.", you said before walking out of his hold and over to the drawers near the door.

One thing he noticed was that when it came to his touch, you'd shy away. When he gave you compliments regarding your appearance, you would brush him off or put yourself down.

It upset him greatly.

Somewhat impatient, he swiped up some of the dark chocolate with his finger and tasted it.

"Alastor!"

Like a child, he quickly held his hands behind his back as if to hide something.

"Yes?"

You sighed and got a napkin before walking up to the red man.

"No use in hiding what you did.", you held out your hand.

"But I'm not hiding anything.", he shows you his hands by placing them on yours. "See?"

You hum and pull him down by his hands. "You've got chocolate on the side of your lip deer.", you point out and laugh.

He let's you clean him up with the napkin.

When you pull back, he stops you by taking a hold of your hand with the napkin. Calling your name, the Radio Demon looks you in the eye.

"I have a question for you"

"What is it?", you ask.

"Why is it that whenever I give you a compliment, you disregard it?"

In a second you stiffened and stared at him wide eyed.

"W-what? I don't do that..", you tried to pull away.

Alastor places a kiss on your fingers, still not letting go of your hand.

"Don't lie to me my dear, I always remember everything about you."

You look away with a sigh.

The frown on your face makes his unbeating heart ache.

"I don't like to talk about it.", you say and pull away.

Instead of leaving, you move the bowls and hop onto the counter to sit. Then you take a moment before speaking.

"I wasn't always treated right because of how big I looked.", you said with a sad smile. "I wasn't beauty standard perfect, or had a body that someone could ogle."

The red demon listened.

"When I did get into a relationship, it wasn't good. I was belittled, abused, and cheated on. But I still loved with my whole being..", you moved your hands onto your lap. "I was stabbed to death by them."

Alastor had to hold back his anger.

He wanted to find the person who dared treat you like nothing. To torture and rip them apart. To eat them alive.

"Silly, isn't it?", you smiled sadly, staring down at your hands. "Its what got me killed in the first place but yet I'm still chasing after it."

The Radio Demon slowly took your hands and gently rubbed them.

"You just put your heart in the wrong hands.", he said and lifted your hands to kiss your knuckles. "If I was the one who you loved, you wouldn't have to worry about any affairs."

He kissed the inside of your wrist.

"I'd compliment you everyday."

You were blushing madly at this point, too shocked and flustered to stop him.

He kissed your shoulder.

"I would never hurt you.", he says and kisses your cheek before whispering. "Unless you asked me to."

"Alastor-", you got one of your hands out of his hold to cover your mouth and some of your red face.

He leans back a bit to get a good look at you.

"I don't know how they couldn't see you for who you are. You're absolutely divine and worth so much more than anything anyone else could offer me."

You were tearing up at this point, still covering your mouth.

Carefully, the deer demon moved your hand away and caressed the side of your face. Wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

"I love you."

You start tearing up more and he sees them start running down, some wetting his hand.

"I love all of you.", he smiles genuinely. "And if anyone dared try to insult or belittle you again, I'll make sure to torture them a million times over until you ask me to stop."

You've begun to quietly sob, wiping your tears as best as you could with your free hand.

"May I kiss you?"

You laugh at that.

"I'm a mess!", you say with a breathy laugh before sniffling.

"No, you're adorable.", he kisses the top of your head.

He let's you take a minute to calm down and helps you wipe your tears and snot away.

"Can you ask again?", you give him a shy smile.

"May I kiss you?", his smile widens.

"Yes please."

Both of you share a soft but long kiss.

I found the merch!

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

None for right now until I can fix how to add more tags.

ML for Alastor🎙

Extra:

You confess to Alastor that you've had a crush on him for quite a while.

"How long?", he asks, deer ears perked up.

"Uh..haha.", you look away with a blush. "After a week of joining the hotel.."

Doing the math, he realized that you've fancied him four months before he started growing feelings for you.

"Is that why you would ask what my favorite meals are? And how much sweetness I could tolerate?"

You nod.

"I can't believe how oblivious I've been. You've been gifting and making things for me.", his deer ears droop down and his brows furrow. "I must make up for all the time you spent on me."

"It's alright love.", you smiled.

"No, you can't change my mind.", he says and steals a kiss. "I'm going to spoil you."

🫀

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moon-tell-me · 1 year ago

Text

Affection

"Our fingers dancing when they meet" - This side of paradise

The outsiders (separate) x GN reader

Warnings: bit of cursing, not proof read, nothing else??

SODAPOP CURTIS

DARRY CURTIS

He prolly needs a hug honestly

I doubt he gets them often

He's a wee bit touch starved

‼️All hugs and cuddles will be greatly appreciated‼️

He's not super big on pda

He'll have an arm around you, kiss you and stuff

But that's kinda it

He would def give the best kisses

Sharing a bed with him is alright..

He gives you enough space and he'll spoon you if you want

But

He snores

Like, really bad

So..

He loves affection

Mans would actually hold you 24/7 if he could

You wanna cuddle with him?

Don't even have to ask

He always knows what you want and when you want it

GUYS HES A MAGICAL GIRL??

NEW AU?

Sorry, got distracted

Anyways, he'll be big spoon, little spoon, your pillow, blanket, anything really

He also loves hand holding

Just link your fingers with his anytime, anywhere

He'll be the happiest boy on earth

Soda doesn't mind pda

He'll show you love anywhere

He actually kinda likes it cause it shows the other girls that he's taken..

He's one of the best greasers to (sfw) sleep with

He's used to sharing a bed with someone, and he is probably the biggest cuddler of the group

Plus he's like a human heater

So you won't get cold

PONYBOY CURTIS

He likes your affection.. a lot

Maybe not as much as the others, but he likes it

He's not really a touch starved person

Actually, I see him as being kinda touch adverse, Soda, Johnny, and you being exceptions

He'd probably prefer just reading with you over all the cuddling

Until he's tired atleast

Speaking of, he canonically gets nightmares, and having someone sleeping with him helps

Y'know what else helps?

