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andvys · 7 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 11

Warnings: none really, mentions of smoking and drinking, reader punching someone....

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler , slight Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Steve watches you from afar, confused about your relationship with the metalhead.

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: @mysticmunson you're always my biggest help and inspiration, thank you, angel🤍

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“Will you hold still?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Why are you so shaky?”

“I-I don’t know.”

You drop the eyeshadow brush on the desk and put your hand on your hip, sighing as you look at Chrissy who looks more nervous than ever. She is still wearing a hoodie, the cheer uniform is hanging over the back of your chair. You have been trying to do her eye makeup for the past twenty minutes.

“Lay down.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, confusion takes over her face, “why?”

“Because I can’t work like this, you keep fidgeting – seriously, what’s up? You are never this nervous.”

You and Chrissy always get ready together whenever there’s a basketball game. Usually she does her makeup herself but tonight she asked you to do it, she wanted something similar like you, just with more color.

She seemed happy and excited when she came over but now she seems like a nervous mess. Every time you move closer to her, she starts fidgeting, it’s not the first time you had noticed her doing that. You have noticed a lot in the past three months.

Heather and Chrissy kept being secretive, oftentimes you would catch them whispering before they’d notice you in the room, they share glances that you don’t understand. They still make you feel left out. You confronted them a while back but neither of them gave you any answers to your questions, it upset you and it caused you to distance yourself from them a little.

They had started to make you feel the way he made you feel. The constant lies, the whispers and them going behind your back had gotten to you. It triggered some feelings that you thought you had left in the past.

They were upset when you stopped answering their phone calls and when you would cancel plans but you couldn’t be around them when they refused to talk about the very obvious issues they had with you. You would never drop the friendship, you would never leave them behind, they mean too much to you to just kick them out of your life but you needed some distance, for your sake.

You made a new friend, Robin Buckley. Eddie introduced you to her back in January, they had been friends since middle school – back when he was still a theater kid.

You instantly hit it off with her, she is nice and she is very different from Chrissy and Heather, which is why she didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with them yet. It’s a miracle that she gave you a chance considering that ‘popular’ people make her feel extremely anxious and uncomfortable – which you can understand now that you see things from a different perspective.

To most people, you are still the ‘the queen of Hawkins High’ but to some you are one of the freaks now. They glare at you, they whisper about you, they call you names and point their fingers at you, especially when they see you with Eddie, who feels guilty about the treatment you are getting from some of the people that used to be in your friend group when you were still with Steve. You don’t care though.

You don’t care what other people think of you.

But you do care what your friends think about you, your friends who still keep secrets.

“Yeah Chrissy, why are you so nervous?” Eddie chuckles as he looks up from his magazine, glancing at the two of you. Wiggling his eyebrows at her. She glares at him and rolls her eyes, which only makes him chuckle again.

Eddie knows why she is so nervous, it’s obvious why – well, it’s obvious to everyone but you. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. The subtle glares and the attitude he sometimes gets from the usually nice cheerleader isn’t because she doesn’t like him, it’s because she is jealous of him. Because she likes you.

And she knows that he knows, she realized it after he started teasing her with small comments and the smug looks he would throw at her when he’d catch her checking you out. At first, she was scared. Scared that he would tell you something that she had been trying to hide for so long. Eddie promised not to tell though.

Chrissy lies down, a small huff leaves her lips. You get on the bed and scoot closer to her, reaching for the eyeshadow brush, you dip it into the blue eyeshadow before you lean down.

She is looking at you – staring at you.

“Close your eyes,” you chuckle.

“O-Oh right,” she whispers and closes her eyes.

Eddie puts the magazine down, he leans back in his chair and puts his arm behind his head. He looks at you, you are already wearing your uniform, your hair and makeup is already done. He watches the way you bend down to get closer to Chrissy, your skirt rides up a little, exposing your spandex and more of your skin. He really really doesn’t want to look at you in that way but he can’t look away either.

You are his friend and he really loves your friendship and how easy things are between the two of you but you are beautiful.

And you are sexy.

You suddenly turn around and glance at him, you catch him staring at you. Eddie’s eyes widen but he plays it cool, smirking at you. Your eyes flash with amusement, you raise your brows at him, a smirk tugs at your lips.

“Stop staring, Munson.”

Eddie gives you a cocky grin, “I can’t look away from a beautiful sunset.”

You furrow your brows and a laugh escapes your lips, you shake your head at him, “what does that even mean, you dork?”

You turn back around, still smiling. Chrissy snorts at his words.

“Okay, tell any sane person to look away from two cheerleaders straddling,” he says.

“Eddie!” Chrissy mumbles, opening her eyes to look at you with a disapproving frown.

You grab one of your pillows and turn around, throwing it at him, “perv!” You laugh.

He catches it and presses it against his chest, he smirks at you, “can you do my eyeshadow too, sweetheart?” He jokes.

“Shut up,” you chuckle as you turn back around. You reach for your makeup bag and look for the glitter you bought when you went shopping with Robin, yesterday.

Chrissy leans on her elbows, she glances at Eddie who is checking you out again and then her eyes move back to you. She can see the shine in your eyes, the smile that you are trying to bite back, the flustered look on your face.

It annoys her.

Eddie is amazing and with him, you would actually be in good hands. He is a much better person than Steve ever was. He wouldn’t hurt you, especially not the way he did. Eddie makes you smile, he spends more time with you than Steve did, he buys you little presents that he surprises you with, all the time. He takes you out on dates that ‘clearly’ aren’t dates because you are just friends. Eddie comes to basketball games – he comes to basketball games, just for you.

Eddie would be a good boyfriend, there is no doubt about that. She is not sure if you like each other or not but it seems like it. She should be happy for you and she should support it but the green eyed monster inside of her just refuses to let her be happy for you.

“Are you excited for the party?”

Chrissy snaps out of her thoughts, she looks into your eyes again and nods.

“Are you gonna wear the dress you bought?”

She closes her eyes again when you lean back in with the brush. She feels your fingertips on her cheek when you tilt her face to the side. She takes in a shaky breath.

“Should I?”

You hum.

“You look pretty in it.”

She smiles at your words, “I do?”

“Yes, you always do, Chris.”

She blushes and her smile grows bigger, “thank you,” she whispers.

You smile down at her, “you’re welcome.”

After you finish her makeup, Chrissy takes her uniform and goes into your bathroom to get changed. You clean up the small mess and put away all the makeup and the brushes, you grab your favorite lipstick and walk over to the mirror, you can feel his eyes on you as you start applying the lipstick. A smile tugs at your lips, you glance at him through the mirror. He’s wearing the same smile as you.

“What?”

He shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck, “nothing.”

You furrow your brows, you smack your lips together and look at your reflection one more time before you turn around to face him.

“Why are you smiling?”

He shrugs and gets up from the chair, he grabs the green hair bow and walks towards you.

“I like watching you get ready,” he says.

“You do?” You smile.

He nods, “mhmm.”

He stops in front of you and looks down at you as he holds up the green hair bow, “turn around.”

You turn around, facing the mirror again. He steps closer to you. You can smell his cologne, it’s a new one. It smells even better than the previous one he used. The smell of smoke always lingers around him though, nothing can hide the smell – not the cologne, not the aftershave, not his shampoo which surprisingly smells like apples, not the cinnamon from his favorite gum.

Eddie’s hands are gentle, his brows are furrowed in concentration, he presses his lips together as he puts the bow in your hair.

Something about this makes you giggle. Eddie being in your bedroom isn’t unusual but him helping you get ready for the game, putting a bow in your hair is very unusual.

His eyes flash with amusement as he raises his head to look at your reflection in the mirror, “what’s so funny?”

You shrug and continue watching him, “just you helping me get ready for a laundry basket game.”

He snorts.

“I’m helping you get ready for your performance and I’m only going there for you, sweets.”

Your heart warms at his words.

“And then you’re also coming to the bonfire party with me.”

“With you.” He nods.

“Alright, I’m done,” he grins and flicks your ponytail before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug, leaning his chin on your shoulder, causing you to giggle again.

You grab his forearms and lean back.

“Do you hug all your friends that way?”

He chuckles and pulls you even closer, “nah only the special ones, babe,” he smirks and buries his face in your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume and body wash.

You giggle and tilt your head to the side, “how many special ones are there?”

“Just one.”

You narrow your eyes as you turn to look at him, he smirks at you still.

“You’re my very special one.”

He isn’t joking about that, despite the teasing look on his face, he is saying the truth. You are special to Eddie. You haven’t been friends for that long, you started talking last summer, back in august but you have only gotten really close after your breakup with Steve. It feels like you have been friends for much longer than that though. The moment you first started hanging out, you instantly got attached to each other. Not a single day goes by when you don’t spend time together, he loves being with you and you love being with him.

Things feel natural, easy and just good when you are with each other.

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything. Sometimes that’s enough.

A smile tugs at your lips as you look at him. His smile grows as well and before you know it, you both start laughing for no reason.

Chrissy walks back into the room to see you in his embrace. She clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes in annoyance. She clears her throat.

You and Eddie look away from each other, the smile still ever present on your faces. You don’t notice the jealousy or the bitterness on her face. He does.

“Can we go?”

You glance at Eddie who nods at you with a shrug. He is definitely not excited for the game, you told him that he doesn’t have to go but he claimed that he wants to go, for you.

You smile at them both, “let’s go!”

Things between Steve and Billy were tense all night. You could tell from the moment they walked out into the gym, the glares they sent each other were more intense than usual, they wouldn’t pass on any opportunity to ‘accidentally’ bump into each other and not to mention Steve’s bleeding nose, he tried to hide it but he kept wiping his nose and you noticed the blood on the back of his hand.

He looked angry and frustrated. You noticed it, right away.

She didn’t.

Despite the tension and the weird energy that surrounded one of the best players on the team, they still won against the opposing team and took another win home, which of course has to be celebrated.

Lovers Lake is filled with people, the bonfire party that had been planned for weeks is in full swing, loud music is sounding through the speakers, the smell of burning wood mixed with the smell of the crisp spring air brings you comfort. The cold months are over and the warm weather is finally approaching.

The beer you have been drinking all night makes you feel a little tipsy but you feel calm and the stars in the sky make you smile as you lay on the grass with Eddie. He lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke up into the air.

You turn your head and look around, a few people are sitting by the fire. You see Chrissy and Heather talking to a few girls from the cheer squad. You see Nancy sitting on a log with Jonathan, they are both laughing, leaning closer to each other, Steve is sitting on a different log, he is holding a red solo cup in his hand, he looks into the fire with a dull look on his face.

You raise your brows, you look at the three of them. Odd. Shouldn’t he be the one next to her? Shouldn’t he be the one whispering to her? Shouldn’t he be the one making her laugh?

“Do you think there’s more out there?” Eddie asks, pulling your attention away from him.

“Hmm?”

Eddie repeats his question and you turn back to look at him, he is pointing up at the sky, “like aliens and shit.”

You scoot closer to him, looking at the way he squints his eyes as he smokes.

“Hmm, maybe,” you shrug, “I think there’s more than just aliens though.”

“Oh, do you?” He asks, turning to face you, “tell me more.”

“I think there’s other universes.”

He raises his brows, waiting for you to explain more.

“I think there are different worlds, different versions of us – like, maybe there's a version of us fighting interdimensional monsters right now,” you joke, which he seems to love.

His eyes light up at your words and he laughs.

“Maybe we are slaying a dark wizard right now – what was his name again, Vecman? You know the one from your new campaign?”

Eddie laughs loudly and he shakes his head, “it’s Vecna, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes and snort.

“Right, we are killing Vecna, right now.”

“Are we normal humans or?”

“No, we have superpowers.”

“What kind of superpowers?”

You put your finger on your chin and look up, “hmm… you got super strength, super speed,” you pause and look into his eyes, his skin looks pale beneath the moonlight, his eyes are dark. Your eyes widen, “you’re a vampire!”

