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maxlarens · 8 months ago

Note

Hi ! As a pescatarian girly and as someone who has recently started to like Lando, I kept thinking about him with pescatarian!reader, because you know opposites attracts and also it made me think of the olive theory from 'How I met your mother', can be fic or smau

(also I'm the anon who requested the Charles fic and I was wondering if you gave names or emojis to your anons 🤔)

ahhh hi😇😇 thank u sm for sending another ask in. verrryy into this! ive never watched himym but i HAVE heard of the olive theory and genuinely think it can be so true. i also think like sharing food/giving certain parts of ur meal to ur partner is so sweet so i loved this a lot🥺🥺

also, tbh i have never had a consistent enough anon to name them/give them an emoji so i would loveee LOVE to do that🙏🏻 pls let me know what i should call u❤️ (and if anyone wants to be a regular/semi-regular anon and give themselves an emoji/name pls do!!!) ANYWAY alright i hope u enjoy— it’s a just a short ficlet 😌💖

LN: quid pro quo

pairing(s): lando norris x reader [read on ao3]

word count: 1.2k

“Eugh,” Lando says, feigning a gag as he looks at the plate of food set in front of you, “That’s disgusting. I don’t understand how you can put that in your mouth.”

Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at him, looking between your plate and Lando’s screwed-up expression; you point at your food, “Salmon? You think salmon is disgusting? Are you joking right now?”

He shakes his head fervently, a grimace still stuck on his face, “It’s gross.”

A laugh, loud and guffawing erupts from your mouth as you realise he’s being entirely serious. He’s fixated on your meal, frowning as if the fish has severely insulted him in some way. Quickly, you clap your hand over your mouth, concerned you’ll offend him if you keep laughing like that. This is one of a handful of dates you’ve been on together— clearly the first you’ve ordered seafood on— and you’re still trying to make a good impression on Lando.

“Wait,” you collect yourself, breathing deeply so you don’t fall into a fit of giggles again, “You’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “I just hate fish. You’ve never heard that?”

You snort a little indelicately, already going back to eating your salmon, “‘You’ve never heard that?’,” you tease, “Do you think I stalk you on the internet, Norris?”

He grins that small sheepish grin you like so much as a light blush blooms on his cheeks. You’re very fond of him really. He’s cute in a scrappy kind of way; he’s funny and charming, a little bit dumb sometimes; and he’s into you, which is always a bonus. You’re not together— not quite— just seeing each other when you both have time, but it’s been going very nicely if you do say so yourself.

You like him.

He likes you.

Lando rolls his eyes, and purses his lips in an attempt not to let you see the smile that he’s trying to hide, “Don’t you? Stalk me on the internet?”

“Never,” you answer resolutely, thinking blatantly of that night after you’d first met him when you fell down a rabbit hole, spending a good hour watching thirst traps of him on Instagram before coming to your senses, “Not once.”

He hums, unconvinced, “Alright.”

Alright. You make a face, almost stick your tongue out at him but think better of it at the last second. He laughs— giggles— at you. You look away from him, down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that spreads and spreads behind your hair. God, you like him. You’re trying not to let it get away from you. You get the impression that he’s not huge on relationships, and you’re trying hard to be casual about him. It’s difficult— mostly because everything feels so easy when you’re together.

“So,” you start as you push a forkful of salmon and leafy greens around your plate, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m a pescetarian.”

“Um,” Lando asks around a mouthful of half-chewed food, “What’s that mean?”

You stifle a laugh, “Like a vegetarian, but I eat seafood.”

He swallows and makes another face, similar to the earlier one. You can see this is hard for him to process, he clearly dislikes seafood to a degree that you hadn’t quite understood until now. It’s funny. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of reasons you fancy Lando Norris. Though you would think that as a pescetarian you’d want him to like fish, but you suppose by not eating them he’s just saving all the sea animals that you’re not— quid pro quo.

“What about, like,” he waves his fork around, evidently still wondering why you’d eat seafood voluntarily, “just being a vegetarian?”

You shrug, “Vegetables are boring.”

“Right. Better than eating fish though.”

“I like fish.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t get it… It’s— they’re slimy and they smell and they’ve got fucking beady little eyes. It’s not natural.”

“Okay,” you laugh brightly at his despondent expression, “I do need to eat them, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d probably die of malnutrition, or I dunno, scurvy.”

He groans, hanging his head so that all you can see of his face is that mop of brown curls. You think of your second date when you’d kissed him for the first time in your stairwell and how you’d threaded a hand into it— and they were soft and not heavy with product the way that you hate. The way he’d smelt like expensive cologne and tasted both smokey and sugary at the same time, just like the whiskey and cokes he’d been having at the bar. There’s a soft smile playing at your lips when he finally looks up.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “That I eat fish.”

He shrugs, shakes his head in a non-committal way that could be either answer and does that little grin again. The one that means he’s going to say something that you’ll find either unbearably cute or embarrassingly funny.

“Yes,” he says, grin not subsiding, “How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve got fish breath.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a shocked laugh bubbles from your mouth, you try to ignore the stirring feeling in your gut at the words how am I supposed to kiss you in favour of responding to his lack of tact Try, being the keyword there. It somersaults in your head, how am I supposed to kiss you he said, like he was thinking of doing it again. Which, okay, of course, he’s thinking of doing it again. You understand what this is— but there was an unmistakable fondness there that you just can't shake.

Anyway, you push thoughts of kissing him aside, he’d still accused you of having fish breath, “Wow,” you say dryly, with no malice at all as much as you try to feign it, “You say that to all the girls?”

He blushes, his tan cheeks turning a very pleasant red as he properly realises what he’d said, “Shit. No— oh my god— I’m sorry. I just meant—”

You wave him off, laughing, “I know what you meant. You’re good, Lando.”

“Phew,” he lets out a breath of relief, his nervous laughter punctuating the air between you, without meaning to he says, “God, I thought I’d just fucked it.”

You furrow your brows and frown, confused, “No. You couldn’t.”

You watch him scrub a hand over his face, embarrassed, before it falls away and he gives you a sheepish little grin that says he’s happy to hear that. Toothy, eyes squinted and carving dimples into his cheeks. Your face feels warm and you smile back, biting your bottom lip on the smile so it doesn’t grow and grow to cover your whole face.

Later, after you’ve finished lunch and spent too much time talking over a too-sticky table in your favourite pub, Lando kisses you up against a tree in the park by your apartment. You put your hand in his soft curls and you smell cologne and taste what he’s been drinking as he presses his tongue into yours. The coarse hair of his moustache brushes against your lips and you kiss back with equal gusto. You pull away when it feels like you two are veering into too inappropriate territory for this public park. He chases you, but you laugh softly, pressing a perfunctory closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. He groans, laughs, and puts his forehead against yours.

You hum, “I guess my fish breath doesn’t bother you so much, huh.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re never going to let that go are you.”

You shake your head ever so slightly, “Not as long as I live, Norris.”

#this made me really crave salmon but i cant have salmon because salmon COSTS $42 AUD PER KILOGRAM #lando norris #f1 #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #🍓anon #oneshots:ln4

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kiratastic · 7 months ago

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A real rarity, Kira has once again made an illustration and completely finished it 😁

Well, I would like to use this drawing to thank everyone who accompanie me on my journey and support me!

Thank you very much!!! 🥹❤️ I sometimes struggle to find the right words, but I think a thank you is worth a thousand words!

And I thought this drawing was more than worth finishing, even though it was originally created for my comic 🥰

Since my comic takes place in autumn in my imagination, there is now autumn flaire in summer 🤣

I hope you like it!

Much love from me! 💖

@goodomensafterdark

#good omens #good omens fanart #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #good omens comic #good omens after dark #artists of after dark #artist on tumblr #ineffable kiss #autumn #thank you #goad

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soreconom · 2 months ago

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Hihi!! I just read your Sevika HCs and I absolutely love them!! I wanted to know if you could (please) write HCs for Sevika and Vi after an argument with their partner? :) Whether it’s an argument the reader started or they started can be completely up to you! Or you could even do both scenarios if you prefer! 💕

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day/evening 💖

🖤Sevika and Vi after an Argument🖤

men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni

🤎Sevika🤎

I don’t think arguments would be common in a relationship with Sevika.

When she locks into a serious relationship, she means serious. She covers all the important bases for a healthy relationship; communication, loyalty, respect, trust, and so much more.

Covering these bases, especially communication, helps to avoid frequent arguments.

It won’t completely cut out the occasional argument though.

When you two do argue, it’s almost always about bigger things. For example, her working so much and not taking much time for herself, or maybe her drinking and smoking.

Post-argument time usually has as “how can we avoid this in the future” moment where you guys have a heart to heart about whatever started the argument.

If you start an argument:

Be prepared to apologize first. And only apologize if you’re really sorry.

You should always finish what you start, after all.

Your apology may be met with an affectionate an eye roll and a huff.

She never stays mad at you for long.

Once you apologize she usually makes space for you wherever she’s sitting and wraps her arm around just to let you know it’s really okay.

If you’re just apologizing because you feel like you need to, don’t. She can see right through you if you’re bullshitting her.

If you’re stubborn like her, sometimes apologizing can genuinely be difficult. She gets that. Which is why her patience with you is a blessing.

Again, when you’re ready to apologize , she’s affectionate and accepts it.

If she starts an argument:

This woman is stubborn. For her to apologize, it just doesn’t feel right.

She’s only ever been truly sorry a few times in her life. In the Undercity, living a life like hers, she never had time to be sorry.

Being sorry gets you hurt. It gets you killed.

But…

It’s obviously different when it’s you. You aren’t a big bad wolf waiting around the corner. You’re her partner, her ride-or-die.

In the heat of the moment, what she said felt right. It felt like something you needed to hear.

The thought of you feeling hurt by something she said just eats her alive.

She comes to you first.

It isn’t anything crazy, usually just a simple, gruff “I’m sorry.”

She’s awkward and stiff about it, but completely genuine.

Asks what she can do to make it up to you, if anything.

❤️Vi❤️

Violet runs hot. She isn’t a loose cannon but someday’s it can be hard trying to keep all of her emotions under wraps.

This has definitely lead to arguments over petty things like dishes in the sink or eating the last of her favorite snack.

It’s also lead to arguments about very serious things. Her pit fighting, drinking, and her occasional impulsivity.

Arguments always hit her hard, even the petty ones. No matter how old she gets, arguments always make her feel like a little kid, just waiting for the ball to drop. The ball being losing you.

That feeling of dread, like this argument could be the last, if that makes sense.

Physical touch is usually present in the make up process after an argument. It helps ground her.

The good news is, the two of you always make up very quickly.

If you start an argument:

If the argument is a petty spat about dishes or snacks, she still apologizes first, albeit rather begrudgingly.

This links back to her feeling like this argument could be the last. What if she never hears “You promised you’d take out the trash this week” ever again?

You, however, shut that down. “It’s my fault, I should be the one apologizing.” You tell her.

These arguments are extremely easy to come back from because you two are always on the same level. Two halves to make a whole, equals

There isn’t a point in staying hung up on petty nonsense for long.

If you start a big argument, you apologize first.

She distances herself and you have to go to her.

You’ll usually find her someplace where she shouldn’t be, like a bar. Or, you might find her someplace safe, like with Loris or another friend she feels comfortable around.

Not only should you apologize, but it would also be a good chance to thoroughly explain why you’re upset or might think something is a bad idea.

Once you do that, she’ll open her arms up to you and usually things can be resolved somewhat easily after that.

If she starts an argument:

Again, she apologizes first.

If she starts an argument, big or small, the dread of possibly losing you over this hits her like bricks.

For smaller arguments, she approaches you casually. If you let her, she’ll wrap her arms around you. An apology hug, if you will.

Says, “I’m sorry, baby,” in the softest voice she can muster.

These smaller arguments are always easier to come back from just because she’s so sweet. How can you ever stay upset when she’s such a sweetie?

Big arguments are something else though.

After she’s said whatever it is that she’s said, the weight of it all is suffocating.

If she said something really stupid and hurtful in the heat of the moment, she might need some space for a bit. Things like that take her back to that day.

But she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

May or may not have a little gift for you for extra measure. Usually it’s something simple like your favorite candy bar.

She tells you she’s sorry and explains why she got so worked up. Usually this leads to a steady and warm embrace and you let her know it’s okay.

hello!!! thank you for the request ♥️ please let me know if you enjoyed it or not. i had so much fun writing these. i kind of got carried away with vi’s headcanons 🙈. . i was purposefully vague about what started the argument so you can sort of imagine your own scenario for why the argument started!🎠

ask box is open for multiple fandoms and nearly every arcane character! check my pinned for rules, fandoms, and characters. i write headcanons, reactions, drabbles, and more!

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finelinevogue · 4 months ago

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Hi!! I would love a blurb for Azriel (ACOTAR) with 3 & 17 please ❤️ thank you!!!

hi!! of course🌟💖 az has such a soft place in my heart so i’m super excited to write more for him<3

am i allowed to miss you?

summary - azriel comes back from a mission and you’re not sure whether you’re allowed to miss him or not

pairing - azriel x new-mate!reader

✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐

Elain bursts through the library doors, looking for you.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, sitting up and closing your book to show attention to her.

