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tokoumaru · 1 year

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★ liyue boys' voicelines about you!

feat.childe, zhongli, xiao tags. headcanons, fluff, gender neutral reader, established relationships (for childe and zhongli) word count. 1.9k tw. mentions of fights on childe's part and light injuries on xiao's part.

synopsis. genshin impact boys and their in-game voicelines about you!

voicelines series. part 1: liyue, part 2: mondstat, part 3: inazuma, part 4: sumeru

childe/tartaglia

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

(Y/N)? You mean my assistant? Are they finishing up the paperwork I assigned them? Tell me comrade, what might they be doing on this fine day? It's been such a long time since I've last seen them! What do you mean you saw us together by the harbor just last night? Well, aren't you quite keen... To tell you the truth, they're one of my most formidable opponents. They're quite adept at the bow- not as adept as me of course. As for why we spend so much time together... heh, they just so happen to be a close ally of mine.

More About Tartaglia: Closest Companion (Friendship Lv. 5)

There isn't many you can trust while working in an organization like the Fatui, *sigh* especially when most your coworkers are cunning Harbingers. Aside from being my assistant, (Y/N) is one of the only few people I can trust wholeheartedly. They've accompanied me throughout the many battles I've fought, and though they might not be as great of a warrior as me- a given, they're quite the entertaining sparring buddy... when they start getting serious, I can't help but feel a few tingles crawl my back when I see their malicious eyes directed at me.

More About Tartaglia: Childhood Friends (Friendship Lv. 6)

Morepesok was just a small village, everyone knew of each other and their grandparents... (Y/N) had been my only friend back then, before and after I ventured deep into the abyss. Teucer, Tonia, and Anthon just love them! Though, I have to admit I do get a bit jealous of my siblings when they steal their attention for quite awhile. Aside from my family, they may be the only good memories I have of that seaside town. Every spontaneous battle I win, every rash decision I make, they're somehow always there to make things better... the taste of victory could never feel better without them by my side. I'm truly thankful that they've stuck by me for so long... I'll protect them no matter what.

About You: Lovers (Friendship Lv. 10)

(Y/N)... my lover? You could tell from the sound of my voice when I was talking about them? Hah, was I too obvious? Well, It wasn't like I was trying to hide it from you, comrade. It's true, we've been lovers for quite awhile now, and I wouldn't have it any other way! They're quite the sweetheart, I'm sure I've told you about how they accompanied me throughout my entire life. Hmm... You don't get how they could stay with someone like me for so long? What exactly do you mean by that, comrade? Simply put, it's because they love me and I love them of course! And if they do happen to think of leaving… well, as if I'd let that happen. Comrade, one day I will conquer the world, and you'll see my dearest (Y/N) right beside me. If it just so happens that they aren't there to see it... I'll make it so that there won't be any world, person, or god left for anyone to conquer, and not even you can stop me.

zhongli/morax

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

There is a small flower shop of the highest quality residing in the outskirts of Liyue Harbor, there lies a quiet but passionate vendor that goes by the name (Y/N). Ever since I had surrendered my duties as the Geo Archon, they have helped me acclimatize to 'mortal' life greatly. Though I may have overseen Liyue's growth to prosperity from the very beginning, there are still some mortal nuances that are lost on a being as old as I am. I truly appreciate their presence and ever-lasting kindness for a newcomer such as I.

More About Zhongli: Favorite Places (Friendship Lv. 5)

I often spend my days at Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, working there as a Consultant for those departed. Although, in rare moments in which I am freed from my duties, you may also find me at Third-Round Knockout or Xinyue Kiosk enjoying a few Liyuen delicacies. Hmm? (Y/N)? The flower shop right next to Wanmin Restaurant? Ah, yes... perhaps I do spend a generous amount of my time there… Just how exactly do I spend so much hours in such a quaint flower shop, you ask? Well, there is only one possible thing one can do in a such a shop— that is to purchase flowers of the most beautiful kind. For who? ...It seems you're quite the curious individual, my friend.

More About Zhongli: The Past and the Future (Friendship Lv. 6)

Although I've resigned myself to 'mortal' life, the memories of acting as Liyue's longstanding Archon are ones that I can never bring myself to leave in dust. There is a flower shop on the outskirts of Liyue Harbour, I am sure you have seen me frequent the quiet place beforehand... May it be Violet grass, Qingxins, Silk flowers, or even rarities such as Glaze lilies, you may find it there. For someone who has lived as long as I have, each object- each flower- has become a reminder of times long ago. Whenever I visit the serenic shop, I cannot help but halt and reminisce about friends whose memories, both pleasant and unpleasant, only live in the flowers they used to love... Deciding to live as 'Zhongli', even if the task may pose to be quite difficult, I have promised to put these matters behind me, such as my contract dictates... Though, looking up from the nostalgic flowers to see (Y/N)'s auspicious smile never fails to remind me that, perhaps, there may still be more to discover for someone such as I, who has possibly witnessed everything there could be.

About You: Lovers (Friendship Lv. 10)

As the longstanding 'God of Contracts', there are many contracts that hold great importance to me. Though, in the centuries I've lived up until now, there is one that reigns above all. The contract with my dearest (Y/N) is one that I hold most close to my heart. What sort of contract, you ask? It is one where only the closest of partners can enact, in mortal terms you may call it 'matrimony'. For someone who has lived through a millennium, I was quite hesitant to proceed with this sort of contract, after all, it was a contract that requires one to dedicate a life's worth of time. However, once I saw (Y/N)'s optimistic eyes at the slightest mention, perhaps I already knew of their answer. Since then, there has not been even the slightest feeling of regret at my decision to dedicate my mortal life to them. Each moment I spend with my dearest is one I will treasure greatly. They listen to each of my long tangents about the history of Liyue with ease... It would provide great relief if I were to spend my last moments in this world by their side.

xiao/alatus

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

(Y/N)... It's hard not to know of a persistent mortal with such great tenacity. Unlike other mortals, they seem to lack a sense of danger and most especially, a sense of boundaries. Hmph... their irritating gesture of offering me a plate of Almond Tofu every night is not necessary for a Yaksha such as I, who does not need sustenance to live. They truly have no respect for the ways of the Adepti...

More About Xiao: The Ways of the Yaksha (Friendship Lv. 5)

As the last remaining Yaksha, it is my duty to conquer the demonic spirits that plague the outskirts of Liyue. This responsibility is one that I have been assigned to from the moment I had been saved by Rex Lapis. Though I've dealt with the subject of death for centuries, the karmic debt it brings me only weighs heavier on my shoulders... Yet, that tenacious mortal... (Y/N)... why is it that the weight of my debt disappears in the uncommon moments I speak to them? Tch... it doesn't matter. The karmic debt I’ve accumulated is my burden to carry. A mere mortal could never alleviate nor withstand it... especially not a fragile one such as (Y/N).

More About Xiao: Human Emotions (Friendship Lv. 6)

I'm far from human. I can't make much of human emotions... why does that mortal- (Y/N), go such great lengths to form a bond with me? I do not understand why they persistently come back to Wangshu Inn after I've deliberately ignored their advances... There was one night where their absence caused me a great amount of trouble. At the balcony of Wangshu Inn, the table in which they had often offered me their Almond Tofu was empty. At the same time, I had sensed a great deal of demonic energy at the mountains of Qingyun Peak. Tch... That fragile mortal was caught up in a losing fight between two Mitachurls. How could they be so stupid. I was about to leave once I had ascertained their safety, yet with such audacity did they grip my wrist just to simply give me a single Qingxin flower. How childish. The gesture was completely unnecessary, it was only burdensome. I cannot save them from danger each time they decide to offer me a measly item. This flower tied to my belt? Hmph. I... forget it.

More About Xiao: Human Emotions II (Friendship Lv.7)

(Y/N)... Why does their presence stir such a storm within me. Yakshas have no need for trifling pests such as emotion. I can't fathom why I… greatly desire their company. Hmph, I have no time for such distractions when the perpetual battle I face continues on... Yet, why does the weight on my shoulders only grow heavier when I continue to ignore their presence? Traveler, as you are the closest to mortals, tell me, what must one do to get rid of this burdensome feeling… I can't? What do you mean, I can't? You mean to tell me... the only way to rid of this emotion is to face (Y/N)? Tch. Impossible. A Yaksha who is burdened by a great weight of karmic debt could never sit next to a fragile mortal such as themselves. It is my duty to protect the citizens of Liyue, not bring death upon them caused by my karmic debt. Me? Worried? Ha. Do not judge adepti by your mortal ideals. I am only doing my duty as a protector of Liyue.

About You: Lovers/Companions (Friendship Lv.10)

The mortal concept of emotions- especially love, is something foreign to a Yaksha such as I, who has only known death. The night in which I asked you what I was feeling for (Y/N), Morax- or as he now goes by- Zhongli, had travelled to Wangshu Inn. He had come by just to inform me of his 'matrimony' with a mortal... it had stirred such confusion within me to see such a soft look on his face. Tell me, was that what I looked like when I spoke of (Y/N)? Before he left, Morax told me that it wouldn't hurt to indulge in mortal desires now that Liyue was capable of standing on its own... Although I am an inhumane Yaksha, the feelings that arose whenever I saw (Y/N) were too intense to dismiss... When they asked me to be their 'lover', there was nothing else I could do but agree. Do I regret it? Hmph. Adepti such as myself don't feel emotions akin to regret... perhaps they may feel emotions such as love, unfortunately.

a/n. tbh this was so hard to write... HELP it was very hard to try and make these voicelines actually sound like them! i had to actually use my brain for once... I TRULY APOLOGIZE IF IT WAS OOC (heavy on xiao)! HELP i think its obvious that xiaos my favourite... but it was also because I didn't know how to make him have a loverasdhjsds. also whenever I typed in the phrase about you I couldnt help but start singing the 1975's about you hehe

#✧.* genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #childe #childe x reader #childe imagines #childe fluff #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli imagines #zhongli fluff #xiao #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #xiao fluff

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sttoru · 9 months

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LOST IN YOUR EYES !

ෆ sypnosis. your lover’s bangs cover most of his eyes and stand in your way whenever you want to admire them. you take matters in your own hands and find a way past that barrier to admire his eyes properly.

ෆ note. based on this anon request. thank you for the amazing idea bb! hope you enjoy. not proof read. this includes headcanons + small drabbles (below cut)

ෆ tags. blade / jing yuan x gender neutral reader (written with female reader in mind, however no pronouns used), fluff, reader gets referred to as cute/adorable in jing yuan’s part.

BLADE !

genuinely doesn’t even know why you’d like to stare into his eyes in general. blade doesn’t look much into a mirror, however since meeting you and hearing your kind comments about them, he’s started to secretly look more at his eyes whenever passing by his reflection.

blade does this out of pure confusion, because he fails to understand why you’d like his uniquely red and yellow coloured eyes. no matter how many times he tries to put his mind to it—your reasoning is impossible to comprehend. he just labels your comments about them as weird.

blade got a bit defensive when you first started to move his dark blue bangs to the side with the excuse of wanting to see his eyes. he’d swat your hand away in the beginning. though, slowly and surely, he got used to that habit of yours.

“again?” blade sighs with his arms folded over his chest.

he had been strolling around with you and the sun was setting, the orange sky making his eyes glow and seem even more ethereal to you. especially due to the gold hue in them which shone brighter than ever.

“please? just stay still.” you pout, putting on your best puppy eyes. that antic normally never works on blade for some reason; he’ll show zero reaction to your pleading. if he’s in a better mood than usual, he’ll glance at you and then nod at best.

“for me?” you add in a desperate attempt to get your lover to comply.

blade silently looks over at you. there was not an ounce of change to be seen on his cold face, yet you noticed the subtle flicker in his eyes. one that no other person could have spotted. you had spent enough time admiring his eyes to memorise every little detail about them. from how they’d look when he’s mad to how they’d look when he’s in a (rare) content mood.

you knew your pleading had finally broke through his hard shell.

“…” blade stops in his tracks and turns his body to you, letting his arms fall to their sides like you’ve won him over. it’s the most vulnerable he’s been with anyone.

you stood there with your mouth slightly agape at the beautiful scenery, including the man in front of you. the wind blowing through blade’s long hair and the way he’s standing so relaxed—it was almost an honour to see that view.

“i’m not going to stand here all day. come.”

you immediately went over to blade, standing in close proximity to his body. you carefully brushed his bangs to the side and looked into both of his gorgeous eyes. blade was staring right back at you, not blinking even once.

“incredible..” you admire him out loud as your thumbs graze against the smooth skin of his temples.

blade doesn’t utter a word and lets you do what you want to. he can’t deny the unfamiliar yet tugging feeling in the pits of his stomach. the one feeling he’s been trying to repress to not make the same mistake twice.

all he could do in that moment of vulnerability was accept the power you had and will continue to have over him.

JING YUAN !

is probably fascinated by your wish to look into his golden orbs. jing yuan, in contrast of blade, thinks it is pretty adorable of you. he won’t question your actions and just goes along with whatever you desire of him. the general is a fool for you.

jing yuan won’t even mind it if you do it in public. he’ll bend his head down a little to give you access to his face. but, don’t blame him if he has his hands on your waist or hips in the meantime. you being close to him while looking into his eyes is considered something romantic according to him.

be prepared for kisses to be stolen from you. you’ll be in such a trance, too enamoured by his eyes to even notice the strategy the general was planning. that strategy including all the ways he can have you close enough for a ‘surprise’ kiss.

jing yuan was staring back at you with a soft smile that reached his eyes, his arms wrapped around your waist while you laid on his bare chest, “are you having fun, dearest?”

it was just another lazy morning with the two of you cuddled up in his cozy bed. jing yuan, who was spared from his duties today, woke up to you playing with his hair. specifically, the light grey-ish locks that covered one of his eyes.

“mhm,” you hum, the soft sound of delight being jing yuan’s weakness, “you’re so pretty.”

you always tell him that. it was the truth and you simply wanted your lover to know how good he looks. no matter what he’s doing—whether it’d be sleeping, working, fighting or eating—jing yuan’s handsome looks were mesmerising.

your kind words earn a deep chuckle from your partner, sending vibrations through his chest, “well, thank you.”

jing yuan’s calloused hand cups one side of your cheek while your own hand held his bangs to the side. now both of his eyes were staring back at yours. you enjoyed jing yuan’s loving gaze that scanned your entire face in search of a perfect place to kiss.

the light streaming into the room between the gaps of your curtains made his skin glow and his soft yellow eyes more vibrant. they shone like valuable golden ores which mankind could only dream of witnessing.

jing yuan held onto the back of your head and guided your lips down to meet his in a kiss. a surprise kiss so romantic that it had you melting into his touch in an instant.

after you pulled back, jing yuan could easily spot the embarrassment on your face. he’s glad that his antics still have that effect on you.

“my love,” the general sighs in content, the pad of his thumb gently stroking the skin beneath your right eye, “you’re so easy to catch off guard.”

and he loves you for it.

#sttoru writes.#hsr x reader #hsr x you #blade x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr fic #blade x you #jing yuan x you

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petit-etoile · 7 months

Note

Congrats on 200 followers! :D For drabble ideas, how about one where Tav is becoming overwhelmed from being the leader of their group and they end up having a bit of a breakdown in camp, so Astarion whisks them away and dotes on them for the evening to help soothe some of their worries.

i am tired of being brave

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 1,036 content warnings: none other tags: canon compliant, introspection, character study, idiots in love, established relationship, gender neutral tav, human!tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, be added to the taglist here

summary: All you want is to get away from everything. Astarion indulges you.

‘Enough!’ you shout.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart have the decency to look properly chagrined when they peer over at you, frozen as if turned to stone. Shadowheart’s knife dips underneath Lae’zel’s chin, but the pretense of applied pressure goes away. You have no idea what hour it is or how long they’ve been going at it but the little patience you have snaps like a fine thread.

‘We have only gotten this far because we trust each other,’ you snap at them, pulling your nightshirt tighter around your shoulders. ‘But if you want to ruin that, leave me out of it!’

In what is likely the silliest mistake to make, you turn around and march to your bedroll to pick up your hunting knife and then march beyond the outskirts of camp — beyond Halsin and Jaheira and Gale and Wyll and Karlach, and Withers who seems to be musing over the situation with faint interest.

If Shadowheart and Lae’zel want to fight to the death, let them! You’ve done all that you can to get the group this far. You’re tired, you’ve been woken up two nights in a row, and you’ve had it with the drama.

You plunge yourself through the nearest bush you can find and sit next to running water, your arms pulled across your chest to keep the breeze from chilling you to the bone. You’re miserable beneath the moonlight. You can’t remember the last time you’ve slept more than four hours.

You almost doze off in the underbrush beneath a tree, but then there’s a hand sliding over your mouth and a body behind yours, somehow wedged behind you once your eyes closed. You gasp and try to reach for your knife, but Astarion tuts and continues sliding between you and the tree. It would be annoying if you weren’t relieved it was him. You relax back against him despite the feeling that your heart is going to leap out of your throat.

‘You shouldn’t fall asleep in the woods,’ Astarion warns you. ‘There are terrible beasts that have made this place their hunting ground.’

You shiver. ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep,’ you say. ‘I just needed to get away.’

He hums. ‘Did something happen back at the camp?’

It doesn’t do any good to keep secrets, and your other companions had already witnessed it. You tell Astarion about Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s never ending fight. It doesn’t make sense to keep attacking one another, especially since the Artefact is the only reason the worms haven’t burrowed deeper into your skulls. It wears you down every day to keep making decisions for everyone when there are people with better experience. Everyone looks to you no matter how much you wish they’d look elsewhere. You never wanted this fellowship to hang on your every word. You just wanted allies.

‘It’s hardly fair,’ Astarion agrees. ‘To have the weight of this…Absolute sitting on your shoulders. I can’t imagine what it must be like to wrangle us all into cohabitation.’

‘Some discomforts are easier to resolve than others,’ you say. ‘It was easy making everyone throw their stakes away.’

‘I’m fairly certain Wyll kept his,’ Astarion snorts.

‘Yes, but he doesn’t wake us all up holding it at your neck,’ you say, elbowing him. ‘They don’t have to become friends or lovers or anything of the sort. They just have to get along until we arrive at Baldur’s Gate.’

Baldur’s Gate still seems so very far away. Acknowledging this drags you down more than you wish it to. You’re tired of walking and fighting and lying your way out of every other conflict. You miss your family and your life before the worm. The only good that’s come of it is Astarion. He lets you lounge on him when you please in exchange for some blood, and…

It’s more than that.

Astarion lets you do whatever the hell you please as long as it doesn’t annoy him. You’re free to nap in his tent or sit at his side while he reads, and he’s even allowed you to style his delicate curls with pomade. He lets you kiss him if you ask, holds your hand. If you asked him to kill someone for you, you’re certain he would without question.

Reluctantly, you sit forward. ‘I should probably head back,’ you admit. ‘I should make sure everyone is still alive.’

‘To the hells with it,’ Astarion disagrees. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back. ‘You close your eyes and sleep. Let them come looking for us if it troubles them that much.’

‘And if Shadowheart kills Lae’zel?’

‘I’m almost certain Lae’zel would win,’ he says. ‘But, I have no doubt they’ll behave. You, on the other hand, are being naughty.’

You laugh but you do as you're told. You worm further in the roots and lean back against him. It’s chilly, but having someone else there does wonders for how willing you are to fall asleep. It’s almost nice how secluded you are away from the drama and stress. You almost wish you were a vampire so that you could sneak out and use hunting as an excuse.

The respect for all you do is nice. Sure, Halsin and Jaheira have both commended you for how hard you work for your age, but it isn’t the same. You still stand in the middle of camp trying to handle things on your own. The planning, the decisions. They somehow fall on your shoulders. A little more input would be nice, or a sign from a god that you’re doing the right thing. You try not to think about it as you feel sleep edge toward your consciousness. Astarion hums softly in your ear, and though it’s uneven, you can’t help but think it’s so off-tune that it’s lovely.