Cuddling, that's what.

Just let him be your little spoon

Kid really deserves it

He definitely likes more subtle affection

Your leg touching his, stuff like that

He also really likes cheek kisses and you playing with his hair

When it comes to pda, it will only happen around Johnny

The others won't let him live it down

ALSO, out of everyone, he's the one that blushes the most

DALLAS WINSTON

He hates physical affection

At least, that's what he says

You know better though

You've noticed how he reacts when you hold his hand, or play with his hair

How he calms when you cup his cheek and give him a gentle kiss

If we're being completely honest here, he loves it

He loves every single bit of your affection

Just don't do anything more then a quick kiss in public

If he gets really jealous or possessive in public he'll initiate pda

I'm talking, arm around your shoulder, pulling you in his lap, full on making out with you

He's a very touch starved person

So in private he'll accept any and all tender touches

He'll still be an ass about it but y'know

If you do it while he's tired he'll actually shut up and enjoy it

Sharing a bed with him is probably nice

He's veryy cuddly when tired

Do what you will with that information

He will only be your little spoon if he's black out drunk

Otherwise he'll just serve as your personal pillow

JOHNNY CADE

In the beginning your gonna have to hold back on your physical affection

Because of how his parents treat him he's gotten used to touches being painful

You need to be very patient and careful

He'll get used to it though!

He's also extremely touch starved

So he will definitely enjoy it once he knows you won't hurt him

He's willing to be affectionate in public, as long as the other guys aren't around

Except Ponyboy, he doesn't mind too much around him

He loves cuddling

He's always super shy about it tho

Actually, he's always kinda shy about anything you do

Even if it's just eye contact

It's just so new to him

Please please please just kiss him out of nowhere

His reaction would be so fvcking cute

Give this boy the love he deserves

Let him sleep in your bed every time it gets too cold out

He needs a nice, warm, comforting place to sleep

He'd be very respectful about it

Just give him sweet kisses while you cuddle him

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Probably the second most affectionate

Right behind Soda

He's not touch starved, he just really likes you

He doesn't care about pda

He doesn't care what others say

I think it's actually physically impossible for him to get embarrassed

So, do whatever the hell you want tbh

He's absolutely terrible to sleep with

He always sleeps in the starfish position, leaving you with no room

He's also a blanket hog

So uhh

Yeah

The only pro is that you can cuddle him

I bet he would give nice hugs and cuddles..

Overall, you can do pretty much whatever with him

He doesn't care that much

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #darry curtis #darry curtis x reader #sodapop curtis #sodapop x reader #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy x reader #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #two bit Mathews #two bit mathews x reader

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dazedandconfused-15 · 6 months ago

Text

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 3)

If you guys like it, I would greatly appreciate a reblog, it helps spread this fanfic around🫶

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

@tatumrileyslover @littlenosoul @nocturnest Part 3 is here!!

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You weren't sure how things would go with Billy after that night. Technically, you still owe him for the day at the museum, There are parts of Hawkins he hadn’t seen yet. Plus, you hadn’t talked about when or if you’d see each other again outside of school. So, it's a surprise when the following week, as you're grabbing books from your locker, you feel a presence behind you—the warmth of someone's body lightly brushing against your back. You look up and see a hand resting on your locker. Turning around, you met his curious and slightly amused eyes.

"Oh! Hey, you scared me…”

"I saw that," he replies. "Am I that ugly?"

You stay still, feeling the cold metal of the locker against your back, aware that some students are probably watching you. But Billy doesn't seem bothered by this; if anything, he seems indifferent. He's wearing the same black leather jacket he lent you the other night, over a partially unbuttoned black shirt. He knows he’s not ugly, and you know he’s teasing you. But his closeness throws you off, and you can’t find the words to play along. You stumble over a nonsensical and incomplete sentence. Meanwhile, he takes the books from your hands and moves his hand away from the locker, finally giving you space, and it feels like you can breathe again.

"Physics?" he asks, looking at the first book on the pile in his hands.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to close your locker, taking the opportunity to pull yourself together. "It's my first class, actually."

"Sweet. I'll walk you there."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." You struggle to hide your astonishment as you walk toward the classroom with him beside you.

And during the following days, he does the same. He makes it seem so natural that it slowly becomes routine for you. In history class, he sits next to you. During lunch break, you sit at the table at the back of the cafeteria. He always sits at a table next to Jason Carver, Chrissy Cunningham, and other popular jocks, but between bites of food, he always gives you a look. Eventually, at the end of the meal, he always gets up from their table and comes over to sit beside you. In history class, he always sits next to you. Strangely, Tommy Hagan makes no comment. After the first few times, the rest of the class seems to get used to it.

When the history teacher assigns the paired presentation on "The Role of Propaganda in World War II," the teacher lets you choose your partner. Billy and you are already sitting next to each other, so it’s automatic that you’ll work together. Part of you doubt he would choose to work with you if he wasn’t sitting next to you, but you decide not to think about it too much. You don’t mind the idea of working with him on the project. He offers to work on it at his place the following Saturday, as his dad and stepmom are in California for family matters.

It takes you twenty minutes to reach Cherry Lane. Billy’s house is about halfway there. His navy blue Camaro is parked out front, and as you approach, you see him on the opposite side of the car, rubbing a sponge against the back window. It’s warmer than usual, and he’s wearing a white tank top with basketball shorts. He notices you approaching and greets you with a nod, a cigarette clutched between his lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you greet back. You see a young red-haired girl walking past Billy. She has a skateboard under her arm, baggy jeans, and a short-sleeved T-shirt. She sees you, momentarily startled, and slows down, her blue eyes scanning you with detachment. Billy walks in the open garage, leaving you alone with her. You greet her with a hesitant wave of your hand, introducing yourself.