His jaw drops, his eyes widen, “I’m a vampire?”

“Yes!”

“That means I had to die – wait! Did you bring me back from the dead? You know, since you’re a witch?”

"Absolutely,” you giggle.

“That’s so sick, sweetheart.”

“Right?”

You both giggle as you stare at each other. His eyes fall to the chain around your neck, the one that he had put on you earlier tonight. He reaches his hand out and touches it.

“Maybe we are both rockstars in a different world.”

“Both of us?” You laugh, “I can see you being a rockstar but me?”

“Hush. You are helping me write songs and you can play guitar now – well a little, never as good as me but yeah,” he says, cockily. Smirking at you.

You shake your head, snorting at his words.

“Maybe you are my groupie.”

“You wish!” You slap his shoulder, making him laugh again.

“Okay okay, not a groupie – you are the lead singer and I’m the sexy guitarist.”

“Mhmm.”

You lie back again and look up at the stars, a grin takes over your face, “or maybe you are my groupie.”

“Oh absolutely, I’d totally be your groupie if you were a rockstar, y/n.”

You and Eddie are in your own little world, you always are. You don’t care about anything or anyone else when you are with each other. The rest of the world melts away when you spend time together.

You don’t care about the people around you or the awful music that one of the jocks picked out, the prying eyes of the judging girls from the cheer squad. You just don’t care about anything.

You don’t even notice the curious eyes of your ex boyfriend but Eddie does, after you get up to get a new drink. His eyes find a sulking Steve Harrington, who is still sitting by the fire. His girlfriend is long gone and so is her friend, Eddie doesn’t bother to look around for them. He keeps his eyes on Steve, watching the way his eyes follow you. Eddie wonders why he looks so miserable, because of Nancy and Jonathan or because of you? It seems to be the latter, he could be looking for her but instead he is watching you.

A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, how stupid can someone be? He wonders.

Suddenly, Steve straightens his back and his expression changes from miserable to curious and tense? He turns his head, looking right at him. Eddie raises his brows when he finds himself locking eyes with him. Steve looks confused, his eyes flicker back and forth between you and him.

Eddie follows his gaze to see what confuses him so much. He is looking at you and at the guy who is shamelessly checking you out as you laugh at something he said to you.

Eddie snorts. Of course. If there is one thing that he got used to when going out with you then it’s you being hit on, every damn time.

The guy is tall, probably taller than him. His shoulders are broad beneath the flannel, it’s clear that he’s some sort of athlete. He looks familiar but Eddie doesn’t recognize him.

Curiously, Eddie watches the interaction from afar, sipping his beer.

You are holding a drink in your hand, you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. Eddie can see the smile on your face, you nod to whatever he is saying to you. He steps closer to you, pretending not to hear you properly, he leans closer and licks his lips when he looks down your shirt.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “douchebag.”

The music is loud but he still hears the approaching footsteps, narrowing his eyes, he almost laughs in surprise when he sees Steve. Getting up, he dusts the grass off of his jeans and finishes his drink.

Steve stops in front of him, when Eddie sees the look of disbelief on his face, he almost bursts out laughing.

“I’m not selling tonight,” he mumbles.

Steve shakes his head, furrowing his brows at his words, “I don’t wanna buy anything.”

“Oh, to what do I owe you the pleasure then, King Steve?” Eddie asks, mockingly. He expects Steve to look annoyed but he doesn’t, just very confused.

“You’re not gonna do anything?” Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, his brows draw together and he tilts his head in question.

“What do you mean?”

Steve raises his hand, pointing his finger at you and the guy who is now holding his hand out to you – you are writing something on his palm, presumably your number.

Eddie rolls his eyes again.

“This guy is flirting with her,” Steve mumbles.

“I’m not her keeper.”

Now he looks even more confused, if he didn’t look so serious, Eddie would have laughed. But then he realizes why he looks at him so shocked. Steve must think that you and Eddie are dating and he doesn’t understand how he as your ‘boyfriend’ just lets you flirt with some other guy.

Steve sighs, he turns around. Eddie watches the way he stares the guy down, a look of distaste appears on his face.

“That’s Ray, he used to be the captain of the basketball team. I always hated that guy.” Steve mumbles.

That’s a lie. Steve used to look up to him, when he was a freshman in high school and he was new on the team, Ray had seemed like the coolest guy around, he was the most popular guy at school, the girls loved him, the boys wanted to be like him and so did Steve until he became popular too and he realized that he could be even better than him. Ray was just a popular guy but Steve Harrington became the King of the school.

A title he used to be so proud of is just an embarrassing part of his past now.

Steve is certain that you and Eddie are dating. He could just ask to be sure but he thinks that it’s too obvious. You are dating. But why are you flirting with the former captain of the basketball team? Why are you writing your number on his hand? Are you in an open relationship with Eddie?

An open relationship is something you never approved of, you always made that very clear, not that Steve suggested something like this. Tommy always joked about it to Carol and you looked disgusted and always voiced your opinions on it.

What happened?

Did the hurt change you so much?

Ray walks away from you and you turn around, walking back to Eddie when someone else steps in front of you and both Eddie and Steve sigh in annoyance.

Billy Hargrove. Always there to ruin the night.

“Getting bored of the freak?”

The smile on your face falls, a sour expression takes over and you tense up. You can’t stand Billy. Not only does he keep trying to get in your pants while he has a thing going on with your friend, he also keeps insulting Eddie and picking fights with Steve, which shouldn’t be any of your concerns but something tells you that Steve’s bleeding nose and the bruise on Billy’s jaw has got something to do with you.

“Fuck off, Billy,” you mumble, trying to move past him. He doesn’t let you. He steps in front of you and chuckles.

“Don’t be like that, baby.”

You scrunch your face up in disgust, “don’t call me that.”

His eyes move up and down, he looks at your exposed skin and you suddenly regret wearing a low cut shirt.

“Ray Parker, huh?” He smirks, licking his lips, “going for the jocks again? The freak ain’t doing a good job at satisfying you? You know, you can just come to me instead of going for some retired team captain.”

“Jesus, shut up, Billy.”

Billy chuckles, his eyes twinkle with lust as he continues to stare at you, “when will you stop playing hard to get? We both know that you will end up under me at some point.”

If you didn’t feel disgusted by him already, you would definitely be now. Anger rushes through you and you roll your eyes.

“Keep dreaming, Hargrove.”

"Oh, I will."

You clench your jaw as you look into his blue eyes. You hate the cocky look on his face, the self assured expression that he always has. The smirk that he wears. God, you want to punch him.

You go to walk past him and surprisingly, he lets you walk away this time but then he says something that makes your blood boil.

“Yeah be a good girl and run back to the freak, no one else will fuck that loser.”

You halt in your tracks and you clench your fists. You had always been protective over your friends but especially him. Eddie may be good at pretending that the bullying doesn’t get to him, he learned to ignore them or to throw some punchlines back but you are not going to stand by and watch how others degrade and belittle him.

You turn back around and his smirk grows when he notices how angry you look.

“I never thought you’d be into some trailer trash a–”

You never punched someone before but you always wanted to know what it feels like to slam your fist into someone’s face, someone that you can’t stand. You didn’t think that it would hurt so bad but the look on his face and the bruise that he will wear later on, makes it all worth it.

His head snaps to the side and he looks stunned for a moment.

You hear the gasps around you, the chuckles from a few boys.

A part of you expects him to hit you back, you are no stranger to his anger issues. The reaction you get isn’t one that you expected though. He furrows his brows and suddenly he bursts into laughter, his eyes flash with amusement and his pupils dilate even further.

You want to punch him again.

“Shit baby, I’m even more into you now,” he smirks.

A groan of disgust falls from your lips and you turn around to leave before he can do or say anything else.

Eddie and Steve stand there with stunned looks on their faces. Eddie looks impressed and proud, a smirk is tugging at his lips.

Steve’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted in surprise. Out of all the things he expected to see tonight, this wasn’t one of them. The feeling that rushes through him is intense.

You should have punched him a long time ago.

“That’s kinda hot.”

Eddie snorts at Steve’s words.

Yeah, it was hot.

“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie whistles, smirking as you walk back to him. He sees the way your eyes flash with confusion when you notice Steve next to him. “I didn’t know you had such a mean right hook.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. You don't even acknowledge him.

“He had that coming.”

Eddie throws his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest and leans down to kiss your cheek sloppily, not caring that your ex boyfriend is staring.

“That’s my girl.”

He wonders what Billy said to you to make you this mad.

“You gonna hit me next, big girl?” Eddie jokes.

You giggle, biting down on your lip, you look into Eddie’s amused eyes, completely dismissing his presence. You pull away from him, he looks at you curiously, eyeing the smugness in your eyes. Before he can react, you reach your arm behind him and slap his ass.

Eddie’s jaw drops at the smack he received, he snorts at your action, squinting his eyes at you, he tries to give you a mean look which only makes you giggle again. You step back when you realize what he’s about to do. Just as he tries to swat your ass, you run off, giggling.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to run after you, trying to catch you. Your laughter is loud as you run away from him, pushing past the groups of people as you near the forest.

Steve's brows are still raised and his face is still stunned.

Many emotions went through him today; anger, sadness, irritation, jealousy but mostly confusion.

He watches Eddie grabbing you from behind, he hears your squeal and he sees the way Eddie kisses your cheek, again.

He blinks and forces himself to look away, only now noticing how wrong it still feels to see you with him.

But it's not wrong, right?

It's not wrong because you aren't his anymore.

He let go of you because you had asked him to, because he loves her, because he wants to spend his life with her.

He still has love for you, he always will but you are a part of his past now, a past that keeps calling him. The past that keeps haunting him in his mind and in his dreams.

Sometimes when he can't sleep at night, he stares at the telephone on his nightstand and he wonders what it would be like to call you, to hear your voice again, to ask you how you are doing, to ask if you are happy with the life you are living now that you are strangers to each other.

Sometimes he wants to call but he never does. You won't pick up the phone. He is sure of that.

But, if you called, he would pick up the phone, anytime, without hesitation.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @hellfire--cult @screammunson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @xxhellfiregirlxx @trashmouth-richie @somethingvicked

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

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joelsgreys · 5 months

Text

when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home

Javier Peña x DEA Agent Female Reader

summary: Spending Christmas in Bogotá, Colombia isn’t ideal. Javier knows you’re missing home a little harder than usual, so he comes up with a plan to cheer you up.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. minor deviation from canon timeline (had to make it work), reader is an agent for the DEA, NO AGE SPECIED, NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, reader understands and speaks spanish but no mention of her race or ethnicity, friends to lovers trope, reader celebrates christmas, reader has a good relationship with her family, minor smoking and alcohol consumption (both reader and javi), reader’s a bit rough around the edges sometimes. fluff, soft javi, he’s a bit of a grinch in the beginning though. switches in pov’s and tenses.

*ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE END.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: thank you to @hellishjoel for inviting me to join in on this fun project!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist

Javier Peña doesn’t do Christmas.

He especially doesn’t do Christmas in Bogotá.

He doesn’t see the point even acknowledging it.

There are more important things on his mind.

Capturing Pablo Escobar.

Dismantling the dangerous Medellín Cartel.

Living long enough to tell the fucking tale.

Those were his priorities while in Colombia.

Not decking the halls with boughs of holly.

And yet, there he is, fighting with a string of bright and colorful lights, wishing these things would put themselves on the tree. “Puta madre,” Javi curses underneath his breath as he tries untangling them from around his waist. Somehow, he only makes it worse. He grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous—it shouldn’t be this fucking hard throwing lights on a goddamn fucking tree—” He pauses, spins around to find where he’d gone wrong and then continues grouching to himself. “Can’t believe people do this fucking shit for fun. Stupidest thing I’ve ever—”

Javi manages to free himself and glances down at his watch to see he’s running out of time—it’s past five now, and unless Messina’s in one of those bad fucking moods of hers and decides to dump some last minute paperwork onto your desk, then you’re going to be walking through the front door soon.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a deep and frustrated sigh.