You yawn so hard your jaw pops, and Astarion hushes you, kissing idly behind your ear. It lulls you into an ease you haven’t experienced for a while. You melt into the touch. If you could purr, you would.

‘This,’ Astarion says, ‘is what you deserve. To relax here in my arms. Sleep now, and we’ll deal with what shall come in the morning.’

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #from ，carcosa .#my fic #anonymous #* a thousand lives，and one #foreshadowing for the sake of this verse?#mayhap .

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astarion-approves · 7 months

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Hello! I love your blog! Could you possibly do a drabble with a tav that gets really flustered/panics when flirted with or complimented trying to converse with Astarion?

Even I was swooning

Astarion x Gender Neutral Tav

Summary: They knew that he would just be standing there… handsomely. Flicking through the pages of his book, the contents of which were unknown to Tav but they liked to imagine it was a steamy romance novel. Those flame filled eyes scanning over the pages, uncaring of what anyone else did with their evenings. Until he caught Tav staring that is. (Or Astarion uses cheesy pickup lines to try and woo Tav) Tags: Love Confessions, Flustered Tav, Soft Astarion, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Bickering, Drabble, Tumblr request, Cheesy, cheesy pickup lines, all of which I'm very proud of, gender neutral reader, 1.2k words

Read below or on Ao3

While, after a day of killing goblins and fighting a hag in a swamp, a night at camp sounded like a relief for most; that wasn’t the case for Tav. They busied themselves, building a fire, carefully stacking each piece of wood while keeping their eyes low and forcing themselves not to look up to where Astarion stood.

They knew that he would just be standing there… handsomely. Flicking through the pages of his book, the contents of which were unknown to Tav but they liked to imagine it was a steamy romance novel. Those flame filled eyes scanning over the pages, uncaring of what anyone else did with their evenings.

Until he caught Tav staring that is.

Each night was the same. Tav would stack spare logs nearby, build a fire on their knees, and help Gale to set up any cooking supplies, all while desperately fighting the urge to look up and lock eyes with Astarion. And each night they failed miserably.

Astarion knew the moment Tav’s eyes were on him, his eyes jumping up from the pages and staring right back at them, a smirk growing on his lips and he snapped the book closed. Then he would stroll over, running a hand through his hair and swapping that smirk for a charming smile.

Then the flirting would begin. A different line every night, each one cheesier than the last, but still managing to make Tav blush—

“Is that fire hot? Or is it just you?”

“I do love seeing you on your knees, darling.”

“You handle that wood quite well.”

“Is something burning? No? Perhaps it’s just your burning loins.”

Of course tonight was no different. Tav cursed to themselves as Astarion made his way over. They would always attempt to ignore him, to pretend that they never locked eyes and that Tav didn’t notice him approaching. Gale stood off to the side, the wizard prepping their dinner and already accustomed to the little game that Astarion loved to play. He sighed as he chopped a few potatoes, mumbling under his breath how Tav lasted even shorter than usual.

The crunching of boots over rocks and dirt signaled his arrival, but Tav kept their eyes on the fire, refusing to look up—

For as long as they could manage anyway.

“Tav, If you inhale too much smoke, I’ll gladly give you CPR.”

“What?!” Gale turned from his prepping and tossed his knife to the side. “Astarion, that one doesn’t even make sense!”

“Mind your business, Gale.” Tav finally looked up to where he stood, Astarion now glaring at Gale with his arms crossed over his chest. “Or well.. I mean.. Honestly, I’m running out of pickup lines here. I’d like to see you come up with something better.”

“How about ‘Stop, drop, and… roll into bed with me?” Gale offered.

“Hm. Too forward. I try to be more subtle with Tav, but.. I can understand why someone like you would use a line like that.”

“Right……. Because offering mouth to mouth is much more subtle.”

“I’m so glad we could agree!”

Gale rolled his eyes and turned back to the vegetables. “Just get on with it, would you?”

Astarion brought his focus back to Tav, silently offering a hand to help them stand. “You know, if you didn’t get so damn flustered I wouldn’t have to do this every night.”

Tav laughed, their eyes dropping to the ground between them. “I can’t help it… you’re so—“

“—Devilishly handsome, unbelievably charming, an elf with a smile to die for—“

Gale snorted. “A pompous ass—“

Astarion ignored him. “Luscious hair, pouty kissable lips—“

“—Yes, yes, all of those things… Minus the pompous ass,” Tav said and paused. They pressed their lips together, thinking a moment before continuing. “Well, maybe a little bit of a pompous ass.”

“So then, what’s the problem here?” Astarion gestured between them, his arms waving back and forth quickly. “I like you, and darling, you clearly like me…”

“Astarion..,” Tav began. “You’re so far out of my league… I can’t help but think there is some kind of ulterior motive for you to be showing so much interest in me.”

“I assure you, there isn’t. Not… Well, not anymore anyway.”

“‘Not anymore’?” Gale asked. “What the hells is that supposed to mean?”

“Gale, why don’t you scurry the fuck along and leave us to it?” Astarion hissed.

“Oh, I’m enjoying this far too much. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re about to confess your love for them, and I’m not missing out on that.”

“Yes, but—“

“Then confess already, Mystra help you, you’re hopeless…”

“Look,” Astarion sighed and turned his attention fully to Tav, ignoring the laugh that Gale sent his way. “I’ve never had actual real feelings for another person before. I don’t know how to approach a person without the intent of stealing them away for Cazador’s benefit. When I first met you I planned to use you, to have you as some kind of shield if he were to ever find me… But then.. I fell for you.

“And of course, not knowing how to woo someone without using my body… I went the cheesy pickup lines route. Which I know isn’t exactly endearing, or really attractive… I just didn’t know how else to interact with you! I want you to be comfortable with me, to trust me like I trust you…

“And darling, since I’m being honest here— you are in no way below me. Do you seriously not know how painfully attractive you are? I’ve been losing my mind with desire since day one. The way you smile at me and make me feel like the most important man in the world, how you run to my side for so much as a hangnail, when you laugh at my jokes, or blush just from my gaze—

“I’ve fallen so madly in love with you, it pains me to think of a life without you, and we haven’t so much as hugged…— um Tav? Are you alright?”

Their hands covered their face, shaking their head as the heat continued to build in their cheeks. This was too much for them to handle. The occasional flirting was already playing games with their heart, but now? A full confession? “I might— I might need a minute.”

“I think you broke them,” Gale moved to stand beside Astarion and reached out to poke the back of Tav’s hand.

Astarion did the same, both of them just poking at the back of Tav’s hands— until they crouched down to avoid them, dropping their head between their knees and muffling a scream into their pants.

“That was a hell of a confession,” Gale admitted. “Even I was swooning.”

“Why thank you.”

“Now what?”

Astarion hummed. “I’m not sure.”

“Want me to cast a spell on them or something?”

Astarion waved him off. “Darling.” Astarion bent down and ran his hand down the back of Tav’s head. “You did hear that I love you, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” they mumbled. “And I love you too.”

“Well then, I suppose that’s that.” Gale laughed. “Maybe now they’ll stop melting into a damn puddle around you.”

“Hah! I doubt it.”

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

Later~

Gale: Before, you said you wanted to be more subtle.

Astarion: Yes?

Gale: But one night you insinuated that you wanted Tav to give you a blow job.

Astarion: …..

Gale: …..

Astarion: …I didn't want to admit that I liked your pick-up line.

Gale: HAHA! I knew it! I win.

Astarion: One of us has Tav napping in their tent, looking adorable as ever. Who's the real winner?

Gale: …Touché.

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catboybiologist · 8 months

Text

Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.

Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!

As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!

Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.

Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!

Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:

If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!

And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):

If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!

Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:

I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.

I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:

Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:

This includes the way I came out on tumblr:

And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:

Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.

I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.

So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee

#196 #r196 #r/196 #rule #/r/196 #trans #transitioning #trans woman #trans femme #tortoise #tort #russian tortoise #trans tutorial #trans tummy tuesday #transgender #trans tumblr #trans selfie #trans journal

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sameschmidtdiffname · 2 months

Note

Hey I love your work so much!!

I was thinking of maybe a Mike Schmidt x reader where the reader is all like “I’m not good enough for you, I don’t deserve you” stuff and then like Mike makes it up to the reader to show them that they are more than enough 🫶

Sure, but it's gonna hurt!

Blue Sunrise

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: All is well, yet you aren't. A fact that disturbs and irritates you so, even if it shouldn't.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no use of gendered pronouns for Reader, SFW with brief mentions of smut, pre-established relationship, set during the movie but that's honestly not very relevant, hurt/comfort, Reader and Mike both have PTSD, this isn't projection, bed rotting, depression, self-loathing, night terrors/nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, mentions of medication, lack of self care, slight self-harm (scratching), breakdown, nosebleed.

Notes: *in sonic snapcube dub voice* heyyyyyyyyyyyy what's upppppppppppppp it's meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (STOP!!)

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

6:34 A.M.

The dawn is gentle, the sky a soft blue behind the thin, cheap blinds that cover the bedroom window not that far in front of me. If I wanted, I could get up and open the window, revealing the surely beautiful and gorgeous sunrise that waits for me just outside the blinds.

But I don't. And I won't.

Birds sing gently outside, waking up and fliting about here and there. It's my favorite part of the day, quite frankly. When I can, I open the window to allow in the fresh, cool air, moist with the morning dew, unmuffling the bird's songs as I drift off to sleep, my schedule mostly in tune with Mike's for his night shift. Sometimes I manage to stay awake to greet him when he returns home. It's always nice when I do. His smile is lazy, his strides long and slow as he makes his way to the bed, peeling off his work clothes and crawling under the covers with me. Sometimes he'll press himself against me, his lips finding my neck as his hand dives between my thighs, his fingers trained on one goal as he murmurs against my skin how much he's missed me. Sometimes I wake to this.

There's a part of me that wishes he'd do this today just so I wouldn't have to think.

The lock on the front door rattles as someone attempts to insert a key into the hole. It doesn't matter how long he's lived here or how he uses those keys every morning, he still takes a moment to make sure he's using the right one, and on the first try he usually isn't. So it takes him a solid minute to unlock the door and enter the house. If we had dogs, they'd surely drive us insane from his routine. It slightly drives me insane already. But I'm technically not even supposed to be awake, so I never mention it.

When Mike finally enters the house, the first thing I hear after the satisfying break of the doors seal ringing throughout the living room is a deep sigh as Mike's backpack lands in front of the coat rack. He should be quieter about setting it down. I would be. But I think he assumes we should be so deep in sleep it really wouldn't matter, and it honestly doesn't make much noise. Just a slightly dull 'thud' against the thinly carpeted floor.

Next I can hear his car keys land in the bowl they're meant for. Again, he's a bit too loud with it all. At least, while people are sleeping. But it's not really a bother. In a way, I like it. It gives me a routine to memorize, his sounds before he'll trail to our room and come press himself against me.

The rocking recliner creeks softly as he sits in it, lazily undoing the laces on his boots before he tosses them towards the coat rack. And next he'll duck his head into the fridge I'm sure and look for the leftovers I put into a big bowl for him to warm up - which he won't, because he's a psychopath who likes cold food. - and then when my alarm goes off, he'll come to wake me up, rising from the old couch where he's very quietly reading his book while he eats and do whatever he has to do to prevent me from slipping back into sleep. He's very good at that job. Especially when he uses his tongue.

But today there's a break in the routine. Today, his footsteps are padding towards our room, the door quietly opening as he slips in. I can hear him let out a soft sigh as he tugs on his hoodie, pulling it off and then discarding of his jeans, which muffle the clack of his belt buckle as he slips them off. Left in his undershirt and boxers, he crosses the room to open the blinds and the window, letting in the fresh air and leaning against the thin windowstill for a moment. Now, I can see him.

He looks rested, a little more than he should for having just finished a night shift. I keep telling him he's going to get fired, but he always wiggles his way out of that conversation. The bags usually under his eyes aren't too deep this morning, which while problematic is relieving. His skin is pale blue from the dawns light that pours into the room. His dark curls are more thick on the top of his head, clumped together from him not brushing them after his shower. He must've used too much conditioner, because his hair also looks thicker than it usually does. The breeze blows his oversized pale blue shirt against his chest as he leans forward, allowing his eyes to close as he takes in a deep breath. It feels like an overly private moment. Like I've intruded by watching him. I don't see him like this much when he isn't alone. When he's with me or Abby, he's alert. Somewhat on guard. It's like he's watching us to make sure we're okay. He's too used to things falling apart in an instant. But when he's alone, physically or emotionally, the walls crumble away to reveal a man who enjoys peace. Who smiles softly as he bends down low, resting his chin upon his arms, letting the dawn greet him and being the supposed first in the house to greet the dawn. And I feel like a stalker for watching him. A scene that feels as if I've stolen what will now only exist deep in my mind for when I want to remember one of the few times he has truly ever looked at peace with the world. It's a scene out of a painting. As private as a prayer. I should grant him more privacy, but I don't. In a captivated and enchanted way, I can't.

I'd never tell him this, but in this moment he looks like his mother. And not in the sense of him being her son. No, based off of the few photos I've seen of her in more private, intimate instances, like when she was holding a very small Mike on her lap on his second birthday, or when Mike's father had stolen a photo during their honeymoon when she wasn't looking, Mike looks just like her. Quiet, serene, not hiding anything from anyone because there's no need. At this moment it is just him and the gentle, late winter breeze that makes my nose begin to sting. He's beautiful. Just like she was.

The moment comes to an end, and now it is just a moment that exists only within my mind as his eyes open. The blue dawn brings out the green in his eyes that's usually hidden by artificial light that overpowers the amber, turning them mostly black in some instances. That's the color I thought they were until I saw him in proper daylight. His long lashes bat once, twice in an almost sleepy manner as he shifts his focus, now turning his head to look at me. I shut my eyes quickly, my canines biting into my tongue to force myself to keep a straight face. But it's too late. We made eye contact, even if it was only for a second, and now he knows I'm awake.

"Sweetheart?" He whispers softly, his voice low and slightly gravelly in the way it always is. His 's' and 't's just a tad sharp, clear as always when he speaks. I hear the floor groan as he pads towards me.

I don't speak. I'm not supposed to be awake. I should be asleep, he would rather I was asleep. I tried to be asleep.

He stops in front of me, I can hear the floor groan louder as he crouches in front of me. He's trying to decide if I'm awake or not, if maybe he'd been tricked into thinking we made eye contact. But something convinces him he hasn't, and the bed sinks as he places a hand upon the mattress to support his weight while he kisses my temple.

"Hi," he whispers against my skin, placing another kiss just above the curve of my brow. "Good morning." He places another kiss on the space between my brows, his lips now trailing up to the middle of my forehead. "You look so pretty like this."

Like what? My skin shining with oil, my nose dirty, my body heavy from not having moved?

Something makes him pause when his lips find my cheek. He keeps his lips pressed against my skin for a moment before he pulls away, licking his lips as he looks closer at me.

"Hey," he whispers softly, a finger finding my chin. "Open your eyes."

I don't want to. When I do he'll instantly know what I've been doing, and I don't want to handle it. I don't want to deal with it.

His hand slips under my head, between my cheek and my pillow.

"Sweetheart, your pillow's wet," he says in quiet surprise. "Open your eyes, talk to me."

Hesitatingly, I obey. Cracking my eyes open and trying not to reveal how horrid the dryness in them feels after allowing them rest for a few moments after keeping them open for what could have been hours at this point. Mike's face is inches from mine, his brows furrowed in concern as his eyes scan for other obvious signs of distress.

"Hi," I croak in a tired, unused voice as I try to pretend all is well. Mike unfortunately knows better.

"What happened?" He asks concerningly, taking in the tone he does whenever Abby is upset, fretting over me like I'm an injured child as both of his hands cup my face, his lips finding what he's confirmed are thin, itchy and salty tear tracks, placing several, feather-light kisses along them.

"Nothing," I answer honestly, my voice still cracking. "I'm fine."

"Your eyes are red, baby," he says softly, pulling away to look at me again while his body inches closer. "You look like you've been crying for hours."

Ha. I wish. If I had been, maybe I'd feel better about everything. But instead, I've been lying here since Abby went to bed, feeling numb and dead internally as I willed myself to be upset about anything. Work, bills, the color of the walls. I'd succeeded maybe twice, little tears streaming down my face for a minute or two. But then they would stop, and it would feel as though I couldn't cry. Really cry. Like there was some emotional, maybe physical block preventing me from just truly letting all of my emotions out in a possibly hysterical fit. One that would mean I could connect to my humanity. I don't know what's wrong with me. So, instead I just say "I haven't cried."

Mike opens his mouth to call bullshit, but his brow furrows tighter as he thinks. "What's wrong?" He asks again, now lifting my head to allow one arm to slip underneath so I can lay upon it.

"Nothing," I answer again, truly unsure of what to say. "I'm really okay."

And I am. Work is fine, I am fine. Friends are fine. I don't have entitlement to be upset.

"Is it another episode?" Mike asks softly, now pulling his body onto the bed to lie next to me, fully committed to being partner of the year over here. Ugh. Great.

"No," I answer quickly, averting my gaze. Mike's hand cups my cheek, his body cool compared to mine. I'm soaked in sweat from sleeping - read: laying motionless on the bed since 9:30. - in too warm of clothes in too warm of a room under too warm of blankets. I probably stink. Meanwhile the morning air makes Mike feel refreshing. He's perfect. I'm a mess.

"It's okay if it is," Mike says softly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of if-"

"I'm not having an episode," I say firmly, cutting him off as though it will solidify my statement more than his if I finish mine first. "I'm just not."

I don't pretend to be perfect. I'm not, and I never will be. I know that's okay. I know episodes happen, and that I'll be okay. I've been so much better lately on my new schedule. I'm working, I'm happy.

I have absolutely no good reason to be in the midst of a depression episode. One where the memories won't leave my mind, where I can't sleep, can't think about anything but the past. It plays in my head over and over again, and I can't stop it. Even though I try. I read, I journal, I bathe. But I don't feel real. People don't feel real. Mike is disorienting in the sense that he is the only thing that truly feels real. Where the pale color of the sheets seems hypnotic, his slightly tan skin contrasts to remind me this place really does exist. The furniture and details of the room seem as real as something from a video game, renderings that aren't as realistic as they could be that blend into the wall more as you look. Flat. Nothing. But the freckles on his nose are real. Strikingly real. Overly real. It's as though someone took their time to place each one, carefully deciding their color, their opacity, their placement. I want and love each one, but at this moment they slightly torture me by drawing me into a comforting trap.

"I haven't had an episode in over a month, I'm better," I attempt to say in a firm, solid voice. But I'm too tired, too worn out. My chest burns both from anxiety induced heartburn and how shallow my breathing has been for the past several hours. Mike looks sad, and I hate that. Deeply.

"You have been doing better," he says softly, like a reassuring parent. "I've seen that. And I'm so proud of you."

But I still have this. I'm still like this. I still can't have people wrap their arms around me from behind because I'm instantly taken back to when it would end in me collapsed on the ground, panting, crying, calling out for help that just wouldn't come. I still can't wear shirts with too tight of collars because it always end with me half naked, ripping the shirt off while hyperventilating. That was how I had to tell Mike. For our first Christmas together he bought me this beautiful turtleneck, knowing I liked the style but didn't own many. A dark evergreen color, affordable but a lovely tight-knit material, I adored the thing. But the moment the shirt was over my head, the neck felt like a hand suffocating me, and though I tried to tolerate it fie as long as I could, it only took one casual graze of his hand along my back to send me reeling into a corner, hyperventilating, sobbing, blubbering like a terrified child as I clawed at my neck while he tried to get it off of me.