“I’m Max,” she replies. She must be Billy’s stepsister. He mentioned her a couple of times.

“Did you bring the books?” Billy returns with a bucket of water, setting it down beside the car.

You lift your linen shoulder bag slightly, indicating that your books are in there.

You feel Max’s eyes on you. Her blue eyes soften slightly, and she seems to recognize something. “You’re the girl who called last week, right?”

"Yes, that's me," you nod with a small smile.

Max nods in acknowledgment, silently. She then sets the skater down on the ground. “You’re the first one who comes over to actually study.”

An embarrassed smile breaks out on your face at her innuendo and you look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. The image of Billy with a girl while...no, you can't think about it.

“Piss off, Max,” Billy grumbles around his cigarette as he squeezes the sponge over the bucket, then jostles it twice to get rid of the water before scrubbing the windshield.

Max rolls her eyes, but steps on her skateboard. She gives you a small smile. “See you.”

“Bye, Max.” you watch her skate away along the road.

“And don’t go too far,” Billy calls over the roof of the Camaro.

For a moment you get lost watching how the muscles of his back move under the tank top as he rubs the side of the car sponge.

“Almost done.” he calls over his shoulder.

“You’re taking good care of it.” you observe as you approach the car, your hands tucked into your back pockets.

“You bet your sweet life I do. This baby cost me a good amount of money.”

“When did you buy it?” you lean against the tree near the uneven stone steps leading up to the entrance of his house.

Billy takes the cigarette from between his lips, puffing some smoke into the air. “I was sixteen. Worked at a garage near my house for a couple of years before that. The owner found her after being on the hunt for months. She had roughly 10,000 miles on her already and was a little banged up. So, I had to use my savings and kept working there for a few months to pay for the repairs.”

He puts the cigarette back between his lips and pours the bucket of water over the car, washing off the soap. Then he takes a few steps backward until he’s next to you as he takes in the newly washed car.

“Not bad, huh?”

“She’s really pretty.” you confirm with a nod.

You've never been particularly enthused with cars, but you must admit that Billy's Camaro stands out in Hawkins. Moreover, the care he takes of it only enhances its shiny navy blue colour.

“Just like you.”

You turn toward him, caught by surprise by his comment. As you do, he’s just taking the cigarette from his mouth after another drag, his eyes revealing a faint warmth that’s hard to perceive, blurred by the seemingly bored look his long lashes give him. But you see it. Even if for a second, you see it. The smoke curls lazily around him.

He luckily saves you from any clumsy answer, jerking his chin toward the house. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

You hum while nodding in obligement, walking toward the house so he can avoid your flustered expression. Billy follows closely behind you, resting his hand on the back of your neck as you walk up the stone steps. He’s been doing that quite a few times. It’s nothing crazy, not an open hug or anything, but to you, his touch makes your heart glow and fills you with a comforting warmth. The house has a front screened porch, where two plants in a pot rest on the floor. You spot a grey rocking chair on the right side.

“I like it.” you say. You wish you had a porch.

“Yeah, sometimes Max sits over there to read.”

It’s a simple house, you notice, with modest furnishings. You both walk into Billy’s room, and you take in your surroundings. It’s a simple room. Apart from his bed, a few pieces of furniture, a mirror, and a wardrobe, there are things distinctly him that give the room character and warmth. Hanging on the wall are posters of bands like Metallica and Mötley Crüe. You also notice a stereo with two speakers. On the fireplace, there are some books.

“You brought it with you?” you ask with a smile, pointing to a yellow surfboard fading to green, leaning against the wall.

Billy sits on the bed, leaning his back against the wall. “Yes. It was out of the question for me to leave it in Cali.” with a wave of his hand, he invites you to come and sit next to him.

You sit gingerly on the bed, books on your lap as he pops a piece of chewing gum into his mouth and offers you one. You take it, thanking him. Sitting so close, the warmth of his body seems to transfer directly from his thigh to yours.

“Are you gonna go back?” you ask, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You pull your pencil case and a notepad out of your bag.

Billy snorts. “Hell yeah. I’m not staying here.”

It shouldn’t, but his statement stings a little. At the end of the school year, he will leave. After all, it was a foregone conclusion. There’s nothing to keep him here; his home is in California. He never told you specifically why he moved here. You had asked, jokingly, if his parents wanted "a change of air," and he had replied, ‘Something like that,’ without adding any explanation. So you had not pressed the issue any further. You learned that about certain things, Billy did not feel like talking. He clams up even more. If he wants to, you decide, he will open up to you.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Might work during the summer to save some money, though.”

“There’s a garage downtown.” you offer, remembering what he said earlier.

“I was thinking more about the pool. Heard they pay very well.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Heather works there during summers,” he says, grabbing the history book from his bedside table and putting it on his lap.

“Heather Holloway?”’ you ask, your finger lingering along the edge of your notepad.

There is only one Heather at school. Billy must be talking about her. She’s a pretty girl who comes from a good family. Her dad owns the Hawkins Post. She’s got it all.

“Yeah, you know her?”

“Oh, not directly. But yes, I know her. Her dad is pretty respected in town.” you bite your lip, fighting the urge to ask how he knows her. Are they friends? Did he date her? Is he still dating her?

You conclude it's none of your business, and thinking about it makes you feel weird. So you change the subject, finally opening the book and proposing to start working on the project. In between, you see Max walking past his room from the open door, her skateboard under her arm. After an hour of working, Billy stretches and a yawn escapes you. He lights a cigarette, inspiring a long puff of smoke, and titls his head up, looking at the ceiling. When he exhales, he also seems to sigh with relief. You realize how much smoking seems to be a way for him to relax, a need.

“When did you start smoking?” you ask before you can stop yourself. Then immediately rush on adding “If you don’t mind me asking”.

“Must’ve been fourteen.” he says, “A friend of mine, Wayne, had been smoking for a year or so. Tried from his cig’ once, never went a day without smoking from there.”