“Azriel’s back.” She breathed out, pausing a moment to watch you digest the news before leaving you alone again.

Elain left the door open, allowing you to hear the commotion in the hallway of all your friends greeting Azriel a warm welcome home.

It took you just a moment, but you started to feel his presence beside you. You allowed that warm feeling within-side you to fester and grow, feeling an overwhelming amount of love and safety all at once.

It was the bond.

The new bond.

You and Azriel were only a few weeks mated, after only having courted for a few weeks before that. You couldn’t help but mate each other because of how strong your feelings were to one another. It just made sense.

However, a few days ago Azriel had to leave to go on a mission even though both of you were still reeling in the honeymoon phase of your newly mated lives.

Standing up, you brushed some crumbs off your dress skirt and breathed out shakily.

You were so nervous.

The pace at which you’d been with Az had been so fast that you were still a little unsure how you were supposed to feel. It wasn’t a conventional relationship, per say, but that didn’t mean what you felt for each other was any less real. You knew that. However, you worried.

Walking out of the library you rounded the corner to see everyone crowding Azriel.

Rhys ruffled his hair and Cassian was finishing squeezing him tight as if he’d been gone for 30 years not 30 hours.

You watched with a smile on your face.

Azriel hates being fussed over like he currently is being, so it’s a little funny to watch. He’s too polite to tell them to leave, or maybe a secret part of him actually likes it. Either way, you stand back and allow him to be fussed over.

“Anything to report back?” Rhys asked.

“Rhys, you sent me on a scouting mission to count how many cattle Beron has. Except from the number ‘73’, no. Nothing to report.” Azriel said in the most sarcastic way.

Feyre laughed at this, teasing Rhys over something so silly.

“Counting cattle? Whatever for?” Amren asked.

“I have my reasons.” Rhys blushed, seemingly embarrassed but everyone knew there must be a good reason behind it all. Rhys was respected enough by everyone not for anyone to question anything.

“Was one of those reasons keeping me from my mate?” Azriel asked.

It was then that you’d realised that you’d clearly missed something and Azriel appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His kissed the top of your head and held you close for a moment.

“More like to give us a break from you being with your mate.” Cassian grumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Azriel questioned for you both.

“Umm…” Cassian blushed.

“What Cassian is trying to insinuate is that the walls are old and so the walls are thin. We can hear… everything.” Nesta suggested for her mate.

You muttered a curse to the Gods under your breath, turning beet red at Nesta’s comment.

Everyone else chuckled.

Azriel must have known that you were feeling embarrassed because the next thing you knew you were being swept up in his arms, being carried like a bride.

“Right. Y/N and I are leaving. You can count your own cattle from now on Rhysand. And as for you, Lord od Bloodshed, would you like me to tell everyone about the time I caught you in Nesta’s lingerie and not for a devious reason?”

“You little…” Cassian started to move forward but Azriel had disappeared, along with you, before he could get anywhere close.

You both appeared in his room, out of the shadows.

Azriel put you down on the bed, following you down so he was leaning over you.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azriel said, kissing you deeply.

You followed his kisses, taking his lead and kissing as much as Azriel was giving. It was soft but at the same time urgent. Your fingers cupped his cheeks, attempting to keep him placed against you forever.

“Welcome home.” You said softly, kissing him once more.

Next thing you know he’s kissing your forehead, nose, chin and cheek. He kept going, moving down across your jaw and onto your neck.

“Did you miss me?” He asked, finding the spot on your neck that you loved him kissing and keeping there.

You didn’t respond to his question, pushing it off as distraction and not listening.

“Y/N?” He left the spot on your neck, moving his eyes until they caught your distanced ones. “Hey. Don’t get shy on me.”

“I’m not.”

“You seem… distracted.”

You watched his eyes assess your face for a long moment. His eyes swirled with a flurry of emotions and you could feel his concern within your own chest. You imagined that he could feel your anxiety in his.

“Am I…” You started then stopped.

Azriel didn’t push you or try and finish the question for you, instead he pushed himself off you and sat on the bed. He carefully took your hand and pulled you up too, not satisfied until he swung you across his lap and held you close.

One of Az’s hands intertwined with yours and you sat like this for a moment more. Enjoying being next to each other. Enjoying the overwhelming emotions settle down as your bond recognised your closeness.

“Am I allowed to miss you?” You asked, remaining looking at his hand rather than him.

“You… Why… Of course you can miss me, my love.” He kissed your forehead. “Why would you think not? Was it Cassian? I swear to….”

“No!” You exclaimed, looking at him then, “It wasn’t Cassian, no.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s just. Everything between us has happened so fast. I went from liking you, to loving you, to mating you all into the space of a month. I don’t feel like time exists and yet… I also feel like I don’t have the right to miss you so much that my heart physically aches after so little time.”

Azriel brings your tied hands up to his chest, leaving your hand to feel his heart beating.

“My heart physically ached too.” He gives you a soft smile.

“I did. I really did miss you.”

“I know. I know, because I felt the same way.” He gave you one loving kiss, “I don’t think it’s silly to worry over how quickly everything has shifted between us, and I do think that we feel right. I think we’re good. And we love each other enough to miss each other. So never worry about how you’re feeling, or if you’re feeling too much too soon - chances are I’m feeling it too.”

“Okay.”

“Welcome home, Az.” You give him another kiss.

“Now let’s give Cassian something to groan about.” Azriel says before flipping you back on the bed.

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel blurbs #acotar blurbs #acotar #azriel fic rec #azriel acotar

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mylittlefina · 26 days ago

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Thank you for tolerating me at my worst....

We all have our stories and trauma we drag with us. My goal was to show my healing journey and the positive sides of being a "little"

I've been through some insane events this last year, to the point of psychosis.

Luckily, i had this community to help me through it.

Thank you all so much. I can't express how your words and intentions helped me when I felt completely alone and lost within my own mind and body.

I couldn't tell what was real and I felt like the walls around me were closing in and I was the literal joke of the world. It broke me in ways I may never fully recover from.

I'm more than grateful, and I'll share my life with you all to the best of my abilities.

I'm going to embrace my little side more now than ever before without losing my independence. Life is messy, and being innocence brings me an inner peace that nothing can compete with.

I've spoken with so many of you, and i lose track of who I'm messaging, so please don't take it personally. Tumblr has a terrible setup if you have more than 99 messages. It's both a blessing and a curse. Im only one person after all... and I dont like the idea of liking one human over another. Mainly because how I was neglected as a child. I just want things to be as fair as possible.

I care about knowing who I'm messaging so be patient with me. I've met many followers and I like to give everyone a chance, no matter your imperfections or insecurities .. trust me. I'm full of them too. Just know I'm literally not for everyone and that something that kills me sometimes but its life. We all want what we cannot have.

I just wanted to share my thoughts..

I'm not trying to be super serious, but its good to ground ourselves in reality once in a while.

I wish you all the best year yet, I bless your path and all those you care about.

Let's teach people how to be human again. You're literally eternal souls having this temporary experience, so make the most of it ❤️

Blessings to thee for Blessings Are Free 😘💖

Little Fina/Mylee K

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sweeterlovers · 7 months ago

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FOREVER ONE PART #2 / CHARLES LECLERC

charles leclerc x childhood friend and ex gf reader / SMAU

SUMMARY / can charles gain the forgiveness of his childhood best friend? (part two)

FACE CLAIM / none!

WARNINGS / none!

INSTAGRAM

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, and 65,668 others

yourusername never thought i would attend a formula one race but here i am! other than that my weekend was filled with flowers and relaxation 🤍

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user6 WHATT WHAT

user66 my exact reaction when she came up on my screen during the race

user9 wait when did they show her doing the race?

user66 it was during a red flag earlier in the race, she was also in the ferrari garage!

user7 ooooooooooo!!

user99 cute cute!

user07 i wonder who got her the flowers? 🤔

user2 i wonder who??? 😭😭

arthur_leclerc it was great to see you again yn!!

yourusername it’s been forever! you’ve grown so much 🥹

arthur_leclerc your only three years older than me???

yourusername and?? still older 🤦‍♀️

user88 did you enjoy the race yn?

yourusername it was great!! definitely different from the f2 races i’ve been to!

INSTAGRAM

charles_leclerc just posted a story!

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 14,573 others

view all story replies

user9 how casual

yourusername charles you ruined my soft launch 🥹🥹

charles_leclerc sorry mon amour [my love]

user0 cutie pies☺️

leclerc_pascale you guys are adorable! i’m glad you guys finally worked things out 🩶

charles_leclerc i am too! i really love her maman

INSTAGRAM

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, and 66,925 others

yourusername we had a lot of up and downs throughout our relationship, we grew up as friends who saw each other as family. although our romantic relationship didn’t work out the first time, i knew we would come around again. i think that’s how i know we are meant for each other because even when we broke up i knew it wasn’t forever.

“we kissed beneath the twisted trees, our lips between the stars, tiny ripples in a lake, this love, once lost, is ours.” - michael faudet

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user80 i’m crying 😭 😭

user3 I KNOW!!!!!

user23 that quote broke my heart and stitched it back up

charles_leclerc it’s been a journey but one i would gladly go through again if it meant i would end up with you

yourusername i love you charles 🤍

user0 took them long enough 🤦‍♂️

lorenzotl ❤️❤️

yourusername ☺️🤍

arthur_leclerc i’m glad everything worked out for you guys, i can’t imagine charles with anyone else

yourusername arthur i’m going to cry 😿 your to sweet

arthur_leclerc does that mean i’m your favourite leclerc?

yourusername my number one will always be pascale 😊

user3 we all love pascale!

pierregasly congratulations 🎉

charles_leclerc thank you pierre!

yourusername 💖💖💖

leclerc_pascale i’ve been waiting for this moment ever since you two became friends as children

yourusername I LOVE YOU PASCALE ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc thank you maman!

user77 i love them!!!!!!!!!!

TEAM RADIO / SWEETERLOVERS - finished part two of forever one! i hope you guys enjoy!!

#formula 1 #sweeterlovers #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #formula one #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x female reader

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pomefioredove · 8 months ago

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HIYYYAAAA

JUST SAW THE FLRITY PROMPTS EVENT!

What do you say about Lilia with "Don't bite your lip, I want to do that."

I would say hgghh💕💖❤️

summary: "don't bite your lip, I want to do that" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is kinda implied to be yuu but doesn't have to be, not proofread, Lilia is shamelessly flirty thank u a part of this event

There are very few things that still manage to catch Lilia by surprise.

At his age, he's simply running out of new experiences; school, politics, even the wonderful world of the internet have started becoming monotonous and boring, leaving him in a slump.

Perhaps, then, that's why he's taken such an interest in you.

Such an intriguing little creature, he thinks, watching you from the shadows of the Diasomnia lounge.

You'd come by to drop something off for Malleus, the sweet thing that you are, and, once again, Lilia finds himself shamelessly staring.

He knows he shouldn't, but, oh, he truly can't help himself!

He inches closer. Lilia can't help but wonder what sort of noise you'll make when he startles you this time. A gasp? A shout, perhaps? Maybe even a cute little squeak... the thought of that is strangely exciting to him.

Only one way to find out.

He drops out of the shadows, blocking you from the exit just as you turn towards it. "Hello!"

And... Nothing.

You smile. "Ah... hello again, Lilia. Did Malleus tell you I was coming?"

His arms fall to his sides with a pout. Nothing? Nothing at all? You look at him like he has something stuck in his teeth.

"He may have mentioned," Lilia sighs. "You're impossible to tease these days. It's quite disappointing, really."

You smile slightly, much to his bemusement. He hates letting you have the upper hand... "Maybe I've started anticipating your pranks. You'll just need to find some new material,"

New material...? He scoffs. You're not even the least bit concerned about him!

"It used to be so easy to get a rise out of you. Humans change far too fast," he laments.

"Now I'll never get to see that flustered look on your face ever again! Or I'll have to come up with something new to tease you with..."

"Orrrr... you could just not tease me at all?"

He chuckles, shaking his head as if you had just said something ridiculous. "With your precious reactions? Impossible!"

You sigh.

Lilia tuts, tapping his chin as if lost in deep thought. He circles you once, twice, then stops in front of you.

"I can't think of anything," he sighs dramatically. "It'll come to me later... Is that uniform new?"

"Oh, uh..." you mutter, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. You turn around yourself in a circle. How cute.

"Well, it's the same uniform, but I got my measurements taken at Pomefiore, and they they got me a better fitting one."

"I can tell,"

He hums pleasantly, dragging his eyes over your body. "They did a wonderful job accentuating your features,"

You huff and look away, much to his delight, clearly taken by surprise by his change in tone.

"...Thank you,"

"Fufufu. Don't mention it," Lilia says, eyes narrowing. "You don't get complimented very much, do you?"

"Not regularly,"

"I could surmise as much. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're almost flustered by little old me. Is that right?"

Hook, line, and sinker. Your eyes widen as you realize that you've walked right into his trap. "Oh, no, no. I'm not. I'm fine!"