'I'm so proud of you.' The statement feels like a backhanded reward. It feels as though I'm an idiotic child who just can't learn their ABC's or basic fundamental math. It feels like I'm a small toddler surrounded by adults looking at me full of pity in their eyes while they think 'well, you'll never be normal by any means. But maybe one day if you're lucky, you'll work in a Subway.' But they don't tell me this. They just praise me for existing. 'You woke up today! You put on clothes today! You didn't kill yourself!' It makes me want to scream. Yes, even at him. I want to grab him by his shirt and scream until my voice is shattered 'don't praise me for the bare minimum! I'm not a child!'

But I know he's not. I know he feels the same way when he slips back in progress as well. There was a solid month last year where Mike's insurance refused to pay for his sleep medication due to some paperwork slip and such, something they eventually realized was a complete blip on their end. But that month was hell for Mike, who could barely sleep well even with the medication. His easy smirks were replaced with cracked lips, skin raw from constant biting. His eyes were filled with paranoia from lack of sleep, and worse were the night terrors. Mike didn't even know he was still capable of having them, usually sedated by his meds well enough that if there was a nightmare, he just stayed asleep. At worst he'd wake up in a haze, maybe a very short yelp if anything. But without his meds, it was screaming. Constant screaming. There were nights he would wake after only an hour and he'd start, his voice shrill and reverberating off the walls as he thrashed in the bed. You couldn't console him, touch made him worse. When it happened, you simply had to leave the room and pray he would be okay. The episode could last anywhere from five minutes to an hour, and you would know it was over when all you could hear was broken sobbing, quiet and childlike in nature. Then I would return to the room, and there he'd be. Sometimes wrapped in blankets, sometimes his shirt torn off of himself. Usually sitting either in the dark corner of the room or on the floor of our closet. Red, angry marks would trail along his skin from clawing at himself with his uneven nails, some of them being actual cuts he'd managed in his terror. I'd carefully clean his cuts with cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide while he silently stared ahead, too ashamed to speak or make eye contact with me. And too terrified to sleep again.

Sleep deprivation didn't help, either. One day I saw him with a Redbull stuck in his hand, seemingly never empty despite how much he drank from it. At first I thought it was one, than I realized it was three, then I realized I didn't really know what number he was on. It was surprising how well he could take the new, unusual load of caffeine that tastes sickly sweet without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow. I didn't realize he was trying to starve off sleep until the next morning when his leg was bouncing a mile a minute and he was snapping at every little thing. That day he had a breakdown over dropping an unpeeled onion. And that's when it slipped out.

I didn't judge him. I was terrified for him, but I didn't judge him. And I could tell the same was true for him when I would have my slips, though mine looked different. Mine looked like a lack of self care and rotting in our bed, staring pointlessly ahead until he would lift me off the bed and carefully guide me to a warm bath, where he'd gently wash my skin with a soft rag like I was a newborn while I stared ahead at nothing. At this point we had learned to tell the oncoming signs of each others episodes, and how to starve them off. And if we couldn't, how to help each other through them.

Usually, I don't mind. But today, it hurts. It all hurts.

"Have you eaten?" Mike asks me gently, his thumb gliding over my cheekbone as he wraps me in his embrace, careful of where he places his hands on my person. Like I'm a bomb.

I don't want to be treated like this anymore.

"Yes," I sigh in an irritated voice, like it's the most inconvenient thing he should ask me such a question. But I haven't. I feel empty and yet too full at the same time, and guilt pounds behind my left eye with the ferocity of a headache that I can't just mother myself.

Mike doesn't believe me. He'll pretend he does, but the press of his lips betray him as he takes a deep breath in like he's trying to tell what wire to cut next.

"Would you like to have breakfast with me?" He asks softly, his thumb still stroking just below the raw corner of my eye. It burns. All of it.

'No,' I snap in my head. But I just tighten my jaw and press my own lips together.

"I'm not really hungry, but thank you," I say in a tight voice. Now he's going to pretend that's okay, and he'll go get his breakfast. Then he'll pretend he can't finish it all, joke lightly and say I gave him too big of a portion even though he eats like he's still a growing teenager, and offer me little bites as he "tries" to finish the rest, then eventually trick me into finishing it. He isn't slick, and I'm not a child.

"Hey," he says in a light whisper. "I was thinking maybe we could go out today? All three of us? Or I could call Max, see if she'll watch Abs for a little bit so we can get away?"

Distraction. Cute. I don't need it.

"That could be nice," I admit through half gritted teeth, not meeting his eyes. "Where to?"

"Anywhere," he says too quickly, obviously relieved to have a straw to grasp at. "Your choice."

Guilt twists in my chest like an alien creature settled in my lungs, burning as it begins to slither its way towards my throat to suffocate me on its wrath. He doesn't need to do this. Can't he see how well I'm doing?

"How was work?" He asks me in an attempt to keep me talking. Mike doesn't like silence, not like this. Not really any time. There's always noise throughout the house, whether it's a show on in the background or white noise from his cassette player. He can't stand silence. Especially from people.

"Work was..." Fine? The usual? Non-eventful?

"Good," I decide. Mike presses his lips together again. Stop doing that.

"Yeah?" He asks in a slightly tight voice.

"Yeah," I confirm in a tighter voice.

"You didn't... call out or anything?"

My bottom left back molar feels like it might snap from how tight my jaw is. "Why?" I ask, venom unintentionally creeping in.

"Just asking," he says quickly.

"Why?" I press harder, wanting to know who told on me. Abby hasn't even had the chance to speak with him.

'It's because he knows your patterns,' I think. 'He's trying to gage how serious this is.'

"Maybe we could go out for breakfast? We can wait until Abby wakes up, go get some Waffle Hous-"

"I'm not having an episode," I snap quickly, more harsh than I intended. My tone makes him flinch slightly, his eyes shutting for a moment as he takes another breath in. Now I'm scared he'll pull away.

"We... don't have to talk about this right now," he says softly, opening his eyes again and wrapping his arm around me tighter. "Let's just focus on breakfast."

The guilt pounds in my kidneys, which are sore since I haven't left the bed since I laid down after putting Abby to sleep, but I did have a full water bottle around 3:00 in the morning. It's not Mike's fault I backtracked. He's just trying to be nice. I'm the asshole here.

"I'm sorry," I say in a small voice, dropping my gaze and biting my tongue between my canines again to stop the tears that are now willing to come freely to burn my eyes during such an inappropriate moment.

"It's okay," Mike says softly, placing a kiss on my forehead. "Don't even think about it."

'Don't even think about the fact he's just trying to be a decent person and you can't even say 'thank you,'' a grating voice in my head chides me. 'What, you're too good for a free meal?'

"I'm sorry," I repeat softer, my nails digging into my wrist that I'm holding to keep control over myself. Mike's hand is searching for mine, ready to pry it away to prevent me from doing what I need to to prevent the waterworks.

"Hey." Stop with the 'hey's. "I said it's alright, you're okay."

It's all bad. Everything's bad, and it's not going to get better. I keep thinking I'll get better, I keep thinking I'll be okay. But every two steps forward is one step back and I can't keep doing this redundant bullshit for the rest of my life. Am I going to be 40 at the office Christmas party sneaking off to freak out in the bathroom because something triggered me and I just can't get a grip on things? Am I even going to make it to 40?

Mike is comforting me, cradling my head to his chest and rocking me back and forth. And his shirt is wet. I don't like that his shirt is wet, it should be dry. Why is it fucking wet?

"It's okay," he's whispering in my hair while horrid choking sounds come from somewhere around us. Maybe the other room? "You're alright, it's okay."

I'm aware it's alright, I'm aware it's okay. Why are you wet? Why does my head hurt?

"I can't- sleep," my voice chokes out between guttural sobs, my face pressed into his chest. "It's all nightmares."

Oh. Shit. That's me. The wetness, I did that. My bad.

"I know, it's okay. How long?" Mike asks softly. What, are you gonna call my therapist?

"A week," I moan into his chest. My ribs expand with each recycled breath I steal from against his chest, and I can feel him trying to gently tug me away so I can get one with fresh, cold air instead. I don't let him. My lungs burn more. "They just won't stop."

"It's okay, it's only temporary," he says softly, his hand pushing away some of the blanket to relieve me of the boiling warmth underneath. The cold air is refreshing against my skin, even through my clothes are soaked with stinking sweat.

"No, it's not!" I cry hysterically into his chest. "They don't go away. None of it goes away. I want it to go away!"

He's nodding, rubbing circles on my back as I grip his shirt hard enough it may stretch.

"It'll get better. It did for awhile," he reminds me.

"But I'm back here. I always end up back here. I was doing so good!" I sob, feeling the wetness on his shirt begin to slightly thicken, probably due to snot. I try to sniff it back into my sinuses, but I think that just draws his attention to the new fluid he's covered in.

"That's okay. You'll do even better next time. And if you don't, that's okay too." Don't say what I think you're going to say. Do not. Michael, I'm serious, don't- "I'm still proud of you."

Fuck. Ooooooff!

This is the real release of my emotions. Now I'm gasping, choking, sobbing, making horrible sounds that sound like a European ambulance siren wailing through the streets to announce someone's dying on the way to the hospital. My head throbs with the pain from the heavy crying, and I may give myself a nosebleed from the passion of it all. And Mike, his patience thick and durable, just holds me through it all. Letting me soak his shirt, dirty his skin, grab at him blindly while I wail like a spoiled child, just repeating the phrase over again. 'Proud.' What pride. What honor to be had at such a breakdown. Yes, very understandable.

"I should be better," I sob into his chest. "You deserve better."

"What?" He laughs lightly, and at first it feels mocking, but then he's pulling my head away fron my soaked enclosure and his eyes are so gentle for a moment I know the light laughter is simply from surprise. Then his eyes widen and he's back in parent mode.

"Don't leave me. Don't leave me!" I choke out while gripping his shirt. At first he thinks I'm talking about our relationship, then he realizes I'm not letting him pull away.

"Sweetheart, you're bleeding," he gently explains. "Let me wipe your face. I just need tissues. I'm not even leaving the bed."

But that's too much. Let me bleed, let my head throb, let this headache take the vision away in my eye from how bad it hurts. Let anything happen so long as I can stay in this moment. Don't break the spell. Don't let me go numb again.

"Don't leave me," I cry pathetically, my eyes all scrunched together in the same manner as wailing infants, my grip on his shirt not breaking. Sure enough, there on the wet spot of his shirt is a dark stain of blood that should hopefully come out if we wash it fast enough.

"Let me do that," I'm saying as I try to peel off his shirt now. "Let me wash it."

He's gently guiding my hands away. "Don't worry about it," he says gently, kissing my hands and wrists like they might break even from the delicate graze of his lips. "Let me take care of you."

He does this all the time. He always takes care of me. I should do more. Be more. For him.

"You deserve better," I choke out, feeling like I may suffocate from the tears. Mike's brows furrow in concern, and he grips my chin very carefully as he makes me meet his eyes.

"Hey, no. Get that out of your head, it's all okay," he tells me softly, staring at me like if he can't verbally convince me, his hard stare will do the trick. "I don't want to hear you talk like that."

"I should be better," I repeat, my crying lessening slightly as I try to hold eye contact.

"You're getting better," he reminds me. "This is the happiest I've seen you since we met. You'll get back to that. Hell, you could feel the same way tonight. It's okay. Take a day off. We all need one, even normal people," he says softly, stroking my hair as he kisses my forehead. "Can you just let me take care of you in the meantime?"

No. Go away, let me rot.

"We can still go out for breakfast," he offers gently. "I can still call Max, or we can all stay in. I'll set up a nest in the living room so you can watch TV. Works you like that?"

Stop. Stop being nice to me, stop trying to make me feel better. It all just feels awful. I don't want this guilt, someone takes it away.

Mike must sense my overwhelmed emotions, because he places another kiss on my forehead before asking if he can clean my face again, and this time I say yes. He pulls away, which is still upsetting but less so. I don't make a deal out of it this time at least. He opens a drawer, searching for wipes and pulling them out before turning back to me.

"Do you want to sit up?" He asks gently. I bite my tongue to prevent another mocking thought directed towards me and nod. Bones crack as I do, my kidneys hurt worse. But at least I finally moved.

Tears still streak down my face as Mike wipes away the snot and blood, his large hand gently cupping my face as he does. There's a soft smile on his face, though I'm not particularly sure why. And when he's done, he runs his thumb along my bottom lip before placing his own lips on top of mine. They're chapped, one spot raw from excessive biting. But there's still some leftover chapstick on them, and it tastes like grapefruit.

I tug on his shirt, one hand sneaking under it to feel his cool skin underneath. He gently takes my wrist once more, then pulls away. A silent rejection. He knows that I'm just looking for a distraction from my emotions, and in a moment he'll offer a much healthier one. He does discard the shirt, leaving his chest bare, but only so that he doesn't smear my fluids back onto me as he pulls me in for another embrace.

"We'll be okay," he promises. "Everything will be okay."

"What if it's not?" I ask in a quiet, strained voice.

"Then it'll be okay later. You can take time to not be okay," he says.

There's a short silence before either of us speak. And when I hear his voice hitch in the way it does when he's about to say something, Abby's alarm rings crystal clear in her room. Then the sound of a truck rattles by on the road in front of the house. Birds continue to sing. And my pours feel so clogged I'm sure my skin will be lashing out for days.

But it'll all be okay.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

"Can we have some fluff to reco-" no. Suffer.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool @laurrrelise. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

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anystalker707 · 8 months

Text

Together?

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender neutral] Reader Summary: Hanging out after a busy night at Baratie. Tags: Bitter sweet / Sanji is very loving / Boyfriend material / Sanji needs to hear some truths

MASTERLIST

“They’ve lost their minds,” Sanji said in a lower voice tone as he stepped closer to you while you stirred the boiling sauce without taking your eyes off it—a little distraction could ruin a job of hours, and you’d learned that the worst way. “Oregano does not go in everything,” he whispered next to your ear while looking over your shoulder to check what you were doing. He never criticized your job, of course, unless he were to say something about how you should stop following the recipes and orders so strictly, but you knew better than that. Seeing what happened with Sanji for it was enough of a lesson.

“Just shut up and cook,” you sighed as you put the pan on the counter and replaced it with another of boiling water on the stove, already getting the next dish started.

Sanji huffed as he showed you a plate of what he’d done. It was certainly nothing from the menu. “Try it.”

You didn’t stop what you were doing, still adding the vegetables to the plates and covering them with sauce as you opened your mouth and let Sanji feed you a piece of whatever he’d prepared. The sweet taste of the pastry contrasted very well with the savory flavor of the filling, which probably consisted of some sort of fish and a rich sauce. You took your time to savor it before you nodded.

“That’s great, Sanji.” You nodded as you finished the dishes and called one of the waiters to say that table 11’s order was ready. “Like, great,” you tried to express, but it was hard since you were always complimenting Sanji’s cooking a lot. “Above the usual.”

Despite how you moved around so fast to keep up with the orders, Sanji still followed you with that plate in hand. “At least you have some sense, but Zeff—”

“We got orders piling in,” Zeff’s voice spoke over the loud clanking and chattering of the kitchen, as if on cue. “That means no one slacking off!”

Sanji knew it was mainly directed at him, of course. He pressed his lips together and huffed, shaking his head. He grabbed the last piece of what he’d cooked and fed it to you before he walked away.

In comparison to the open hours, the Baratie could actually be very quiet during the late night hours. The mess and euphoria took another tone and another focus. The loud chatter and music coming from the bar could only be heard faintly in the docks area. No one used to arrive at such late night hours, and the crowd was concentrated at the bar, so it would be quite peaceful there. Watching the moon’s reflection on the calm water was soothing.

The relative silence was disrupted by a pattern of footsteps that you knew very well. “I’m going to be reduced to being a fucking chore-boy at some point,” Sanji said as he eventually stopped and took a seat next to you, on the wooden platform of the dock, feet also hanging from the edge. His breathing was a little out of pace and his forehead was a little sweaty, so he had probably been off doing extra chores as some sort of punishment by Zeff. He sighed as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a cigarette.

You hummed softly. “Hm, maybe.”

Sanji was about to light his cigarette, but he paused and looked at you, dead in the eyes, frozen. “(Y/n), I—”

“No, hear me out!” You sat up properly, trying to come up with a way of saying it in as few words as possible to prevent Sanji from freaking out before you were finished. He looked so cute while angrily trying to get his lighter to work, spinning the sparkwheel with more strength than necessary, sending sparkles flying in the night darkness until he was finally able to light his cigarette. “It’s not that no one recognizes your talent or something, Sanji,” you sighed. “Zeff knows you’re good.”

Sanji furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing you in disbelief, but with that edge of sarcasm.

You observed him for a long moment. “Honestly, what do you want with your life?”

“The All Blue,” Sanji answered without missing a beat. The tip of his cigarette glowed in the dark as he took a drag of it, holding the smoke before slowly exhaling.

“Yeah. How do you expect to achieve it, though?” You raised an eyebrow.

There were a few attempts to answer. A couple of unfinished words came from Sanji as he opened his mouth a few times, but he never properly came up with anything, instead looking off to the sea after returning his cigarette to his lips.

“Exactly,” you said. “You—”

“What does it have to do with anything?” Sanji scoffed.

A silence filled in for a moment as you observed Sanji, trying to wonder what was going on in that mind of his. Sometimes, you wanted to hit him upside the head to check if that’d do anything, maybe shake up his brain and make it work for life the way it worked for food prep.

“Do you think you can find the All Blue by being a chef in the Baratie?” You asked honestly, not really putting effort into sounding all kind and sweet. “What good will it do if you just continue here, being a cook, settled down? It’s so easy to notice that Zeff is trying to push you off, so you can go do something greater, Sanji! He won’t say it directly because both of you are so stubborn, but it’s so clear!”

“But he—”

“He’s a retired pirate,” you cut in. “He’s already lived his life, and the Baratie is what he wants for now, but you? He knows you’re strong and determined. Sometimes he does stuff just to see if you’ll leave and actually do something because you’re so stubborn!”

Sanji clicked his tongue, cursing under his breath as he took another drag of his cigarette. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “How can you even be so sure of it? I’m just not wanted.”

He was so tiring. A sharp sigh escaped your nose as you looked away, shaking your head.

“Even so, do you want to be here your whole life?” You looked at him again. It was hard seeing his face through his hair and in the dark, but you had an idea of the face he might be making. “The world is so big, Sanji. There’s so much to see and live. It sounds a little pathetic, spending your life in a restaurant while you can do much more. While other people are around traveling, partying, discovering things. Living.”

Silence settled in for a second as you thought. Just the idea of all the things you’d heard or read about in the newspapers made your muscles ache to just steal a boat and start sailing.

Everything sounded quieter, suddenly. Your eyes were fixed on the moon as it stood high in the sky, half full, with a trembling image reflected on the dark sea. Maybe the sky also looked different in other places of the world.

“I wish I could even be a pirate,” you said softly, carefully. “That a pirate crew would recruit me. Let me be anything, even if not a cook, let me go with them to explore and see more things out there.” Another pause. “Don’t you wish the same, Sanji?”

No answer came in for a long moment. Smoke continued coming from Sanji as he sat there, almost unmoving.

“Really?” His voice was quiet.

“Of course.”

Sanji was quiet again. He could be mysterious sometimes. Certain subjects or mentions would often make him just fall silent and thoughtful. “Then we should go together.”

“Together?” You mumbled.

“I wouldn’t go without you,” Sanji said quietly, adjusting his posture with a sigh. There were unsaid words, of course, but words that you already knew very well. No one really gave him attention or help like you did, not to mention that if there was someone aside from Zeff who he’d actually turn to, that’d be you. It took someone to calm Sanji’s thoughts or at least help him organize them, and that’d usually be you as well.