He’d been an idiot to decline Connie’s offer to help him when she had dropped off the decorations for him earlier that afternoon.

“You sure you don’t need my help?” she had asked as she handed him the cardboard box overflowing with festive ornaments and tinsel. “I have a couple of more hours before I have to be at the clinic, you know. I can help you set it all up for her, make it all nice and pretty.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got it handled,” he’d replied. “I’m sure it won’t take me too long to put some—is this fucking fruit?” Confused, Javi shifted the box over to his hip, pulling out a string of dried oranges and red cranberries. “Um, what the hell is this for? This supposed to be a snack for me while I decorate?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a homemade garland.”

“It’s a homemade what now?”

“Garland, Javier. It goes on the tree.”

Amused, he’d raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fruit going back onto the tree? That’s ironic.”

Sighing, Connie rolled her eyes at him once more.

“Last chance. Do you want my help or not, Javi?”

“I appreciate it, but like I said, I’ve got it handled.”

She’d shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself, then.”

Little did he know how he’d regret his decision. It’s a bigger headache than he thought it would be, an incredible waste of valuable time he could’ve been using to hunt down new leads, do the job he came here to do and find Pablo Escobar. Then again, the more he thinks about it, the more Javi realizes this isn’t a waste of his time at all—not really.

Because he’s doing this for you.

Because he knows you love Christmas.

Because he knows you’ve been feeling homesick.

The season you normally adored was bringing you nothing but emptiness this year. There is a void—a hole in your heart that only your family could fill.

“Messina denied my request for time off,” you had told him, taking a drag of his cigarette—you’re not much of a smoker, but he’d learned that tended to change on occasion when you were upset. “Said it isn’t fair to let me go home for Christmas. That I’m not the only one who wants to be with their family. And I get it. I do.” Sighing, you took a second drag and then handed the cigarette back to Javier; he’d put it between his lips, the taste of cherry flavored lip gloss that lingered on the filtered tip prompting a craving stronger than his craving for nicotine. “It was selfish of me to even think of taking time off. I just—I miss spending Christmas in my hometown, you know? Waking up to snow outside my window in the mornings. Building snowmen with my sister, hurling snowballs at my brother. I miss my mother and her cooking. I miss my father and how even at our age, he still insists on pretending to be Santa.”

Laughing, Javier leaned forward on his stool.

You’d asked him to meet you at your usual spot—a quiet lounge bar right around the corner from your apartment. When he walked in and saw the scotch in front of you on the table, he’d known something was wrong. You’re not much of a drinker, either.

“Does he eat the cookies and drink the milk too?”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest, a little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. He tried not to let his gaze longer there too long—he’s just one man. There was only so much strength he could muster to keep fighting the temptation.

“Of course. He takes his role very, very seriously.”

Despite your smile, he’d noticed it right away.

The unmistakable sadness in your eyes.

You were tough as fucking nails.

In this line of work, you had no choice but to be.

But Javier knew your family was your weakness.

His weakness?

His weakness was sitting there in front of him with a crestfallen expression on her pretty face, tracing around the rim of her glass with her finger.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Your voice had thickened, the emotions you’re used to bottling up threatening to boil over.

“Of course not,” he assured you. “There is nothing stupid about wanting to go back home to see your family. There’s nothing stupid about wanting to be with them for the holidays. I promise you that.”

You snorted. “Peña, we’re trying to bring down the most dangerous man in all of South America. Last thing I need to be doing right now is dreaming of a white Christmas. It’s fucking stupid, alright?”

Hesitantly, Javier lifted his hand and placed it over yours—it wasn’t the first time he’d ever held it, not the first time he had shown physical affection, but this was the most vulnerable he had ever seen you and he didn’t want to make things worse. Once he realized it was okay, he brushed the back of it with his thumb softly, soothingly.

“Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño.”

“No hay caso para eso, Javier.”

“Maybe I can convince her to let you go. She’s got me and she’s got Murphy. We’ll handle things here while you head home for a few days, spend a week with your family for Christmas. Doesn’t hurt to try, you know.” Javi squeezed your hand. Knowing just how fucking stubborn you could be, he insisted on it. “Por favor, cielo. Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. Dejame ayudarte.”

You drained the rest of your scotch and swallowed it along with the lump that had climbed it’s way up your throat. Setting the glass back down, you then pulled your hand out from under his and stood up.

“Forget it. I’m here because I have a job to do—we both have a job to do. I’ll get over it, Javier. Always do.”

Before he could say another word, you’d picked up your jacket and purse, making a quick dash for the exit before he could see the stubborn tear slipping out from the corner of your eye and down the side of your face. But he had seen it, and that’s exactly why he knew he had to do something for you.

About an hour later, Javi places a glittering star on top of the white spruce and then takes a couple of steps back, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to the side, he observes the tree and makes sure that he hasn’t left a single spot bare. He decides to add more gold tinsel until he feels oddly satisfied—and once he is, he pulls out his pocket knife, using it to open the small sized box he had brought with him; two different addresses were scribbled on the side of it in your mother’s handwriting, his apartment’s address the destination, her address the return.

“I wrapped it well,” she’d said over the phone. “It’s her most prized possession, so I really hope it gets to you in one piece or she’s going to kill us both.”

Javier slowly unwraps the object inside and feels a wave of complete and utter relief wash over him to see it made it through customs without breaking.

He squints, taking a better look at the ornament.

The little blonde ballerina is made of porcelain and holds a nutcracker soldier in her arms—the skirt of her dress is white lace embroidered with teeny red rosettes that perfectly match the blush painted on her cheeks and the color of the bow in her hair.

“It’s Clara,” your mother had explained to him.

“Who?” he’d asked, stupidly.

“Clara. You know, from The Nutcracker?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he’d fibbed. “Clara. Got it.”

He had no clue what she had been talking about—but if it’s special to you, then it’s special to him.

Carefully, Javi hangs it on tree just as he hears the front door open and then slam shut so hard that it causes the paper thin walls of your unit to rattle.

“Peña!” you shout loudly. “You fucking asshole!”

Lip rolling between his teeth, he stifles a laugh.

You must have seen his Wrangler parked outside.

Grinning, Javier steps out into the hallway to greet you. “Hola, hermosa. Bienvenida a casa.”

“So, let me get this straight,” you say, tossing your purse and unit keys onto a nearby table. “You offer to give me ride to and from work but then proceed to ditch me and leave work three hours early—you leave me with no other fucking choice but to call a cab to bring me home and when he drops me off, I see your fucking car outside of my apartment?”

Rubbing his chin, he hums, “Sounds about right.”

You approach him, your hands curled into fists.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Javier?”

Javi’s quick to hold up his own hands in defense.

He won’t put it past you to knock him out—he and Murphy have seen you bring down men twice your size before without a weapon. Neither of them can decide if it’s hot as hell or downright terrifying.

“Okay, put those away and let me explain,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I’m really sorry I did that to you, but I did it for a reason.”

You scoff, “Well, if that reason was to piss me off, I have some news for you—it fucking worked.”

“That wasn’t the reason. Not this time, anyway.”

Chuckling, Javier extends a hand, holding it out to you.

You peer at it. “What are you doing, Peña?”

“Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti.”

Suspiciously, you ask him, “What did you do?”

He laughs again. He knew it wouldn’t make it easy for him. “You do know how surprises work, right?”

You lift your chin. “I do and I don’t like surprises.”

“I know you don’t, but I think you’ll like this one.”

Javi continues to hold out his hand and waits.

He’s just as stubborn as you are, if not more.

“We can stand here all fucking night, corazón.”

Sighing in defeat, you place your hand in his, heart skipping a beat when he smiles and laces together your fingers with his own.

“Cierra tus ojos.”

“Javier, I don’t want—”

He quickly cuts you off. “Do you trust me?”

Of course. Hell, you trusted him with your life.

And not just because it’s a job requirement.

Huffing, you do as he says and close your eyes.

“Good.” Javier places his other hand on your waist and his fingers brush against the patch of smooth, soft skin peeking out from between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your blouse. Ignoring his burning desire to feel more of you, he leads the way into the living room and positions you in front of the tree. Without dropping your hand, he moves to stand directly behind you, chest pressed lightly against your back.“Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita.”

“Look Peña, I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

Your own startled gasp cuts you off mid sentence.

Squeezing your hand, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and you can feel his grin as he whispers, “Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parece?”

You open your mouth to speak, then clamp it shut.

His surprise had left you speechless.

Pleased with himself, Javi nudges you towards the tree and then drops his hands down at his sides as he watches you gingerly touch the needles.

Closing your eyes, you inhale deeply, the delicious, woodsy smell of pine reminding you of your family and how you’d all pile into your father’s old pickup truck and head to the Christmas Tree Farm to find the perfect white spruce to take home. Your father took great care in the picking process—he wanted the tallest, fluffiest, most fragrant tree. “Need this place to smell like the farm!” he’d boom. You smile and can’t help but to think he’d approve of Javi—if not because of what he had done for you, then the choice in tree would be enough to win him over.

“Do you like it?” he asks, softly.

You open your eyes and whirl around. “Javi, I can’t believe you did this,” you say, breathlessly. Smiling brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree, you throw your arms around him. “I love it so much!”

He savors the embrace—and wonders if you know just how perfectly you fit right in his arms.

“There’s one more surprise,” Javier informs you as he spins you around to look at the tree once again. “Do you see it?”

“See what?” Peering at the tree, you frown. “What am I supposed to be looking for—wait a second, is that—is that Clara?” Your hand flies to your mouth and you look up at him in complete shock. “That’s the ornament my grandmother made for me when I was a baby! I’ve had her since my first Christmas. How did you—?”

“Santa no cuenta sus secretos.” Javi grins, pulling you closer against his side. “But if you must know, your mom sent it to me,” he confesses. “Actually, I have to be honest—this whole thing was her idea.”

Perplexed, you ask, “This was my mom’s idea?”

“I know you’ve been having a hard time being here during the holidays instead of with your family,” he says. “I called her up a couple of weeks ago, asked her what I could do for you. We started talking and came up with this.” He shrugs and touches a hand to the back of his neck, sheepishly. “I know it’s not the same as going home. But I thought it might be nice to bring a little piece of home here to you.”

Warmth blossoms inside of your chest as you turn to face him. You place a hand on his chest. “Javi?”

Nervously, his throat bobs. “Yeah?”

“Why did you do this for me?”

Javier lifts his hand and tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “I told you. I just want to see you happy.”

“But why?”

You know why.

But you need to hear him say it.

You need to hear it from his own mouth.

Javi’s hand moves to cup the side of your face. “Is it not obvious?” he murmurs as he grazes the silky soft skin over your cheekbone. “Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientas igual.”

“How do you know I don’t feel the same for you?”

“Do you?” His thumb sweeps your bottom lip. “Do you feel the same for me?”

Your hand curls around his red plaid flannel.

“I shouldn’t,” you admit. “We’re work partners.”

He feigns offense. “Ouch. And here I was, thinking we were friends.” He now takes your chin between his index finger and his thumb. Licking his lips, his eyes meet yours. “Breaking my heart, baby.”

Your breath audibly catches. “We are friends—and it scares me to put our friendship on the line.”

“But?” he prompts as he tilts your head up toward his. His opposite hand finds your hip and pulls you closer to him.

“But when you do things like this—it’s hard for me not to fucking fall in love with you, Peña.” You drag your hand down his chest, your fingers relishing in the softness of his flannel. “It’s so fucking hard for me not to fall in love with somebody who feels like home.”

Javier’s chuckles softly.