"Really? Don't get shy on me, now. I'm beginning to like this even more than scaring you,"

He takes a step forward, drinking in the sight of you, your body's nervous reactions to his teasing. "How cute,"

"Tease," you say, biting the corner of your lip.

You back yourself against the wall of the lounge, to his absolute delight, and he takes that as an invitation to get closer.

"That I am," Lilia admits without a hint of shame. "But don't bite your lip... I want to do that."

That long sought-after squeak finally escapes you, music to his ears, and he leans closer. For a moment, it seems like he's about to close the distance between you... then, at the last second, he pulls back.

He chuckles. "Oh, what fun! I haven't felt so young in ages. But I do have other business to attend to,"

And so, Lilia leaves you stunned, trembling against the wall as he merrily walks off before you seem to come to your senses.

"Vanrouge, you little shit! Get back here!"

A slight giggle escapes him as he starts off running, with you not far behind. He was right; this is much, much more rewarding than scaring you.

Maybe, if you make another one of those cute noises, he'll even let you catch him.

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

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twst-rose-prisms · 11 months ago

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Hi! Can i ask for some preference for the twst boys? Like who would want a cute/naive s!o, who would want smart/ sexy s!o, silly/goofy one or something like that? Just the guys preference in s!o ? Thanks!

Hi hi~ First of all, I'm super sorry for not answering for a long long time cuz I was out of this blog and fandom 😭 If you're still active then this one is for you my amazing rosie! My first request ever so I'm still learning bu~t I tried my best! (shout out to my bestie for helping me a ton with this 🙏🙏) Btw I'm separating this into 3 parts so it won't be too long~

Twst boys preference for their partner

Characters: All NRC students (except Ortho) x Reader Genre: Fluff Reminder: This is just a headcanon post, so even if you aren't your loved one's preference, do not worry! Remember, love might have preference, but it's never the final thing that decides one's partner, so rest assured~ Your lovely twst boys love you no matter what 🌹❤️ Part 1 | Part 2 (coming soon) | Part 3 (coming soon)

🌹 Riddle 🌹

- He would definitely like someone who is responsible and serious about their work just like himself. He admires it whenever they're strict to follow the rules and understand the importance of it like how he is as well. Seeing how diligent they are about their schoolwork would also earn a good impression from the housewarden himself, even better if they're a decently knowledgeable person. - Though he probably needs someone who's always there in his most tired, vulnerable moment too; someone who will comfort him, tell him that he did well, etc. just be there to whisper sweet words, like how hardworking he was on that day, he'll melt into their embrace almost immediately. Let him rest his head on your shoulder or chest, slowly drifting off from tiredness yet his face looks so peaceful and content... Your warmth and gentleness are something he definitely needs after everything that he endured and went through. Of course, those moments are rare since he need to put on a front being a honor student and a dorm leader, so be sure to stick by his side to catch it. - He needs a s/o who can tell him to get loose and take breaks occasionally too, due to how he always being strict on himself. Or whenever he gets angry, they'll be there to calm him down so he won't start an outburst knowing how easily angry he can get. - He isn't really keen on appearance too much, but he would prefer it if his s/o know how to dress properly and formally enough. He is a housewarden after all, so a partner that dress as good as him is enough for a great impression towards Riddle. No need for such things like super fancy make-up or expensive jewelries. - Bonus: if his s/o knows how to bake, surprise him his with favorite sweet strawberry tart occasionally! He'll be pretty flustered that they put so much love and effort into this beautiful tart and would just melt internally, and every bite would taste like heaven for sure 💖

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♥️ Ace ♥️

- He's definitely into people who know how to make jokes or have fun, it's one of the most important things to create impressions toward a guy like him after all! It never hurts to let loose and have fun once in a while y'know. - Though it doesn't have to be someone fun all the time, it could just be someone who could be able to keep up with his shenanigans most of the time or just know how to get loose instead of being uptight or serious. Of course, that doesn't mean letting this guy commit whatever horrible thing he's about to do, his s/o has an important mission and that is to stop him from getting scolded again by the teachers! - He's definitely an appearance type of guy, I mean, just guys being guys y'know; he's probably into cute, cheerful type or maybe a bit girly. But his s/o doesn't have to appear to his taste entirely, just someone being confident enough in their look also earns a point from him too! Giving him a big, goofy grin while making funny hand sings definitely would earn a laugh out of this guy for sure. - Because he's a rather mischievous type of guy, his s/o could be someone who can keep up with it. Or even better, being teasing or joking back at him, it would catch him off guard his s/o actually followed along and that would definitely want him to get their attention. The more unexpected they're around him, the more he would want their attention since he thought they're the most interesting person he has ever encountered! (He won't admit that it's because he falls for them though) - Bonus: One way to get his affection is to watch him playing basketball, like cheering him on or patiently waiting for the match to be over. Just imagine his reaction when you give him a cheerful grin and give him a cool drink as a way to tell him he did well! I'm sure you've earned a spot in his heart at that moment 💖

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♠️ Deuce ♠️

- Because he used to be a rumble delinquent, he probably needs a s/o that would accept his past and encourage him to not be scared, because they'll accept him for who he is no matter what, and that's what he's looking for the most in his partner because he too, want someone to tell him that it's okay to have a bad past, but what matter is how he is himself now and they love him for it~ - No matter how he acts, specifically, whenever he switches to his delinquent mode by accident in front of his s/o, he doesn't want you to be scared or avoid him because of it. That is the last thing he ever wanted - to hurt his partner. And if you saw his "bad boy" mode by accident, be sure to reassure him that you are totally alright with it and it won't drive you away! - He will admire a s/o who is diligent, smart and hardworking, since he is also a hardworking person after all. If his s/o is someone that shows their knowledge in a way that goes "Oh, I read this in a book that..." then our boy is gonna be super impressed! He loves it when you also talk about something you like too and share your knowledge with him, he'll always be ready to listen just to be impressed all over again like the first time. Since he's a slow learner, it would also be great if you could be patient and teach him things that he asks you, don't worry, he is very attentive, especially since it's you being his tutor after all. - He'll probably like it if his s/o is someone strong physically, even better if they don't appear like it; just imagine the astonished look on his face when he sees them easily carry heavy things despite their appearance! He'll be impressed but in another way (if you get what I mean...) - Bonus: If his s/o is someone who can take the lead or initiate a relationship then it's definitely something that will make him melt! Like just imagine if they kiss him or hold his hand suddenly, just being surprisingly affectionate and he'll become a blob! He might not admit it, but it's probably something that he's into, considering how easily flustered he can get when it comes to things like romance 💖

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♣️ Trey ♣️

- I think that out of all the twst characters, Trey is the most easy-going when it comes to partner preference. He's pretty open to any type of people so to him, preference isn't something that he keen on too much, also since he's taking care of everyone most of the time or being the older brother figure, you can expect him to be the perfect, caring boyfriend~ - Though I think he would have special feelings more towards people that are mature with a somewhat older siblings vibe that is capable of taking care of others just like him. He might not appear like it, but he would really appreciate it if he's the one receiving instead of the other way around once in a while, it's the most effective way towards his heart! - It doesn't have to be a s/o that's mature or has an older sibling vibe all the time, they can also just be someone really sweet and supportive. Actively helping him out in the kitchen or tagging along with him in school, that is enough to tell him how affectionate they are towards him, and he too, would be affectionate back towards them. - Perhaps it could also be a s/o that likes hearing jokes or easy-going like him too. Occasionally, he would joke around or make small teases, and if his s/o replied with a laugh or just showed how much they're having fun around him, he would feel really relieved that they love this side of him too, since not many people can take jokes well or sometimes they would even take it seriously. (Ex: the Walrus seal oyster sauce joke) - Bonus: If his s/o is someone who loves sweets then get ready for a gift full of sweetness (literally and figuratively) delivered to them almost everyday! Simply complimenting how delicious they're with a happy expression and that would be enough to earn a heart point from Trey! Even more if his s/o gives him something that they baked themselves as a gift, I'm sure he'll treasure every single little bite with how much effort they put into them 💖

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♦️ Cater ♦️

- Because he's a trendy, fun loving person, I think he would definitely like a s/o that is a fun fellow to be around him! Even better if they also like trendy things; just imagine you guys talking for hours and hours about the latest trends and how do you 2 can follow it, especially those couple trends on magicam. - But of course, it doesn't have to be someone with the same preference as him, it could just be someone chill and easygoing too. If his s/o is a curious, attentive person then he'll definitely love sharing his interests and all the latest trends if they ask him. They don't have to follow it, the way they give him a curious cute look while listening to him talking is already enough to show how much they care about him, and he would be so into them! - He's still overall a chill person that wanna take it easy, so he probably would like his s/o to be the same as him too. Sometimes, just a comfortable silence between the two of you would be enough as he scrolls through his phone casually, with your head on his shoulder or vice versa. - He might have a few preferences when it comes to appearance, such as a cute, trendy or confident s/o who knows how to style themselves. It's totally okay if they're someone more casual, but a well-dressed appearance is if not, a must if you want to impress him first hand. - Bonus: I think Cater is not a person who falls in love easily, but if his s/o tell him how much they love him with a genuine expression, eyes full of sincerity like they really, really mean it, then he'll fall more than just hard~ He probably received a lot of compliments before but none probably meant genuine for him, until he meets someone as amazing as you 💖

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🦁 Leona 🦁

- Oh, you're pretty daring enough if you wanna date someone like him. I mean, he's the housewarden of Savanaclaw we're talking about here, a real lion prince, if you managed to get his heart then I'd say you're already pretty great yourself! I mean, you already saw how others think of him with their tails in between their legs... - Though, if we're talking about preference, he would definitely like someone who won't be noisy and interrupt his precious napping time. Maybe someone that lets him lay down on their lap, stroking his hair or his fluffy ears while he's sleeping. He might deny it but those low purrs and growls are telling a whole different story. Sometimes he could also use them as a great pillow to hug too, with his head on your chest and arm wrapped around your frame, just be prepared for staying like that for the next 3 hours though... - He would find naive s/o interesting too, so easy to mess around and tease, their expression is truly entertaining to watch with the way their round eyes look astonished, then blush brightly from the way he tease them. Like a lion messing around with the little naive herbivore~ He could never get enough or tired of it. - Maybe he would also like a s/o that can be bold or challenging at the right time. Surprises are a welcoming thing, and Leona isn't an exception to it. A somewhat teasing, flirty relationship between you two would be entertaining and also something fun that he would seek for, he does like it when his "prey" fight back after all, though he'll just eat them up in the end like a lion he is. (interpret it as however you want...) - Bonus: One way to really catch the lion prince off-guard is outsmarting him. Pretty hard to do considering how Leona is, I know, but once your wits manage to catch him by the tail, he'll be pretty surprised his s/o is someone more than just his expectation. Maybe acting a little bit daring while we're at it, but I'm sure that he knows how special his s/o is and that no one else is like them 💖

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🐆 Ruggie 🐆

- I think for Ruggie, he probably would prefer a s/o that is smart and witty like him, maybe even better if they're street smart too as he'll be very impressed someone is the same as him. After all, people who have great practical skills can't be someone lazy from a spoiled, rich family right? Don't get him wrong, he didn't mean bad things, but it's just so because he grew up in such an environment, you couldn't blame him for thinking like that. - Though of course, it doesn't have to be someone like him, it could just be a s/o that likes to take care of others or be very supportive too. They can help him out with his errands; expect him to ask if you want anything in return though, since it has been his mindset for a long time now. But hey, if you help him enough in a sincere way without asking for something else, he might start to open his heart to you a bit and trust you more...? Everything takes time including love after all, so be patient~ - Another preference he would like maybe a somewhat naive s/o. Teasing them is nothing but fun for a cunning hyena like him. I mean, he could also use this chance to impress him with his skills in a way too, their face is just so entertaining to watch, but he probably warns them to be careful or bad people gonna get to them easily~ (ex: Ruggie himself) - Because Ruggie grew up really poor, he is someone who treasures and treats food way more important than normal people would, so if his s/o is someone who knows how to cook then he'd feel like he just stepped into heaven~ I mean, just imagine the happy but surprised face when they feed him such luxurious handmade food that they put so much love into, he feels like he's eating a buffet! His s/o could also make lunch for him daily as well, you two could share together as you feed him your homemade food, and his round ears would twitch in happiness for sure. - Bonus: Something sweet, surprising and genuine would be the best way to get his heart. For example, a bag full of warm, fluffy donuts would do! He loves those sweet treats a lot, so if you have free time be sure to bake some for him alright? As there's a phrase goes "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" after all 💖