“Great,” you stated. Your eyes didn’t even dart his way as you spoke. “I don’t think I’d let you, either.”

A sensation of accomplishment took over both of you, managing to dissolve most of the tension that was going on. Both of you had reached an agreement, even if unspoken, taking away part of the worries that clouded your minds. Even if you didn’t say it, you were always on the edge about Sanji leaving, running away in the middle of the night, and leaving you behind with nothing more than worries.

You finally looked away from the sky, observing the sea under you, and then your gaze fell on Sanji’s hand resting some inches away from your thigh. He would wear rings when he wasn’t cooking, and he always had nice ones. He didn’t even flinch when you grabbed his hand to get the ring he had around his index finger; he was already used to you taking his rings, sometimes returning them days later or just keeping them.

“Pretty,” you mumbled as you admired the details engraved on it. Shamefully, it hung loose around all of your fingers, so you ended up sliding it back on his finger. He grabbed your hand before you could pull it away, though.

Sanji tugged on your hand a little, so you moved closer and let him wrap an arm around you. He put out his cigarette against the wood once it reached the filter. “Why do you take my things, hm?” He raised an eyebrow.

You thought for a moment, and it was difficult to actually come to a conclusion about that. “I’m not sure,” you said softly. Maybe it was the need to have anything of his with you. Feel even closer to him.

“Not afraid I’ll get angry at you?”

With a scoff, you shook your head. “You never get angry at me. I’m too pretty for you to get angry at me.”

The way Sanji took a moment to observe you and then faced away with a sigh made you chuckle victoriously. “That doesn’t mean you should be doing that!” He clicked his tongue, but the annoyance he had wasn’t anything but feigned. A sigh escaped his lips as he visibly relaxed a little, shoulders dropping from their tense stance. “You’re not leaving without me, right?” Sanji muttered into your ear.

“Only if you don’t leave without me.” You raised your eyebrows lightly as you looked at him.

Sanji smiled with a proud air, nodding faintly. He leaned in, but you placed a hand over his mouth and turned his head away before anything could happen.

“You know I hate it when you kiss me right after a cigarette!” You pulled your hand away as he started chuckling.

“Only a little one? Pretty please?” Sanji’s attempts to make a dramatic sad face kept failing since he kept laughing at the glares you sent him. “Come on! I got no kisses today! How am I supposed to live without a kiss from you, hm? Hm?” He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer, kissing your cheek a few times, knowing how all of those made you start melting into his arms. You sighed with a soft groan, turning your face until you could finally meet his lips and give him the kiss he wanted so much.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #opla #one piece live action #one piece netflix #sanji vinsmoke #sanji #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #gender neutral #sanji x reader #sanji x male reader #scenario #oneshot #imagine

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loveandmurders · 10 months

Text

Where is my squismellow?? (Gender neutral reader x poly!Sinclair brothers)

Based on this request: "how would the brothers react to their s/o having a squishmellow and it goes missing?"

Warnings: Bo being an ass, a few strong words, BLOOD, mentions of murders.

Living with the Sinclairs wasn’t always soft and happy but they were trying their best for you.

One afternoon, after Bo refused to let you go with Lester for an errand, the man thought he needed to cheer you up.

And when his eyes found a little Loch Ness Monster plushie, a squishmellow more precisely, he instantly knew it was going to be the perfect gift for you.

When he came back home, you were in your room, sulking away from the twins. Everyone was pretty upset, but Bo didn’t want to apologise as he was certain he had done the right thing: the world was way too dangerous to let you leave Ambrose like that.

You needed to stay where you were safe.

Lester softly knocked at your door but you didn’t answer. He gently opened the door and passed the plushie into the entrance for you to see it. Your attention was instantly caught by the sight of it and you had to admit you fell in love with the cute little thing right away.

“Heard ya were sad, so I came here to cheer ya up!” Lester said while moving the Loch Ness Monster as if the squishmellow was the one talking. You couldn't stop yourself from giggling at such adorable antics.

You sat up on your bed. “What’s your name?” you asked, feeling better already.

Lester tried to recall what he saw on the little tag he removed earlier “Lune!” he exclaimed “I’m Lune the Loch Ness Monster” he said

You got up and grabbed Lune before squishing it against your chest. You fully opened the door and invited Lester in.

He gave you a little hug and pecked your cheek. “Sorry ‘bout Bo” he whispered to you and you shrugged, hiding your face into Lune.

“It’s not your fault if the man’s paranoid” you replied “Thanks for Lune though, I love them so much already!” you smiled

“Knew ya would” he nodded in satisfaction.

After that night, Lune never left your side.

It was annoying Bo a little but Vincent and Lester always made him shut up when he was trying to ask you to let go of the squishmellow. In the end, he got used to the sight of you cuddling with Lune.

He didn’t want to admit it but he was getting jealous of that little Loch Ness Monster. Lester was very proud you loved his purchase that much. Vincent wasn’t too sure what to think about it, but if you were happy, he was happy too.

But one day, Lune was missing.

You had a nap while your boys were taking care of some tourists in town. They preferred when you stayed safely locked up in your room when they were killing people. And you learnt to obey that rule.

When you woke up, you sleepily looked for Lune for a little hug. You fully woke up when you realised they were nowhere to be found.

You frowned and started to look for your little monster. You thought they might have fallen down the bed but they weren’t in your room at all.

You tried to not panic right away. They had to be in Ambrose and they probably were in the house. You had no idea where they could be otherwise.

Before leaving your room, you listened if the town was quiet. Then you looked at the window and you saw Bo and Lester cleaning around so you knew you could go find Lune.

You started with the living room and the kitchen. You didn’t hear Vincent walking behind you as he watched you looking for something. You slightly jumped when you noticed him and he signed an apology before asking you what you were looking for.

You sadly replied.

Lester soon arrived and you jumped into his arms to let him know Lune was gone.

Bo was close behind and rolled his eyes at that. You frowned at him.

“Good riddance” he grumbled and you threw a pillow at him “Hey!” he groaned in annoyance. “It's just a plushie, and it can’t have left the house, so don’t be so silly. How ‘bout ya prepare us somethin’ to eat instead?” he told you but you shook your head

“I need to find Lune first” you said with determination

“I’ll help ya find them” Lester promised and you kissed him. He was such a good boy to you, not like Bo who got even more annoyed at that.

“Still deserve a kiss” he mumbled and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“You really don’t” you shook your head but still kissed him, knowing how awful he would get if you denied him. You gently kissed Vincent too and asked him if he would help you and he nodded. He would do anything for you.

Bo sat on his armchair while the three of you started to look out for Lune in the whole house and then in the whole town.

You started to really worry. Vincent was the most rational one and he asked you where you had seen them the last time, but you couldn’t recall it.

Meanwhile, Lester asked Bo if he knew anything. Bo faked not hearing him so Lester settled in front of the TV.

“I swear if ya stole Lune” Lester started

“Get away from my livin’ room, idiot. Don’t care ‘bout that plushie.” Bo replied, but it was difficult to know when he was lying or not, especially when he was in a bad mood. Right now, he just wanted you on his lap, but instead you were looking for this stupid thing.

As you were with Vincent, you started to remember something. You were with Bo at the garage before the tourists came. When Lester called Bo to warn him, you left to grab a nap. You probably forgot Lune there!

You went to the mechanic shop, but didn’t find them right away.

Vincent did.

When Bo started to fight with the tourists, Lune probably fell and they were now half hidden under a broken shelf and covered in blood. Vincent wasn’t too sure if Bo knew and didn’t do anything about it because he didn’t know how to handle this mess, or if he didn’t notice.

Anyways, Vincent was now the one who had to show you this. And he knew it wasn’t going to be pretty at all.

He gently took your hand in his and you could tell by his body language that he had bad news to announce to you. You followed him.

At first you didn’t even see Lune because your eyes could only focus on the blood.

And then you caught a glimpse of very pale blue and… You understood what happened. You knelt in front of Lune and started to cry. You were so upset to find them in such a bad condition. You should have been more careful.

Vincent gently stroked your head, trying to appease you but he wasn’t too sure what to do. He turned his head and he saw Lester coming your way so he gestured at him to come quicker.

Lester instantly knelt down beside you when he noticed you were sobbing and then he saw Lune. He internally cursed Bo for not having been more careful before hugging you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay” he whispered but you shook your head

“There is too much blood!!” you whined and Lester softly grabbed your plushie. It was indeed covered in blood. But Lester had a plan.

“’m gonna clean them up.” he promised and before you could tell him that there was no way he could remove all the blood from them, he took Lune and left. He climbed in his truck. “I’ll be back with a cleaned up Lune, no worries, darl’! Go have a snack in the kitchen. Vince, ya better make sure Bo’s nice” Lester gave his instructions as the masked twin and you watched him left.

You both obeyed. Food helped you feel better and you didn’t talk to Bo. He didn’t ask anything in return.

After a few hours, Bo did get up and started to prepare a proper meal for his family. He was quiet, so you were a little bit suspicious but you didn’t say anything as Vincent was cuddling you.

When Lester came back, he handed you a very clean Lune and you happily jumped into his arms and hugged him and thanked him.

After that day, you made sure Lune never left your side ever again.

“How did ya remove the blood?” Bo asked one night; it was only him and Lester at the kitchen table, drinking beers

“Couldn’t. I bought a new one and washed it so it could smell good and clean” Lester smiled

“Smart boy.”

“I know”

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zgvlt · 11 months

Text

hearts held out of harms way ace trappola x reader x deuce spade (polycule)

commissioned by: shopkeep !!!

summary: in which (1) ace, a nobleman, desperately wants to be more than just the earl you and deuce serve; (2) deuce, a knight, doesn't how to get not just one but two people to fall in love with him; and (3) you, a fairy, try to push ace and deuce together while ignoring your own feelings for them

tags: gender neutral reader (only you is used), sfw, fluff, knight x nobility x fairy, commoner x nobility, poly relationship, getting together fic, 8.3k+ words, not beta read, completed (division by "chapters" = just a stylistic choice)

The young Lord Ace Trappola was a nobleman people found difficulty understanding. The new earl—and how new he truly was; how unexpected, too—was many things all at once and, depending on who was asked, they would all have something different to say in regards to the gentleman.

For instance, some would say he was no gentleman at all—some being a past love, who claimed she had never really felt his love for her at all. It was not too uncommon for nobles to abandon their old partner one way or another, but it did dishearten those in society seeking to become his marriage candidate.

Others, specifically his old schoolmates from the academy, would call him clever and cheery but a little too carefree, so much so that they were surprised he had been declared not just the heir, but had taken hold of the position the moment he left his youth. Was it the truth, that he was that kind of character? Yes, though it did give way to less than savory questions regarding his inexperience and capabilities.

Finally, though said noble would not know until later how the rumor had been birthed, it was said that he was a man who had deceived everyone magnificently into thinking he was who he presented himself to the public. As to who or what he truly was, nobody could quite agree. There were those that argued he was the manipulative sort, perhaps one who dabbled in illegal magic, for how else could he ascend to his position so quickly? There were those, too, who had proposed that perhaps their household had something to hide, that the young Trappola was simply a dutiful son to his father.

A small, terribly small group, however, would argue that the truth behind Ace Trappola was that he…

“Good morning My Lord!” Ace looked up from his desk, immediately abandoning his work. It’s not that he’s particularly excited or anything, but he sure does think that his two faithful attendants are far more fun than any scroll or sheet of paper could be.

Former delinquent turned knight, his right-hand man Deuce Spade had a serious look on his face despite the jolly greeting. Beside him was you, his right-hand’s right-hand, a fairy who greeted him in a calm but elegant manner. The juxtaposition between his two aides had surprised him once-upon-a-time, but he’d come to realize that they were far better suited to each other than he had initially realized.

“Lock the doors, then be at ease,” he ordered. Though he did not care much for appearing particularly prim or proper, the idea of being walked in on while he conversed with his two companions did not appeal to him either.

“Slacking again, Lord Trappola?” You peered over his shoulder, reading the documents he had atop his table. “Household affairs? New knightings? Isn’t that mere child’s play for you? You could very likely finish all of those in one go.”

“If I accomplish all of it in one sitting, they will think it a sign to pile more work for me the day after,” he explained, as though it were common sense. “It’s better to slack off a little bit sometimes. I understand I’m quite capable, but I detest people who push all their work onto others.”

“There, there. You can let your worries out with me,” you laughed at him, fingers combing through his unkempt hair as you did so. It was an action he always distinguished from his father and brother, who would purposefully ruffle it, or Deuce, who accidentally chopped a portion off with his sword.

He used to think it was out of pity, once, or some kind of disapproval, the way you could bicker and banter with Deuce but hesitated to do the same with him. However, nowadays it was easy to tell that it was your way of empathizing with him. That good-naturedness of yours was probably why Deuce clung to you, too. “Let’s have you spar with Deuce so you can catch a break.”

“Exactly what I was thinking! Can you read minds or something? You know I don’t know much about fairies.”

“You just so happen to be an open book, Deuce. If I had come to possess that kind of ability, though…” Ace knew you were merely being humorous, an attempt at getting a laugh out of him and a way to tease Deuce, but he did shiver the slightest bit as you laughed ominously. Just what would you do given that kind of power? “Though not quite fairy, I have heard of a fae that can see people’s dreams… Or was it manipulate? I can’t quite recall.”

“If someone were to see my dreams…” Deuce blanched, and Ace found himself curious by the reaction. By the looks of it, you were curious, too. Ace’s dreams tended to be the nonsensical sort—that or he could never remember them at all save for a detail or two, like how you or Deuce or even some old schoolmates from the academy would simply appear.

“Now that you mention it, I do remember you sleep talking.” You looked away from Deuce and back to him, fingers still weaving through his hair. “There was a night, when Deuce and I were still wanderers, where…”

Cruel, Ace thought to himself, smiling, the good-natured fairy could tease the poor knight again and again.

“You truly are incapable of not embarrassing me at every opportunity, especially in front of our liege,” the blue haired man huffed, though he hardly seemed frustrated. On the contrary, his gaze had gone through a fiery change, as though engaged in a new competition. “If we are to compare sleeping habits, then yours–”

“Are not as worse, I am certain.” In truth, Ace was unsure if you were being truthful, but that aside–

“Oho, feel free to argue and spill your deepest secrets in front of me~ Although…” he feigned a sigh, “did the two of you forget my presence? Or that I know nothing of either of your sleeping patterns?” Or that it was considered inappropriate to so much as discuss nighttime activities, no matter how innocent? Ace could not say he was against it, however, having always been less… traditional, he supposed.

At his words, neither you nor Deuce had the decency to be embarrassed, though the latter made a genuine attempt at appearing to be. Clearly he had done a good job of keeping things as casual and comfortable as possible, even with the imbalance of power. That he could not erase, but at the very least he would feel much better if it could be ignored.

“Ahem, so are you up for it, Ace? The sparring? It could be good practice for the upcoming tournament.” Deuce had been leaning against the door as he said it, but he jolted up as he’d come to realize his informality. “Or, uh, Lord Ace? No, should it be Lord Trappola?”

Never mind. Perhaps some work still needed to be done, after all.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ace said quickly, hoping to elucidate the matter. The previous topic had not been forgotten, but perhaps he would be able to bring the matter up at a different time. “It’s just the three of us right now. Isn’t it exhausting being so formal all the time?”

“I guess that’s fair,” Deuce replied, “although I have a feeling I’ll call you the wrong thing in public.”

“Mhm, it’s the same for me, which is why I’m avoiding forgoing the title,” you sighed, “we’d cause quite the scandal if we so much as fumble–”

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter!” Ace snorted, “What do they care? You’re my people, so if they have a problem with how I let the two of you address me, then they should bring it up with the Earl of Trappola himself!”

For the most part, he had been serious with his proclamation—the formalities were starting to get to him, and he’d prefer to maintain Deuce’s casualness with him; has been meaning to convert you into dropping the titles, too. However, the way Deuce blinked up at him and the way you began clapping made it feel as though he had put on some performance instead, a rare show of his nobility.

“Our Lord… is a noble too, after all,” Deuce said with disbelief—Ace thought it to be feigned, though a small part of him wondered if it was genuine. You followed suit with a slow nod of your head.

“We made the right choice of pledging our loyalty to him after all.”

“Hah?” Ace scratched his head, inevitably messing with what you had worked to fix. “Seriously, would the me of the past have guessed the two outsiders I brought into my estate would become the bane of my existence?”

He had said as much, though he knew—and he knew that his two attendants knew, too—that no regrets had been brought in with said decision.

Deuce Spade enjoyed the life he was currently living.

It was a stark contrast to the life he possessed back home, his troublesome ways before he stowed away on that boat, before he crossed paths with you in that forest, before the two of you somehow wound up in the Trappola estate.

It was a tough life and he had ways to go before he could show his face to his mother, but it was a life he could finally be proud of, a life that was his.

Which was why he trained intensively and persistently, the need to prove his resolve not simply to the world, but to the people who he cherished in that world—the parent who awaited his letters every week, whom he lived for, and the two he swore to protect, whom he would lay down his life for…

But he knew you would be angered to hear such a bold statement, and the noble he was guarding would ask how he grew to become so serious, so he supposed he would have to keep his perspective a secret.

He thanked the Queen and whatever deities there were up there that you could not read minds, or see dreams for that matter. How troubling would it have been for him if you knew how his affections had grown for you and for–

“Oh, is that for Ace?”

Though he supposed you already knew of that, thus he only had his feelings for you being leaked to be worried about. Not that he was not worried about his feelings for Ace being made known—both, both were cause of worry. The mere idea of him being fond of two people should have been troubling, what more that one was his close companion and the other his liege?!

“Ace? Is that right?” he said with a stifled chuckle, “Were you not the one who wanted to address him properly?”

“What could you possibly mean? I could never! Well, if you pretend you did not hear my informality, that is.” Stepping closer and fully entering his quarters, you peered over his shoulder, eyeing the soft fabric carefully. You prodded a finger at the handkerchief, tracing his attempt at embroidery. “You have gotten better! The heart is cute.”

“Only in the front. You should see how badly I fumbled the back,” he said, showing you the messy stitching himself. Still, he knew progress was progress, and he gleamed at you having taken notice of his hard work. “Whoever could have guessed that years of watching my mother stitch my clothes back together would be of use for this very reason?”

“I’m sure she would be proud to see your work so far.”

Genuine. That was always something he enjoyed about you—genuine in your actions, genuine in your words. Thinking about it, it was somewhat humorous that he had come to like Ace Trappola too despite his selective dishonesty. He supposed, at the end of the day, it had to do with his honed ability to detect those with immoral intentions, the inherent lack of such within the two of you.

Surrounded by people who were good to him, he often found himself thinking he could finally be on the right path—the path of becoming someone good for his mother.

“It might be nice to have one sent to her as well, though not yet,” Deuce replied sheepishly, “even though I worked hard on this one, it seems practice is still needed on my end.”

“I believe in you. What is a needle if not a small sword? What are stitches if not… hmm… different techniques using the needle, just as stances and movements are to battle?” Even you seemed unsure about the last analogy. Nevertheless, it had made Deuce laugh, your intentions in uplifting his spirits effective as always.

“More like things you must get after a battle,” he retorted, shaking his head. “Given the topic, it should be appropriate to ask… How’s your progress?”

“Progress with…?”

“Your token!” he reminded, finding you silly for forgetting. “You’ve chosen to craft an amulet, right?”

“I did say that, yes. It seemed fitting given magic is my specialty, even though handkerchiefs and ribbons seem to be the norm in society these days. I’ve yet to review the rules, though, so perhaps no spells can be imbued yet,” you sighed, “So should I give something, an amulet or some kind of charm would be good.”