“For the record, this wasn’t a ploy to get you to fall in love with me, corazón. But if it worked—” Javier pauses, dropping his hand from your face. “Then I guess it’s worth pulling this thing out.”

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Javi, what the hell are you—?”

He grins, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

“Connie said this might come in handy.”

Your eyes flicker to his lips, then meet his gaze.

“Ven aqui, Peña.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull Javi in and crash your mouth against his. You brush his bottom lip with your tongue and he grants you the access you’re looking for. He tastes like spearmint and scotch, and something else too.

He tastes like yours.

And he feels like home.

diver credit to @saradika-graphics ❤️

Translations

Yo hablaré con Messina, cariño. - I’ll talk to Messina, darling.

No hay caso para eso, Javier. - There’s no point, Javier.

Dejame ayudarte con esto. Yo solo quiero verte feliz. - Let me help you with this. I just want to see you happy.

Ven conmigo, cielo. Tengo una sorpresa para ti. - Come with me, I have a surprise for you.

Cierra tus ojos. - Close your eyes.

Puedes abrir tus ojos, bonita. - You can open your eyes, pretty girl.

Sorpresa, preciosa. Tienes un arbol de Navidad. Qué tal te parch? - Surprise, precious girl. You have a Christmas tree. What do you think?

Santa no cuenta sus secretos. - Santa doesn’t tell his secrets.

Tú bien sabes qué yo siento algo por ti, hermosa. Aunque no sientes igual. - You know all too well I have feelings for you. Even if you don’t feel the same.

Ven aqui, Peña. - Come here, Peña.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fluff #narcos fanfiction #javier peña one shot #javier peña drabble #12 days of pedro

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yuri-is-online · 5 months

Text

The Tower Stairs: Rollo Flamme

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City." The words should not be bouncing around in your brain like a screensaver, hitting on the edges left by overblot after overblot. You wish Vil was here to remind you that not everyone who hurt you had been so callous in the aftermath.

But he's not. The only one here who is willing to point out the wrongs is Rollo. Are you wrong for being tempted to let him take advantage of that?

notes: This is fucking 10,225 words and only lightly proofread, sorry. they/them used for Yuu, SPOILERS FOR ALL OF GLORIOUS MASQUERADE, light references to events surrounding overblots, non-consensual drugging and possible Stockholm syndrome, Yuu feels isolated and Rollo has an idea just hear him out. Lots of toxicity all around please be advised This is technically part of a series, the first part features Azul. If you like those consider checking out my masterlist.

Two sentences.

Two students will be sent as attendants to the invited mages. One monster and one magicless human, approximate measurements attached per your request.

Two sentences barely acknowledging your existence and that was it; the foolish mage in charge of Night Raven hadn't even thought to include a name or photograph (the monster got the same treatment but he could not really bring himself to care as much about that) and he hadn't even made notes about food preferences or allergies. The attached note was a post-it scrawled in the most haphazard and uncaring handwriting that he needs to take a brief moment to breathe, turning away from his desk to throw another log on the fire and breath in the soothing scent of the smoke. He doesn't even know what their favorite color is, those poor fools will have to make a guess while they obsess over what costume to throw at them.

Costume. His eyebrows twitch as he brings the handkerchief to his nose, the smoke no longer enough to distract from his disgust. Breathe in, the gentle aroma of rosemary and lavender brings clarity though solace remains tentatively hanging in the bell tower along with all of his hopes, breathe out. He dares not risk ruining the foolish surprise by asking, but he makes sure to take a nice sheet of paper and properly write out the notes on their measurements neatly, tacking it to the top of the stack where it belongs. This festival was always meant to be for the virtuous, and while he may not know them, what he has seen of the others guarantee them to be the best of the lot. The bell dutifully rings out the evening toll and Rollo takes one last look at those two sentences. He pities you; that's the explanation he reaches for the pain searing in his chest.

~~~~

Halloween feels more like Christmas with how big of a deal all your friends are making of it, and you really lack the words to explain how strange that makes you feel. It's not a bad sort of strange you suppose as you twirl a little of the thickly embroidered fabric in between your fingers. Festivities bring good food, an excuse to avoid classwork, and a way to guise showing affection under holiday obligation; it's just a bit odd to see it cloaked in orange, blacks, and pumpkin carvings and not pine needles and nutmeg. But all of these thoughts are irrelevant, meant to try and distract you from the waiting crowd outside and the social you've been pawned off on. You take a deep breath, trying to focus on how excited Grim sounds and how cute you know he will look to avoid the terror of being seen.

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City."

Your eyes meet Rollo’s before you shamefully turn to your friends, disappointment flashing through you with just how impassive his gaze remains despite the beauty of the costume. It’s just a stupid “crush” on a guy who if you in your right mind you would insist looked ugly. A real choice example of “guy you didn’t know magic could invent,” 18 going on 80, someone who if you had admitted out loud to wanting to get to know better as a friend you would be judged heavily for. And if you are being honest with yourself it isn’t even really a crush, it’s just your stupid brain firing off a bunch of dopamine at someone offering you a genuine break and some sympathy for the troubles he assumed you’d been through. Vil remembered. The tiny, tired voice of reason tried to do its job at the back of your skull. It is probably very dark and lonely back there. Maybe guys from the Shaftlands are just built different. Even it was overworked and making concessions.

“It looks like you are wearing matching outfits.” Deuce’s kind smile brings you out of your head and back to reality.

“You look like you’re matching with Riddle!” You say and smile wide when both Deuce and Riddle puff up in pride.

“We both look like proper card soldiers,” Riddle actually bows to the Vice-President, who looks really happy to receive the praise “you must have really put a lot of thought into these.”

“Glad you noticed!” You see Rollo pull out that strange handkerchief and inhale as his Vice-President happily chirps away. “Since your Headmage noted your dormitories we tried to include inspiration from the Great Seven in the costume themes! The costumes are supposed to respect tradition, and your school has some too, we figured ‘why not combine them?’”

“Where’d mine come from then?” Grim doesn’t seem too fussed even though he asks, he must really like his outfit. “Yuu and I are the only ones who care about our dorm.”

“Yes the… note provided for you was most inadequate.” Rollo is technically addressing the crowd, but his gaze remains firmly on you. His eyes are beautiful, green and blue swirling in what you delusionally swear is a gentle dark gray frame that will dull and snap back to firm disinterest once he returns to your seniors. “As such I suggested the capes but these two came up with the rest.”

“We went with purple and black since those are both NRC and NBC colors.” The VP gives you what should be a confident thumbs up that you barely pay attention to, still caught up in the intensity of Rollo’s gaze.

“Thank you.” You barely manage to break away from it and miss the way Rollo seems to somehow stand taller, even if he does not say-

“You’re welcome!” The vice-president and aide continue to glow with everyone’s praise. “We really hoped you would like them.”

You can barely hear their words over your focus on him. If he feels the weight of your gaze he doesn't flinch, nor does he acknowledge it, leaving Trein’s voice to cut through your stupor, startling you with an expectation of disappointment or trouble. But it isn’t there, he simply seems concerned, and thankfully not with you. You cannot say the same of your classmates, but then again you had also forgotten the headache you got listening to them argue over their fieldwork group names. Seriously, how old were Azul and Idia again? And you aren’t going to think about Malleus right now, the ibuprofen Trey had helped you pack was with your luggage not the pockets of your costume.

“What will Yuu be doing?” Rollo is as impassive as ever, but he once again looks at you as he asks, as if he expects you to be a part of the conversation. How cute.

“Yuu and Grim will be with me.” Trein turns to scold your friends and though you expect Rollo to follow, or maybe excuse himself to his duties he does not.

“Are you alright with this arrangement?” He asks.

“Oh we discussed it before we got here.” You rush to pacify, which startles Rollo more than soothes him. “As long as Grim gets to eat a bunch of stuff we’ll be fine.” If anything it will probably keep him distracted from causing trouble to keep bouncing back and forth between the groups, but you don’t say that outloud.

“Yeah!” Grim cheers, excited by the mention of his name if nothing else. “This place has got all sorts of great food right?! Riddle was tellin me all about it.” Rollo seems displeased, the handkerchief comes out from his pocket but he doesn’t hold it up to his face yet, choosing instead to focus on your eyes.

“I wasn’t asking about Grim.” Your little friend begins to make noises of protest, but they quiet as he looks back and forth between you both. But if Rollo has more to say he is forced to keep it to himself.

“Human!” Sebek’s shout demands your attention and you see Rollo finally lift his arm to take the deepest breath yet into his handkerchief. “You had better not plan on keeping Lord Malleus waiting! Have you already forgotten he specifically requested you accompany his group?!?!” You haven’t, but you know Sebek won’t hear that.

“Sorry, duty calls!” You give your best elegant bow and are rewarded with a genuine smile.

“Yes, for both of us.” He watches, with a strange look in his eyes as you flicker out of his view like a wisp of smoke.

~~~~ “I was worried when Sebek started arguing and insisting that he join Malleus’s group… But honestly, I’m glad he has a proper guard.” Jamil does seem significantly less stressed than he usually does, which in turn relaxes you.

“Of course, Malleus’s safety will always be my first priority!” Sebek is all smiles and pride as the conversation continues towards what direction to start your tour, you find your mind wanting to join in the conversation but finding yourself unable to really contribute. Grim is similarly distressed.

“I thought this was Group 1,” he wisely chooses to whine to you and not Trien, “not Group BORING.”

“We’ve got to respect their wishes.” You say, wishing only slightly he wasn’t wearing such a dapper hat. You miss scratching his ears. “Besides, historic spots make for great tourist destinations. You are worried you won’t get any food, right? I won’t let that happen.”

“Most of the places I know of aren’t on tourist maps.” Trien corrects gently, but his small smile lets you know he does not mean to come off as reprimanding. “But Yuu is correct, Grim, there will be plenty of places to feed you as we check on the other groups.”

“Well then what are we waitin’ around for! Let’s get cracking!” Grim’s little shout and face is so deathly serious you can’t help but snap a brief picture on your phone, as you walk slowly between Riddle and Jamil.

“So,” a relaxed Jamil might be a rare sight, but this teasing look is not “what did President Rollo want to talk to our little attendant about?”

“I was wondering that as well.” Riddle asks much more earnestly, which gets the squirming reaction from you Jamil had been trying to provoke. “He wasn’t being rude was he? An insult to one NRC student is a slight to our whole school.”

“Oh I’m sure he was very personal.” Laughs Jamil and you try to pass off your embarrassment with a cough.

“He just wanted to know what group Grim and I were going with.” It has got to be enough of the truth to get Jamil to drop it, but as you turn yourself back towards Trien you are surprised to find him smirking.

“Yes, Mr. Flamm was very concerned with knowing your whereabouts.” He has the decency to shoot Jamil a stern glance when he cackles, but the teasing point has still been made. You have been seen (for once, the tiny voice argues, when there is something to use against you.) Thankfully Malleus and Riddle still seem blissfully unaware of what is being implied, if anything Malleus seems deeply pleased at the mention of Rollo.

“I’m glad he was willing to invite us both.” It is hard to ignore the puff to his chest that comes with the word invitation, your tired inner voice retreats replaced with a genuine smile.

“Me too, Tsunotarou. It’s nice to be able to take a vacation.” You should be concerned that Trien has led you into what appears to be a sewer alley, but the soothing melody of the river to your left drowns out all worries and Sebek’s misery at being the sole mage to have done zero research. Well maybe not the sole mage, just the only one without a collar.

“Hey Yuu,” Grim whispers, “did ya think at all about what Rollo said earlier?”

“About relaxing?” Please, don’t let Grim get in on teasing you too. You don’t want to live in a world where he is more socially conscious than Riddle.

“No! Well kinda. I mean about what ya wanted to do.” Grim does occasionally have serious thoughts. “N-not that I really care or anythin, just y’know.” Not that he ever outright admits to thinking them. This one has him so embarrassed he starts yelling at Sebek to give up on thinking before he can hear your answer, giving you time to actually think on one.