You hum pensively.

Billy lolls his head to the side, a lazy smile plastered on his face. “You must think I’m fucking up my health, huh?”

“No, no.” you shake your head. Then you reconsider. “I mean…yes,” at which Billy starts laughing, a low gravelly laugh. “But, I know it must be hard to stop too, once you start. I can’t know, I’ve never tried.”

A second later, his cigarette appears in front of your eyes. He arches an eyebrow at you, looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Ah, come on. It’s not like you’re gonna get addicted after one drag. Live a little.” he gently nudges your thigh with his.

You look at the cigarette with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. You've always wanted to try it, not because you want to start smoking, but just to confirm if it tastes bad so you can put the thought to rest.

“Okay. Just once, though.” you gingerly take the cigarette from between his fingers, holding it awkwardly and feeling as if it might fall off any second. You bring it to your lips, feeling his eyes on you.

“Take it slow.”

It’s easier said than done. As soon as you breathe in the smoke, the end of the cigarette burning bright orange wildly, your lungs get filled with an unbearably burning sensation. You feel on fire. You can’t breathe. You start coughing non-repeatedly, your vision going blurred.

Billy laughs again, taking the cigarette from your fingers as you try to fill your lungs with air. “Jesus, I said to take it slow.”

Your face turns red from the effort, and your eyes water. You can't help but glare at him briefly as tears escape, your nose scrunching in disgust. He reaches out with his other hand, cups the side of your face, and gently brushes your tears away with his thumb.

“Breathe, now,” he says between chuckles.

“I don’t like it. It’s gross.”

You say it both because you mean it and because it keeps you grounded under his touch. When he settles back against the wall, your heart keeps hammering against your ribcage.

"You're cute," he says before taking a drag, as if he's talking about the weather, and it only makes your flush an impossibly darker shade of red.

After he finishes his cigarette, Billy asks if you're hungry. You both head into the kitchen, and you sit at the table while he makes tuna sandwiches. He tells you it was the first thing he learned to make for himself when he was younger, back when his father used to work late before marrying Max's mother. He had to fend for himself. Over time, he learned to cook more dishes, especially when his father and stepmother were away for the weekend or running errands. A few years ago, he started weightlifting, which motivated him to learn even more about cooking. Despite all that, he still enjoys tuna sandwiches. Billy puts the sandwiches in the toaster and serves them to you on plates. As you take a bite, the taste of pickles and mayonnaise gives it an extra kick. It's delicious.

“Hey, can you make me one too?” Max emerges from the hallway, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

Billy looks up from the cutting board he’s chopping pickles on as he makes his own sandwich, scowling at her. “Make it yourself.”

“Come on, you know I’m not good at this.”

“Well, you better learn how to make it. It’s a fucking tuna sandwich, not rocket science.”

Max sighs, almost exasperated. "Fine, you stubborn ass. I’ll make it myself, but don’t cry to me when your precious pickles are all gone."

Billy looks up, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Hey! Language," he chides, pointing the knife in her direction, as if he hadn't sworn himself just a moment ago. He then gestures toward the empty chair beside you. "And sit down, if you want me to do it.”

Max quietly sits down next to you, a cheeky smile plastered on her face. Billy mutters under his breath, resuming chopping down the pickles.

“With loads of mayo, please.”

You’ve never seen Billy in a step-brother role before, and the dynamic between them is intriguing. You're suddenly curious about their relationship and how it has evolved since they first met.

“You’re lucky I’m even making this for you,” he grumbles, spreading the mayo generously on the bread.

“This is really good.” you say, pointing at your sandwich.

“Yeah, Billy’s tuna sandwiches are rad.” Maxine approves. Then she shrugs. “He's an asshole, but if there's one thing he's good at, it's cooking.”

“Woah, thanks Maxine.” he ironically says. “Really portraying me well here.”

You chuckle softly under your breath as Max ignores him, carrying on. “Can I go to Family Video later? I need to give back the movies.”

“Later when?” he asks as he assembles her sandwich. “We gotta work on the school project.”

“Like, in an hour?”

“You’ll have to wait ‘till I drop her home.”

Max huffs. “C’mon, Billy. I can skate there, it’s mid afternoon.”

“Ain’t no way I’m letting you go there on your own. It’s on my ass that Neil will be then.”

“I’ll be back before they’re home!” she tries again. “And I’ll bring back some good stuff.”

You watch as Billy sighs heavily, walking in silence over to the table and setting Max’s dish in front of her. Then he points his finger at her, looking at her hard. “I’m warning you. If you’re not back here by four we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

Max mutters something along the lines of “Yeah, jeez, okay” as Billy walks back toward the counter.

He shoots a mildly warning look over his shoulder, his eyes glinting sharply. “And you better bring back some good stuff this time.”

Max gasps in outragement. “It wasn’t that bad!”

“It was crap.”

Max turns toward you. “Have you watched Children of the Corn?”

“I don’t think I have.” you say. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a horror movie.”

“Oh. I don’t really watch horror movies.” you smile sheepishly. “Too scary, I can’t sleep for months then. I’m more into comedies or romances.”

“Those aren’t bad once in a while.” Max agrees. “We mostly watch horrors, but sometimes we happen to watch romances too.”

“You watch rom-coms,” Billy stresses out, as he adds the tuna-mayonnaise mix to his toast.

“Please. How many times did you stay on the couch until the end?

“That’s because the NBA played later at night.”

Max arches an eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh, really? And what about all those times you pretended to get a snack from the fridge, and I caught you hanging around in the hallway, peeking at the screen?"

“Are you eating or not?” Billy cuts her, “Tic tac, shitbird. You better hurry to the videostore before I change my mind.”

It’s hard for you to hold your laugh. You look down at your plate at your half-eaten sandwich, hearing him approaching with his plate.

Max huffs loudly, standing and grabbing her plate. “Whatever. See you.”