By now, he could say he knew you rather well, and he knew that while you did your best to be truthful with him, you did not exactly shy away from allowing people to interpret your words differently. Sometimes, you seem to want to be misunderstood.

It’s just too bad that he caught and understood your choice of wording.

“What do you mean by should you? Did we not agree we were both giving Ace something?”

You shrugged. “Would it not be better if, oh, perhaps you were the only one to give him a gift?”

“But we both care for him as our liege and as his… friends? Companions? Whatever the appropriate term may be, we are that to him and he is that to us. Certainly he would appreciate getting something from you?” he reasoned, an attempt at convincing you to continue as planned.

“Yes, but you like him. I am able to give him a token at some other time surely, but for now… I don’t see how my giving him anything will aid in my mission to help you convey your feelings–oh don’t look at me like that, fine, your appreciation for him.”

He huffed out your name, willing to argue with you about the situation if he really needed to, but after staring you down the best he could whilst looking up at you, you eventually relented, as though carrying a soft spot for him, or for Ace.

Likelihood was that it was both.

“I will consider it, but don’t mention anything. In any case, since I’m banned from competing due to the humans-only stipulation, hmph, I’ll give you a token. Since you’ll be competing for the both of us.”

Deuce finally smiled. He would still try to make sure you handed Ace one as well, but for now he would pretend to be satisfied with his small victory.

“If–When I win, I’ll make sure Ace knows it’ll be on both of our behalves.”

You cannot stop yourself from smiling as well. “Have I ever told you I was thankful? That you are always trying to include me in things, even with matters in regards to Ace? Even when I’m not actually one of his knights?”

It’s because I like you too, you foolish fairy!

“Because you are our resident fairy and perhaps the best magic user in the estate,” he proclaimed. Always the first to tease you, always the first to praise you.

“Well if you put it that way,” you chuckled, “and since you are being so terribly kind to me today, I’ll put in the effort to defend you should the young lord throw a fit about his own knight beating him in the tournament… and of course, I shall comfort you should you throw a fit should you lose to him.”

“So win or lose, it will be a lose-lose situation. Absolutely wonderful!” He had only been joking, truly, but you gave him a slight nudge at the comment.

“Just do your best regardless!”

You laughed, a warmth not unlike the sunlight peeking from the woodlands the day he first met you.

“Besides, you have a goal when you win, don’t you?”

Momentarily bashful, determination soon replaced it. Fears and anxieties aside, Deuce knew that should he win, the adrenaline would certainly convince him to profess his adoration and devotion to their earl and, unbeknownst to you, their fairy.

“A confession.”

“Oh, for sure, but that should only be the first step!” you encouraged, always the first to aid him in his lofty ambitions. “Have you considered marriage? Or a grand trip to another nation? I heard the Sunset Savanna is lovely this time of year.”

He snorted, “Perhaps nobility move faster than us commoners, but I find a proposal would be too sudden even for human standards. However… A trip does sound nice.”

“Does it not? Ah, but should you go about one in the future, I’ll lock you both out of the manor if you fail to bring me a souvenir.”

“I cannot speak for Ace, but… Oh, I might as well—Ace will certainly lock you out of the manor should you refuse to come with us!”

“You shall be there to help me back inside.”

“Wrong! As a matter of fact, I will be present to drag you in the carriage with us.” He was being quite serious, but you laughed at his apparent persistence.

“All three of us stuck in a carriage, perhaps even a boat or two, for weeks,” you were groaning with feigned displeasure, but when you told him it’d likely be good fun, he could tell even you couldn’t lie to yourself there, that you enjoyed their company as much as he, and to speak for someone else, and Ace did.

But as much as he enjoyed having you around, he also knew that with you being in his room, any more progress for the day was pretty much impossible. Ace’s aside, he’s going to have a hard time starting on your handkerchief anytime soon if you’re going to remain a frequent visitor.

Ace knew he carried a certain attitude about the work assigned to him. He knew, despite the loyalty of those in his estate, his detractors would call him all sorts of insults, deprecate him and his character, see him as nothing more than a young man who cared not for aged tradition and stiff nobility, and had no ability to command and control his territory.

Ability aside, he simply never cared to accomplish them immediately as opposed to pacing them according to his tastes.

Thus, he would do as he wished, just as his ancestors would’ve before him. After all, would his family have become, and stayed for that matter, nobles if they had continued to abide by what was expected?

If anything, would it not be expected of him to differ from the rest of them? A smart person would, he believed.

Which was why he found himself in the markets again, not bothering to put on any sort of disguise. He grew up visiting the nearby towns anyway, with some of the vendors having practically raised him since childhood, so really, what was the point?

“I’m still not convinced this is the best idea,” Deuce sighed, following him a little too far for his liking, “not that my opinion should matter. What you say goes, Lord Ace!”

“You have gotten comfortable enough with me to complain about the tasks I give you, but not comfortable enough to walk a centimeter closer or call me by my given name alone,” Ace teased, putting on a show of scolding his knight. “Your perception of what is more egregious between the three astounds me.”

“It is one thing for you to be alright with it, it is another for the prying ears to be. If it were only up to me, I would talk quite informally to you, too.” Ace need not question who too was referring to, for there was only one other person in the estate Deuce relied on to the extent of comfort: you.

“And I’ve let you change the subject… Really, what will happen if an assassin, or someone who wants to cause you harm, comes across you in broad daylight?”

“Then you’ll deal with them! Although… I may be able to protect myself better than you, hmm?” he laughed, shaking his head at the slight irritation Deuce attempted to hide. He could not get back at him now, but Ace was sure Deuce would attempt to do so the next time they were on the training grounds. “And perhaps I wished to change the subject of our conversation.”

“To?”

“You, perhaps. Our one and only fairy as well, possibly.”

Except, despite his wording, he was positively assured of his choices. Discussing the two of them—well, the three of you, was always a difficult affair when you were around, and Ace is not dense enough to not detect your affection and yet avoidance of him, the scheming nature you seem to possess and yet hold back in front of him but fully show towards Deuce.

He never needed a companion during his trips out, sometimes preferred not to have one, so perhaps his invitation carried impure intentions.

Deuce stiffened and though he tried to pass it off as a simple response to his surroundings, Ace knew better. What could have rendered such a reaction? Was it a secret you, or him, or the both of you together, were hiding? Was it something he ought not to know but would undoubtedly weed out right this second?

“What could you possibly want to know?” his knight inquired, seemingly nervous around him. How uncharacteristic.

“A few things. For starters… There’s something wrong.”

“With what?”

Your name left Ace’s lips. Even to his ears it sounded a bit awkward, like he knew how to say it but barely uttered it outside of his head, at least compared to how Deuce would say it—undoubtedly familiar with you in a way he, too, wanted to be. It’s only then that Ace realized his hypocrisy… or, if hypocrisy was too strong a description, then the humor with the two of you.

His insistence at being just Ace and not Earl Ace or Lord Trappola, yet his persistence in calling you their fairy, their magician.

Maybe it’s the need to remind himself that you’re one of his people, too, without having to commit to actually saying it. Maybe it’s his way of letting you know of your presence in his life, considering you always seemed so insistent on downplaying your importance to him and, if his eyes are working as clearly as he thinks, to Deuce as well.

Really, did you think he played favorites? Because he did, obviously, but the plurality implied he certainly had more than one! For such a scheming being, were you not oddly dense?

“I see…” Deuce muttered. With a hint of embarrassment, Ace figured the knight actually understood, if not completely then partially, his troubles when it came to you. “What could I… Is there any way for me to help?”

Cute. He’d rather gouge his eyes out than admit he thinks it unironically, but he still remembers the rascal that appeared in front of his manor, all roughed up with a scary but determined look on his face. Seeing Deuce be so thoughtful and kind when it comes to both him and you is just plain nice—the heavens know the world needs more people like that around him… and in noble society in general, but he’d rather not share with them.

“Help?”

“With, you know… I could give you advice, or–”

Ace sighed. Speaking of dense… Is there even a good way to say, ‘If the two of you haven’t noticed, I have a severe, desperate need to infiltrate and be a part of whatever it is the two of you have’ without being perceived as rude, or worse, a complete nutter.

Not being able to think of anything, he reluctantly changed the subject.

“Let’s go look around the market. Help the local economy! Purchase a few things for ourselves.”

The man next to him narrowed his eyes, and for a moment Ace genuinely worried that Deuce realized everything. Sure, he mocked the two of you in his head for not understanding him, but he certainly was not ready to reveal anything! Especially without any assurance from either involved party!

The knight did not utter another word for a while, simply guiding him through the stalls, prattling about things you enjoyed. Alongside him, the earl absorbed every piece of information, all the while watching whatever it was the Deuce’s eyes landed on for more than a few seconds.

Ace, whether he was aware of it or not, harbored feelings for you, Deuce was sure of it. He had his assumptions beforehand, mostly due to his increasing number of delusions of all three of you. In any case, there was no doubt in his mind now—he was not alone in harboring feelings for you.

On one hand, he could not blame Ace. You were, for all intents and purposes, his first friend, a cherished friend, thus he understood how the earl could fall for you. If anything, he’s going as far as applauding the choice. If anyone deserves love and adoration, of course it should be you!

On the other hand, he’s reminded of his own troubles. If Ace is troubled with getting you to be more comfortable and closer to him, Deuce is troubled with getting not one, but two people to miraculously like him in the same manner he does. Meanwhile, Deuce can’t even tell if you like either one of them that way! It’s just a mess, truthfully, one he cannot speak of lest all three of you end up in a scandal, so he can do nothing but keep quiet…

Alright, perhaps that was not entirely true. There was something he could do.

“That’s a nice color,” Deuce commented. He can’t really differentiate the stones when they’re all round and smoothed out so he’s not sure if you’re holding a jasper or a carnelian (names he knows only because you had a knack for buying all sorts of stones) or something else entirely, but it’s this blend of orange and red and he knew it was chosen for a reason.

You smiled at him fondly, knowingly, “I’m not surprised you like the color. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re already aware of what I think.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop with the teasing.” You abide by your word, dropping your stare so you could focus on the task at hand—creating an amulet for Ace. “It can’t be helped that I cannot resist either one of you.”

“Then don’t! Did either of us ever imply that you should do as such?” he huffed, “I know for certain that Ace—”

“That I would what, exactly?”

As though caught in the midst of an immoral act, Deuce scrambled to hide everything as quickly as possible for you, shoving the stone in the nearest box he could open. Meanwhile, you were left to face Ace, who made no show of being even the slightest bit apologetic for his intrusion.

“Aren’t nobles meant to have perfect etiquette?” Were you smiling? Yes. Did you look amused? Not particularly. “I’m always happy to see you, Ace, but I can’t say for certain that I appreciate your storming in my quarters without so much as a knock on the door.”

“You don’t look particularly happy right now.” Ace, by contrast, looked particularly happy at your slip up, and Deuce would do his part in not calling you out on it… until Ace left, of course.

But the earl seemed to have no intentions of doing so any time soon, propping himself up against the now-shut door.

“I’m perfectly happy, for sure,” you insisted, and though your face was not betraying it, Deuce thought you truly meant it. “But what are you doing here? You’ve never visited my room before.”

“I meant to look for Deuce to see if he wanted to train–”

You and Deuce locked eyes instantly. You’re trying not to make your change in expression too noticeable, but Deuce has observed you far too many times to not notice. It’s incredibly evident that it embarrassed him, almost, that you could be so happy for him because of something so very simple.

It was a childish sort of glee, which might have been why he accepted it so readily. He never had the chance to experience that sort of situation and he’s not too sure you have either, having a laugh with someone over some puppy love.

“He’s certainly free to do so,” you supplied, “if you want to, you’re free to take him off my hands right now.”

“Ah, but I’ve changed my mind. We train every day, so we should have a change of pace, should we not? Perhaps the tavern that opened the week prior?”

“Hmm, should you really be forgoing training? The current victor of the tournament, the young Rosehearts, will be competing, too.” you interjected. It’s not an outright rejection of a suggestion, but Ace should have prepared a better excuse if this was his plan all along, thought Deuce. Still, he was currently his liege’s number one supporter—more time spent with the both of you? He could not see it as anything but a positive for all parties involved.

“Oh please! What’s one day spent with my two companions instead of training until sundown?” Ace snorted, “And it was different last year! This year, my victory against the young duke is certain.”

“To be sure,” Deuce replied immediately, half out of belief and half out of solidarity of having lost to the same man. Next to him, you nodded your head slowly.

“Then if you’re certain…” What you said about not being able to resist Ace and Deuce must have been true, your reluctance at heading out visibly fading. This time, it’s Ace and Deuce who exchanged a knowing glance, and the same, childish feeling bubbled up within him again.

It’s not quite the trip to the other nation you mentioned to him, but it’s a delightful start, is it not?

“Then the both of you better get changed!” Ace grinned boyishly, “Or don’t! Regardless, I’ll have the carriage prepared by five!”

“Wait a moment, shouldn’t we be calling the carriage for you?!” you exclaimed, but the earl had already left your quarters. “Good riddance. Deuce, could I have the amulet I was working on back? We have some time before we need to leave and… I have the sinking suspicion he won’t leave us alone before the next few days.”

“Definitely. To both statements.” Remembering where he had placed it, he opened up the wooden box to retrieve the stone, only to be distracted by an already completed amulet—a nice blue that reminded him awfully of… ah.

“Deuce? The amulet?” you asked again, shaking him out of his reverie.

“Here.” If you notice anything odd about his expression you do not speak of it, allowing him to leave your room peacefully to ready himself for the awaited excursion.

“I told Deuce I would comfort him should he lose to you… I can’t say I expected this turn of events instead.”

Perhaps Ace should have trained more.

In his defense, he did not think Riddle Rosehearts would have done that well in the tournament considering there were no horses to ride on this season. His athleticism was never the best either during their days at the academy, so even if his swings were passable, his stamina should have run out quickly enough. And yet…

“But next year surely, my liege,” you comforted him, wiping the sweat off of him with a white handkerchief, uncaring of the fact that the both of you were in public or, perhaps, knowing everyone’s eyes would be on the ongoing match rather than the two of you. Even though Ace prided himself of being the (self-designated) mature person amongst the three of you, he did not say no to the opportunity of receiving your attention and affection.

“Besides, not all hope is lost. We can still have the winner come from our house.”

Our house. Ace gleamed at your words. Of course. The ideal situation would have been to face off against his knight, but as much as he wanted to be the winner, Deuce being the victor would have been just as much of a joyous affair for the Trappola Earldom.

“If our Deucey wins, he’ll never let me forget it,” he sighed.

“But it would be worth it, having someone to avenge you, wouldn’t it?” Seemingly having deemed him presentable enough, your hands returned to your lap, handkerchief in tow. It's only then that Ace realizes it.

“Deuce gave you one too,” he said, more amused than anything. “What’d he sew for you?”

You didn't respond but you did smile, so it was likely something meaningful to you. If you were happy, then Deuce must have done a good job at choosing something for you, just as he chose something that well-suited him.

“He did not have to. I’m not competing in this tournament, so…” Again, Ace thought, you were smiling, so what did it matter if Deuce did not have to. Could people not act based on wants, now?

“And yet you’re using it, just as you’re wearing the tassel I gave you.” He grinned, fingers flicking the fringes the color you loved most, allegedly. If Deuce gave him the right information. You liked it enough to keep it on you, at least. “The tassel I did not have to get you.”

“It’s nice. They’re both nice gifts,” you murmured, and even though you’re no longer meeting his gaze he can still tell that you’re being honest. A part of him will attribute it to his amazing observation skills, but another, far warmer part of him knows it’s because he’s gotten to know you better.

The two of you are already by his side, closer than before, and yet it is still not enough.

“What design did Deuce sew for your handkerchief?”

“Don’t pretend like you do not know.” For he knew for a fact that Deuce must have shared it with you, or at the very least failed to hide it from you (just as he failed to hide his tokens from Deuce).

“Then what do you think of it?”

He brought it out of his breast pocket, having tucked it in there before his matches began.

“The hearts are differing in sizes. You can tell there were loose threads he tried cutting as much as possible without ruining the whole work. Still, there are hearts, the symbol of Trappola.” The symbol of Deuce’s dedication and loyalty.

“It’s… I suppose it’s—” You threw him a look, and Ace reluctantly gave in, “—It is good. Give me a break! Nobles tend to have a hard time being honest, you know! If you think I’m bad, you ought to see the rest of them!”

You laughed, “I know, I know. I won’t tell. You should do it by yourself, after all.”

“Only if he wins,” he said, grinning.

“So I’ll tell him for you if he loses?”

“A menace, you are,” he muttered, “I’ll tell him you thought he would lose, then.”

You no longer respond to his taunt, eyes now stuck to the grounds, clearly waiting for a certain blue-haired knight to appear before everyone’s very eyes, but your hands are moving, reaching into one of your pockets as though searching for something.

“I meant to give you something as well,” you said, pulling out two amulets. The stones are different in color, different in shape, but the similar craftsmanship all lead to one creator—you. “I’m aware these types of tokens tend to be given out before the matches, for good luck of course, but I’ve gone and imbued magic so I couldn’t take the risk of disqualification, and thus…”

You’re explaining. Overexplaining, really, in Ace’s humble opinion, every possible meaning you could think of—the importance of the stone’s color, the stone itself, what rune’s been inlaid and what spells you’ve enchanted it with. It’s detailed and clearly an overly complicated process and yes, he cannot deny that his heart is not unaffected by the gesture, but looking at the clearly matching amulets just makes him laugh.

He snatches the red one out of your waiting hand, knowing what was clearly meant for him. His heart had just calmed down and yet it is full again.

So he might have been dense too, but at least he was the first to figure it out. That is a victory in and of itself, one he is never going to forget and let go of. Ever.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing!” He’s thumbing the amulet within his palm, invigorated despite his loss earlier. Even with the magic, he doubts it’s the stone’s doing. “Just thinking of how entertaining things will be from here on out.”

“Because of the match?”

“Sure,” Ace laughed, “because of the match.”

“I still got further into the competition than you,” Deuce argued, nursing his own injuries with one hand and… holding onto your amulet with the other hand. The injured hand. He justified it by saying it was because the amulet had healing properties, as you said, but he was just busy admiring it and thinking of a way to combine it with his (Ace’s) tassel to make a combined good luck charm of some sort.

“Second place is still the first place loser, Loosey-Deucey” mocked Ace, though not out of ill-intent. He knows malice is not at all there by the way he patted him on the back after his duel, the way he beamed at his progress, the way he promised to train harder with him so either one of them could take the young duke down. It’s the sincerity before everything else that makes him take everything he says with a grain of salt.

You seemed to understand all the same, simply allowing the two to go at it with each other since they were unable to do so officially.

“It does not matter. I would have won if it was a competition of fists over swords,” Deuce laughed, “it’s just a shame. There was something I wanted to do if I won, but since I lost, I don’t have it in me to proceed.”

“Pray tell, what could that possibly be, dear Deuce?”

He stared the earl down, shaking his head vehemently. “Absolutely not. You can find out when I win next year, my liege.”

“Is that so?” Ace asked, quirked eyebrow, almost as if he interpreted his personal oath as a challenge to beat. “And if I win instead of you, will you not go about completing this quest of yours?”

Beside him, you stood up.

“Perhaps I should set off—”

“Absolutely not!” Ace interjected just as Deuce reached out to stop you from moving, hand grasping your arm. There’s a momentary confusion—he knows why he stopped you from moving, you and your assumptions on this and that occurring between him and Ace and you wanting to step away from it, but Ace stopping you is…

“Hold on, should I leave?”

“What, no! Nobody’s leaving! I’m not getting up from here either! Are the two of you truly oblivious or are you playing oblivious?” Ace groaned, scrunching up his nose in distress. “Why is being the smartest person in the room such a difficult affair?”