It is a relatively easy answer, the same you always have whenever you get the opportunity to leave campus. You want to look for a way home, but how exactly do you go about doing that? Maybe Rollo would know this water sort of reminds you of his eyes, tired, he looks so tired but when he was able to talk to you he seemed to relax and now you hate yourself even more than you had earlier. You force yourself to stand up at a normal pace and rejoin the conversation, as if the painful spike of emotion that a new crush brings isn’t actively wrecking your heartbeat.

~~~~

Yuu. The name of the student attendant is Yuu, Rollo was already making amendments to the lines as soon as he confirmed that, but your conversation began to muddle his own corrections with unnecessary feeling. He doesn’t understand it, the strange pull he is feeling towards you; Rollo assumed at first was fanned by his hatred of those awful mages, the inherent desire to soothe you all feels justified but no… he knows that feeling, or at least he thinks he does. He feels it every time he sees a magicless citizen of his city think about just how much better their life could be, but that emotion has grown dull, this desire burns him. Even now as he tries desperately with fragrant herbs and the gentle lull of the river the intoxicating glow of relief in their eyes blazes in his soul.

"Forget about school while you're here and enjoy a moment of respite in Fleur City."

It was generic, there was so much more he should have said. But what could he offer you? You're not a mage, you have every right to be wary of him. To refuse his help would be understandable.

“And I hope the rest of you will enjoy the social.”

The thought of the social finally succeeds in sobering him, he runs though his plans once more in his head as he sees the outline of one of those detestable NRC clowns looking over the various bakeries, clearly inept at choosing where to go. And once again those thoughts flicker briefly back to you, not that Rollo trusts mages to do anything other than pursue their own interests, but he had hoped somewhat foolishly when he had read the word “attendant” that some care would be taken for your preferences and safety. But clearly he was mistaken, and how he loathes the thought of his plans being anything less than perfect. The handkerchief goes back into his pocket and his hand brushes up against a tiny bottle. Dreamer’s Rest such a mundane name for a poison. It is, no it was meant to be a precaution, but now, as he idly holds the crystal bottle up to the sunlight, a new thought takes shape in his mind. It is magic, something he despises and believes should not exist, but if he could convince you to drink it…

Quickly he shoves the thought and the bottle back into his robes, forcing himself towards Ashengrotto’s group hoping the new temptations will disappear.

They do not, as amusing the thought of them purchasing souvenirs is.

“What’s so surprising about that?” The look on Azul’s face as he speaks does suggest offense, but that he has cause to be at all sharpens Rollo’s resolve. “That’s generally what you do with gifts, yes. What do you two take me for?” Exactly what he wants them too, Rollo supposes seeing how quickly Deuce and Epel jump to praise him and completely miss Azul’s muttered expectation of compensation. The three continue to speak of utterly irrelevant topics.

“Certainly.” He folds his hands and takes the first opportunity to excuse himself. Azul is a merchant and these two are dumb as rocks, he has nothing to worry about here. “I’ll take my leave then-”

“Oh before you go!” Deuce has an infuriatingly cheerful smile on his face for someone who has just interrupted him. “I wanted to thank you. For including Yuu I mean.” Azul pushes his glasses up onto his face, curious, it would appear his reactions are being watched, but that this sentiment from Deuce is not unexpected. “I was really worried you Nobel Bell guys would see them as an inconvenience or a burden since it’s supposed to be a mage’s social and all and they aren’t a mage, you have no idea how relieved I was you had costumes for them and Grim. I was really happy they got to come!”

“Yeah!” Epel’s smile could be described as cute if he wasn’t such a talented mage. “We’re going to have so much fun at the social together, I can’t wait.”

“Of course.” Rollo smiles in spite of himself, if he was less focused on making his exit he would have realized he had been since the first mention of Yuu’s name. “I will continue to ensure they… are allowed to relax while here.” How disappointing, Rollo thinks, that these mages see inclusion of their supposed friend to be a point in his favor. It’s almost enough to make him laugh, but then he swears he sees your face before him, eyes agleam with wonder and suddenly words lose all meaning. The handkerchief comes out as he makes his way back to his tasks, the sooner they are done the more of an excuse he can make to see you again. “Now if you all will excuse me, I have to get back to checking on the other groups.” It wouldn't do to keep his flowers waiting after all.

Azul frowns deeply for just one moment. “Are you sure you should be thanking him?” His face returns to stoic calculation, but he still asks.

“Why?” Deuce is so genuinely confused it really does make Azul hurt for Riddle.

“... no reason.” Yet anyway.”

~~~~

For a creature so gluttonous Grim sure does love to play with his food, it would be cute to watch him catch grapes in his mouth if you weren’t walking through such a busy intersection looking for Azul’s group. “You need to be more careful.” You fuss, taking advantage of Trien’s pause to check his maps to gently poke Grim’s nose. He sneezes.

“Ya don’t have ta worry so much,” he huffs as if he isn’t pleased with the attention “the Great Grim isn’t able to choke.”

“Heh your friend doesn’t seem to think so.” Rollo’s laugh is as smug as it is startling, you swear you jump halfway out of your skin. He moves to follow you, a noise of startled surprise sending pinpricks up your arms in delight.

“Rollo! Sorry I didn’t see you.” Great now he has to think you’re stupid, of course you didn’t see him Yuu! He clearly just got here! “Is everything ok? No one causing you any trouble?” You have to bite your tongue not to add from my school because who else would be doing that.

“Nothing’s happened you need to worry over.” Rollo folds his hands, those water grey eyes ripple with emotion reminding you of your reflections at the riverside earlier. " I simply saw you and decided to come over and see how your tour was progressing so far.”

“It’s goin great!” Grim hugs his bunch of grapes close to his chest. “Yuu’s been gettin me all sorts of yummy grub.”

“... it is heartwarming to see how caring Yuu is towards you.” His smile suggests genuine amusement, and your heart warms with pride. “But I am curious, have you gotten to do everything you wanted to? Is there still something you wish to see?” Rollo says it so passively, as if it wasn't a natural question to ask. It is, you suppose, a natural question if

“I’m sorry?” Rollo’s eyes haven’t once left yours, there is no mistaking he intended to speak directly to you and yet…

“This is an experience for you too, yes?” Rollo looks sad you think, but you try to remind your rapidly increasing heart rate that you have only just met so you have no idea if that is true. “I have some time before I am needed, if your Professor allows it-”

“Of course I will.” Trien’s voice causes you both to jump, free from whatever strange aura you constantly find in each other’s presence. There is a strange glint in his eyes, almost nostalgic as he takes Grim from your arms and nods towards Rollo. “There are a few places I can think of that might be of interest to Yuu specifically, but I’m sure you will be much more up to date with what’s practical.” You expect him to wait, to confirm just where it is Rollo wants to take you off to but no. If anything he practically skips away from you with pep that you swear should strain his back.

“I’m so sorry he just left like that.” You say quietly, and to your surprise Rollo laughs. The stern look that had been so fixed into your mind since this morning is kinder now, he actually looks like a young man now, the aura of nobility around him seeming to come more from some hidden self confidence you suppose all mages have tucked somewhere.

“There’s no need, I’m sure it would have been much more embarrassing if he stayed.” Rollo says it so matter of factly you almost believe him. “So just what was it you wanted to see?”

“Is there a place where-” you eagerly start before flustering with the weight of trying to explain what exactly it is you are looking for. “Why” will be even harder, emotionally if nothing else. “Is there any place I could do some research I guess? Like on really obscure myths and history.” It was clearly not the question Rollo was expecting, but he does have an answer ready.

“There is a book store I am fond of across from the main school building, assuming you don’t mind walking back that way?”

“Not at all.” You remain trapped in your strange silence, though Rollo does not quite seem to mind. He easily begins to guide you back towards the school, the tension you had previously associated with him never once returning to his face.

“Do you enjoy reading about mythology?” He asks as soon as the crowd thins a little.

“Yes.” Your answer is quieter than he’d like, as if you are questioning the sincerity of your own interests. “You can tell a lot about what people value by looking at the stories they tell and besides… I just like stories.”

“What sort?” The question isn’t sharp, so you silently curse yourself for jumping. “I apologize if I am coming off as needling you, that wasn't my intention. As the president of a magic school’s student council I seldom get a chance to speak with… the more sincere members of society. I am curious about your perspective, you could say I find it important.”

“Why?” You don’t mean to scoff, but Rollo doesn’t seem phased. If anything he seems oddly pleased.

“Do you think yourself unimportant?” The stern look he gives is far less severe than what had been aimed at your classmates, but is still disarming. “I meant what I said before. I understand if you find it tiring to be around me as well, but I promise you need only to speak if I am exhausting you.”

“No!” His pleased smile grows as you try desperately to center your thoughts. “You haven’t been exhausting me at all, I just- wasn’t expecting the question.” Rollo’s contented laugh sears you right to your soul, so beautiful and strong and so clearly meant only for you to hear. You are spared further embarrassing thoughts as you finally reach your destination and he reaches for the shop’s door.