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🐺 Jack 🐺

- He would like someone very responsible about themselves and take their work seriously and fairly with no underhanded methods or cheating. Seeing how diligent they are, he definitely would think his s/o is a great and respectful person to be with. I think if they recognize him and compliment him back, that will get him flustered too, though he might deny it with a grumpy expression. (He's just being a bit of a "tsundere" as you call it) - Someone with a moral worthy of his respect is also one of his preferences too. Do try to not misunderstand his coldness, he's a real softie deep down, so if you act kind towards him with no ill intent whatsoever, he'll quickly understand what kind of a person you are and won't be cold towards you much the more you two hanging out... and maybe it'll turn into something more precious than just friendship~ - Once you earn his respect, he'll become your biggest protector that you can imagine. Nobody will dare to mess around with you once you have a giant bodyguard like him tagging along. If his s/o is a bit of a tease and affectionate person, remember to thank him with small pecks on the cheek or a hug, our wolf boy would be pretty flustered with a wagging tail! Speaking of that, he wouldn't mind a bit of a tease too since I think he would like it. (Although he'll deny it again or so) - He isn't an appearance type of person, but if his s/o is someone smaller or shorter than him then his protecting instinct would happen more often. Also, it's cute when your smaller frame tries to wrap both arms around his bigger one, he would unconsciously feel flustered but also found it a bit cute. - Bonus: While it might sound a bit rude to him... or not, but I think if his s/o treats him like he's a big, cuddly and fluffy dog he would get super flustered. Like imagine you give him a big, cute grin while petting his big ears or his super poofy fluffy tail, oh the wolf boy would be so "tsun" about it. His s/o is the only one who can touch his tail or brush it! It's also a way to show affection towards a big wolf like him too, so don't hold back 💖

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

To be continued! Stay tuned for part 2~

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #twst #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jack howl x reader #twst fluff #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland

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harrywavycurly · 3 months ago

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Do you write dad Harry?🥹❤️

Hiii lovey!!! I haven’t written anything dad Harry related in ages so I hope you enjoy this, it’s just a bit of random fluff! 💖

A/N: Don’t ask where the names came from I’m the worst with names, but here’s Harry enjoying nap time in the Styles house✨

Harry smiles as he watches his son Bowie’s little hands reach for the chain around his neck that holds his cross pendant, the newest fascination for the nine month old who quickly tries to bring the object to his mouth but before he can succeed Harry gently takes it from between his fingers and tucks it back under his shirt. He tries not to chuckle at the immediate pout that takes over his son’s face as he brings one of his hands up and begins to rub his back while his other hand reaches over on the bed for one of his favorite books. A sound of excitement erupts from the little boy once he sees the book in his dad’s hand making Harry laugh as he sits up a bit to get more comfortable with his son in his lap.

“Is this your favorite?” He asks making the boy just let out a string of babbles in response. “Oh really? You’ve read it that many times? I’m impressed.” He says with a smile before he leans down and places a kiss to his cheek. “What do you say to us reading it now? Would you like that?” He asks with a raised brow and his little boy just does what Harry can only describe as a nod a few times before he rests his head on Harry’s chest getting comfortable. He smiles when he looks down just as Bowie lets out a soft yawn while Harry begins to once again rub his back to help him relax even more.

“Okay let’s see what mischief this Cat in the Hat gets up to shall we?” Harry knows his little boy will be asleep by the end of the book by the way he lets out another little yawn before he’s even started on the second page. But he still reads the whole thing, rubbing his back while he reads and when he’s done he gently puts the book down on the nightstand by the bed. Before he can help himself he leans down and places a kiss to the top of his son’s head after he brushes some of his hair out of his face and takes a moment to enjoy the feeling of having his little boy peacefully sleeping on him.

Nap time is often the only time Harry gets to sit and take in the rare moments of quiet calmness in the normally hectic and loud household that is the Styles home. Bowie being the newest addition bringing the number to an even six that includes three amazing little girls, himself and you, his wonderful wife who he honestly doesn’t know what he would do without. Harry knows this is it for the two of you, that the little boy sleeping soundly on his chest with a steady stream of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth is the last one he’ll get to experience moments like this with so he just closes his eyes and lets out a soft sigh of content because he honestly can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else in this very moment.

“Who do you think fell asleep first?” You whisper to your oldest daughter Lilian an hour or so later as you the two of you try to be as quiet as possible while entering your bedroom and walking towards your master bathroom.

“Daddy.” She quickly replies without much hesitation making you laugh as you grab your hairbrush and the hair ties you need to do her hair for her dance recital later that evening. When you hand her the brush and hair ties she smiles at you before turning around and heading for your bedroom door. “Thanks mom.” Is all you hear before she closes the door and you wince at how loud the noise is, you pause your movements waiting to hear if Bowie or Harry make any noise from the bedroom.

“Baby?” You poke your head into the bedroom at the sound of Harry’s sleep filled voice calling for you. When his eyes find yours a sleepy grin takes over his face as you fully walk into the bedroom. “S’nap time why are you being all loud?” He teases as you come and sit on your side of the bed.

“Sorry that was your daughter.” You answer as you get comfortable and place an arm over Harry’s shoulders letting him rest his head on you as you look down at Bowie who’s still peacefully sleeping on his chest.

“Ah well I have a few of those love so you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

“Lily needed her hair stuff for the recital tonight.” You explain as you begin to run your hand through Harry’s hair making him let out a hum of approval at the feeling of your nails lightly scratching at his scalp. “You enjoy your daddy son time while I went shopping with the girls?” You ask as you lean down and place a kiss to the side of his head.

“I did yeah. We had a great time.” You smile as you watch Bowie stir a bit at the sound of Harry’s voice. “He’s quite cute isn’t he? I hear he looks like his dad.”

“Really? That’s odd he doesn’t have blue eyes…”

“Don’t even start with the Niall jokes baby you know-”

“Harry that little boy is your twin. All I did was birth him and be his home for nine months.” Harry just chuckles as he shakes his head while looking at Bowie who he knows looks exactly like he did when he was a baby, while the little girls who Harry can only assume are off somewhere in the house are just different versions of you with the green eyes on Lilian, the soft curls on Hailey and the dimpled grin on Jamie being the only traits of his seen on three of them.

“We made cute kids.” You smile and nod your head in agreement as Harry looks away from the sleeping baby on his chest and over to you with a grin. “I love you.” He whispers as he leans over and places a kiss to your lips.

“I love you too.” You mumble between little kisses to his lips before pulling away. “Enjoy the rest of nap time.” You say before placing a kiss to his forehead and slowly getting off the bed without disturbing Bowie. “I’m going to go make the girls a little something to eat and make Bowie his snack so he’s not super cranky when he wakes up and I’ll prep dinner so we aren’t rushing before we have to go to Lily’s recital-oh don’t forget to charge the video camera and she requested no signs this time she didn’t like the extra attention she got last time but did you get her flowers? If not we need to grab some.” Harry just smiles as you ramble off the list of things you’re going to do and the few tasks for him to do because while his life is busy it’s also little moments like this, a baby asleep on his chest while his wife tells him what’s going to happen for the rest of the day and honestly he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

Before the Dawn Has Come, I'd Block the Sun

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as blood and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You discover more than you could have ever expected when researching your thesis.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: This is my fave so far.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me❤️

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The dry heat sops the moisture from your body, drawing it to the surface as sweat beads and shines on your skin. It’s so hot, the air ripples visibly, the old stone streets appearing more crooked than their ancient foundations. Your sandals hit the ground in a ragged rhythm as your bag weighs you down, your thumb leaving a smear across the screen of your phone.

You slow as you read the hanging wooden sign and compare to the text on your phone. This is the one. If you weren’t looking for it, you might miss the marquee; hand-painted by your judgment.

You black your phone and slide it into the loose pocket of your linen pants. Shorts might have been a better choice but you are on an academic mission, not vacation. You uncap your insulated bottle but in the heat of Grecian sun, it does little to keep the water cold. You don’t mind the lukewarm gulp as you tip it into your mouth.

You slip the bottle into the side pocket of your knapsack and approach the tapered door. It looks as if it might have been placed in the medieval years. The white paint is split by the splintering wood and a curious red outline is streaked around the door frame. That might be something to look into; perhaps another superstition.

You knock and wait. You wipe another sheen of sweat from your brow and fan yourself with your fingers. You stare at the door anxiously. You check your smart watch. You’re not late.

Below the time, your heart beat pulses. Even at an easy pace, the heat has you in excess. You blow out a breath and look at the door once more.

You raise your hand but before you can knock again, you hear a creak from above. You back up as the doors of the second-storey window push outward and hit the siding. The opening is shadowed by a wooden canopy built into the frame and a head of silver head peers out.

“You may let yourself in. I will be down in a moment.”

You’re surprised that the man speaks English. Most of the locals don’t know a word of it and your Duolingo crash course has carried you this far, though not without some miscommunication. You set your head straight and reach for the old hoop handle of the door. You push inward, cautiously, letting yourself in with a sense of reverence.

Within, the entryway is narrow and a set of stairs winds down into it. There’s a mat beneath your soles, woven of wicker, and table to your write. A set of Grecian urns stand on it, symbols painted around their bellies and necks, some polished, others chipped; all in varying states of decay and resplendence.

You stay by the door and fold your hand, your eyes exploring where your feet won’t. The stairs groan beneath a weight as you peer into the next room, shelves of spines looking back at you. You snap back as a large body descends to the bottom step before you.

You’re surprised to find a face that does not match the head of silver hair. The man is not young but he isn’t old either. His square jaw is chiseled like one of the country’s famous statues and his form is even more verile and burly than any god of Olympus. But his eyes, they are a shade of amber so pale they almost look golden.

You’re stunned by his appearance. You shake of that coy thought in your mind. Surely, you’re too deep in your research. After all, what you read about isn’t real, they are wives’ tales.

“Geralt?” You greet as you extend a hand.

“You are correct,” he shakes your hand firmly.

It is just as warm in the house as without. The air curls around you with heat and weaves into your hair, speckling on your scalp. Despite this, he appears unhampered. He wears a linen shirt with an undone collar, exposing the top of his hairy chest, and the short sleeves show his rounded biceps. It is untucked from his grey pants that despite their wide cut, fail to billow around his tree trunk legs.

“Thank you very much for having me,” you say as he lets you go. “Sorry, did you like English or Greek? I know around here...”

“English is fine,” he assures. His accent would suggest it’s his first language but you’ve learned from the locals to be mindful. “As it were, I’ve set aside some translations for you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you look down at your sandals.

“Leave them on,” he affirms and waves you towards the door you’d only just been peeking through. “No time to waste.”

“No, not at all,” you agree. “I was hoping to take a few pictures to bring back as well. For reference. I have a translation app that I use--”

“Mm, none of my records are digitized, for authenticity.”

“I wouldn’t share them,” you assure. He grumbles. You sense reticence. “Of course, I can just take notes.”

“We shall see,” he utters as he takes you through to the next room.

The walls are lined in crowded shelves. Books fill every inch, with some stacked along the edges of the long desk cleared at the centre. You can tell he’s made a recent effort of making room. For you, likely. A strike of guilt flickers.

“You may work here,” he goes to the desk. “Here is what I’ve put aside,” he taps a thick folder with two fingers, “and these books will do fine for your inquiry. If you have questions or require more of my collections, you might let me know. No pictures.”

“Um, sure, thank you,” you approach the desk and slip free from your knapsack.

You glance over at him as he looms, watching you with his eerie yellowish eyes. His pupils pinpoint as his gaze flicks down to your neck as you wipe away the trickle of sweat that tickles you. He quickly reverts his attention to the books.

“Interesting subject,” he intones. “You mentioned you’ve come from Romania?”

“I’ve made a trek, for sure,” you open your bag and pull out your laptop and notebook.

“Mm, I hope your battery is charged. I haven’t any outlets.”

You look around and only then realise that the sconces on the walls are lit with real flame and that oil lamps illuminate the rest of the space. Hm. It seems a hazard with all this paper, then again, even the hotel you’re staying at is more a rented room in an outdated house. The curly-haired keeper and his wife told you not to plug in more than one thing at time.

“Oh, right,” you leave it shut and open your notebook instead.

“Well, I suppose you don’t need me lurking. If you require assistance, call for me. I won’t be far,” he says.

In his accent, he sounds as if he’s reciting some Victorian script, and his cadence is like the strum of a cello. It sends a chill through despite the stolid air seeping in from beneath the drawn curtains. You nod and step in front of the chair, bracing the armrests but not sitting.

“Thank you,” you say.

He stares a moment longer then turns away. His movement is both smooth and stiff. It’s as if you can see a smear of colour with each motion. You shrug it off as another effect of the Grecian heat.

He goes and you lower yourself onto the seat. The thin embroidered cushion stretched over wood offers little support. You’ve sat on worse in your pursuit of your thesis. You ward off the unease and focus on the wall before you to scale; the books arranged like a fortress to conquer. This will surely take more than a day to get through.

📜

A day, turns into a week, turns into two.

Despite his standoffish demeanour, Geralt allows you to return to the slanted building on the corner. Each day you pass through the red door frame and sit at the desk. And just as often he adds more to the pile as if you keep you chained there. Yet, you can only blame yourself. You built this prison of academia.

He doesn’t say much more than that first day. He doesn’t ask questions. He lets you through the door and you part ways. You only see him when he comes to tell you the time. He sends you off before the sun sets on the long Grecian days. You suppose for your own good. It isn’t any good to be walking alone in the dark.