“Rude,” Deuce muttered, before quickly inquiring, “but to what are you referring to?”

Instead of words, Ace made an odd motion with his hands, some triangular gesture that was clearly meant to speak louder than words.

Deuce wants to laugh because it’s an amusing action for a nobleman to be making but humorously, it works well in getting Deuce to understand. It was to be expected, considering he spent much of his time thinking of this exact scenario (albeit, a setting more romantic than the manor’s medical ward, but he’s not in a position to be fussy about the details). He’s trying to catch your eye immediately, but compared to him, you just seem… confused.

Not confused in the sense that you did not understand what Ace was referring to—there was no subtlety in his implications—but more so a general confusion over what was happening.

“I know about Deuce’s feelings, quite obviously, and I was more than certain that his feelings for you had a chance of being reciprocated, so my being here…”

Deuce cannot help himself anymore, and it appears neither can Ace as they both erupt into laughter of chaos and disbelief. Who or what they are laughing at is not a question—it is everything, and then themselves for their own, self-induced stupidity and suffering.

“I get that it might not have been obvious with me, but with Deuce?” Ace exclaimed, astounded at how you failed to realize the knight’s affections. “He could not have made it any more obvious if he tried!”

“Sorry? It’s quite difficult to determine gratefulness versus love versus love…

“And let’s not be a hypocrite as I could say the same for you, my lord! I thought Deuce was plenty obvious about his feelings, and yet, if I am right in regards to the timing of this affair, you’ve just realized it recently,” you huffed, “we are one in the same.”

Deuce stops laughing. Why did it feel like the two of you were blaming him for your respective lack of analytical skills?!

“As long as we agree that’s not my fault! If I was incredibly obvious, as the two of you would put it, the two of you are anything but.” But with Deuce’s insistence, the two of you turn to look at him as though he had grown a second head.

“What? No! We could make an argument for Ace as I was only mostly sure that your feelings for him were reciprocated, but I hardly made any effort to conceal my own.”

“Agreed. It was as clear as day to the point that I thought the two of you had already gotten into a relationship,” laughed Ace, probably the most honest he was going to be for the rest of the day, “and without me! I was quite offended at the thought of being excluded.”

“Like we could ever leave you be, my lord,” you replied, half a joke but fully the truth. “What would have become of us without you in the first place?”

“Like you would ever let us leave you be,” Deuce quipped, having finally absorbed the situation. If it was an accurate assessment, Ace had no plans of letting them know, merely grinning in response. “What would become of you had we not arrived at your estate?”

“Well there would be far less rumors about me, for one.” Still, the Earl Trappola will remain himself, the need to appear as though he had the upper hand when they all knew the feelings shared between them were of equal measure. Still, with a singular gesture, the two of them walk towards their liege—amulet clanging against his remaining armor, tassels swaying with your very steps.

“But who cares about that, right?” Deuce replied, knowing it would be what Ace wished to hear—after all, he’d been pretty apparent about it since day one. As they neared him, Ace pulled them closer, making sure the both of them sat on either side of him.

Then, Deuce heard the door lock. Ace and Deuce both turned to you, the obvious culprit, and you merely shrugged. “I know we’re not supposed to care, but let’s not cause a scandal today of all days! Who knows how many prying eyes there are in the estate!”

“Too many. Don’t be surprised if a strongly worded, but supportive, letter from either father or my brother arrives at our doorstep tomorrow morning,” Ace snorted, “Just hope it’s not some distant relative. I’m sure there are some spies prowling in our manor as we speak.”

“There won’t be any if we deal with them!” Deuce declared, “We’ll protect your dignity, my lord!”

You nod in agreement just as Ace smiles. “I’ll hold you two to that!”

There are other things Deuce wants to declare, to ask and to question. He wants to know what they are now, what will change between the three of them, and what will be of them in the future. He wants to ask and yet it doesn’t feel quite right, not now, perhaps because he already knows, and what he knows is not mere fantasy but reality.

Dear Madam, Good day to you. I hope you do not mind if I skip the formalities. Until this fairy learns how to send letters with magic alone, the cost of these letters will unfortunately be priced according to how many sheets of paper we use up. In any case, Deuce must have updated you about everything that has happened in his letters. He must have also mentioned that the earl and I will be sending you letters to ask for your permission or blessing or whatever word it had been that the earl had used. In truth, we had been mostly joking regarding that. Ace—the earl—does not believe that the process of seeing one another requires permission from one’s parents, he is far from traditional, but we had come to the agreement to push through with the letters first due to the unusual state of our relationship—that being that we are all seeing one another, with one party not being human and another one being the noble we serve. Foremost, we agreed to send our letters out of respect for you, as we’ve long known what you mean to our knight, and what he means to you, his mother. As previously mentioned, I believe Deuce has told you much of our household affairs and much of his life, but I believe you would appreciate knowing how we see him. I am certain you know that your son spends much of his time training to become a splendid knight, and I am sure you would be happy to know that, day by day, he arrives closer to his goal. It would only make sense considering his sparring partner is none other than our competitive lord as well (and tell not the earl, too, but after keeping track of their victories and defeats, Deuce may have a lead on the tally). His skills are not which I wish to share the most, however. Ace and I have learned from Deuce about his past, we’ve known for some time now. Constant is his worry, just as constant is his change. His warmth and the good of his heart has become more evident than ever, and should Deuce not come to see you soon, we will be the ones to present him to you. (A mere jest. If it were Ace, he would find a way to bring you to the earldom.) That is all I can say for now. With your approval, madam, I hope we could become close correspondents. I would love to tell you more about Deuce, Ace, and myself, as well as know more about you yourself. Faithfully yours,

Ace’s arm wraps against your shoulder just as you’re signing the letter off with your name, loudly talking your ear off about how he just won against Deuce (as expected, he tells you). It’s a tie now, though you know you won’t correct the tally you mentioned in your letter.

Deuce, meanwhile, chalks it all up to luck, some sleight of hand the earl must have pulled, and swears he’ll beat him tomorrow. You want to tell Deuce to try twice as hard, just so you won’t tell his mother a lie. Instead, you joke that they both need to try harder else you come out as next year’s victor.

They’re shouting now, mostly about how you’ve finally picked up their competitive spirit, about how you’re challenging them, about how they won’t go easy on you and about how you shouldn’t go easy on them. It’s a whole lot of noise one after another but, unsurprisingly, it fits your very idea of a peaceful day.

“You’re smiling. Is that your way of saying you’re confident you’ll beat us?” You stare at Ace for a moment, wondering if you’ll lie, before shaking your head.

“Not at all. I’m just happy.”

You don’t play it for laughs or take it back, finding comfort in the fact that you can leave the truth just as that.

“What has made you so softhearted, huh?” You know you’ve got them when Ace can only scratch his neck and Deuce can only cover his ears, perhaps knowing it would match the hue of his liege’s hair. “As long as you're happy, then.”

It’s a rare moment of silence in the estate, and while you know one of the three of you will break it soon enough, you appreciate it while it lasts. You think to yourself, even the quiet can be peaceful, too. Peace is, and yet beyond, the volume of one’s chatter, the clashing of their swords; the quietness of their breaths and the unheard beat of their hearts.

Beyond sound, peace is a place, a place you have found with them.

end notes | masterlist

[ 1 ] Decided to just leave the details about Reader’s tassel (from Ace) and handkerchief (from Deuce) blank, mostly since I didn’t feel too comfortable assigning something for them.

[ 2 ] As per my research, “In the Regency period (1811 - 1820) it was very expensive to send a letter. The cost of postage could be as much as a day's wages for a working man”. Of course, Deuce and the Reader have Ace to pay for the letter since they’re all sending it together (and I am not going for historical accuracy, lol), but I figured they’d still be conscious to cut to the chase to write as much as possible per sheet of paper.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader x deuce spade #adeuyuu #twst imagines #twst #nathya twst writing #nathya comm pieces #twisted wonderland

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sadesluvr · 22 days

Text

Parting Gift

You love Mike, but he's jaded.

Mike Schmidt x GN! Reader

A/N: Something for my FNAF fans! I’ve been watching too much HBO and wanted to write angst, so this fic features a realistic Mike Schmidt. This features hints of Vanessa x Mike, but also his emotional problems in general. We love him, but I don’t think its controversial to say that being in a relationship with him would be difficult...

Please read my other Mike works if this isn’t your kind of thing!

Set post movie.

Word count: 1.6K

Tags: ANGST / SMUT / Gender Neutral Reader / Reader is human as has weird emotions / Breakups / Hints of jealousy + rage / Hints of fluff / Bittersweet stuff, really

You never went inside.

As a detective, you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. You’d been to hospitals thousands of times; speaking to suspects, injured colleagues or even to address the dreaded ‘call’, and yet the thought of watching Mike and Abby leave handmade cards at Vanessa “Shelly’s” bedside made you violently ill.

You knew everything that had gone down at the defunct Freddy Fazbear’s, and it had plagued you to no end. Though Abby and Mike’s relationship had certainly turned for the better, you were angry, frustrated at the fact that he’d been hurt, not only from being physically punted across the room, but the fact he’d had to stare his brother’s killer in the eye, virtually powerless to it all. Even more so, you were pissed that Vanessa had become a factor in your lives.

You’d only been dating Mike for just under a year, meeting him in a rather cliched manner at a donut stand in the mall. An exchange of numbers turned into casual check-ins, which soon evolved into a relationship – or at least parts of one. It was no secret that Mike was guarded; letting you in, but not too close enough to get overly attached. At first, it felt like you were made for each other – you felt a similar way about you line of work, and how you operated with people because of it – but closer towards those crucial few months of the new year it had begun to grow tedious.

You weren’t expecting a whirlwind, all-consuming romance, but it certainly wasn’t supposed to feel like this; with days of missed calls, unexplained outbursts and erectile dysfunction making being with him feel like a chore. Some days, you wondered why you’d even bothered asking for his number. Most days, you wondered why he’d responded at all.

Deep down, you knew none of this was his fault. He'd been fighting to survive since he was a teenager, and it was only inevitable that he’d develop issues. Being a detective meant you were all the more receptive to them, understanding the nuances of why people became the way that they were, and it was painfully clear to you why Mike had changed since the incident.

He and Vanessa were both conjoined, victims of William Afton in their own ways, yet both bound by blood. You’d been there when he’d stopped on the way home to visit her, listening from the outside as you supervised Abby. Why couldn’t you all go in? It wasn’t as if it were a particularly gory scene; it merely looked like she was sleeping. Why had he made you all wait?

“Vanessa, I don’t know if… you can hear any of this, but, um… I’m having a hard time just processing everything that happened.

But you were there for me and Abby when it mattered the most.

And I don’t think that either of us would be here today if it weren’t for you.

So… So get better. And we’ll be here when you wake up.”

The words were as clear as day. Hadn’t you been there for them? Tried to give Abby a sense of a stable life? Tried to help with bills? Offering to send him to counselling? Why had it taken a near fatal murder attempt for Mike to wake up?

Now, with all the fallout, you were all left with far more questions than answers…and this time you didn’t have the energy to try and solve them.

“Abby’s sleeping,” you announced, poking your head through the door. Mike was rummaging around his room, trying to prepare himself for work in the morning – a menial task for some, but strangely methodical to him in the moment. He didn’t answer.

“Abby’s sleeping,” you repeated, and he perked up, a flustered smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Oh...” he said, clearing his throat. “Thanks. I guess I lost track of time…”

“Yeah.” you mumbled, leaning against the doorframe, clearly waiting for something…you just didn’t know what.

“Thanks —“ he said after a moment of silence, his soft brown eyes gazing into your own. You could see him nervously gnawing on the inside of of his cheek. “—For helping. I really do appreciate it. I’m not trying to seem like a douche, there’s just been a lot on my mind recently.”

“I’m not surprised,” you hummed, strolling into the room. “But it’s been bugging you for a while now. Don’t you want to…you know…talk to someone?”

Mike paused and cocked his head.

“Like a therapist?”

“That would be a good option,” you hummed, trying not to dance around the subject. “Or you can speak to me. I won’t even psychoanalyse you, I could just listen, y’know?”

He bit his lip again, this time glancing down at the floor before back at you. You couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking, but he was certainly showing signs of restraint. Restraint. It seemed to be the defining word in your relationship.

“…I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Oh, but Vanessa would, right?”

He flinched at your raised voice, and glanced nervously down the hall.

“That’s not what I meant —“

“Then what do you mean, Mike?” you huffed, crossing your arms. “You met her a month ago, whilst I’ve known you for a year! You’ve never once given me as much grace as you have her. Ever!”

“I had a lot on my plate, okay? It wasn’t easy.”

“I know that! But I was there for you. I watched you pick up those prescriptions, I tried to be a role model to Abby, to help take the load off all those payments, and I got nothing!” you yelled. “I wasn’t asking for a mile, but you didn’t even give me an inch.”

Mike didn’t respond, instead he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the stray strands away from his face before he rubbed his eyes.

“How is it that you can mend every relationship you have except the one you willingly chose to be in?” You said, voice wavering as you watched him sink into the bed. It was his natural response; life was crushing and had done so many times, but his lack of fight was extremely telling. He could stand off with a serial killer and haunted animatronics, but not muster a few words to reassure his partner?

He was just too complicated for you to understand.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, shaking his head absentmindedly before looking up at you. “Maybe I didn’t think this through…”

You knew what that meant, and even though you’d been anticipating it – even manifesting it yourself – it didn’t make the blow any easier. Sighing, you steadied your week knees by sitting on the bed next to Mike, grasping at the bedsheets as you stared blankly around the room. For once, it felt like you were both in the same page.

“I love you,” he said, breaking the tension. You glanced at him, taking in the fact that his eyes were welling with tears and jaw clenched, and you could tell that he meant it. “I really did, y’know? I tried.”

You nodded, rubbing at your cheeks anxiously before kissing him. His lips were slightly chapped, but you didn’t mind, losing yourself in the way he drew you into his body with you hands, clinging onto you as he made a desperate plea to attempt to reach out to you for a final time.

Before you knew it, you back was against the mattress, and Mike was on-top of you, hurriedly pulling down his sweatpants before doing the same to you. As your lower torso lay exposed, he pressed a kiss to your stomach, making his way around your belly button and down towards your privates. Shutting your eyes, you wondered what your relationship could’ve been if every time felt like this; electric and passionate…with intent.

Once he’d slipped his boxers to the side, you gave his erect cock a few languid strokes before inserting him into you, letting out a broken moan as he adjusted to being inside of you. Mike’s eyes fluttered shut as he sighed, and you remembered just how beautiful he looked in his (rare) moments of bliss.

He stabilised himself on his forearms as he watched you, rolling his hips as he explored your hole, searching for that all-important sweet spot. The room may have been dimly lit; the darkness of night encroaching upon the walls, but he could see you all too clearly. It pained him that he hadn’t before – no, he had, but he didn’t know how to express it – and wondered just how much different things would’ve been had he not met Vanessa, hell, had he not attacked that man that fateful day. He knew some things had changed for the better, some for the worst, and some that only time would tell – and he had a sneaking suspicion that you fell into the latter.

His mind was hell, but it felt like heaven to be inside you.

Leaning down, he placed a sloppy kiss to your lips before moving to your neck, groaning as you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

“Mike...” you moaned. “You’re so good to me...”

‘For me’ was left unuttered.

“Please...” you begged; your words almost inaudible over the creaking of his bedframe, and his heavy thighs slapping against your own as he rutted into you. “Cum for me. I need it...”

Mike nodded, damp strands of his fringe glued to his forehead as he pushed into you a final time, his legs trembling as he came. It was unfathomable that in the heat of his pleasure – the best orgasm you’d had together – he wanted to cry. Breathlessly, you held him as he rode off his high, so tightly that you thought you might’ve pierced his skin, before you spoke your final words into the night.

“I love you too...” you whispered. “I’m sorry...for everything.”

You were gone before sunrise.

#florence writes!!#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x gn!reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf angst #mike schmidt x reader angst #mike schmidt x male reader #fnaf x gn! reader #angst imagines

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

Note

Holii <3 If it's not too much trouble, I wanted to ask for relationship headcanons for vile, rook, leona and azul discovering that their mc fem is actually a real angel (you know, with wings, ethereal, believer in god, etc) but at first It didn't seem like it since mc is usually stubborn and very naughty, quite the opposite of what you would expect from an angel hehe thanks and take care <3 ^^

wings of pure white but a devilish smile

Characters: Vil, Rook, Leona, Azul

Synopsis: Where you're an actual angel in all senses but your personality, and you decide to tell your lover the truth. Would he believe you?

Tags: fem reader, bot proofread

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: Thanks for asking, this was very fun to think about! Everyone's part is gender neutral except Rook because I have no idea how to write gender neutral French with my very beginner levels oopsie

Part 2 ✧ Masterlist

Vil loves you, he really does

only sometimes you get on his nerves with how mischievous you are

still, as long as you don’t push his buttons too much, you’re good

so when you tell him you’re an angel, he just raises an elegant eyebrow

"Come on, darling, you can't be serious. If anything, I’d imagine you to be a devil, not an angel," he says teasingly

try to convince him, and he’ll just think you’re toying with him

you explain that, duh, of course not angels are ‘angelic’

you’re living beings(?) too, how would you expect everyone to act the same?

still a bit sceptical, but he can't deny the sincerity in your eyes

he gives you the benefit of the doubt and listens attentively as you explain how you guide souls to heaven

okay you seem very serious about it now

is only going to be fully convinced when you show him your wings

he loves how soft they are and definitely helps you with wing care, helping you with magical dust baths, preening your feathers, etc.

he won’t show it too much, but he’s so happy his lover is such a beautiful creature, you make him feel acknowledged for his hard work

Vil shakes his head in disbelief. "But you're so stubborn and mischievous, and you don't act like an angel at all." Crossing his arms, he hums in thought, "Truly, I’m more inclined to believe Neige would be an angel than you."

He huffs arrogantly, "Why, of course my lover is an angel. You’re the only one who’s beautiful enough to stand beside me as equals!"

He smiles at you and pulls you close, holding you tightly. "I don't care if you’re an angel, a devil, or any other creature," he murmurs, his eyes full of love. "I love you for who you are, not what you are," he says, then gently pecks your forehead.

Rook adores you

he is so captivated by you, and he greatly enjoys how your stubborn and mischievous always pushed him to his limits

in truth, he already thinks you’re an angel

"Ma chérie, you are more beautiful than any angel I have ever seen," he says, taking your hand in his and kissing it

when you tell him that, no, you’re an actual angel, he’s a bit taken aback, but he’s mostly in awe that something so great is right in front of him

once the shock passes, he’s beaming with admiration though

he spews compliment after compliment in a slur of French, looking very excited at the new revelation

if you tell him to calm down, he’ll slow down the string of compliments, but it’s clear that he’s buzzing with energy

as you explain to him what it is that you do, he’ll appreciate you even more

he’s so enamoured with your wings!!! they’re soft and white just like doves

definitely helps you with wing care, using his keen eye as a hunter, he’ll help you clean and repair any damaged feathers

Rook's eyes widen in awe. " Un ange?" he repeats, almost incredulously. " C'est incroyable, ma douce !" He reaches for your hands and holds them in his, "Mon ange, je le savais dès que je vous ai vu! Je suis vraiment honoré et choyé d'être en votre présence !"

Translation: "An angel? That’s incredible, my sweet! My angel, I knew it as soon as I saw you! I am truly honoured and blessed to be in your presence!"

"Oh, la femme de mon coeur, you have such a marvellous duty! Truly, your kindness shines through beautifully! Caring for wayward souls and leading them to their destination, c'est très magnifique! "

Translation: "Oh, the lady of my heart... how very magnificent !"