“After you, Yuu.” Bless the shop bell for ringing you back to reality, and the smell of old books finally luring you away from Rollo’s grasp.

~~~~

There is a peaceful, eager joy about your expression that Rollo tries desperately to write into his memory. This is how you should look all the time, unburdened by the weariness existing next to magic and mages that undoubtedly piles on you. His relief flickers slightly as he wonders, unpleasantly, just what it is you think of him and his faults. Is he truly responsible for your joy now? And if he is… just what does he need to do to keep it? He is suddenly heavily aware of the bottle in his pocket, and Grim’s words from earlier begin to suggest an ill formed plan that drives him to speak.

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” he whispers in spite of himself, but you do not seem displeased with his interruption.

“Idia bought me some grape juice, but other than that not really.” And yet you have been feeding your companion like some sort of saint.

“There’s a small cafe attached to this store…” There is no going back if he says this, there are a million things that should be at the front of his mind but the only thing he can bring himself to worry over is what you will think of him once it is done. “Would you like something from it?” You pause scanning the book you are holding and reach towards your pocket, but he catches your hand as gently as he can before pulling back worried he has overstepped. “I’ll pay for it, please don’t worry yourself.”

“I can’t ask you to do that!” So you squeak but your stomach seems to disagree with the strange noise it makes.

“Then don’t.” He cannot help but smile as he says it. Cute. He thinks that is the word he wants to use. You have his entire attention. “Just tell me what you would like.” He half expects you to continue denying yourself, but no. You murmur a bashful request, and he promises to meet you at the front of the store once he has gotten you something. He almost believes in his own good intentions until his hand touches the bottle in his pocket as he tries to think. This… impulse is not his fault. You will be in danger if he does not act, he needs to find a way to keep you safe from the downfall of those mages who surround you.

There is a selection of fruit and cheese that catches his eye, there is a small dish of honey meant to be paired with some apples. Dreamer’s Rest has no taste, just one bite from any of these would grant you the relaxation you deserved. This is a conscious decision he is making, if he commits there will be no way to take it back. He can beg you to see his reason, but would you listen? It’s insidious how little visible effect magic leaves on something, nothing looks different or dangerous, the food he is holding just looks like food.

“Have you ever heard of someone traveling between worlds before?” Rollo should be concerned with how tuned in to your voice he is, how quickly he completes his task and takes himself, with noticeably lighter pockets, back to the front of the store and the tables set next to the front counter.

“Are you sure you don’t mean continents?” The shopkeep seems confused, but Yuu seems strangely determined. Desperate even.

“No, worlds. Like different realities or dimensions.” You try again. “Maybe something about liminal spaces?” That just makes them laugh.

“Oh no, if you’re interested in those sorts of things you’ll need to look at the science fiction section! Magical travel between different ‘worlds’ is so utterly preposterous, I’m sure Monsieur Rollo will be able to explain to you why.” You look devastated, as if what has been said is a personal slight. He lacks the ability to describe just what it is he is feeling now, there is a wariness to how he looks over you he doesn’t like. There is no reason to doubt your virtue, you have no magic. So why then,would you be so interested in what would undoubtedly be such a career defining feat for any mage, why act distraught as if you are so intimately acquainted with the subject? You cannot look at him as he gently guides you to the table, can’t speak even. It is as if the dismissal has robbed you of your appetite.

“Technically speaking if we had proof another reality existed,” he takes care to breathe in the comforting scents of his kerchief, watching you for any sign of motive “it would not be a matter of science fiction. As we lack that, however, most statistical models make such a thing out to be quite impossible. Teleportation magics such as the Dark Mirror at Night Raven possess are already quite rare and subject to stringent regulation, it stands to reason the ability to travel across reality would be much more rare.”

“I see.” You are quiet, yet unflinching under his scrutiny in a way that makes him want to scream. There is no reason for you to be so resigned to him, it should be the other way around. He should be afraid of your judgment, your wrath, not your rejection as you pick idly at the fruits. “You must think I’m very silly.” You whisper.

“I think you are not telling me something.” He whispers as well, trying to sound sincere and sympathetic. “That your friends and teachers did not tell me something.” His body moves of its own accord, he stands and places his hands on your shoulders in what he hopes is a gentle manner; you look up to him with a strangely hopeful expression. It is as if you see him as some source of light, unaware of its hellish source. “My judgment is fair, so please, unburden yourself while you are here.” While you can be safe in his arms.

“If I said,” your voice quivers “if I said I did have proof of a different reality. One where magic didn’t exist.” He inhales sharply, a new scent worming itself among his affirmations alongside the resurgence of the pain from when he first read those two accursed lines. “If I was somehow taken from such a place, and wanted to find a way back, would you believe me?”

“Yes.” There is disbelief in your eyes, but really how could he reach any other explanation for this grip you have on his soul? The reasoning, as implausible as other scholars would decry it, made a degree of sense. Why else would such a wretched institution like Night Raven allow for someone so pure to exist in their presence, to say nothing of being allowed to attend as a student? The best solution, no matter how improbable, is the simplest one, and what a beautiful solution this admission is.

“I don’t know how I got here really, I just sort of showed up at orientation and the headmage hasn’t done mu- I mean he hasn’t really found any promising leads about how to send me back. That was his excuse for sending me to the social. He thought that since maybe your academy is also really old and has so many traditions that maybe one of you would know how to send me home.” Slowly, so slowly it almost burns, Rollo moves his right hand from your arm to fetch something from his pocket. The large ruby of his ring reflects the dull light of the lamps as he runs just the edge of his handkerchief under your eye, letting his thumb massage the tear towards it. The comforting blend of rosemary and lavender that invades your senses explains why he keeps it so close to his nose, but those are not the scents that soothe you. There is an undercurrent, brought by his sleeves and the way his eyes follow the curve of your cheek and stay unintentionally on your lips, of wood smoke and ink that can’t come from anyone but him, who in their right mind would burn something in a bookstore?

“You can speak poorly of him here.” There is an undercurrent of authority to his voice that should scare you. Rollo has always looked directly at you, that dark gray blue inviting you to bathe in his light has never once thought of you as the other. Perhaps because he is too busy looking at your classmates like they are lesser, a thought that you should perhaps pay more mind. “No one is going to carry what you say back to them, I promise. You poor thing…” It is all you can do to not collapse into his arms and cry. It should be condescending, this way he is looking at you. “It’s cruel to keep you like this.” Who he is speaking to you don’t know, there is an unspoken aura over you both, an aura of agreement that he could be as cruel as he likes. Idly, as if he does not fully understand what he is doing, Rollo removes his hand shakily, returning his handkerchief to his pocket, only breaking eye contact with you to eye the abandoned apple slices on the table next to you. “Are you still hungry?” He is asking you a question, but it’s not the one he’s voiced.

“Yes.” You want him to kiss you, but that doesn’t seem to be what he intends to do. Instead he dips one of the apple slices into the honey and carefully, purposefully lifts it up to your lips. Wordlessly, he places the slice on your tongue and continues to hold it as you bite down, watching as you chew and closing the gap as you swallow.

His kiss burns, searing you with question and confirmation that this strange attraction is as destructive as it is mutual. “I have to take you back now.” He breathes the words close to your lips as you breathe in the smoke of his robes, deeply trying desperately to center yourself.

Your walk back is as quick as it is silent.

~~~~

“Ahh child of man! Good to have you back, come sit with us.” Mallues pats the seat beside him expectantly and you gladly settle, much to the chagrin of Sebek who immediately begins howling in protest. Grim makes similar noises when Azul suggests he sit in yours, but it has much less of an impact when he's voicing them from your lap already. You breathe deeply, looking around at the sights and sounds of what looks to be a carnival. Someone walks on a tightrope, there are acrobats tumbling around on the ground, and the whole thing really sparkles with wonder and excitement that feels like magic even before you see the sparks. It is something that should excite you, but for some reason the more you try to focus on the colors, the more you try to look around the more things begin to blur together. Perhaps it’s all the walking around you did today but you are beginning to feel extremely tired.

“And you are all content with such trivial feats of magic?” Malleus scoffs next to you and you frown deeply, this dance is already impressive. How could this be made better by making it louder? Maybe he is confused because it isn’t like Briar Valley festivals.

“You could totally upgrade those.” Snarks Idia. Never mind, maybe your friends were just dicks. At least you manage to get some revenge on Idia by making him dance a little with you, no matter how sluggish you feel. Though it admittedly feels less like revenge when Idia decides to be a responsible senior and guide you back to your seat. “Are you sure you should be standing up?” He doesn’t even sound like he is asking the question because he wants an excuse to be anti-social, Idia looks genuinely worried.

“I’m ok, promise.” you try to grin and bear your way through it but a quick yell for your attention from Grim and the burst of magical fireworks that follow quickly re-directs what little energy you have left.

“Grim, using magic like that in a public place is a bad idea.” Your scolding is drowned out by other, louder scolds and a spiral into everyone setting off fireworks. The noise and lights pound your skull with painful overstimulation. Cautiously, Rollo moves closer to you, concern clear on his face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, moving to take your temperature and not finding anything wrong, the only heat you feel is running up your spine from a desperate desire for him to be closer. You swear you hear someone, Malleus you think, calling for you to join the festivities, but the strange tiredness working its way through your limbs has reached your ears and is beginning to dull the noise around you. Rollo does not move, he stares down at you intently watching as you dazedly try to stand. “... Magic is such a troublesome thing, wouldn’t you agree Yuu? I can only imagine what you have been subjected to, between being stolen from your world and being surrounded by a gaggle of rambunctious foolhardy mages.” You want to laugh, tell him he doesn’t know the half of it, but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. “Worry not- this state of affairs shan’t last much longer.” Something about his voice worms its way to the back of your skull, maybe it’s the day’s exercise, maybe it’s the noise and lights overstimulating your brian, but you are finding it harder and harder to keep opening your eyes as you blink and try to focus on what Grim is telling you. He is tugging on your cape and jumping up and down, he has something he wants to say. He is proud of himself, he has that genuine non-smug happy smile Grim reserves only for you when he wants your praise, and you so desperately want to see what it is he wants to show you. But you’re tired, so very very tired. It’s so much effort to keep your eyes open. So you stop struggling, your eyes close and you feel yourself fall, and conveniently (too conveniently Azul notes pushing his glasses against his nose) Rollo is there to catch you. “Yuu!” Grim’s voice finally breaks through the fog, it’s panicked and you feel some worry bubbling up in the sane part of your mind when you realize you can’t move your hand to reassure him you are ok.

Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want to rest? Rest here in the City of Flowers?

“Is the noise bothering you?” Rollo asks quietly, so quietly you wonder if anyone else can hear him other than you. “Would you like to return to the school?”

“That might be for the best.” Trien’s hand is cool against your forehead, his voice filled with concern. “Would you object to taking them back, Rollo?” You feel Rollo bend to reach under your knees and lift you so high you practically feel like you are flying. A smile flutters onto your face; his embrace is one of safety and relaxation, with a tender caress from his thumb along your thigh that reminds you of the kiss from earlier.

“There's no need for that,” Azul tries to attract Idia's attention subtlety “one of us would be more than happy to-”

“That's quite alright.” Rollo doesn't even bother looking at him as he settles you further into his arms, for a brief moment your eyes open and refocus up at your… captor you suppose. You know the sound of Azul’s worries, and though you haven’t known Rollo for near as long you think (delusionally, the tired voice is regaining its reason. This is delusion, madness we are throwing ourselves onto a pyre-) you are beginning to recognize his. There is worry in his gaze, solely focused on you, from the moment you met him he has been considerate and focused on you in a way that should worry you. Trien does not seem to share your faith in Azul, you think based on the way Rollo begins to move away from the crowd towards the blissful quiet that he has decided to place his bet on the wrong mage, just as you are about to.

“I am going to trust you.” You whisper, so slowly you wonder if Rollo even knows what it is you are saying. If he does, he says nothing aloud, but his steps begin to pick up speed.

~~~~

Fire. There is a fire to your left you think, the wood crackles pleasantly and gives this strange dream a cozy feel. Your entire body feels heavy, you can barely open your eyes or move a finger, but you don't seem to be bound to this chair, you can't really seem to motivate yourself to move from it. Someone's head is resting on your lap, their hands are shaking.

“Forgive me.” Rollo is whispering, but there is an excitement to his voice. You realize you have no idea how long you have been sleeping, or even where you are as your eyes open and try to adjust to the dimly lit room around you. The stonework reminds you of the bell tower from your tour of the school, but you don’t remember seeing this room or the grand fireplace you flinch away from. “I’m just another mage causing problems for you at the end of the day, no matter how proud I am of my virtues.”

You manage to lift your head just enough to look down, Rollo’s head is indeed lying in your lap, his giant hat has been placed on the table just next to you, and though there is indeed triumph in his voice the expression on his face is painful. “No matter how hard I try to better myself, I am still a mage. I am still filled with evil and I am still forced to use that evil to pass judgment. I couldn’t even save you without resorting to it. I wonder just how much you would hate me if you knew…” His eyes flutter open, gently, much too gently for someone you are slowly starting to realize likely drugged you and definitely kidnaped you, he kisses the top of your hand. “Can I ask you for your forgiveness? Do I even have the right?” Slowly, with effort such a simple action should not take, you move your hand to his head and carefully run your nails over his scalp. Rollo groans, eyes raising to meet your bleary ones.

“If I can forgive you for this…” putting you to sleep, taking you away from your friends, Rollo did not strike you as someone who did this without there being another reason, Azul had earlier described him as naive and you are inclined to trust his judgment. “Can you accept it?” Rollo closes his eyes briefly, considering his options.

“If I were to tell you there was a way for magic to no longer be an obstacle…” He says it with such certainty you do not doubt him for a second “that I could free this world of that sickness that elevates people undeserving and unnecessarily, would you forgive me for the pain it would cause?”

“Do you see yourself as sick, Rollo?” You move your hand just under his chin, gently directing his head back up to look at you. Rollo grasps your hand as you do, rising from the floor as he places it just above his frantically beating heart.

“Don’t you?” There is pain in his eyes. Pain and sorrow just like every friend you have seen overblot except without the touch of inky madness that precedes it. “Or am I just like your friends at that school?”

“You aren’t like them.” It’s a lie of sorts, whatever Rollo has done, you strongly suspect, is no worse or better than anything the others have. But- “Why do you care about me so much?” You ask, voice cracking under the strain of your confusion. Rollo tightens his grip on your hand, his heart is hammering against it as if it wants to burst out of his ribcage and intertwine itself with your hand. But it cannot, so it satisfies itself with Rollo dipping forward to kiss your lips. Softly once, gently twice he kisses, before all pretense is lost and he moves in tune with you to hold onto your cape desperately and kiss and kiss and kiss deeply before he needs to come up for air. He dares not move fully away, taking his breaths just above your lips and slowly continuing to kiss along your jaw and just below murmuring his words as prayers indescribable as he does.

“I don’t know why.” Rollo groans in self hatred as you let out a tortured cry “Ever since I saw you I’ve been unable to remove you from my thoughts, my mind burns with flaming desire to throw away my plans,” he bites, his teeth sink slowly as you grasp at his robes and gasp “to get to know you. What makes you happy, the things that make you laugh and what makes you cry. I want to know that I can create a place where someone as lovely and filled with light as you does not feel the need to be anything more than themselves. Where, when there is danger, you are protected.” This too, this mad man who proudly sucks just one more mark onto your skin, is your Rollo, your Rollo who is so clearly going through something he will not confess to you and lashing out at the world like every other mage you know and yet…and yet he is saying the things you want to hear. The things you have longed for any other person to say to you as he rests his forehead against yours, lips bruised by yours and yet still not defiled near enough.

“When magic causes problems, the fallout should not be yours to take.” And just like that, you don’t care. Not nearly as much as you should, you should be hitting him not letting him admire his work as you fall back into a chair he didn’t need to bind you to, and certainly not thinking of how much you wish he had. You should hold him to the same standard you had the others. “I’ll come back for you.” It should frighten you, how quick he is to return to the stoic calm you had met him in as he promises you something awful. “There are things I need to attend to at the top of the tower, but I swear I will come back to you.” You don’t have to think hard about who those will be, Malleus’s angry shouts of betrayal at the (likely) false invitation aren’t hard to imagine, hopefully he hasn’t hurt anyone.

“Stay safe.” You hoarsely whisper, and Rollo briefly pauses in his walk to the door. Whatever he is thinking you aren’t left wondering long, quickly with a speed you didn’t know he had he darts back to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You too, Yuu.” He says your name with something like love once he returns to the door, his smile shines with it. It’s not his fault that you want it to be, is it his fault that you doubt him? If it is not love Rollo feels then what is it? Just obsession or-

“AHA!” A familiar voice knocks you out of your thoughts and onto the floor. “FINALLY I FOUND YA!”