She waves at you before disappearing in the hallway.

“See you, Max.”

Billy sits down beside you with a sigh, taking the spot where Max was just sitting. He immediately starts eating his sandwich, and you notice he eats much faster than you. You try not to let your eyes linger on his biceps as he leans forward to take another big bite, crumbs falling onto his plate. You repeat to him that his sandwich is really good, mentioning that when you make it at home, it’s usually dry and tasteless. You just don’t know how to combine the right things, and it gets boring.

“She seems to care about you a lot,” you observe as you both finish eating, referring to Max.

Billy rubs the back of his neck, a sigh leaving his lips. Then he leans back on the chair. “Yeah. Things weren’t, ah…things are better now.”

“You didn’t get along at first?” you tentatively ask.

“Yeah, not really. Moving together was tough. But I was a dick back then.”

“You?”

You can kind of see it, but the person he’s shown to you is the opposite of what he’s describing.

“Believe me, sweetheart.” he shakes his head, a rueful smirk on his face. "I'm no saint now, but you're lucky we didn't meet when I was younger.”

“I’m sure you didn’t have it easy.” you offer.

“Well, Max didn’t either. Her dad doesn’t give a crap about her, her mom only dated assholes before my old man. Then she meets him, thinks she hit the jackpot, turns out he can compete against all of the previous ones together. They really found each other.”

“Is she bad?”

Billy shrugs. “Nah, just weak. And Neil has his way easy with weak people. He found the right woman to mold between his hands like he wants to.”

You listen to him attentively, your hand supporting your head as you rest your elbow on the table, facing him. Neil must be his dad. There’s always some distance, and coldness in the way he speaks about him. He never once referred to him as his dad.

“It must’ve been hard for her…” you recognize. “Especially being that young.”

Billy stands, grabbing the three dishes as he grimaces. “Yeah, I was so wrapped up in my own anger that I completely overlooked that,” he says as he drops them in the sink, and then starts washing them. You stand up and bring him the two empty glasses. “Just didn’t want any of that crap. Moving in with these people I’ve barely seen a couple of times and act like a happy little family. Fuck that.”

“Then the move…” you supply.

"Then the move. Blamed her for all of it. Especially for the move, when in reality the whole thing was my fault. But yeah."

Your eyes fall on his hand, noticing the harsh way he’s scrubbing the glasses with the sponge. You wonder what happened. What caused the move? What could Billy have done? You don’t want to press on it further, realizing how you could easily touch a sensitive nerve.

“Well, you seem to take good care of her. And I see how she looks at you.”

You could swear for a moment he's caught off guard, almost uncomfortable. Then he sniffs, drying his hands with a towel, his eyes wandering outside the kitchen window. "Yeah, trying to make up for all of it. It’s best to stick together in this crazy house."

There is something about all of this that puts you on edge, makes your skin prickle. Something unsettling is happening in this family. There are subtle but numerous hints you pick up on in your interactions with Billy. It's a month later that you uncover the ugly truth.

------------------------------------------------------------

A couple of weeks later May finally arrives, bringing longer days and warmer weather. You can already breathe in the summer air. The trailer park seems a little less gloomy now, with trees in bloom and green grass. In the evening, you hear crickets singing from the open hayloft in the kitchen or your room. On clear, sunny weekends, you and Billy go to Lovers Lake. It's not warm enough to swim yet, but you lie on the shore or on one of the deserted docks. You often do your homework or read while Billy smokes a cigarette or dozes. Your relationship has progressed; you feel much more comfortable around him. Though you don't know each other completely yet, you've gone out enough times to welcome the occasional silence, which no longer frightens you. Slowly, you feel yourself shedding layers of your shell. You think you can consider yourselves friends.

You were supposed to hang out that morning. He was meant to come over to study at your place before heading to Lovers Lake as planned. However, today, the familiar rumble of the Camaro doesn't show up. After a few hours of hesitation, you try calling his house. A man answers, presumably Billy's dad, and informs you that Billy is not home. The rest of the day passes in anxious waiting, but Billy never arrives. You try to push away thoughts of the worst-case scenario, but as the hours drag on, those fears keep creeping back. By Sunday, still no word from him. Billy has always been the opposite of what you expected—he never ignored you at school, never stood you up. Yet now, your fear seems to be materializing. Perhaps he's grown tired of you and found more captivating company. You wonder what you could possibly offer him. You're not as interesting or outgoing as his basketball team friends, nor do you provide the same entertainment as the high school girls he's dated, or might still be dating. Perhaps he's realized that after delving beneath the surface, there's nothing particularly captivating about you.

At dinner, your dad notices something is bothering you and asks what's wrong. You barely touch your plate, feeling like an amoeba. But he's dead tired from his factory shift, and you don't want to burden him with your worries, so you lie and tell him that you're not feeling well. Later, he rises from the sofa, gives you a kiss on the head, and advises you not to stay up too late before retiring to his room. Despite the sound of the TV in the background, you feel lonelier than ever, and the resignation settling over you is almost worse than the whirlwind of emotions you've experienced all day. Hours pass, and you start to doze off curled up on the sofa, the movie you started barely catching your attention. Then, you're jolted awake by the roar of a familiar engine outside the trailer. It's as if a shot of adrenaline has pierced through your lethargy. You sit up abruptly, heart racing, straining your ears to confirm what you've heard. The noise ceases, prompting you to hurry to the door, moving slowly to avoid disturbing your sleeping dad. Your heart skips a beat when, through the window, you spot Billy's familiar silhouette in the dim light cast by the bulb outside.

When you open the door, Billy seems momentarily surprised to see you. As if he didn't expect you to open it so promptly. But then that expression is washed away by his usual smirk.

“You sure were waiting for me, huh?”

You stifle a gasp of horror at the sight of his bruised and battered face, instinctively bringing your hands to your mouth to muffle any sound that might wake your father. To say he's in a bad state would be an understatement.