Rook can't help but smile. "You're amazing," he says. "I've always been drawn to you because of your beauty, but now I see that there's so much more to you than that. You're an angel, mon amour, and I'm in awe of you. No matter what you are, or where you come from, you'll always be beautiful and enchanting to me." he says, his voice filled with sincerity.

Leona sees you as someone who is stubborn, mischievous, and always up for a challenge

he enjoys your company and all the chaos that follows with you, and admires your strong will, but he finds you unpredictable and sometimes frustrating

teasing you and pushing your buttons is like his favourite pastime

he really cares about you and it shows in his protectiveness

but when you tell him you’re an angel, he just looks at you like "Herbivore, the hell are ya yappin' on about?", a look of pure vexation on his face

are you seriously interrupting his nap with this nonsense???

oh wait, you’re actually serious

sits up and prompts you to start explaining yourself

doesn’t completely believe you until you show him your wings

he’ll start putting pieces together in his mind and he asks you some very thoughtful questions, like how angels are born, how the whole system works, etc.

he has some newfound respect for you now

it must be difficult having to be the one to tell souls their life has ended

not to mention seeing all sorts of tragedies

will help you with wing care and he's surprisingly gentle, but may also tease you to take care of him too

Leona snorts in disbelief, "You're kidding, right? Aren’t you the one who’s always causin’ trouble? That's the complete opposite of what I would expect from an angel."

His mind is racing with questions as he studies your wings. "Are you pullin' my leg right now?" he finally manages to say, his voice tinged with annoyance, but you can definitely hear his awe. "You're tellin' me that you're actually a real angel? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I mean, you're nothing like what I expected an angel to be," he smirks.

"Well, I'll be damned," he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. "I never would've guessed in a million years. Heh, you're full of surprises, herbivore," he says as his hands ruffle your hair. " I may not believe in all that divine stuff, but I'll admit, seeing your wings is pretty cool."

Azul sees you as someone who is loving and devoted to him, but also stubborn and mischievous

he's used to dealing with mischief with floyd and he much prefers you given you have logic and reasoning most of the time

but our businessman is rather science brained, so he's not that inclined to believe you if you just tell him

especially given your behaviour

while you're his Angelfish, he wouldn't expect you to be an actual angel

he leans back in his chair and regards you thoughtfully, "My dear, while you are my Angelfish, I didn't expect it in a literal sense... Well, you certainly have the mischievousness of a devil, but I suppose it's not impossible that you could be an angel. Show me then, if you wish."

when he sees your wings, he'll be blushing so hard, in awe of how beautiful you are

may have a thought or two about capitalising on your feathers

but he wouldn't, this greedy octopus is gonna keep you all to himself

would definitely research wing care meticulously and find innovative and cost effective methods to make things more convenient for you

"Are those...are those real?" Azul stutters, still in disbelief. You nod, extending your wing toward him. He walks towards you slowly, his eyes fixed on your majestic wings. Reaching out hesitantly, he runs his fingers over the feathers, feeling the softness and delicacy of each one. "They're beautiful," Azul whispers, awestruck.

Azul can’t help but chuckle. "I suppose I have no choice but to believe you now. You truly are a wonder, my dear Angelfish."

Azul hugs you tightly. "I'm so lucky to have you. I don't care if you're an angel or not. You're still the same mischievous and stubborn girl that I fell in love with, as long as you’ll have me."

Part 2 ✧ Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 7 days

Text

luxiem as bad sex

don’t worry about it this is mostly for the lolz. might fuck around and do this for other livers next time i feel restless. make sure to properly communicate with your partner

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, smut, humor/crack, chatfic in shu’s entry, public sex, uki violeta cameo, cheating/ntr mention, just imagine the baldur’s gate 3 scene with the luxiem guy of your choice you know what i’m talking about

⚠️ nsfw under the cut. content not intended for minors.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖋 Ike Eveland: anatomy

there is a chance that, when you sleep with ike, despite his title, it’s his first time.

25% chance says that he fully does not know what he’s doing, and asks you for a full-blown tutorial on how to stick part a into part b.

25% chance says that he fully does not know what he’s doing but he doesn’t even admit to it. it’s a lot of trial and error and insistence that no, don’t worry, i got this when he very clearly does not.

25% chance that, for the first time in his life, eroge has come in clutch. he understands! kind of. it’s more like as he penetrates you he tries to compare your sounds to the moans of eroge characters. the more you sound like a hentai protagonist the better. it’s also worth noting he pumps into you to the beat of a huniepop song that worked its way into his head while he was trying to figure out what’s a good or bad sound.

and finally 25% chance that it’s just fine.

but let it be known that he 100% does not know how to find the clit. barely knows how to find the prostate either. ike won’t admit to either of these things

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro: openness

never let it be said luca is solitary. he’s social and likes to explore different spaces. it means dates happen often, and so does getting dragged off to give him head in public.

this would be fine if it was a bathroom stall. you know, the standard couple spots. what you didn’t expect was in a fairly open alley. or an amusement park ride with automatic souvenir pictures. or on the shady side of a beach full of people.

hell, even when you get into a changing room while shopping there’s still a risk. he’s gotten you to jack him off while wearing not-yet-purchased jeans more than once and as exciting as it was you have no clue what happened to the poor retail workers that had to find them hanging on the return-to-hanger rack.

at home he leaves doors open since it’s just the two of you, including when he goes down on you. he leaves them open when there’s guests, too, and guides you into your bedroom when he needs a break from talking to people. the doors are still open. you’re a master at being quiet but sometimes his puppy wanders around looking for his owner, and…

(side note: not about sex but i just know he would leave the door open or walk in on you using the bathroom and that terrifies me)

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino: attentiveness

Me: hey

Me: are you awake??

taro_twink: abt to sleep

taro_twink: what do you want shu

Me: idk c:

taro_twink: so you blew up my phone??? bitch??

Me: fjakajsjsldj i wanted to talk to my friend!

taro_twink: wish granted

taro_twink: wyd?

Me: reader

taro_twink: don’t text on a date

Me: we’re at home

taro_twink: go spend time with reader then ffs

Me: i am

Me: reader feels really nice c:

taro_twink: wait

Me: and i like making reader say my name too

taro_twink: SHSKDKLSJA

taro_twink: WHAT FHE FUXK

taro_twink: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TEXTINF ME RIFHT NOW

taro_twink: SHU YAMINO WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU

Me: dw reader hasn’t noticed my phone yet

taro_twink: THIS ISNT ABOUT READER ITS ABOUT ME

Me: my phone is by the pillow so it’s hard to see

taro_twink: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TEXTING WHILE SCREWING SOMEONE????????????

Me: yea :homiekiss:

taro_twink: you are fucked up and i’m going to bed

taro_twink: so done with you jfc

taro_twink: gn

taro_twink: bye

taro_twink: if you say anything else i’m blocking your number

Me: you’re no fun

taro_twink: you are literally texting me while you’re doing your partner i don’t want to hear it

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma: names

vox is noisy. delightfully so. it’s easy to communicate with him because he’s unconsciously vocal whenever he likes something.

these sounds, however, are usually limited to grunts, moans and cries. all well and good, but when things get more intense, he’s more inclined to scream your name.

and when his dick is in your mouth he can’t think straight, in the worst way.

this is just to say that even when you’re not roleplaying, he’s cried out a lot of names that aren’t yours. usually celebrities or fictional characters. you’ve lost count of how many tall/dark/handsome guys with long hair he’s cum to, or sassy women. hell, his celebrity crushes don’t even look like you.

if you have cheating fantasies this is excellent. if you have ntr fantasies, excellent as well. what isn’t excellent, however, is how last time you poured wax on him while fucking him from behind, he buried his face into the pillow and whimpered out your coworker’s name.

he was very lucky you didn’t have more wax to splash him with

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#ike eveland #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro #luca kaneshiro x reader #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #vox akuma #vox akuma x reader #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #ike eveland smut #luca kaneshiro smut #shu yamino smut #vox akuma smut #4402 writes #hear me out i just KNOW he can’t find the c/it

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flightlessangelwings · 2 years

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I know there’s other posts out there but I wanted to make a comprehensive post about being completely inclusive when writing reader inserts. Everyone has their own perspective and ideas so I wanted to share my thoughts and tips that I use myself when I’m writing. Of course I most likely forgot things as well so feel free to add on if you think of something I missed and I’ll add it to the list here!

Quicke note before we get to it: if you spot something on this list that you’ve done before, don’t beat yourself up about it. We all slip up and make mistakes. Just learn from it and keep it in mind for the future! As readers, we understand that it’s near impossible to include every single individual that could possibly read your work, but the point is to be as inclusive as possible with your writing.

Under a cut for length and to make sure you always see the most updated list when you click on it! Reblogs are very much appreciated too, especially if you’re a writer so we can all learn and grow and be better!

Labeling your reader (a guide to terminology)

Gender neutral (gn)- no pronouns, no gendered nicknames, no mentions of genitals

Assigned female at birth (afab)- no pronouns, no gendered nicknames, reader usually has a vagina

Assigned male at birth (amab)- no pronouns, no gendered nicknames, reader usually has a penis

Female/fem/f- she/her pronouns, traditionally femme nicknames, reader usually has a vagina

Male/m- he/him pronouns, traditionally masc nicknames, reader usually has a penis

Non-binary (nb)- usually they/them pronouns, reader can have either a vagina or a penis

Quick note: terminology changes often and as far as I know this is the most up to date on being inclusive with labeling readers. If it changes or if anyone has suggestions I’ll update this.

If you do want to assign your reader character some type of label, please tag it appropriately. Lots of poc writers like to write black, Latine, Asian, etc readers for example. Or other examples are plus size reader, short reader, tall reader, nerdy reader, shy reader, sporty reader, etc.

Don’t be afraid to write a trans character too! Trans characters can have either the opposite genitalia from their birth assignment or the same, everyone is different! There’s a big lack in trans reader representation!

Please note too that just because reader is labeled one way does not necessarily mean they are cisgender. People can be non-binary and use she/her or he/him pronouns. There’s no need to label your reader as cis at all

And please don’t label your readers' sexuality as straight. Bi/pan/demi/queer people can be attracted to a male character but that does not mean they are exclusively into men. It alienates queer readers.

Inclusive with skin tones

Please do not use “blush” or “flush” or anything like that! I know that’s one of the top issues when being inclusive with skin tones. But those words have the connotation that the skin turns red or pink, and while everyone is capable of their skin warming, it doesn’t always show the same especially on darker skin. Instead, try something like “you felt your skin heat up” or “your palms felt sweaty” or “you felt flustered.” Focus more on the emotions and what reader is feeling or thinking or physically reacting rather than saying reader blushed.

Be careful when describing bruises or injuries. Not all bruises get bright red for example. Instead, try mentioning blood stain, swelling, or just use “discolored” or “beat up” or something like that.

Not everyone’s skin turns red when slapped so just avoid “your skin reddened” altogether.

Not everyone has pink nipples, just skip describing the color altogether

Or pink lips. Again just skip the color description

While all skin is able to get burned, not everyone’s skin turns red/pink from being in the sun. Instead use more feeling descriptors like “your skin felt hot from the sun” or even describing peeling would be ok.

Don’t say that reader looks like an established character.

“Knuckles turned white” doesn’t happen with everyone so just leave it out. Focus more on muscles straining or something instead.

Avoid the phrase “you look white as a ghost” when referring to reader.

If you want to mention makeup, just leave it general and don’t specify colors or shades or anything like that. Not all shades show up the same on all skin tones.

Overall, it’s best to just avoid skin tone indicators and anything describing color on the skin. That simple thing makes a world of difference in inclusivity. The more you do it, the easier and more natural it’ll feel until it’s second nature! Your readers will be extremely appreciative of it!

Inclusive with hair

Not everyone can run their fingers through their hair. Textured/curly hair gets caught or someone may not have hair long enough (or any hair) to run their fingers through.

Instead, try something like “fiddled with your fingers/ear/clothes”

Not everyone has hair long enough to tie up/back so it’s best to just not mention it at all. Your reader can just imagine how they want their hair for the scene.

If you want a more formal look, just “you styled yourself nicely” something like that is enough.

Some people enjoy hair pulling in sex, some don’t. Hair touching can be very upsetting for some people, especially people of color. If you want to include it, just make sure to add it in the tags/warnings so readers are aware before they get into it

Inclusive with language

Please don’t assume your reader doesn’t speak Spanish! (This is aimed mostly at those who write Latino characters because I see this a lot)

If a character is speaking Spanish, you can either use italics to indicate the language change or provide a translation right there. Avoid adding “you didn’t understand” with that.

Instead you can use something like “you didn’t hear” so your reader can interpret for themselves if it’s because they don’t understand or they simply didn’t hear.

Or use phrases like “he said X in Spanish” for either praises, curses, etc. it leaves it more open for all readers.

I know it’s tempting but please don’t use google translate to write in another language. It’s fine or a word or a phrase but when it goes into full sentences then it gets a little funky. Try consulting with a native speaker if you can!

When writing in Spanish, please note that n and ñ are not interchangeable!

Inclusive with body shape and size

Don’t assume your reader is thin or short and the character can easily pick them up or toss them around. If you want to specify a short reader, please tag it.

Also the opposite: done assume reader is taller than a character too!

If you want character to pick up reader, please include it in your warnings.

Limbs generally don’t weigh as much so something like “he hiked you leg over his shoulder” while laying down is more inclusive (I’m short and can pick up limbs from my clients at my day job so trust me your leg itself doesn’t weigh a lot)

Avoid “you got up on your tiptoes to kiss him” because not everyone is short. Instead just say “leaned over/in to kiss” or “angled yourself to kiss” something more generalized

Usually describing a hug/holding reader/cuddling is fine but don’t get overly specific on how much a character is able to wrap their arms around the reader and fit their arms fully around reader. Writing a tight embrace or an engulfing hug should still be fine since it can be a show of emotions.

Wearing a characters clothes. Not everyone can fit their fav’s size and not everyone will “drown in his shirt.”

Again the opposite is true too: not everyone has curves or thick thighs or big breasts or a big ass. Plus size and curvy readers are important to write too since representation is lacking, but just be sure to tag it properly!

Inclusive with background in general

For this section, the goal is more to be aware of certain things and to be sure to include proper tags and warnings more than avoiding things completely. Readers understand that there is the element of fantasy in reading fanfiction but sometimes a certain aspect can be triggering or upsetting or can knock the immersion out so it just important to be aware and have tags and warnings before your fic!

Be careful when describing readers family because that can be hard for some readers. Not everyone has a good relationship with their family. Yes sometimes a backstory is needed for plot and people can pretend for the sake of the story. Just be sure to include in your warnings for the story, especially if it’s either a really good or really bad relationship.

If you’re making up family members for reader, be it siblings or kids, try to be aware of what their names are. Typically white names won’t fit every background so just be aware of that. Or try just using nicknames instead!

Religion. Just don’t mention it at all unless it’s properly tagged and warned for.

Around the holidays especially, Christmas fics are very popular but please be aware that not everyone celebrates the same holidays! Be sure to tag and warn for any holidays that they could be celebrating. And please don’t write Jewish characters celebrating Christmas.

Don’t make your reader biologically related to a white character. If you absolutely want to, there’s options like step family, adopted, childhood friends that are closer than family, etc.

Reader’s job is usually something you have more leeway with in order to fit your story but just be sure to tag it appropriately. Disabled readers for example can’t always imagine themselves in certain jobs so it’s just something to keep in mind.

When creating a backstory for reader, try to think outside your own experience and make sure it’s not something that poc readers can’t relate to or wouldn’t have had the same experience from. If you’re unsure just put it in the tags/notes beforehand.

This one is more aimed at Americans but please remember that not everyone reading lives in the US. Sometimes yes, a setting is necessary, but please be open to the fact that people from all over the world read fics. If it’s set in the US, especially when the canon setting is elsewhere, please note it beforehand.

There’s really no need to give your reader an age as it can alienate a lot of readers. Sometimes it can be inferred through context but I find that outright giving reader a specific age is very excluding. There are plenty of people in fandom who are not in their 20s so please don’t assume everyone reading is. And it sends a message to anyone in their 30s or older that they don’t belong when every other fic is a very young reader character. Obviously don’t write smut about minors too but that should go without saying.

If you’re at the point where your reader has a name, it’s no longer a reader insert but an original character. Nicknames or code names are totally fine, but please don’t give reader a name.

And if you are writing an oc, please keep it out of the reader tag. Use the oc tags.

Inclusive with art and moodboards

Please include poc when making moodboards for your fics!! I know from personal experience it can be hard to find the right pic you want, but I promise with some digging it’s possible.

Follow models of color pages here on tumblr, there’s unsplash, Pinterest (I know it’s not the best site but I have found a lot of poc pics there) and other sites too. Curate pictures to save for later when you can!

When it comes to art for reader insert fics, please don’t default to a white woman all the time. It’s disheartening to see white women used for “reader” in 90% of art or more. It makes poc feel like they aren’t welcome and that it isn’t meant for us. My personal opinion is that reader should be just a shadowy figure or outline or something vague like that. Or use a few different body types and skin tones.

General inclusive tips

These aren't specific to skin tone or anything but rather little things that can help your reader feel more immersed in your story in general. I know some writers have a specific image in mind when writing but these are little things I’ve noticed that can knock the fantasy out for me so I wanted to share some thoughts and pointers. These are lower pressure points and not as big a deal but I did want to include them anyway.

Instead of specifying food or drink, write something like “your favorite (whatever)” or don’t even mention what they make or eat. Just say they made something or they ate something, your readers can fill in for themselves that’s on the plate

If a character buys reader flowers or something, don’t specify the flower. Either leave it vague or use “your favorite flowers”

Instead of a specific outfit, leave it vague or don’t mention at all. Sometimes a certain kind of outfit is required for situations (like a formal event or ball or something), but even then you can use something like “a gown in your favorite color” or “a formal outfit that flattered you well.”

Adding on with the clothing point: please tag if you’re describing clothing in a fantasy type setting. While clothing itself has no gender, sometimes trans and nb people can get hit with dysphoria if you’ve got reader wearing a skirt or something like it with no warning. Either just leave it out, leave it vague, or warn for it!

In the case of an AU or a fantasy setting you have more wiggle room with clothing but still try to leave it more vague if possible.

Same with shoes. Not everyone likes/can wear heels so keep that in mind

To wrap up, please be aware when writing your reader inserts. It’ll get easier with practice the more you consciously do it! And please listen to poc writers/readers when we ask for inclusivity! And support writers of color too! Thank you for reading and taking it all in because I know this was a lot!

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me-gongoga · 2 years

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ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪ ᴇᴠᴇʀ | ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴꜱᴏɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Summary: back home in Hawkins for spring break, you get roped into a game of 'never have i ever' by your friends. but the night takes a turn when eddie accidentally stumbles upon a secret you've been keeping for months

Pairing: eddie munson x reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 4.2k

Tags: aged-up characters (early 20s). fluff/angst, friends to lovers, alcohol use/drug ref, happy ending, no use of y/n

It’s tradition. Every break from college, you head home to Hawkins and meet up with your old crew. Not everyone always makes it, but whatever rag-tag group gets scrounged together is usually more than enough. With graduation on the horizon, you’re happy to see anyone in Hawkins these days.

Tonight, it’s almost a full house, schedules and school breaks aligning. Seven of you are cramped around the old coffee table in Nancy’s basement, laughter abundant and drinks in hand.

Steve proposes ‘Never Have I Ever’ after getting absolutely tossed at darts three times in a row by Robin. And Nancy—three deep in the same room with two of her exes—more than hastily produces a handle of vodka to reward each round’s ‘winner’.

Jonathon and Steve sit at opposite ends of the table, while three girls pile onto the couch—Vickie getting sandwiched between Nancy and Robin. Across from them, you’re sunk happily into an old bean bag while Eddie sits beside you, already asserting he’ll be the champion of the game.