~~~~

“It would seem I have made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment.” Trien’s understatement should fall flat, but Deuce is too busy bouncing his leg to try and dispel his stress. “I was too focused on trying to make sure you all were not causing trouble, I neglected to consider outside influences.” There is no need to guess what he is referring to, there is a noticeable absence among the collected NRC students. “Are you sure you should be thanking him?” As if Azul can sense Deuce’s thoughts, he begins to voice his own.

“Be that as it may, I doubt Rollo means to actually harm Yuu. Almost everything he has said to this point about magicless people seems to suggest he thinks they need to be coddled, not punished.”

“Indeed.” Jamil nods, eyes closed as if he is thinking really hard about something. “But his personal feelings towards Yuu is what makes this concerning, that’s what you are thinking I assume Azul?”

“Like I said,” Azul tries to ignore the cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck, “I doubt he means to harm them, but that doesn't mean his actions won’t have unintended consequences. Which is why we need to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”

“The rest of you do that.” Deuce is surprised by how calm he feels, his best friend is in danger, he should be furious. But all he feels is an unfamiliar determined calm. “I’ll go look for Yuu.”

“LOLOL what makes you think you need to do that?” Idia's laughter does spark a bit of a snarl from him, but Idia doesn't back down. “If Rollo’s following the classic BBGE playbook, Yuu’s got to be in the Bell Tower yeah? No need to split off into search parties, the princess is always in the final castle.”

“So there you have it.” Malleus has been disturbingly quiet ever since Epel pointed out how he destroyed the fire lotuses. His green eyes haven't once moved from their scorched roots, as if he is attempting to sear his anger into the stones below. “I will crush Rollo Flamm under my heel and bring Yuu back to all of us as whole the day they were taken.”

“Dude it has literally been like an hour.” Idia shakes his head, but Deuce can't help but agree with Malleus.

“Hold on Yuu, I promise we'll find you.”

~~~~

“Nyhahahaha! Take that!” Grim swats the air as if he's cutting through imaginary ropes. “All those other losers screamin’ and whining as soon as those flowers started poppin up but not the Great Grim! I jumped all the way up to where that Rollo guy was hangin out and followed him right here to you!” The story Grim tells you confirms your worst fears, but soothes some of the lesser ones. You have no doubt that if anyone can solve the threat of the crimson lotus’s it’s Idia, Azul, and Malleus. As soon as they were done measuring dicks anyway, for now you only have one real thing on your mind; desperately scrambling forward on the floor to scoop Grim up in your arms and hold him tight. He's trembling, and your heart begins to beat painfully in your chest as Grim starts to sob. “I was so worried about you.”

“I'm ok Grim.” You mean it this time, whatever Rollo fed you has well worked its way through your system and left you with the energy to whip away your beloved monster’s tears. “A bit sleepy but ok.”

“Of course you're OK the Great Grim's here.” You contine wipe his nose through his sniffles. “And now he’s gonna get you out of the tower! Just like a real hero!” But his bravado has a slight stutter, and yours is fighting a war with your heart. Your eyes close as you think of Rollo, at the top of the bell tower fighting to defend his delusions from people who would understand only half of what his problems were.

“I wish I had met him sooner.” It wouldn’t have stopped this, but you wonder not for the first or last time what would have happened if the poor mage had just had someone to talk to.

“You don’t wanna go do ya.” Grim frowns, eyes and ears drooping before he remembers he is supposed to be in charge. “Well then we can stay. Why should we go back to the other guys! Yeah! Screw ‘em! Always makin’ us do the hard work while they go and have fun.”

“No it’s ok Grim.” You stand, making sure to still hold onto him as you stand, carefully at first to make sure you are ok to put weight on your legs. “If we stay here you will never get to be the world’s greatest mage.”

“Yeah…” Grim does not perk up when you say that, it’s almost enough to make you break out into a sprint in case he has lost too much of his magic already. “Ya know… henchuman, I don’t wanna go out there alone. S’ not fun without you. I don’t wanna be the greatest mage if I have ta not have you.”

“...I’m not going anywhere Grim.” You touch your head to his, like a mother cat trying to comfort her kit. It’s an empty promise you suppose, with how desperate you are to go home. But if what Rollo had said about teleportation magic was true… then maybe you would just have to pick a place to make a new home instead.

The rest of the night is a blur. Somehow you manage to make it down the tower stairs to Deuce, who nearly has a panic attack when he sees you, and Rook who starts composing a poem in ode to Grim’s bravery that gives him a unneeded ego boost. They do a much better job of explaining what had happened than Grim had.

About the lotuses. About the pandemonium in the town, about what Azul and Idia had convinced Malleus to do.

“Please don’t ever get kidnapped again. Malleus got really scary.” The look on Deuce’s face suggests you will need to give Tsunotarou a lecture later. A long, long lecture that you suppose you can make somewhat shorter for how glad you are to hear the Bell of Solace ring out. And for insisting on Rollo still hold the ball. Getting to see Silver and Sebek try to toss Ruggie, Jamil, and Idia in the air completely makes getting kidnapped worth it. But…Your friends have not exactly left you alone since the threat ended. You know why of course, if one of them had been kidnapped you probably would be doing the same thing, but it’s keeping you from some closure. For someone who promised to come back for you, Rollo sure seems determined to stay away. It’s making your expression crumple in sadness behind your mask, something you wonder if he notices at all.

~~~~

“I am so grateful to you for providing me with so many memories.” Malleus holds tightly onto Rollo’s arm as the music flows across the ballroom, piercing gaze strategically keeping him away from the moonlit balcony you have decided to sequester yourself too. “But I must say there is one matter I think we have neglected to discuss.”

“And what could that possibly be?” Rollo snaps, the audacity of these Night Raven fools hurts, all he wishes to do is lick his wounds in peace.

“Why, the matter of your unfortunate attachment to my dearest friend.” Mallues grins, something like fear is finally flickering behind Rollo’s eyes. How unfortunate. “The child of man is precious to me, Flamm. And more importantly they do not share your views on magic.”

“Have you asked them?” Rollo replies tersely.

“Why would we need to do that?” Azul’s voice smoothly interrupts the private dance, he and Idia move to Rollo’s either side, they certainly look concerned. Angry even. If there were not mages Rollo would be pleased you had such dedicated friends.

“Because it’s clear from how little you paid attention to their safety this entire trip that you expect them to constantly come away from your magic abuses unscathed.” He snaps. “Tell me, if I hadn’t placed them in the tower, what would have happened to them? Would you have been considerate of their weaknesses? Yuu is not invincible, and I am ashamed that I of all people seem to be the only one concerned about their safety.”

“No I don’t think you are.” Azul says. “Not in the way you think, anyway. Yuu is extremely capable, we don’t treat them differently from any other student because we hate them, that’s just silly. Your entire perception of them is based on a terribly prejudiced first impression, and not one nearly as positive as you seem to think.”

“You can just say he has a creepy purity fetish and go.” Mutters Idia.

“And completely destroy my credibility?” Azul has more to say, but it's cut off before he can make his point.

“I agree with Shroud.” Mallues says, causing both Rollo and Azul to choke. “His treatment of Yuu is very much in line with cult-like devotion towards a magical artifact. Extremely ironic given his mission statement, wouldn’t you agree, Ashengrotto?”

“Oh of course!” Azul laughs, making sure to step forcefully on Idia’s foot before he can go correcting anyone. “But perhaps back to my point-”

“You don't have one.” Mutters Rollo, already bored with the conversation and desperate to find you again, just one more time before this entire failed event is over and he has to return to his plans.

“Yuu is a hard worker, and stubborn too. They do not need magic to be just as capable of what they do as any mage.” Azul’s words make him pause, he searches desperately for any sign of deception in them, but there isn’t any there.

“You do realize,” he tries slowly, “that none of those qualities make them able to defend themselves from offensive magic, which your Professor at least seems to think you quite willing to use.”

“I mean yeah.” Says Idia. “But like, that’s not what he’s trying to say. If you only choose a route because it has tropes you like then you aren’t really loyal to that character. If the only reason you don’t want to hurt Yuu is because they haven’t got magic then you are just as bad as any of us. And trust me, they’re scary smart. They’ll know.” And with that cryptic message, Rollo finally finds himself alone with his thoughts.

Two lines. The first time he saw you the only thing he knew about you was two lines on a sheet of paper that said literally nothing. And the longer he stares at you, the more he feels like he is drowning under the weight of how little he still knows.

Yuu is a magicless human from a world without magic. They like to read about myths and legends from different cultures. They like their cat monster friend and treat him like a sibling. There, that’s three lines.

Unbidden, his body begins to move towards the balcony where you are standing.

What is Yuu’s favorite color, do they like croissants? Are they allergic to any types of pollen, what is their world like? Do they have siblings, a family that they miss?

He wants to kiss you again, but properly this time. Not in the throws of a shared delusion, still maybe in the bell tower, but with your full acceptance.

“May I have your hand?” Rollo feels more sick at the way your eyes light up than anything Malleus had said about guilt and absolution.

“Of course.” He does not take you out to the center of the dance floor, he does not flaunt you as a trophy won at your friends expense. He simply winds his arms around you to hold you scandalously close. “Rollo, do you mind if I ask you some questions? About some things that Idia told me…”

“Will you give me your number?” He thinks there is a different way he is supposed to ask a question like that, a nicer one. “There are a lot of things I want to talk to you about, but tonight I think I want to savor what it feels like to hold you for as long as I can… as long as you are alright with that.” You do not say anything in response, instead you lay your head against his chest, ear firm on his heartbeat as you close your weary eyes. “I meant what I said before. I want you to think of Fleur City as a place where you can find respite. Solace.”