"Oh my God, Billy."

Closing the front door softly behind you, you step out into the night air, standing in front of him, your concern palpable.

"Good to see you too," he jokes, but his playful expression fades as he realizes his attempt to lighten the mood isn't working.

"Oh God..."

You draw closer, taking in his state. There’s an angry bruise around his left eye, dark purple and almost black, with hints of red and blue around the edges, swollen and puffy. Traces of dried blood linger around his nostrils, and his nose is swollen, the bridge as purple as the area under his eye.

"It's fine," he says.

"Sorry... can I just..." setting aside your shyness, you gently take his face in your hands, tilting his head slightly backward. You won’t fail to notice his small wince as you do so. His lip is cut and swollen. "Does it hurt a lot?"

“Nah. It’s okay.”

"What happened?" you ask softly as you brush his chin with your thumb, almost afraid of causing him further pain.

Billy doesn't seem concerned at all, contrasting with your likely alarmed expression. He looks almost unfazed, the corners of his eyes crinkling into his usual amused expression.

"Got into a fight with a guy. He was just drunk, and I was there."

You frown in confusion. "Were you... at a bar or something?"

"Yeah, I uh...at the pub downtown. Just happened to cross paths with him. He thought I was looking at his girl or something."

"A major dick," you mutter under your breath, your eyes still scanning his cut. It looks deep, like the blood struggled to stop flowing. There's still some dried blood on his chin.

Billy chuckles, then after a moment, he speaks quietly, "Yeah, a major dick. Got him good, though."

“You didn’t clean it. It’s going to get infected, I’ll quickly get…”

“S’fine, really.” while exhaling a sigh through his nose, his hand encircles your wrists, prying yours gently away.

You lower your gaze to his hands to examine the damage there. But that’s when you notice it. His knuckles are completely fine. There isn’t a single cut on them.

“Billy…” you hold his hands, then look at him.

He seems to pick up on what you’re thinking because he pulls his hands away, scratching his nose with his knuckles, acting as nonchalant as ever. You notice how his hands seem to twitch, like he’s got this nervousness he can’t shake off. As if he’s itching for something. Itching for a smoke.

“I’m gonna clean it when I get home. Wanna go to the quarry? I’ve got some sweets Max forgot in the car earlier,” he suggests, nodding towards the Camaro parked behind him at the beginning of the trailer park. It's likely he didn’t want to wake anyone, especially your dad, given how late it is.

“But…”

“Sweetheart. Please,” he cuts you off. You freeze in place at the harsher tone of his last word. Billy sighs, running a hand through his curls. “M’sorry. Can we just not talk about it?” he looks tired, but not physically tired—mentally tired. You can sense the exhaustion in his gaze, a silent plea underlying his question.

A twist forms in your stomach as the reality sinks in. It confirms that something very wrong, something dark, is happening in his life. You begin to reflect on how you might have overlooked the signs. You feel the urge to ask him if the person causing him harm is who you suspect. You want to help him. But you push down those thoughts and emotions.

“Okay. Okay, of course,” you softly say. “Can I just go and grab the first-aid kit before we leave? Please.”

Billy clenches his jaw and looks away. You can see how hard this must be for him, and the last thing you want is for him to feel like he can't be vulnerable around you.

“All right.” he finally says.

After quietly retrieving the first aid kit, you get into the car with Billy. You’re not too worried about your father waking up since he sleeps like a rock, and it’s a Friday night after all. The car ride to the quarry is unusually silent. You try to break the ice by asking Billy how the basketball game went a few days ago or how Max liked the movie you recommended the last time you saw her. However, Billy responds with noncommittal short answers, clearly not fully present in the moment. Something must be weighing heavily on his mind. Sensing his mood, you decide to fill the silence by sharing what you’ve been up to lately. You mention that your father's co-worker, Wayne Munson, who lives in the trailer right across the street, came over for coffee the other day. Wayne has a son who’s a year or two older than you. You’ve never really talked to him, as he tends to keep to himself, but he seems nice enough. Now that the weather is warmer, you often see him sitting on the porch of his trailer, either smoking or reading a book. He always greets you when you walk by or take out the trash. You know he struggled in school, having flunked twice in his senior year, but he graduated last year and now works as a mechanic downtown. Talking about the mechanic job seems to catch Billy’s interest. You remind him of the conversation you had a while back when he mentioned wanting to work as a mechanic during the summer. Billy starts to loosen up and tells you that he plans to stop by the car shop in the next few days.

On this warm night, the air is balmy and filled with the earthy scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh foliage. As he has a couple of times before, Billy parks the car near the edge of the quarry, just where the thick line of trees begins. Gravel crunches softly under the tires, the only sound of the quiet evening.

The towering trees cast shadows blurred in the moonlight, their leaves rustling softly in the warm breeze. Before he can say anything, you open the first-aid kit on your lap and gently shush him when he objects. As you gently clean the dried blood around his nostrils and the cut on his lip with an antiseptic wipe, Billy winces slightly but doesn’t pull away. You then apply a bit of the antibiotic ointment to the wounds to prevent infection. Finally, you use a gauze pad to gently dab at the bruised areas, careful not to press too hard. Throughout the process, Billy remains mostly silent, his eyes closed, occasionally taking a deep breath. The temperature feels good outside, so once you’re finished you both get out of the car. Billy rounds the car and sits on the ground with a wince, resting his back against the side of the car. So you do the same. You stand in front of the quarry. Under the pale light of the crescent moon, the quarry walls loom like ancient sentinels, their rough surfaces casting long, mysterious shadows. The water at the bottom of the quarry is a dark, mirror-like expanse, reflecting the twinkling stars above.

"Here," Billy says, holding up some green candy canes along with a pack of cigarettes. It looks different from his usual pack of Marlboro Reds, but you don’t think much of it initially.

"What flavor is it?" you ask, taking one of the candies from the packet.