You snort at his proclamation and try to disguise it with a sip of your drink. Eddie catches you anyhow and delivers a swift shove to your shoulder that’s enough to slosh your beer. You glare at him as you wipe up the mess on your mouth, but Eddie only grins back and soon you find yourself smiling too.

He’s the one person who makes you promises and always delivers.

Eddie picks you up from the train station every time you come home, your favorite from the Hawkins Diner in hand. And while you stuff your face, he regales you with the latest drama from his tattoo apprenticeship and shares weird anecdotes about the more questionable pieces he’s worked on. Sometimes you burn whole days of break just sitting in his trailer and catching up, cross-legged on the floor of his room while he aimlessly plucks chords on his guitar. And sure, you call him while away at school, but nothing compares to actually being at his side and seeing the crinkle in his eyes when he laughs at your jokes. It reignites the warmth that you work so hard to keep contained while away. A heat that’s burning in your chest as you sit beside him tonight.

The first couple rounds of the game are quick and dirty—everyone getting their bottom-of-the-barrel pulls out. The third round is where things actually start to pick up and the admittances get odd.

“You gotta be kidding me, Vickie,” Eddie exclaims, putting down another finger. “You’ve never smoked a cigarette?”

She only shrugs, freckles dotting her dimpled expression. "I don’t like tobacco. Weed on the other hand…”

“Cheers to that,” Jonathon says, raising his beer can.

Eddie hurriedly grabs his own to join.

“Everyone still in?” Robin checks, eyes darting across the group.

Eddie clicks his tongue, voice all too smug as he speaks. “Already down to two again.”

“Yeah, well I’m right there with ‘ya, Munson,” Steve counters, waving his peace-sign count at Eddie.

You settle nice and low in your bean bag, flaunting your index finger. “Better hurry it up, boys. I’m already at one. I can pretty much hear that room-temperature Smirnoff calling my name.”

“You guys know it’s not exactly impressive to win, right?” Robin asks, looking skeptically between the three of you.

Nancy shrugs and crosses her legs with a flourish. “Let them duke it out if they want. I’m still sitting pretty with four fingers.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Nancy,” you say with a nod. “Because, never have I ever, shot a gun.”

The curly-haired woman scowls at you, putting down a finger. “That was uncalled for.”

“Oh, I think it was called for,” Steve argues, down to a single finger now as well. “I mean really, Nance, you should probably put down your whole hand for that one.”

Nancy only waves him off and takes another sip of her drink.

“You’ve tied us all up,” Eddie says to you, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Unfortunately, doesn’t look like I’ll get to win this round.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Vickie mutters, her eyes narrowing at Eddie.

“Never have I ever,” Eddie says, pausing to give the room a good, long look. “Kissed anyone who’s here tonight.”

And for an amazingly elongated moment, the room stills into a stunned silence—eyes wide and mouths agape. But when the discourse descends, you can only sit in shock.

At first, it’s just a rabble of frustration that breaks out—Eddie still looking smug as hell with himself in his old folding chair as Nancy shakes her head and Robin shares a pointed look with Vickie. But then Steve’s voice cuts above the din, everyone else falling in line.

“He still doesn’t know?” The brunette asks, looking directly at you. “I thought you were going to tell him!”

“What the hell are you on about, Harrington?” Eddie complains, eyes darting between you and Steve.

Jonathon groans and runs his hands over his face. “This is painful.”

“I told you he just didn’t remember,” Robin whisper-yells all-too-loudly from the couch as she waggles her eyebrows in your direction. “I told you!”

Eddie shakes his head, looking incredulously around the table, before settling back on you. “Remember what? What the fuck are we talking about?”

You’d give anything in this instant for the bean bag to suck you up whole and eject you into nothingness. Hell, you’d even stick it out in the Upside Down if it meant you could avoid this conversation. There’s a reason you haven’t brought it up before. Of course, you’ve thought about it—tried even, to tell Eddie. But that was easier said than done. And now your own cowardice had backed you into a corner.

“We made out on New Year’s Eve,” you spit out, before anyone else can describe it more… creatively.

Eddie’s face goes pale, dark eyes blinking down at you. “W-what? No we didn’t. Why would we—"

“Dude, we all saw it,” Steve cuts in, running a hand through his hair. “You had your tongue shoved so far down their throat that even I was impressed.”

“Gross, Steve,” Robin and Nancy chide in unison.

“What? We were all thinking it!”

You clear your throat. “You were blackout, Eddie. I mean, we were all sloshed.”

He looks at you, mouth agape as his eyes trail down to your lips. The beer can in his hand crinkles under his grip as you see his Adam’s apple bob against his throat.

You still remember Eddie’s lips colliding against your own—the memory locked away in your mind like an a painting in a vault. Midnight. It was dim lights and streamers and loud music and unbridled joy and warmth and happiness. It was Eddie picking you up and swinging you around, pinning you up against a wall, and kissing you like his life depended on it. It was you holding onto him with all the fervor you’d bottled up since high school and giggling like a teenager as he whispered things in your ear.

Like all beautiful moments—it was fleeting. An hour later, you were holding back his hair in the bathroom as he threw up every Jell-O shot Nance had handed him. And, when you woke up beside each other on the floor of Steve’s living room the next day, Eddie didn’t even remember the clock striking 12. No, he didn’t remember any of it at all.

Or maybe—just maybe—he didn’t want to.

And that was not something you could handle confronting.

So, you asked the others to drop it—to pretend it didn’t happen. Told them you’d take care of it eventually. Took the photo Jonathon developed of you two and buried it in a box in your bedroom.

You wonder what exactly Eddie sees as he looks at you now. Disappointment? Disgust? You tear your gaze away with a nervous smile, not wanting to dive any deeper.

“Welp, guess, we’re gonna need more glasses,” Nancy thankfully announces, digging herself out of the couch and skuttling over to an old cupboard.

“Are we counting that? Really?” Jonathon complains.

“I mean, why not?” Robin asks with a shrug. “Guy clearly doesn’t remember kissing this hottie, so he’s not exactly lying. I say his bad memory earns him and everyone else a reward from the Wheeler’s liquor cabinet.”

Steve laughs at that, leaning over to slap Eddie on the thigh. “Looks like you get to ‘win’ after all, Munson.”

“Shit,” Eddie finally mumbles, still sounding a bit dumbstruck. “Guess it’s only fair.”

Nancy dumps an eclectic collection of glasses on the table, quickly pouring alcohol into each one and handing them out.

“Here, here,” Eddie says, raising his shot to the other ‘winners’. “To making out with your friends.”

You raise your own, catching his eyes again as you clink glasses. “Here, here.”

And then, like a weight off your chest, the night just… keeps going. More drinks, more games, more laughter. And Eddie—seemingly—isn’t even acting differently towards you. Things are normal. And normal is good.

Eventually, the evening starts to draw to a close. Vickie and Robin are passed out, tangled together on the couch, while Nancy sits on the floor between Steve and Jonathon—the beginnings of what has to be a ‘will they, won’t they’ saga playing out.

When you announce your departure, Eddie is quick to join you.

The cool night air feels good in your lungs after sitting for so long in a musty basement. Eddie marches past you down the driveway, taking a dramatic stretch and revealing a dark trail of hair down his midriff. You avert your eyes, trying to take casual interest in the gardening equipment scattered in the lawn.

“So,” he begins. “Did you still wanna come over? Watch a movie or something?”

You rattle the backpack slung over your shoulder; polyester material plastered with patches he’s given you over the years. “Didn’t bring a bag for nothing, Eds.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Eddie mutters as you approach him, all too casually snatching the backpack from you. “Let’s go, smart ass.”

You smile and begin the tipsy trek towards Eddie’s trailer. He pulls out his cigarettes, offering them to you first as he always does.

You click your tongue and slip one from the pack. “Vickie would be appalled.”

Eddie chuckles, closing the gap between the two of you to lend a light, his hand cupping the flame in the breeze. You’ve always found him handsome, but when he’s up close and personal like this, fire in his eyes, it feels like you could drown in his good looks, and it would be a welcome death.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking a long drag, as he pulls away.

“You got it,” Eddie mutters through his teeth, lighting his own.

The two of you walk in comfortable silence down the usual route, enjoying the soft crunch of concrete and gravel beneath your boots. Even with the full moon hanging overhead in a clear night sky, you’re thankful not to be stumbling home alone in the dark. Since experiencing the Upside Down together, Eddie always went out of his way to get you home safe or offer you a place to stay. At first you thought maybe it was just safety in solidarity. But now it was familiar. Comforting.

“So,” he says, voice raspy and sudden. “Can we talk about the five-ton Oliphaunt in the room?”

You swallow hard and decide to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that we, uh,” Eddie clears his throat. “Kissed, and I don’t even remember?”

You chuckle, trying to ease the tension in his voice despite your own discomfort. “Sure, if you want. But there’s not much else to say. We were just trashed.”

“Yeah, but how did we even get there? Us?” He says motioning between the two of you. “I mean, come on, we’re— we’re just—"

“Friends,” you say, finishing the sentiment for him, the word bitter on your tongue.

“Right,” he mutters back, smoke billowing from pursed lips.

“I dunno,” you admit honestly. “Too much to drink, probably. Besides, Eddie, if I had known how gone you were, I wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

“Agreed?” Eddie says, attention piqued. “So, what—I asked you to kiss me? And you said yes?”

You chew your lip, shoving your hands into the too-tight pockets of your worn-out jeans. “I mean, it was New Years, y’know? You probably just wanted someone to kiss at midnight. Everyone does it.”

Eddie scoffs. “Right, because if there’s one thing about me, it’s that I love to follow the crowd.”

You only shrug, clueless on how to respond when you barely have answers yourself.

Silence falls between the two of you, relief slumping into your shoulders as Eddie’s barrage of questions seems to subside. You kick yourself for admitting you chose to kiss him—but at least it wasn’t entirely strange.

You and Eddie had admitted to finding each other attractive on more than one occasion in the past. Why deny such obvious truths? You had both simply agreed that you were most definitely not romantically compatible.

Though you never hashed out the details on why that was.

“So,” Eddie grumbles, voice like sand paper in the quiet. “Was it bad or something then?”

“Huh?”

“The kiss, idiot,” he says, swinging the bag into your shoulder. “Is that why you never told me about it?”

You shake your head, heart palpitating at the memory of Eddie pressed against you. “No, nothing like that.”

“Then why hide it from me?” Eddie asks, rasp edging into his voice again. You can feel his dark eyes on your profile. “Seems like you went through a lot of effort to keep it under wraps.”

His words sound almost accusatory. Suddenly you’re scrambling for something to offer him—anything other than the truth, really.

You drop your cigarette and stomp it out, watching as the bud smolders to nothing on the ground. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

It takes a second, but laughter erupts from his chest, carrying into the night with an ominous echo. “Right, like you’d ever pass up the chance to hold something over my head.”

That’s true enough—it was part of how your friendship operated. One time he admitted to having a wet dream about the bartender at the Hideout, and you had used it to blackmail him into free drinks for half a year. Eddie gave as good as he got, of course. He knew you had used the Arcade’s backroom to hook up with more than a few people—some more questionable than others—and he had Keith on speed dial should you ever not supply him with free tokens during his visits. All of that was good fun. Platonic.

But New Year’s Eve… the kiss… that mean too much to you just to be played as a gag.

Exasperation grips your voice. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

You really don’t. And maybe Eddie senses that because he doesn’t respond.

It’s quiet as you pace on together, only the soft buzz of Hawkins’ electrical lines filling the empty void, unsettling and cerebral in your ears. It almost makes your body itch.

You’re thankful when Eddie speaks again, even if his tone is surprisingly somber.

“I think I get it.”

Your heart sinks into the depths of your chest. “You… get it?”

You watch the mass of brunette curls bob as he nods slowly. “You’re ashamed that you made out with me, right?”

His voice is so serious it ties your stomach in knots and stops you in your tracks. He was so painfully, awfully wrong.

“I mean, I can’t say I blame you,” he continues. “Poor, directionless, loser that I am. Just good-for-nothing Eddie Munson. Who would wanna be caught dead kissing me?”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss at him, hands balling into fists. “It’s not true. Not fucking true at all.”

He pauses his stride and turns, chest rising and falling steadily as he stares at you in the night. “I’m just kidding.”

“Are you?”

Eddie runs both hands through his hair and shakes his head before flicking his cig to the ground. “Forget I said anything, okay? Let’s just hurry up and get back to my place.”

“No,” you reply, marching up and attempting to rend your bag from his shoulder. “I’m going home.”

But he only tightens his grip on your backpack, eyes meeting as you pull against him. “Please don’t.”

You scowl at him and give the bag another strong tug.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie stutters, grabbing your wrist. “Now will you please stop trying to rip my shoulder off?”

You want to bottle up the frustration and anger at his careless words and hurl it back at him. But the stubble on his jaw, the scent of his aftershave, the look in his eyes—it’s too intoxicating. Whether he’s acting insufferable or not.

“Fine.” You let go of the bag and Eddie releases his grip in turn though the heat of his hand lingers unwarrantedly on your skin.

You’re supposed to move—supposed keep stomping back to his trailer. But instead, you just find yourself tethered to the asphalt, unable to tear yourself away.

Eddie stares back at you, still and expectant in the night.

Then words are tumbling so quickly from your lips, you hardly hear yourself speak.

“I was too scared.”

He blinks at you, dark eyelashes fluttering beneath loose curls. “Scared?”

“That’s why I never brought it up, Eddie,” you mutter, heart pounding in your ears. “I thought maybe you did remember kissing me and just... didn’t want to.”

His eyes widen, plush lips parting. “Why would I ever want to forget that?”

You shrug, boozy uncertainty welling in your eyes despite your efforts to fight it off. “Because it was me, Eddie. It was me, and not some hot bombshell you could brag about making out with. It was just me. And I’m—”

“Perfect?”

Your face scrunches at the word. “Don’t make fun of me.”

But he seems to only find humor in your disgruntled expression, his face alit with laughter in the dark. “For someone so smart, you really are damn dense sometimes.”

Before you can protest his comment, Eddie’s pulling you against his chest, your face colliding with the denim of his jacket, musky scent of cologne and shampoo flooding any sense of reasonable thought from your mind. Strong arms slide over your shoulders and snake around your neck as you feel him rest his head atop your own.

“What I said earlier—I’m scared too.” Eddie confesses, a rasp to his voice. “Scared that once you graduate from that fancy-pants college, you’ll get some cool big-kid job that’ll take you far away from Indiana and you’ll forget all about little shithole Hawkins. And... forget about me.”

His admission hits you like a bolt of lightning.

Eddie is the only consistent in your life. Rain or shine, hell or highwater—he’s always there. So how could he think himself anything close to a footnote in your story?

“Never,” you mumble, relaxing into Eddie’s chest. You wrap your arms snug around his waist, trying to impart every bit of your heart with one embrace. “How could I ever forget such a sloppy kisser?”

Eddie cackles unexpectedly, his chest reverberating pitched tones against your head. “Oh, come on. You’ve gotta give me another shot.”

Your heart flutters at his words. “Yeah?”

He relaxes his grip, creating just enough space to greet you with his deep, chocolate eyes. The corners of his mouth twitch into a smile as he stares down at you. “I mean, I can’t say I’m totally sober, and it’s not New Years, so I really have no excuse…”

“But?”

“But,” he repeats back. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wanna kiss you right now.”

Your eyes wander to his lips—the very same that you’ve fantasized about so frequently and experienced only once. And now, standing under the flickering, orange streetlamps of Hawkins, he was offering them to you again.

“You’re sure?” You ask.

Eddie nods. “Listen, I don’t know what exactly got into me that night—”

“Wheeler’s Jell-O shots.”

He cringes at the word, sticking out his tongue in mock disgust. “Ugh, that’s right. I still can’t even look at anything close to Jell-O.”

You giggle at his perturbed expression. “I know. You nearly fainted when Dustin made us fight a gelatinous cube in that one-shot yesterday.”

He shakes out his head like a wet dog, wringing more laughter from your chest.

“What I was trying to say—before you so rudely reminded me of my gelatin-aversion,” Eddie says with a pointed glance. “Is that I’m glad that some part of me worked up the nerve to do what I’ve spent years contemplating.”

“You mean throwing up in Steve’s pool?”

“Okay, come on,” Eddie complains, rolling his eyes. “I’m trying to do this whole, romantic-ish situation here and you are just fucking t-boning it at every turn.”

You’re smiling like a maniac now, starry-eyed and hopeful. “Sorry, sorry—go ahead.”

But Eddie just shakes his head, planting a warm, calloused hand under your jaw. “Nope. I’m just gonna kiss you before you say anything else to ruin it.”

And though you try to retort one final time, Eddie’s reflexes are too fast for you to counter. In a split-second, his mouth is pressed up against your own. He pulls you flush against his hips, encouraging collision as your fingers wind through his hair. His lips are as soft as you remember, but this time they seem intent on savoring every inch of your flesh, dangerously disarming as they elicit moans from your throat.

Your sounds only entice him further. He nibbles at your lower lip and hums with satisfaction as your mouth parts for him, vodka and tobacco crashing across your tongue as he eagerly explores you. The taste of him conceives a delirium in your mind like no drug you’ve ever consumed, thoughts drifting away one by one. He’s warm and perfect and good—so fucking good.

There’s purpose as Eddie holds you—kisses you—for the first real time. The happiness is overwhelming, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as Eddie brands you with the heat of each kiss. Your knees quiver under the elation, all of it nearly too much to handle.

As if sensing your imminent collapse, Eddie lifts you up into his arms, your legs wrapping naturally around his waist. You squeal out of sheer surprise, his lips curving into a smile against your own. He gives you a gentle spin to provoke more laughter-hiccupped kisses, his mouth trailing to your jaw and down your neck, his stubble tickling your skin with each peck.

You open your eyes as he starts to slow, watching him intently as he draws back, hunger still hanging in his eyes. He carefully returns you to the ground.

For a moment, you just stare at each other in silence, the buzz of the power cables now but a peaceful ambiance.

“Shit,” is all he manages to say, lips still plump from your attention. His arms are immovably hooked onto your hips.

“That bad?” You tease, struggling to catch your breath, heat still consuming your chest.

Eddie shakes his head, disheveled hair bouncing as he beams at you. “Seriously not sure how I could ever forget something like that. Wow, babe.”

“Yeah well,” you mutter, thoughts dazed by his affectionate words. “Don’t jinx it. I… can’t handle going through that again.”

Eddie’s expression falters as he studies you, brow creasing. “I’m sorry. God, if I had remembered—well, I would have done a lot of stuff different.”

“I should have just told you—I should have known that you wouldn’t… it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re here now.”

“Tell me about it,” he says, squeezing your waist.

“You better remember in the morning this time, Eds,” you threaten, poking him in the chest.

Eddie smiles and drops dramatically to one knee, crossing an arm over his chest with all the ceremony of a squire about to be knighted at the Ren Faire. He clears his throat before reciting what seems like a well-rehearsed proclamation. “I, Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, hereby pledge that from this moment forward, I will never—fucking ever—forget anything when it comes to us. So help me, Lolth.”

In return, you raise your arms up to the sky. “Praise be to our Demon Queen of the Abyss!”

Eddie laughs and stands back up, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around once more. “God, I fucking love you.”

“Yeah?” You ask, starry-eyed in his arms.

He nods, folding ring-adorned fingers around your hand and planting a kiss just inside your wrist. “Yeah. And you?”

You smile at him. “Never have I ever loved anyone more than you, Eddie Munson.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #stranger things fix it #eddie munson #eddie my beloved #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #dungeons and dragons #i should have dited this more but i was getting so sick of looking at it rip

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