That day is different. As the moon cycle from a sliver to nothing at all, the night casts upon the Greek roof like ebony silk and the candlelight seems dimmer as you work in its haze. Diligent and distracted from the sifting of seconds through the sieve. Your eyes bore into the parchment as your fingers hover at the corners.

Vrykolakas devour the flesh, with a taste for liver, though blood does nourish their unearthly being. With fangs like wolves and hunger to match, they are born of sacrilege. They are excommunicated of heaven and hells and all the wiles of humanity. They sleep in unconsecrated earth and feast on sheep when they cannot feast upon that of what they once were.

In solace, the Vrykolakas find strength. As their hunger deepens, their power heightens, and with the fading of the moon, they float as wraiths upon their hunt to sup upon the flesh of the innocent.

A shadow, darker than dusk, darker than ink, passes over you. You lift your head, groggy with the stain of scrawled writing in your eyes. You raise your head and blink at the pale figure that emerges into the flickering light.

“It is after dark,” Geralt declares evenly.

You flinch and sit up. You glance at the curtains. They look heavier before the deep silt of night. You turn back to him and give a sheepish expression.

“Sorry, I must’ve lost track of the time.” You go to mark the page with the ribbon and he crosses his arms.

“Much too late to be venturing out alone.” He girds.

You pause, your hand in the crease of the pages. “My hotel isn’t very far.”

“It would be... irresponsible to let you go. A village as small as this would suffer greatly if its only tourist were to perish,” he drones.

You watch him, put off by his flat tone. His yellow eyes are red around the edges, as if he has not slept. You worry that it might be of your own accord.

“I have a light,” you assure him.

“You should stay,” he insists. “You haven’t eaten.”

You hesitate. You often eat your packed lunch outside between hunching over the desk. He does not permit food around the books. No good archivist would.

As generous as your other Greek hosts have been, he’s never offered you a meal. You didn’t expect it. After all, you’re there to look at old books. It isn’t a restaurant.

“I’m fine,” you stand. “Really, I hate to impose any longer.”

“It isn’t... an imposition,” his voice almost crackles. “I’ve made dinner.”

“Dinner?” You echo. “Oh, well, if you’ve gone to the trouble.”

“No trouble,” he assures.

His teeth glint between his lips, shining and long. You only get a glimpes before he hides them again. You’ve been reading this lore for far too long.

“Please, finish your reading and I will let you know when it is served,” he drawls.

“Oh, uh, right,” you sit again. “Thanks. That's... kind.”

He hums and says nothing else. He retreats just as he appeared, receding like a shadow into the hallway. You peer into the dark block of the doorway for a moment before you put your attention back to the ink.

…derived of the ‘dlaka’, meaning strand of the wolf’s hair, the Vykolakas were once many. As the mortals upon which they feast, the crowned kings to lead them into their battle of malicion. One such, proclaimed the White Wolf, or White One, in whispered tongues as The Butcher, was the corrupt lord of Haute-Bellegarde.

The white liege met defeat by the hordes of the villagers in grief of their slain children, consumed by those which he claimed as his own offspring, better deemed heathens slathering at his cloak tails. In the sunlight he melted into the earth and upon his grave boils a pit of rotted soil. Though it is claimed by some that the Wolf remains, lurking and sniffing for blood, there is little evidence to feed such suspicion.

“Dinner...” Geralt’s voice pierces like iron.

Dizziness sweeps your vision as you draw back. That was quick. You think. Again, it seems in this dimly lit room that time is still yet never ending.

“Come, I’ve set the table,” he slithers.

You rise as if summoned by his invitation rather than your own will. You swallow dryly and cross the room. He waits and beckons down the hall with his arm. You notice his attire. A black silk jerkin without sleeves, trimmed with silver twine and buttons. His trousers are just as dark and his boots meet his knees. He is odd and out-of-time.

You pass him and it’s like walking through a cloud of fog, dampy and chilly. You continue as he directs you with a point of his thick finger and a low tone, “to the left.”

You follow another pulsing light. You’ve never been further than the reading room. Behind the spiraled stairs is nestled a dining room with a square table. The dark wood is framed with slender curlicues of red paint and at the center, the illustration of human heart beneath the foot of a candelabra set with nine long tapers.

The flames only light the breadth of the table, leaving the walls to hang like ebon curtains. You hug yourself as the air kisses goosebumps to your skin. He escorts you to the table and pulls out the tall-backed chair. Your scalp tingles as the roots of your hair prickle.

The urge to flee thumps in your chest and yet, you cannot make your feet turn back. You sit as if weighed down by invisible chains. Your heart races with inexplicable panic. The compulsion within overrides any thread of dread or doubt.

You look down at the plate before you. He rounds the table and takes the seat across from yours. You look up as he rests his large hand around the base of a bronze goblet, the cup cradled by metal in the shape of talons. How strange. This room does not belong in the coastal Greek abode.

“Please, eat.”

There is no plate before him. Only the cup. The dish before you is neatly filled with rice pilaf and a strip of indeterminate meat glistening in sauce. It isn’t very appetizing, the smell both repulses and satisfies.

“What about you?” You ask as you peer between the arms of the candelabra.

“My hunger has not stirred as yet,” he says. “Please. It is only hospitable.”

His words are unnatural, strung together with a purpose you can’t unravel. You pick up the fork and knife. You taste the rice first. It’s bland. You take a few more bites and he clears his throat. You know better than to insult him by leaving your plate full.

You put the blade to the slab of meat. It sinks in easily, so easily it sickens you. As you slice into it, it seems to bleed as more sauce drips from within. It is dense but not tough. You pick up a morsel with the tines of the fork.

You stare down the meat and push it through your lips as your stomach churns and your mouth fills with saliva. You taste it, the oily sauce coating your tongue as you nearly gag. What is it?

You pull the fork free and it shines with your spit in the candelight. Your look at Geralt. His pupils are so large that his whole eyes seem to gleam black. You chew but can’t swallow. You reach to the goblet closest to you, that one plain and carved of what could be ivory.

You drink but not deeply as the iron-laced contents add to your nausea. You wretch and choke on your mouthful. The meat seems to wiggle in your mouth and slides down your throat. Your body constricts as you force it to accept what’s been offered.

“Is it tasty?” He asks.

You can’t answer him. Your stomach is agonizingly full. Your heart is hammering against your ribs, and your hands are shaking. You squint at him as your head thrums. You can hear the air around you, as still as it is. You can hear it hissing around the lit tapers, you can hear the slivers of wood pressed together in the table, and you can hear that there is no breath coming from him.

His chest does not rise or fall. He is perfectly still. Rapt by the maelstrom you find yourself sinking into.

You look down as your smart watch flashes. The small heart flashes as it turns from orange to red. The number rises higher and higher. You whimper.

Your breath sears down your throat and into your nostrils. He is calm as he witnesses your deconstruction. You are terrified.

“Sheep’s liver,” he says.

You contort in the chair, gripping the armrests as tendrils of pain weave through your muscles and coil around your heart. It’s throbbing inside of you. You look down and swear you can see it through your chest. Swelling bigger and bigger.

Your eyes flick up at the recollection of the passage.

‘...so the beast is borne of a man who eats the decrepit morsel of the sheep; that who dines upon the flesh corrupted by the teeth of the wolf...’

“No...” you waft, your voice like smoke, acrid and hot.

He smiles, baring teeth like fangs, long and pointed like a wolf’s. Your neck bends to the side until you think it might snap and your legs twist out inhumanly. You twist and tie yourself, trying to fight the beast that consumes you from within.

“It won’t hurt much longer and soon enough, nothing will hurt, precious,” he snarls as he sips from his goblet, pulling it back to reveal a trickle of crimson down his chin.

“Wh-why...” you whine as you stare down at your forearms, tense as you cling to the chair. You can see your veins bulging through your skin.

“You did not read that one. I did not translate it,” he says. “’With his curse, a prophecy, that his fate should be unleashed upon the day when he should mate. When the Butcher of Haute-Bellegade claims his bride, so shall he claim the day, and put upon the world and endless night. Dusk will consume as he does, and at his side, she will devour in turn.’”

You moan and gurgle, your head hangs as you bawl and gag on your own tongue. Your bones grind together and your heart begins to miss its tempo.

“’Upon a moonless night, their vow will be sealed, and all the fates of the world too.’” He recites it as if it is poetry.

Your ears ring like a siren and your eyes blot with dark stains. Your blood boils over and your muscles knot and tangle. You fold in half and heave and expel a great deluge of guts into your lap. You turn inside out as the world mirrors your transformation. A flash of white then a bottomless black.

All is still and silent. All is gone and born again. From nothing, there is a sliver. Red, dripping, leaking, pouring gushing. All is red. All is drenched and sodden. All is flooded in the taste of iron.

A flicker between slitted eyelids. The scent of smoke yet you cannot inhale. You are weak but strong. Broken but unbreakable.

Your lashes snap wide and you stare up at the peaked ceiling. It is dark yet you can see through it. The smoke wafts to you but does not creep into your nostrils. You turn your head and he is there. Waiting, watching.

You lay upon the wooden table, naked to him and the night. You look down your arm to the only vestige of your former self. The watch on your wrist. You tilt your hand so it lights up and the little heart is grey, next to it a dash. There is no heartbeat. You are dead. Undead. Reborn into death.

“’And in consummation, they will birth the doom,’” he declares as he comes closer.

He is naked too. Strong and resilient as his pale hair and eyes shine in the darkness. He climbs over you, holding himself above you as you remain unmoving. He lowers himself slowly until his nose touches yours.

“’And upon their first kiss, the world wept,’” he grits out, lips brushing yours then all at once, covering them. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, eternally.

As his mission is done, so is yours. You’ve uncovered the secrets of the undead. You know for sure that it is more than folklore; t he is more than just a myth. And you will have all the time in the world to regret that you ever dare to ask if he was real.

The White Wolf. Gwynbleidd. White One. Butcher of Blaviken. Ravix of Fourhorn. The cursed Duke du Haute-Bellegarde. The bringer of the end.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt x reader #the witcher #au #horror au #halloween 2024 #fic #dark fic #dark!fic

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peggyao3 · 1 month ago

Text

Relic - Pt. 18 "Universe"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: This chapter is dedicated to the quantum spirits.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 5k

A/N: It's a Christmas miracle! 🎄 The final chapter is ready just in time. And, my God, I'm so emotional about it 😭 It hurts to let it go.

After finishing this chapter, you might want to re-read a certain part of a certain other chapter, because of reasons 🤭

If there ever pops up a 19th "chapter", don't be surprised! If it happens, it's going to be a bit of art for this fic 💖💖💖

My biggest thank you goes to @/ClockworkSiren, once again, for beta reading this whole thing and letting me borrow our lovely babies Alyth and Michael and turn them into Lilia and Mikhail ❤️😭

Reposted from my Ao3💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter

"So, this is it?" She gazes out the window, engines rumbling under their seats. "The Maldives of Giedi Prime?"

"What was that, darling?" Feyd's hand is heavy on her knee, the coolness of his wedding band seeping pleasantly through her gown. His bald head thuds softly against the back panel as he follows her gaze.

The black, oily waves of the svart valta lick at the pale coast of the peninsula below. White sand stretches between tall, chalky cliffs that stand out of the landscape like the unearthed bones of an ancient beast. According to her interface, they're still 150 meters above the ground.

"The Maldives," the relic mutters pensively. "They were an archipelago on Earth, a popular honeymoon destination. Never been there. They were flooded around the time I was born."

"Honeymoon," Feyd repeats the foreign word that lacks a proper translation in Galach, but with the individual words grafted together, it sounds cute. He likes it. "M'gonna drink your honey as soon as we touch down. Until the moon comes out?"

His wife snickers warmly and her breath fogs up the window. Feyd's hand slides to the inside of her thigh, squeezing the soft flesh above her knee.

"Not if I drink yours first," she teases, though her musing gaze remains on the lurid landscape below, abyssal wave hungrily trying to scorch the peninsula of Telkel. From the tasu aurinkosesti, they had flown east to reach one of the most remote Harkonnen settlements on Giedi Prime. Looking at the undulating mass of radiation, she wonders: "What color do you think it'd have under a yellow sun?"

"Don't know," Feyd hums. "You're the scientist. Green, maybe? Or brown."

He had explained to her earlier that the settlers had tried to reintroduce fish to the sea here in Telkel. The giant, corroding basins along the shore remain, but their filter systems have been shut off for decades. To cultivate fish that can not only survive but thrive in the heavily polluted waters would take some serious scientific effort that the late Baron Harkonnen didn't think promising enough to chip his budget for.

"We could have gone to Lankiveil," his woman briefly pouts, though her eyes betray her fascination as the village below increases in size. "I would die to dip my toes into an ocean without having them singed off. Or for some fresh air and a walk among pines. I never had much of that on Earth either."

Feyd hums, contorting his torso to press his cheek against hers as they both gaze out of the same window. Long, pale fingers play along her ribs. "The waters on Lankiveil would freeze your toes off, but… We'll go there," he promises with a low whisper. "Or any other planet you want. The universe is practically ours now."