"Must be sour apple."

As you begin to chew, the taste of apple indeed invades your taste buds. From the corner of your eye, you see Billy pull a cigarette out of the pack, then hear him swear.

"Shit." Billy curses. "That's a candy. Didn’t even notice it."

You see the candy cigarette between Billy's fingers and an amused chuckle escapes your lips.

"Don't worry, it's an easy mistake. Guess even tough guys can mix up their vices sometimes."

That makes him snort a quiet laugh, and even if it’s without a real smile and it’s short-lived, you managed to make him laugh a bit.

Billy leans his head against the metal of the Camaro, his hand holding the lighter dropping to his thigh. "They must be in the car."

He must be referring to his cigarettes. You remain silent for a few seconds, contemplating whether to offer to go get them for him. You look at his tired profile: eyes closed, head resting against the car, throat exposed, Adam's apple slightly prominent. Looking at his bruised face makes your stomach twist with concern, your heart sinking. At least his wounds are clean now. You feel the urge to reach out and brush aside the curl that falls over his eye. But you don’t. Instead, your gaze shifts to the quarry.

“You’ve been really smoking a lot, Billy.”

Your words slip out quietly, as if afraid of disrupting the fragile balance of the evening. You’ve observed Billy smoking ever since you met him. Lately, though, you’ve noticed how his fingers are more often occupied by a cigarette than free of it. You’ve seen his nervous fidgeting in class—how he jitters his knee, taps the rubber end of his pencil on the desk, scratches his stubble with his knuckles, and frequently shifts position in his chair. And now, whenever you’re together, he’s pulling one out from his pack at least once.

Billy opens his eyes slightly, glancing at you. He sighs and looks away, his expression hardening a bit. "Yeah, well, it helps," he says gruffly, but there's a hint of something softer in his voice. "Don't worry about it. I'll cut back... someday."

He sees the probably worried look on your face. He’s so young, and he smokes already this much. You don’t even realize how you’re worrying at your lip.

“I’ll try and slow down, alright?”

You nod hesitantly as he offers you a cigarette candy that you take.

“Just ‘cause you can't stand the smell of smoke.” he teases you, his eyes sleepy and slightly amused.

“What? I…that wasn’t…” you stutter, feeling embarrassed he caught you. “That’s not why I think you should stop! It’s for your health…”

“But it bothers you too,” a grin forms on his face as he reaches out, and before you can stop you he pinches right above your knee, making you jump and squeal in surprise. He’s learned how ticklish he makes you, and he’s never stopped teasing you with it ever since. l “I know you do.”

“Stop! Stop it!”

“You alway scrunch up your nose like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world.”

“Stop it, okay!” you try to free your leg with a high-pitched laugh as he tries to pinch you again. “You’re right, I hate it! Hands off, now.”

You push his hand away as he finally relents, trying to catch your breath. Billy shakes his head in amusement. He tugs at his candy stick with his teeth.

“Knew it,” he says.

You simply take another candy from his hands, avoiding his gaze as he chews on his. You’re hyper-aware of how flushed you are now, embarrassed that he noticed. You didn't want him to realize that his smoking bothered you.

“I haven’t even realized I do that…” you then say, breaking through the quiet.

“It’s kinda cute.”

His comment makes your heart race and your face flush even more. You glance down, fiddling with the wrapper of the candy in your hand. “Thanks”, you mumble softly, barely audible.

“You sure as hell would make a good nurse.” he mumbles then, shifting his position, wincing a bit and you notice how he brushes his hand over his left side. “All caring and everything. You took care of my wounds pretty well.”

If it wasn’t for what he just said, you would ask him if he got hurt there as well. You try to mask your embarrassment with a casual shrug. "I don't think I'd like being a nurse," you say, managing to keep your voice steady. "Too much pressure and responsibility."

Billy nods, taking your words in stride. "Fair enough," he says. "Then what would you like to be?”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the question. "I don't know," you admit, staring down at your hands. "It's hard to figure out."

"Tell you what, it’s pretty simple," Billy says. "What do you like?”

You lift your eyes from your hands, a bit surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”

Billy pops another candy in his mouth. “See, I like cars and I’m pretty good at working on them. So, I know I’m gonna be a mechanic.” he lazily gestures at himself, then at you. “What do you like?”

You ponder his question for a moment, thinking about the things that bring you joy. "I like to take pictures," you say finally. "Especially portraits of people. Capturing their expressions, their emotions... it feels special."

"Then you should be a photographer," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

You smile at his straightforwardness, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Maybe," you say, considering the possibility.

Billy leans his head back against the car. "You know, the guy I was working for in San Diego once told me something," he says. "He said that at the end of the day, it's simple. You need to find something you like and you're really good at, then make it your job. That's how you'll make it in life."

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. "That makes sense," you say softly.

Photography has always been your favorite hobby. Until recent dramatic events, you used to do it a lot. You have a lot of pictures in the drawer of your desk. Billy tells you he wants you to show them to him sometime. He also says it’s a shame you stopped and that you should start doing it again. You haven’t spoken specifically about your mom leaving yet. You’ve noticed he’s very sensitive about it, careful not to push your boundaries. He’s never asked questions. However, tonight he simply tells you that if photography makes you happy, it’s important to not give up on it, as passions have a way of pulling us through hard times. You realize how Billy has a way of making things simpler, of helping you see what's important. And in that moment, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your life.

You stay at the quarry until two am, and it’s when you start yawning repeatedly that Billy says it’s time to go. Sitting in the car, despite the warm weather, feels good as the night has gotten chilly. You feel sleepy, but nonetheless, you continue to think about the current situation. You don’t want Billy to go home, there’s something that makes you feel on the edge, you want to talk about it with him so bad but don’t even know how to approach the subject. Despite that, sleep starts to take over you, but once halfway through the ride to the trailer park, a brownish silhouette crosses the road in front of you.

“The fuck.” Billy floors both the clutch and the brakes, and you’re thankful for having your seatbelt on. Your body slams forward and back again, and you hit your head against the headrest for the impact.

A deer, froze into place a few seconds before, rushes toward the the other side of the road, running wildly and disappearing through the trees.

“Ouch.”

Billy heaves a loud sigh. “God…frickin’ stupid forest.”

Your heartbeats slow down as you recover from the surprise, your hand feeling the back of your head.

“Yeah, we have lots of them here,” you mumble.

“Jesus.” he looks then at you. “You alright?”

His hand comes up, touching yours so you drop it. He gently rests it on the back of your head where it still throbs. It’s warm and big. He literally could crush you if he wanted to. But his touch is soft.

“It’s fine.” you squeak, the sudden touch making you burn.

“Hurts a lot?” he mutters’, his thumb petting the skin at the nape of your neck.

“A little bit. It’s gonna pass.”

“Alright.” he relents after a few seconds, then pushes on the gas again.

The remainder of the car journey passes in silence. Billy stops exactly where he had stopped before, the headlights briefly illuminating the 'Forest Hills' panel before he switches off the engine. Darkness envelops you, blending with the night's silence and the quiet of the car. You're not quite sure what to say. You're uncertain how to bid him farewell. Truth be told, you have no desire to say goodbye to him. The last thing you want is to let him go, sensing that he will likely return to danger as soon as you step into the house.

"I'm sorry," he says, breaking through the quiet.

You turn toward him, confusion and surprise evident in your expression. "For what?"

"For standing you up."

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not though.” you can see him shake his head from the corner of your eye. “That was a dick move. Could’ve at least called you.”

Turning your whole body towards him, you lean against the passenger seat. Now that a couple of hours have passed, his eye is swollen and darker.

"Billy, it's okay. Really. I know you..." you hesitate, then look down at your hands, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. You try to find the right words, careful not to touch the subject again, especially not to delve into details. "I know you weren't at the pub earlier."

At these words, Billy turns his head and looks away, towards the window. Sensing his discomfort, you hurriedly continue speaking. "And that's alright. I don't need you to explain yourself to me. I get it. I just want you to know that I know.

Tentatively, you extend your hand towards his, resting on the shift gear. Holding your breath, you anticipate a possible rejection.

“And I understand."

Billy doesn't shoo you away but remains as still as a statue, his elbow resting against the window, his knuckles against his mouth. Your heart tightens as you imagine the pain hidden beneath the shield he wears, the horrors he must have endured so far. Just as you begin to release the pressure on his hand, preparing to withdraw, Billy sighs and turns his hand palm up, slipping his fingers between yours and squeezing. His touch is warm, sending an electric signal throughout your body, causing your heart to leap. Reassured by his welcoming touch, your thumb caresses the back of his hand.

“I know we haven’t known each other for long,” you say softly, careful not to disrupt the fragile connection between you. “But I care about you. And I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Billy rests his head against the headrest, his eyes closed. He squeezes your hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.” his voice is low and gravelly, as quiet as yours.

You stay like this for a moment, perhaps him relishing in the weight lifted by your confession, and you in his acceptance of your attempt to bridge the gap between you.

“I should go now.” you whisper, glancing at the house, though that’s the last thing you want to do.

Billy releases his hand from your grip and then reaches for his pack of cigarettes in the center console, his gaze avoiding. “Yeah, it’s late.”

“Will you be okay?” you ask him.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it.”

Even as you look at him, Billy avoids making eye contact with you. He takes a cigarette, lighting it up, the flame piercing through the darkness and briefly illuminating his bruised face. It's as if he's peeled back one layer too many for his liking. You understand this, though it leaves you feeling distant from him. You miss the warmth he usually radiates. Quietly accepting the situation, you purse your lips and reach for the door handle.

You glance back at him, failing to lock eyes with him as he exhales the smoke whilst tilting his head back. “Try to rest. And…uhm, call me if you need it. Please.”

Billy merely nods. “Yeah. Night.”

As you walk toward your house, the chilly night air envelops you, and you try to shake off the feeling of helplessness and emptiness that grips you. You're still trying to wrap your head around it, to accept the extent of his condition. It's kind of a shock.

As you hear his car door slam, you turn back to him.

"Did you forget something?" you ask, keeping your voice low as he approaches, the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

You don't understand his actions as he draws closer and closer, and for a second your body tenses, until he reaches out and pulls you toward him. It’s only when you’re pressed against his body that you realize he has his arms wrapped around you. Speechless, you allow your arms to encircle his neck, his face nuzzling into your neck, his breath mingling with your hair. You can sense the weight of unspoken words in the fierceness of his embrace, his forearms pressing against your back. Standing on your tiptoes to meet him, you ease the strain as he's slightly bent over you due to his height. But it doesn’t last long, so you simply allow yourself to be engulfed by his tall figure. You hope he can't feel how fast your heart is pounding against your chest, but at the same time, you find yourself not caring. Relief washes over you as the distance he had put between you earlier dissipates into the night air. And it feels good. You could easily get used to all of this. The butterflies in your stomach, the profound happiness as he’s everywhere, around you, against you. You realize that you could stay like this forever, and the thought scares you.

After what feels like an eternity, yet somehow not enough, he finally pulls away. Your hair is tangled with his, and with a gentle touch, he first separates his from yours. Then, with the same hand, he carefully sweeps your hair behind one of your shoulders. With his other arm releasing you, he taps the cigarette with his finger to release the ashes. His eyes carry a sleepy gaze, and this time you're certain they're sleepy in every sense of the word. Nonetheless, they bore into yours with the same overwhelming intensity.

“You sleep tight, okay?”

You nod a couple of times, still speechless and unable to function by his proximity.

As you watch his retreating form and assured stride, you feel your heartstrings pulling more strongly towards him with each step he takes, as if he's carrying your heart with him.

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