Practically. Perhaps after a week of writhing on top of each other in damp sheets, their thirst for revenge will return.

The conversation between Feyd and his brother after the ceremony had been brief, but Glossu had formally invited the both of them to Lankiveil, the snowy, tranquil home of Feyd's early childhood and a place full of emotional debris. But he would rather not elbow his way through the wreckage on their honeymoon.

The aircraft touches down on a bleak landing pad between low buildings that look like matchboxes among the unforgiving landscape. A small committee of a dozen Telkelis awaits the daunting visitors from Barony, their massive aircraft ink-black and shiny, factory new, among the dusty grey architecture and pale hills. The sharp wind of rotor blades makes the Telkelis' drab trousers whip around their legs.

Lilia quickly maneuvers to the other side of the passengers' cabin after prying the hem of her Lady's travel mantle out of Glugo's many finger-toes. The garment has the same functionality as her wedding down, but simpler and more practical.

"You'll get your plushies back when we're inside," the handmaid tries to soothe the wistfully glugging creature. "They're in the suitcase— Oh! Not that one."

But Glugo has already wrapped four out of eight hand-feet around the handle of Mikhail's personal suitcase that the guard had refused to deposit in the cargo department because old habits die hard. As a former resident of the slums of Ganpolis, he prefers to have his belongings where he can see them.

Feyd-Rautha clicks his tongue while Lilia helps his wife into the shiny mantle and gloves, concealing her from head to toes.

Outside, scalding wind carries the sound of distant, crashing waves and the scent of bitter salt. The relic has to hold onto her husband's arm as she sways on the iron footsteps of the aircraft. Behind them, guards spill out of the second cabin, half of them heading straight to the cargo compartment where her cryo pod is stored. She is quite like Mikhail in that regard.

The committee bravely keeps a stoic face and doesn't flinch at the disturbingly cute sight of an eight-arm-legged creature toiling away with a too heavy suitcase and refusing a desperate guard's help.

Leaning towards his wife, Mikhail whispers: "My chair's inside that thing!"

Feyd's nostrils flare as he struts towards the gathered dozen with heavy, leisured steps, clutching the hand of his wife. His other hand lifts to shield himself against the glaring sun and the tip of his thumb subconsciously slides against his ear where an inconspicuous black button pierces his antihelix. To the unsuspecting eye, it looks not too different from a regular transponder with an unconventional placement, but what it really contains is a tiny loudspeaker and a chip with just enough memory to run the script that detects the voice.

"Welcome to Telkel, my Lord, my Lady." The committee bends their knees and salutes. The clumsy tension in their limbs gives away that they didn't have to salute to authority often in their lives out here in the godforsaken wilderness.

"Thank you for having us."

If it weren't the young Baron's very own raspy drawl speaking, the Mayor of Telkel would have never believed that 'thank you' would be the first words coming out of Feyd's mouth. The Mayor's daughter had cried in the morning, certain that Feyd-Rautha would behead her father for something as mundane as the driveway to the villa being too crooked or the bad condition of the weather-beaten landing pad.

"It's an honor. The entire village is ecstatic, my Lord." Still hunkering down on one knee, the man's smooth brows suddenly shoot up in horror. "Congratulations!" He blurts. "On your marriage!" He'd meant to say this in the very beginning. Helplessly, his pale eyes snap from Baron to Baroness.

"Thank you," the Lady speaks from behind the curious veil and her voice sounds kind and human. "Why don't you stand up. Don't hurt your knees."

Feyd-Rautha casts a threatening glance at Mikhail, so the guard doesn't blurt out that 'the Lady could print y'all some chairs.'

The Mayor and his people shuffle, straightening their bodies into the sharp wind.

"Oh, my Lady, our knees and backs are used to it." The older man points a scarred thumb behind his shoulder, where the inkvine plantations are beyond the village border. This is how Telkel gets by now, hovering over the maws of poverty at the whims of Giedi Prime's rocky soil and erratic volcanoes.

The Lady lets out a sympathetic sound and the Mayor can't help himself. The next words just come tumbling out. "It'd be an honor to show you around the plantations and the old basins, if you'd like. Never seen them in action, but my father did. For a year or so, they had a relatively stable population of Tilapia in there."

"I'd love to see them. Actually, if I could have some water samples, maybe I could—"

"Not now, sweetling," Feyd's grating voice chastises and he squeezes his wife's gloved hand, compressing her wedding ring between her fingers. "The villa is prepared?"

"Yes, my Lord. The maids and workers you sent have been very thorough. Radiation-proof window panes, fresh paint. Even got some imported plants. My daughter picked them." The renovated villa is now considerably more homely than the Mayor's own residence. "Shall we head there?"

Despite its forlorn ugliness, the relic finds Telkel and its grey, flat buildings among chalky hills oddly charming. Even if she'll be covered from crown to toe in her lead-painted mantle, she swears she will go to the beach — if Feyd lets her out of the bedroom — and feel the sand underfoot, hear the massive waves trying to swallow the shore. Compared to Barony and the roiling industrial trenches that stretch across most of the northern hemisphere, this is a natural paradise.

"Guess we won't be seeing ya for a while, eh?" Mikhail leers, freshly painted teeth brilliant in the glaring sun as he leans lopsidedly against the grey pillar of the villa's roofed porch. Lilia harshly pinches his side, between the plates of his armor, but the apples of her cheeks round up with laughter. Sometimes it still scares her how openly her husband jests with Feyd-Rautha, a man who used to be known first and foremost for his quick blades and unstable outbursts.

The welcome committee has left them ten minutes ago and the guards currently come shuffling out of the building, having deposited the Baroness' priceless sarcophagus in the room adjacent to their honeymoon suite.

"You may join us for meals," Feyd concedes, grinning.

"Meals as in…?" Mikhail cocks a hairless brow.

"Oh, absolutely not!" The relic gasps and her guard breaks into raspy laughter, lungs expanding in crunchy hops.

"Dun' worry. I wouldn't share my woman anyways. Not even with you, m'Lord. Aight then, see ya in a week, eh?"

Wiry arms curl around Lilia's thighs and the scrawny guard hauls his wife quite easily over his shoulder. She calls him a prat between giggles, and a mongrel, but Mikhail already makes a sprinting beeline for Glugo who still stubbornly drags his suitcase down the freshly paved pathway to the guest house.

"They'll be fine," Feyd-Rautha soothes his wife's veiled, lingering glance. "Look at me." His gravelly timbre demands for her undivided attention and her eyes follow his magnetic pull.

Pale fingers sprawl across her sternum, urging her backwards. Even through the lead-painted layers, she feels his possessive touch singe her skin and bones. Unwittingly, her feet pass the threshold of their holiday abode and the door closes at her husband's back.

Inside, silence embraces them. This place is only for them, where they need to be nothing but lovers. Color provided by golden glow globes fades into Feyd's pallor, the softest notes of pink on cheeks and lips, and blue framed by dark blonde lashes.

The building is brutalist in its arches and pillars, but less suffocating than the palace. The welcoming range of non-colors and sharp angles creates actual depth and contrast, not like the bulbous pyramid interior that reminds of a termite burrow, or the innards of a giant insect. Bright daylight streams through the thick windows, fading into glowglobe haze.

Something about this place evokes… Nostalgia.

"You're blushing, husband," she teases, though her hammering heart under his palm betrays her own butterflies.

"Off with that thing." Feyd-Rautha has already mapped out the buckles that keep her mantle fastened and strips it off her frame quicker than she would have ever managed. Her gloves land on the same shiny pile and she hooks her bare fingers into Feyd's belt loops, turning her husband around his tall axis to walk him up the curved stairs. Those pretty eyes could eat her alive, oozing lust like blue honey.

Neither of them take note of the gentle, green fern that line the staircase in tasteful pots.

"Off with that thing." The woman's fingers glide under Feyd's lapels and over his smooth shoulders, slipping his ornamental jacket off his arms. The expensive garment flutters over the banister and he remains in a sleeveless tunic and trousers.

"So, now that you're my wife, will you stop taking that potion?" Feyd leers at her stomach once they've reached the top, his tone playful. The hand that lunges to smack him atop the head is one that he had predicted, and so he dodges it masterfully and dances behind her. Hard, strong arms curl around her middle, lifting her off the ground until she breaks into gasping giggles and demands to be let down with kicking feet. The hem of her gown slides up her shins.

Feyd grins, feeling the plushness of her breasts against his forearms. "What a rare pleasure to have you in a gown, my darling" he purrs.

"For this special occasion, I thought I might as well," she huffs with laughter, accepting her airborne fate.

"I like it. It's practical."

"Practical for you, not for me."

The garment is a classic cut worn by Harkonnen noblewomen, flattering and intricate in the way it curls around her bosom and hips in obsidian black, nothing like the stiff latex and see-through plastic of the former Baron's palace servants.

"Don't worry, you won't have to wear it for the rest of the week, my darling. You'll wear nothing but sweat and cum on your pretty skin. Or maybe some blood. I didn't bring a coffer full of toys for nothing."

"I hope some of them are for you."

"More than you'd think," he purrs, pink lips pressing against her neck. "And some of the blood will be mine."

"Oh? We could start now." The woman twists out of his grasp, turning and grasping his lapels. Her lips find the crescent scar on his clavicle, pretending to delve for a kiss when she really pinches the thin layer of skin over the bone between her teeth. Feyd grunts, shamelessly pressing his confined erection against her navel.

"Let's go, my darling." He seizes her hand, his whole universe, and opens the door.

🎶🎶🎶

"Look, doesn't this remind you of something?" His wife's voice whispers to him excitedly and Feyd-Rautha tilts his head, brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"Look!" Her ringed hand slides out of his grip and he chases after it viscerally, nearly overwhelmed by the sudden discomfort of having no soft palm against his own. She shouldn't be slipping away from him at all on their honeymoon.

But then, recognition carves into him, serrated blades that tear his guts open with a monstrous sense of deja vu. His head spins as he advances into the room.

Feyd's feet step on polished parquet and his gaze swivels around, scanning the surroundings which he thought he would never see again. There are white curtains fluttering by the window, a king-sized bed carved out of white marble, a black comforter tucked around the mattress and blue pillows are lined up against the headboard. A real fern grows in a terracotta pot in the corner.

Horrified, Feyd's head snaps back to his woman, suddenly recognizing the Harkonnen gown wrapped around her curves. He finds her eyes brimming with meaning.

She clutches his wrist hard, nails digging into tender skin, and it is like some sense of frantic, mutual understanding settles upon wife and husband. Her features soften and she looks at him, seemingly confused.

"I don't recognize this place," he lies. His heart clamors like a captive beast.

"Me neither." She pulls her hand away and takes a step back, her cheeks hot and her head dizzy as the universe's mysterious gears rotate around them. But she masks it well.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Feyd rumbles, tracing his fingertips over the cool, smooth marble bedpost. It feels so real. It is real and always has been real.

"I don't know. I feel so awake."

A flash of warmth blossoms in Feyd-Rautha's chest as he regards the woman he has seen so many times before, in visions and reality. Curiously, she moves around the light-flooded bedroom. Sunlight filters through the curtains, temporarily robbing her flesh of color. A frown decorates her brows and she turns back to face him. Years of comfort reside in the way she moves and Feyd chases after her with measured steps.

"What's your name?" He asks. She tells him only a forename, no House, because she has none, unfamiliar sounding, because the name was given to her 24,000 years ago. "I've never heard that name before," Feyd confesses, standing mere inches away from his wife. Her pretty face is craned upwards to meet the alluring gaze of his eyes. She would describe the color as baby blue. The prettiest shade in the world.

"And what's your name?" She breathes. No matter what this is, she has no reason to be nervous. It already happened.

He hesitates at that. Feyd-Rautha Rabban. But ultimately, he stays true to the script. "Feyd."

The name sparks no judgment on the woman's features and he remembers the flood of immense, stupid relief and how he had concluded that there is probably more than one person in the universe named Feyd, that Harkonnens all look the same to foreigners. To talk to a person who only knows Feyd, not Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had been his lifeline out of the gluttonous maws of death.

"Feyd," she repeats, suddenly giggling.

He too is in the mood for giggling, but he didn't giggle then, so he doesn't giggle now. Feyd leans an inch closer, eyes rapidly dancing across her mirthful face.

"Feyd as in you will fade away when I wake up?" She covers her mouth now, still laughing. Something compels him to laugh as well because all things considered, this is still a funny joke, even though neither of them will wake up.

Or will they?

No. No, they won't.

The pressure against the apples of his cheeks doesn't feel so unfamiliar anymore, as the corners of his mouth lift into a wide grin. His lips part and what escapes him is a small haha.

Suddenly, the woman flinches and her smile drops. Perhaps she had the same thought as he did. She catches herself quickly and remembers: "Sorry! I just—"

"What? Oh, the black teeth? People usually find them very pretty where I'm from, desirable even.” Feyd closes his mouth. He's still unsure if laughter suits him, but his woman seems to like it. Always has.

"Oh, no, please keep laughing!" She wraps her hand around Feyd's wrist. So smooth, every part of him. She wants to curl against his body and rub her cheek against his pallid flesh. Even now, his features are still outlandish to her, strikingly pretty. The pale skin, so light that it almost looks translucent, the entirely bald head and lack of brows.

She should have always known that he's not a figment of her imagination, because she couldn't have imagined someone so pretty.

Encouraged by her touch, Feyd smiles once more and it has never been easier. It feels so good. He looks away from his woman who still holds his wrist and finds a mirror on the far wall. He looks foreign to himself, his cheeks not in the right place, but he's gotten more used to it.

"If I pinch you, will you wake up?" She teases, pinching his skin without waiting for his answer. She seems fascinated by the small blotch which decorates his wrist where she poked him with her nail, twisting and turning his wrist and hand like he's an interesting specimen. Of course she would look at him like that — his little scientist, life saver, love of his life.

Even though this is not a lucid dream, Feyd knows he doesn't have to worry about what he does, not with her. She has loved even the most unlovable parts of him. He feels compelled to do things he would have never done before her, such as dismantling the walls around his soul with laughter.

Even though this is not a lucid dream, she knows she doesn't have to worry about what she does, not with him. She also feels compelled to do things she would have never done before him. Such as getting married to the apocalyptic soundscape of an erupting volcano and adopting a lovely freak of immoral genetic engineering.

"So, Feyd…" She purrs his name like an exotic, amusing thing. "What would you like to do?"

Feyd pretends to be taken aback by the question, because no one ever used to ask him that. Not like that. "What would you like to do?" He coos, slinking closer with rolling gait and a small smirk on his serpentine features. He knows the way her pupils dilate well.

"There's a bed in the room, so…"

Feyd leers, smile turning wolfish. Yes, he will fuck his wife senseless. He might even fuck her so good that his own climax jostles him awake and out of whatever the fuck this bizarre simulation is. Which, upon second thought, would ruin his life.

She speaks again, moving her lips closer to his, pretty lashes lowering so they almost kiss her cheek bones "...So perhaps that means we should sleep."

Feyd acts baffled, then rumbles: "I won't sleep in my sleep."

"I meant sleeping with each other."

Of course she did. Feyd's hairless brows shoot up and something light flutters in his stomach when she starts giggling again, attempting to turn away as if suddenly bashful about her own words.

"To the bed, you confusing woman," he orders with a low growl and there is not even an ounce of resistance when his hands wrap around his wife's shoulders, nudging her backwards, so her knees bend around the mattress of their honeymoon bed and she sinks down.

Her husband's face hovers directly over her and she admires the dip of his cupid's bow and the soft curve of his jaws. So pretty. She reaches up and cups his cheek and the way his bone structure slots against her palms feels just right, always has.

Feyd pounces on her like a tiger and the strength and weight of the hard muscles concealed by a black tunic and slacks becomes evident. Heat pools into her abdomen instantly, caged under the man of and from her dreams who is made of flesh and blood, smells like it too. A familiar note of something leathery and metallic clings to him.

There is no need for a prelude, because they've loved each other a thousand times, in the past and the future. Feyd's lips kiss her decolletage before they find her throat and by the time they've found her lips, the hard ridge of his cock is pressed against her core which is only covered by the fabric of her dress, ridiculously easy to access.

Practical for him, as he said.

Why not, she thinks. It's not like the world is going to come collapsing down on them. Right?

Why not, he thinks. Even if the world comes collapsing down on them when they're done, it would be worth it.

Her hands curl around the back of his head gently and Feyd wants to weep at how soft her touch is, almost like she's worried of hurting him. He loves her nails in his scalp as much as he loves the loving dance of her fingertips.

She rolls her hips against his pelvis, ever amazed how hard his body is. A small grunt escapes her husband's mouth and mingles with the sloppy kiss which is all soft lips and saliva, leaving her open-mouthed and softly moaning for more as her core yearns for friction.

Feyd-Rautha is ever amazed by how soft and pliant her body is, breasts and stomach like a pillow for him to snuggle. And her little cunt is already grinding against his crotch. Under different circumstances, he might have had his fun right away, but that's his wife and her squirming hips are too tempting not to spoil her rotten before he fucks her. He reaches down, long fingers gliding up the curve of her thigh where the dress has pooled around her hips. Instinctively, her leg curls up higher, knee pressing against his ribs. Feyd works her underwear halfway off her rear, needing to get up to slide it off fully.

"If this is a lucid dream, I should be able to make myself wet with a thought," she muses as Feyd scoots down and freezes halfway, before he can settle down between her thighs, hard cock straining against his trousers.

The brief moment of hesitation is all it takes to throw him off the track of time that has carved its way through the universe.

"But it's not a lucid dream. They were visions all along, weren't they?" Feyd blurts, deviating from God's wicked script. For a moment, they both stare at each other in terror, as if expecting the universe to disintegrate and crush their souls into one smoldering singularity in space-time.

But nothing happens.

Nothing at all.

The relic shuffles up slowly, tugging her dress down her legs and sitting back on her haunches.

"What is going on?" Feyd hisses, scared that the quantum spirits in the walls are listening. "What the fuck was that?"

He has never been so grateful to see the spark of knowledge in her eyes.

"That was our past, present and future."

"So, are we in a— a fucking time loop? Are we gonna wake up and go through hell again? Will I have to wait another eternity for the Guild to pluck you out of space?!"

"No!" She curls her arms around his shoulders and lays her forehead against his. No, my love… But it is a loop of sorts." Rapt fingertips glide slowly to the crescent scar on Feyd's pallid clavicle, inflicted by herself a few months back, first noticed by her 24,000 years ago, when Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was not even a spark among the stars. "We could have never ended up together if we hadn't already seen us be together in the past, but what we really saw back then was our future. Weren't we the greatest actors? We were so good, we convinced even ourselves."

The terrible, beautiful Ouroboros has finally come to devour its own, cosmic tail and a shudder of awe passes through the two souls who straddle the starry serpent's undulating neck. From the macroscopic cosmos to the microscopic one within their bodies, it makes even their molecules tremble, even the quantum particles that make up the endless void of every ounce of matter, every brain, every soul.

"But I messed it up," Feyd insists. "I said the wrong thing. Why didn't we see ourselves having this conversation during our first dream? Why didn't we wear our wedding rings then?"

"There's never just one future." She kisses him on the lips, stealing his anxious breath for but a moment.

"How many?"

"Many." The engineer laughs, hands trailing up Feyd's neck to cradle his jaws. Panic fades from his gaze and flows into blue-eyed petulance. "Are your scientists aware of the many-worlds-theory?"

"Do I look like I know?" Strong hands hold his wife's face in a gentle vise.

"In quantum physics, a particle always has two states at once until it is observed. Then, its waveform collapses and it becomes one of the two states. But what happens to the other state?" She pauses, closing her eyes. "It exists too, but in another world. That is the many-worlds-theory.

With every decision we make, every beat of a butterfly's wing, every quiver of a molecule brushing against another, a new world branches off. That makes a tree with infinite branches or a delta with infinite rivers, rolling onwards and onwards since the birth of the first atom. Among this… infinity—" Her breath shudders in trembling reverence. "—there are branches in which we said it just right, because we knew what to say. Branches in which we saw exactly this conversation, or never found each other at all."

"So, why are we in this one where every vision of us acting was aligned perfectly? How probable is that?"

"As probable as any other nexus of visions. One infinity can't be bigger or smaller than another." A small smile plays around her lips. "Some say, the entire universe in itself is a simulation. For all we know, we could just be figments of someone's imagination, or pixels on a computer screen. Perhaps it would have been a less exciting story to tell, if it happened any other way."

The relic briefly turns her head to look at you — yes, you — quantum spirit in the walls.

"And why us?"

She is so happy that her husband's spark for science has finally been ignited, even if just for a few heartbeats — or a few beats of a butterfly's wings.

"When I was with the Bene Gesserit, they called it prescience. They said it's genetic and that my genes allowed me to survive millennia in cryo sleep." She sighs with bitterness. "If my own family has an aberrant sequence in our DNA, we might as well be the ancestors of— of everyone versed in prescience."

And the cause for so much suffering.

Feyd sees it in her eyes, that flame of intrigue followed by the need to explore and sink into the inland empire of her mind and the ancient technology that's fused with her, a place where he can't follow. So, he tilts her face upwards in both loving hands and kisses her hard before breaking away with a coy grin.

"Are you saying you're my great great great aunt?"

"Yeah!" She blurts out laughing. "I think I am."

Giggling, she goes back in, throws her arms around Feyd's neck and topples him on his back, tangling her legs with his like their threads of fate.

In their angry daydreams, they have pictured themselves in red and gold as the king and queen of a new, better empire, handing out guns and bombs to the revolution.

But in their hearts, they're just a girl and a boy. An astronaut lost in space and a man who has yet to discover his destiny beyond being the unwilling prince of a noble House.

From now on, their future is theirs, and despite all the rights and wrongs, it boils down to a single question.

What do they want? A war to make the universe anew as they see fit? Or maybe just a universe as big as they are. Maybe just—

Peace.

Caught in the riptide I was searching for the truth There was a reason I collided into you Calling your name in the midnight hour Reaching for you from the endless dream So many miles between us then Now you are always here with me Nobody knows (nobody knows) why (why) Nobody knows how, and This feeling begins just like a spark Tossing and turning inside of your heart Exploding in the dark Calling your name in the midnight hour Reaching for you from the endless dream So many miles between us then Now you are always here with me Oh, inside me I find my way Back to you, back to you Calling your name in the midnight hour Reaching for you from the endless dream So many miles between us then Now you are always here with me Two words In your hands, in your heart It′s one (whole) universe You are always here with me

- Here With Me (Two Worlds) by Susie Suh

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

A/N: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for accompanying me on this writing journey ❤️ I'm a little heartbroken that it's over 😭 I had expected to be more relieved, but I'm actually so sad right now. Proud and happy but sad 😭

If you enjoyed reading this labor of love of mine, please do let me know in a comment, if you can find the time 🫶🏻 No matter if you have or haven't commented before, I'm going to be so grateful about every thought, every reaction. Comments are genuinely the most rewarding thing when publishing my stories, much more so than hits and kudos, because fanfics (in my opinion) are to be relished and not consumed 🫶🏻

I'm not ready to say goodbye to the Dune universe. I have more stories in mind. The idea that I've been mulling over would be the largest, longest and most complex work that I've ever written. I'm talking about heavy world building, an entirely original planet and population, a much more depraved Feyd-Rautha and female protagonist. I've already been teetering at the border of an OC with the reader character in this one. For the next one, I would cross that line for the first time and go for an OC, make the FMC as fleshed out as Feyd is. The story would have a heavy emphasis on religion, corruption kink and cannibalism. It'd be a dove that's almost dead. Basically, all the world building would be my excuse to write deranged, blasphemous, messy smut. It definitely wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea. However, I wouldn't wanna start posting before I've written the entire thing, which might take a long time, so as not to put too much pressure on myself. Can't disappoint anyone if I'm only writing for myself for the time being ❤️

I also have a smutty F/M/M threesome oneshot cooking in my brain, one of the men being Feyd, the other being a surprise 🤭

Annndd I also have two other Feyd oneshots (that have been on ao3 for ages) to upload here, which I'll probably do within the next weeks.

If any of this sounds like something you'd enjoy, feel free to subscribe to me as an author on ao3 to receive email notifications, or follow me here on Tumblr 🫶🏻 I would be so happy to see you again, all of you 💕

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd #feyd rautha x reader #austin butler #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #peggysuave fanfics #peggysuave;relic #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd fanfiction #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd imagine #feyd rautha imagine #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction

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biolumien · 8 months ago

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Hiiii!!!! 😊👋 So I only just started Kaiju no. 8!!! New to the fandom and not a manga reader. Idk what’s going to happen in the next episode—all I know is that Hoshina better not d*e lol.

Anyways!!! Obviously I am a huge Hoshina fan/simp!!! I really like your blog and I have enjoyed your Hoshina fics!!!!!! 🥹 And since your requests are open, I wanted to know if I could perhaps make one??? 👉👈

If so, I was wondering if you could do something sort of related to your “say it!” fic??? Like where Hoshina (+ reader) somehow bumps into the ex from operations you mentioned in the fic??? And reader gets SUPERRRRR jealous (lord knows I would be especially if said ex was really beautiful and smart) and insecure. Maybe reader acts a bit distant/moody after the encounter but once Hoshina realizes what’s up he immediately reassures reader and let’s them know how much he loves/cares for them???

Sorry if this request is weird or doesn’t make sense to you, I’ve honestly just been thinking about a similar scenario ever since reading that fic of yours 😭😭 anyways thank you so much for your time 🫶❤️ and please never stop writing, your fics are beautiful 💖💕

notes: hihi; thank you so much for your request; i hope that this is okay; you sent this in before the most recent episode but hoshina's a fairly important character to the story of kaiju no 8 overall so he'll be alright... i combined this with a slightly different ask which also surrounded jealousy but with okonogi; it's very briefly mentioned though.

jealousy as the crux

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings should apply, i think. wc: 837

hoshina always maintained rather easy conversation with a lot of people—friendly conversation that sometimes got the better of your self esteem when he teasingly doted on okonogi or otherwise.

you’d tried not to bring it up, to not bother him—because envy and jealousy like that was an ugly emotion, of course. it wouldn’t be right to burden hoshina with them–mostly because you weren’t even sure how he’d react. he was plenty envious on his own, you think–key point on think. but it might have been for more reasonable things, surely. like the envious desire to become stronger, or something noble like that.

nothing quite like yours.

but stumbling on hoshina’s ex was never on your list of priorities at all.

so the fact that she was here—was her name amaya?—only made you more uncomfortable. you barely knew anything about her other than the fact that okonogi spoke her name with strained reverence, cautious to never bring it up around hoshina. hoshina seemed to be uncaring of it all, even so–as if he couldn’t be bothered to remember.

she was smoking indoors, her eyes tired and weary.

hoshina didn’t seem to tense up when talking to her, which strangely irked you more.

“hoshina,” amaya says, approaching hoshina with a raised eyebrow. she pats his shoulder, and he chuckles.

“you look well,” hoshina murmurs.

“hm. well as i’ll ever be.” her eyes flit to you, her eyes narrowing. you felt uncomfortable under her gaze, as if you were some unique kind of insect to be pinned up in a collection. “this your new partner? they’re cute.”

“hm?” hoshina laughs. “aren’t they?”

the compliment doesn’t feel good, somehow, as it usually does.

“thought you said you wouldn’t date again,” amaya says, dusting off some ash off the tip of her cigarette, taking another breath before blowing it away from the two of you. “not that we really were.�� she snorts. “you were too much of a coward last time.”

“hey,” hoshina says, sounding mock-hurt. “i figured we were better off as friends.”

“hm.” amaya exhales. “whatever you say.”

“i wish you’d sound more enthusiastic about this,” hoshina retorts, laughing again. it’s the same laugh he has when he talks to okonogi, that same doting laughter–but it also wasn’t anything special. it was the same kind of laughter he had when he talked to you, though perhaps it was tinged with more fondness when he spoke to you.

if there was anything hoshina was, it might’ve just been annoyingly consistent.

"it's hard to be enthusiastic surrounding you. your sarcastic energy exhausts me," amaya drawls.

you turn away from the conversation at this point–and yet you can feel amaya staring daggers into the back of your head.

“i’ll let the two of you finish this up,” you say, and your voice sounds far more obviously strained than you’d like for it to be.

hoshina was allowed to talk to other people. but why did amaya irk you so much? was it just the irreverent way she spoke, the way she seemed to be watching you so intently for no reason? what the hell was her problem? as you stormed off, your footsteps grew angrier as you continued to mull over it. no, seriously! what was her problem?

but what was yours, being jealous in the first place? you were being irrational–worried because you wanted hoshina’s attention for yourself but of course it wasn’t right to worry this badly about it to the point that envy would turn your stomach like this, create the brittling sensation in your heart. it wasn’t right, and the fact that you knew it wasn’t right made the whirling sense of bad in you feel worse.

you rub your face roughly, trying to shock yourself into trying to just be fucking normal.

“hey.”

hoshina’s voice is quiet when you turn around, and his face is contemplative, brows furrowed in worry.

“are you done? talking to amaya?” you ask.

“for now,” he says. his eyes focus on your face, concerned now. “are you okay?”

“i’m…”

the words die in your throat.

“i don’t want to be jealous,” you say weakly. “of whatever’s going on. but, i–”

hoshina’s hands are on your face before you can even finish your sentence, squishing your cheeks together.

“mm, i see.” hoshina blinks, humming. “why didn’t you just say so earlier?”

you blink.

“you’re not… mad?” you ask.

“mad?” hoshina raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. it looks cute. “should i be?”

“no,” you say. “i–or, i don’t know. maybe? yes?”

“which is it?” hoshina asks, a teasing smile on his face before his brow furrows a bit. “if you would have just told me earlier i could have easily just told you that there’s nothing going on between me and anyone else but you. i chose you. don’t forget that, okay?”

you blink.

“and i love you,” hoshina says, completely straightforwardly, with sure honesty. “don’t forget that.”

you nod, and he squeezes your face, leaning in to kiss you on the lips.

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader #unpopular opinion: i personally am not a fan of jealousy-based plots so i hope that this is alright #it might be the aroace in me but i just think like. talking it out is the best way to go and early; of course for other drama things #you want to like. amplify it. and as someone who was in a couple relationships before it was always hard to be cognizant of envy #but... idk. diatribe over. just talk it out; whats the point of your mouth if you don't talk out how you feel...?

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the-kr8tor · 2 months ago

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Requests for Katy my beloved writter👁️👄👁️✨💖

Hobie and R making multiple batches of cookies for friendsgiving/friendsmas, when they finally arrive at Ned's house they just see absolute chaos in the kitchen. The turkey is burnt, the mash potatoes are somehow liquid and the bread is hard as a rock.

-🪦

Hihihi I had so much fun writing their shenanigans! Thank you for requesting, pookie ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Reader is mentioned wearing makeup, CW suggestive, CW food mentions, Fluff!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Hobie!” You yell for him after seeing smoke slither its way inside from the patio. Your arms are full of the hot baking tray while your foot kicks the oven door closed for what seemed like the third time today. “Hobie!”

You two have been working on dinner for the past three hours now. Ned tasked you two in making dessert and for grilling anything you want; while he volunteered to have the holiday party at his place, and for the rest of the party to bring their own preferred potluck. You thought it would be easy considering that it'll just be you two and the band celebrating, but with the last minute addition of Hobie's friends from the society, you had to adjust the serving by a lot.

His muffled voice calls out from outside the house, then his unmistakable footfalls thump against the wooden floors of the patio, sound reverberating around the cozy place. The sliding door opens with a squeak, a second later you see his handsome face peek out from the crack while smoke billows inside.

“You called?” He smiles at the sight of you in your pink frilly apron complete with a matching pair of oven mittens. He got that for you as a joke a few years ago, but he always loves it whenever you don it on.

You're still in your striped pajamas under the apron, complete with Hobie's old shirt. With him mirroring your look but with a loose tank top on his body. Sweat dribbles down his brows, tongs in hand. There's only a couple hours left before the party starts, that's why your slight panic is evident in your frantic look.

“What're you smiling about? It looks like you're setting our backyard on fire!” Gesturing towards the smoke wildly, his grin spreads across his smug face.

“As much as I love settin’ fire to shit, ‘m not burnin’ our place down, lovie.” The thick smoke entering inside and spreading around the living room says otherwise. You reply with a ‘really?’ look on your already stressed face. “It's fine.” He shrugs, sliding the door closed before you could argue with him.

“Brown!” You call again, he turns back around and answers with his face scrunched against the glass while smoke fills outside, almost engulfing him. “You better not burn all the meat!”

“It'll be brown alright, love! The smoke brings out all the flavour!”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile. You're absolutely stressed and frantic right now, especially when the cookies are still cooling on the tray and you still have to decorate it. The red velvet cake you purposely baked earlier now sits on the counter with its half decorated self waiting for you to continue. Despite the stress of it all, you love doing this with Hobie. You love seeing him relax, and just be at home once in a while, and you think that he's having the time of his life too based on the wink he gave you before turning back towards the grill. At least he's warm outside.

Stretching your aching neck, you once again hear the sound of the door squeaking open. Before you could look at Hobie, he quickly closes the distance, wide strides allowing him to get to you in record time. His hands reach out to you, before you know it, he's cupping your cheeks and pressing a loving kiss right on your lips. You stand there, surprised by the kiss but the familiarity immediately takes you over, making you hold him within half a second. Your arms reach up to the back of his neck, flour covered hands pushing him impossibly closer against you. He smells like smoke and cinders, you smile at the thought, an act he notices, eyes cracking open briefly to see your smile before deepening the kiss as he mirrors your smile.

Breathless, he finally pulls away, thumb brushing along the sheen of your lips. The lovestruck haze in his eyes are unmistakable, lips still puckered as if he wants to taste the icing on your lips again.

“What was that for?” You ask in between breaths, palms kneading along his shoulder blades. All the while you stare at him with hearts in your eyes.

His arm slides down towards your hips, embracing you closer. “I forgot to snog you today.” Shrugging, his lopsided smile has your heart taking a leap.

“Didn't you kiss me this morning?” You raise a questioning brow, teasing him.

“Ah shit, you're right.” Hobie chuckles, index wiping at the flour sticking on your cheek. He thinks for a second before leaning towards your lips again. “Want another one?”

“Ohh, a bonus one?” Your hands wrap around his tank top, pulling him closer as his breath fans your waiting lips. But the smell of something burning has him groaning in disappointment, head falling atop your shoulder. “You gonna get that, chef?”

He pecks your cheek before leaving your side, immediately making his way back outside the house. “Don't put icing on it yet! I want to help!” Yelling backwards, he pretends to take a deep breath and pinches his nose before opening the door and exiting the smoke filled patio. “Ah fuck!”

You laugh at his muffled coughing while he desperately fans away the smoke.

—

You and Hobie finally arrive at Ned's, the outside is filled with strings of twinkling light, inflatable reindeers and Santas dot along the yard, giving a very festive mood. Checking the time, you're five minutes earlier than you thought you would be even with the traffic and the fact that Hobie's insatiable mood had you redoing your hair and face twice. Craning your neck towards the driver's seat of his van, you see a very giddy Hobie smiling back at you.

“See, right on time.” He clicks his seatbelt, releasing it so he could lean over the center console to smooch your already kiss bitten lips. “D’you think five minutes would be enough?”

Laughing, you push him back on his seat gently with your palms right on his best dress shirt that you've customized for him with different buttons and random colourful stripes splashed on it after he complained that it looked too much of an office shirt. Not to toot your own horn, it definitely looks better than the washed corporate vibe it was before. It fits him better as he looks handsome under the warm light of his van.

“Five minutes for you isn't enough, Hobs.” He feigns a pout that you chastely kiss away. Moving back, you peck again, thinking, you kiss him again before finally pulling away. He looks victorious. “That should satisfy you before we get home.”

Tilting his head, hand reaching towards you, his thumb fixes your smudged lip gloss. Making sure he traces your lips while meeting with your eyes. “Later though, right?” There's something in the air, and it's not just the sweet scent of cookies filling the van.

You roll your eyes with a wobbly grin. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, you feel like you're burning up. “Yes, later.” Patting his cheek, you wipe your gloss from his lips to hide the evidence from your friends lest they tease him throughout the night.

Hobie looks like he won the lottery. “I'll tell Ned to hurry up dinner service.”

“No, you won't!”

Chuckling, you two exit the car with his and your arms full of food and presents. Your shoes click against the pavement, fixing your hold on the cookies whilst the aromatic smell of grilled meat (that was a second away from being charred) has your stomach rumbling. Hobie admits that the cookies you made were absolutely pants after he probably ate seven of them in one sitting. And with you sneaking a nibble of the barbequed meat, you almost placed it on a plate to devour it all. You two did a fantastic job with the food. The only thing missing now is actually celebrating with friends. You can't wait to taste what they've cooked up.

“Do you think Yuri will like her gift? She's hard to shop for.” You ask as you two walk towards the front door.

“She'll love it, trust me.” Cold air billows out from his lips, you wonder if his lip piercing is cold and whether you have enough time to warm it up before Ned could open the door. “What do you think about Miles’ present?”

His voice takes you out from your ogling. “The Hobie Brown worried about what someone thinks about him?” You teasingly poke his stomach.

“Come off it.” He smiles despite his words. Pressing the doorbell, it chimes softly. You two wait for a second before Hobie groans impatiently and presses the doorbell numerous times until a very worried Gwen opens the door.

“Hi—!”

“Thank goodness you're here!” She grabs the bags from your arms, only to drag you quickly inside. “The kitchen's fucked! This place is cursed!”

“How fucked?” Hobie shuts the door with his foot, following behind a confused you. Placing the bags down on a nearby table, he sniffs the air, smelling something…funky. “What's that smell?” As the three of you enter the mess that is the kitchen, a flying garlic knot heads towards Hobie that he effortlessly dodges and catches in one swift move.

“What the fuck happened here?” You stand there in shock at the state of the place.

The stove is covered in liquid potatoes that ooze from the pot. The walls look like it's crying out cranberry sauce, (you hope it's cranberry) and poor James looks like he's the living embodiment of a marshmallow puff. To your surprise, the turkey on the table looks perfectly cooked. Well, on the outside it is.

They all pause from trying to clean up the chaos. Pavitr looks like he's about to burst into tears, Yuri's busy with trying to wipe down James. While Miles and Ned try to save whatever they can from whatever's left in the oven. It's a mess to say the least.

Hobie squeezes the bread in his hand, finding it as hard as a rock. He might be Spider-Man but even with his strength, he had to put some force on it to even crack. The bread shatters into a million breadcrumbs in his hand, followed by his ear bursting laugh rousing the whole neighborhood.

“Help.” Pavitr says softly.

“Uh, we've got cookies and grilled meat?” Their sighs of relief echoes throughout the house.

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