“Maybe you should invite me to come back then.” You say and he closes his own eyes to picture it. He has other places he can take you, better bookstores, more historic places. Maybe there is a key to sending you home somewhere in his city and if not-

“Careful, I just might ask you to stay forever.” There is an unspoken aura over you both. Gentle, new, and warm in a way that Rollo certainly never thought he would be allowed to experience. An aura of agreement that in time, that might not be such a bad thing to ask after all.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamme x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #tw yandere #tw drugs #tw drugging

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mayaree-darling · 4 months

Note

Hi i've been binging some of your fics recently and im in love! I saw that you had requests open so I was wondering if you could do scaramouche x fem reader but where reader dresses in jojifuku or other known as cutecore and scaramouche dresses in a baggy 'cool' way and reader gets made fun of for dressing differently?

of scary dog privileges & matcha lattes // scaramouche (modern au)

pairing: Scaramouche x Cutecore!Reader

synopsis: look, you may be a cute ball of pastels that can test scaramouche's patience, but you're HIS cute pastel lover. but if anyone messes with you, it's okay - his hands were made to be thrown.

from aree: for @amia-69: thanks for requesting and i hope this was satisfactory. i had too much fun with this so i hope you don't mind if it's a tad long with more scenes than you requested. i also made this a bit more feel-good by being a little silly but it’s still mostly serious, i hope you don't mind!

content: slight stalking and bullying scenario (be warned if triggering); very annoyed Scara means swearing; i'm in silly writer mode rn so this is a mix of crack and serious writing; slightly unhinged reader but hey so is scaramouche; praying this ain't OOC; fully accepted this is cringe; fem reader

fic length: 4k~ (unedited)

Scaramouche isn't dumb. He can tell anyone who sees him is asking it in their head.

How the fuck did you two end up together?

There was nothing soft looking about him besides the hair he inherited from his mother. He was his mother but with sharper lines, edges, and words. His eyes were almost a permanent glare if he didn't look bored or annoyed at everyone and everything. He always seemed to wear dark clothing, accompanied by the right amount of chains or belts here and there to complete the look, but they suited him nicely. If anything, he wore them best than most. If he wore anything less than clothes that didn't hang off his body he looked uncomfortable. Didn't mean he didn't hear enough older people talking about his choice of clothes though.

So when he first stood next to you on the fruits and vegetables aisle at the grocery store, he realized how you two stood at different ends of the fashion spectrum. He was there with his mother for their weekly food restock and ended up getting left behind when he went to check something on his phone (typical. How may times had this happened?) When he blinked, gone was his mom, and there beside him stood you, looking at a bunch of melons.

"This shit's overpriced, the hell." you grumble it under your breath, but Scaramouche heard it loud and clear. The snort he lets out isn't unnoticed by you and you turn to him, eyebrows raised. You look at him up and down before your eyes land back to his, and he frowns.

Goddamn it, here we go. He's heard his mom talk his ear off about the clothes this morning and he wasn't gonna hear it from anyone else. He opens his mouth, ready to cuss you to next Tuesday, but you beat him to it.

"I like the eyeliner," Scaramouche stares at you incredulously, and almost as a final nail into the coffin that he heard you right, you nod in approval. You tilt your head to the side. "I gotta say though. I think eyeshadow would look a lot better. Maybe... red? Just a bit at the corners. It would look a lot nice with your eye color and would make them pop considering you wear a lot of dark shades."

Scaramouche gapes at you. He's used to getting cussed out or getting the occasional talking to about his choices in life, but fashion advice was the last thing he expected to get from some stranger in the fruits aisle.

"Thanks..." he eventually lets out. He finally takes a moment to look you up and down and wonders how the hell did he not notice you sooner when you stood out from everything like a sore thumb.

Scaramouche didn't know there were so many shades of pink in the world. Or maybe he never noticed since he never wore clothes like that, and if he was honest, he spent time with people who didn't wear that color at all. Seeing it now was like a jumpscare, just a lot softer considering it's not like you posed any actual threat but slightly still as surprising considering people randomly approaching him first was so rare. If you weren't wearing a shade of pink, you were wearing some pastel shade of another color. Pastel blue, pastel purple, white lace here and there. The skirt you wore was so frilly you looked like you were walking around with a pink cloud. You looked... soft. That was the best summary Scaramouche could put together in the amount of time he gave you a once over.

You looked like everything he was not.

"I like... the frills," he inwardly cringed the moment he said it, but he ended up just frowning at you. It was your damn fault for putting him in this position in the first place so why the hell was he the one suffering. It's not his fault he wasn't good at giving other people compliments.

You laugh, and Scaramouche wasn't sure whether he should be glad you didn't take it to heart or be offended that he actually tried his best to give you a compliment only to be shot down. "It's okay. You don't have to force yourself."

Scaramouche just frowned deeper. Now it feels like you're saying he can't give out a compliment at all. He looks you up and down again and just says what comes to his head on the spot. "You look like the cotton candy sold at the fair across the street. Actually, I think you're a lot more pink than that stuff, but still lighter? Can't tell accurately with how many shades you got going on."

He must've said something good enough for you because you're grinning at him the next second. "That's one of the nicer ones people have said to me."

Scaramouche looks at you in disbelief. "How is that even remotely nice?"

"Well, for one, I know you mean that sincerely. Second, I'll have you know I worked hard to get pretty vibrant pinks that weren't too hard on the eyes, so thanks for confirming that!"

"You made that?" You nod, and Scaramouche nods back slowly in approval, actually impressed. "Not bad."

Your eyes land on his watch and you jolt, looking at the time on your phone. You pick a random melon even when he sees you scowl at the price tag and put it into your basket. Nodding once more to him, you turn around and leave. But as he watches you round the corner, you're running back to his side once more before he can even turn away. The sudden look of alarm on your face, so different from the grin and laughter you had on earlier, immediately has him on edge.

"Please help me," you whisper, but there was no one else in the aisle besides a mother and her baby at the far end. He frowns and looks to the side.

"Do I look like I help people." it came out harsher than he intended, but didn't he give you more than he was already willing to give any other stranger? Now you were just taking advantage of him.

"I need a scary dog right now," you said it so casually and seriously he wasn't sure he heard you right. But your voice echoed correctly in his head and he actually takes a step away from you, face incredulous.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" he scoffs, not sure if he was supposed to be offended or it was a compliment from you in some weird way. "The pet shop is right next door. Go get a dog there."

"Please. You know what I mean." you look at him pleadingly and he looks away. No, no, he was not gonna break first. This wasn't his business to deal with. He's done enough for people for the day. Nope.

"Again, go look for that somewhere else. Don't you have a boyfriend to help with this kinda thing?"

You roll your eyes and Scaramouche has half a mind to smack you silly. "If I did, you think I'd be going up to strangers for help?"

"So this is a regular thing, huh?" he takes a step back and you take a step towards him.

"Of course not, you expect this kinda thing to happen sometimes. But I don't want to hide away just ‘cause some people couldn't stay away and mind their own damn business," you shuffle from one foot to another. You cast a hesitant look behind you. His eyes follow.

"What are you even-" he stops. In the corner where he last saw you turn, a hooded man hovered over the bread aisle. For a shelf that only had five pieces of loaves left he was taking his time picking, so that only meant one thing. Scaramouche watched as the man glanced over once in your direction before seemingly turning back to the bread with fake focus.

"I thought I was imagining it. But he’s giving me the evil eyes," your voice is a whisper again.

That's unpleasant. Scaramouche straightened his posture and looked at you directly. If it's a scary dog you needed then so be it.

"What are you waiting for, then?" his voice was loud, not enough to be too distracting, but enough to carry over to the asshole who decided to be a creep for the day. Scaramouche kept his eyes on you. "You need anything else? I got the car running. Let's go if you're ready."

You look up at him like he was a fucking hero and Scaramouche all but does his best to not look as pompous as he felt. He sees the guy step back a little from his view, most likely thinking twice about following you when you're suddenly with company. He all but stares the fucker down until he leaves his line of sight.

Scaramouche breathes a short sigh of relief and he sees you do the same. He wanted to leave it at that, but if the guy was planning to follow you around the mall, he'd probably stick around a bit more. So fucking annoying. Not you, though. Although you were a bit annoying, you've probably been through more today than he had. He takes your wrist lightly.

"Where to next? I have family waiting outside."

You smile, relaxed and familiar. He holds your wrist, but you guide him around the store for a few other things before heading to the counter. When you leave the shop, plastic bags in hand, he motions for you to head to the parking lot and you follow albeit hesitantly, only visibly relaxing when you see a woman standing by a car who looks eerily similar to your rescuer.

"Oh? You have a friend." Scaramouche bites back the retort that almost slips past his lips. What did she mean by that? Of course he had friends. He'd never introduce them to her and her to them but he preferred keeping those two sides of his life away from each other.

"She had a bit of a problem and needed some help," she looks at you once and back to him. She gives him a knowing look but Scaramouche could swear on his grave that what she was thinking was vastly different from what was really going on.

"I see. Will your friend be joining us for dinner?" she looks at you with a soft smile and you return it. Scaramouche has half a mind to facepalm himself, he thanks what shred of patience he has left that he doesn't because you give him a glance.

"Thank you for the offer, but I should really be heading home," you turn to him fully and take the plastic bags from him. "Thanks for... helping me."

He opens his mouth but before he can say anything, you give him a knowing nod before quickly walking away. He watches you walk a few paces before he hears his mom clear her throat. He looks to her, already scowling.

"Don't tell me you're just gonna let her go like that?"

"What do you want me to do?"

Ei sighs. "At least make sure she gets a ride? If you walked her all the way over here, I can guess you wanted to give her a ride home. But that's out of the question now."

"Why are you so invested in this anyway? I just met her today."

"Oh, really? I thought you already knew each other." Ei hums as she rummages her purse for the keys. "You look like a pair. Not quite sure what kind, but definitely a pair of something. I think she’s rather cute."

He curses silently before jogging to catch up to you. He finds you standing by the bus stop. When you turn to him, you smile.

"Thanks for helping me again."

"You know I was planning on dropping you off at your place, right? Thought that was kinda clear with what I said at the grocery."

"Nah. I'd bothered you enough. Don't wanna bother your sister either." you grin at him, shuffling from foot to foot again, now with a pep in your step.

"First off, that was my mom, not my sister." you repeat the word 'mom' silently before looking at him with barely suppressed admiration, and Scaramouche barely holds himself back from groaning. "Second, it's fine. You're not scared that guy's gonna follow you home?"

"I'll be in a bus full of people. If he tries anything I'll scream my head off." you laugh. Scaramouche can hear a shred of doubt in your voice, but he doesn't say anything else. There's a pause of silence before you look at him from the corner of your eye and hum. "Y'know. I don't know how to properly thank you."

He waves you off. "Forget about it."

"How about I treat you?" you turn to him fully, like he just didn't brush you off. "I know a cafe by the train station that makes really good matcha lattes."

"What makes you think I even like matcha?" he sighs, but he thinks about it for a second. And then another second. Scaramouche blinks before he turns to you with a deadpan face. "You're just trying to take advantage of my scary dog privilege or whatever you call it."

"Maybe? Who knows?"you grin mischievously. "I'm serious about treating you to a meal, though. I owe you one. If you want you can just take the meal and forget about ever seeing me again."

Scaramouche sighs. Surely, it wouldn't hurt...?

"Alright then. When's our date?" You blink at him in surprise before laughing.

When people ask him how you two got together, he says you treated him to matcha for saving your life and you just hit it off. When they ask you to confirm, you excitedly show a picture of the two of you in the cafe of your first date. Should anyone try to mention the foam of milk from the matcha latte gathered around the top of his lips or the cat ears you had graciously edited onto the top of his head, Scaramouche is quick to silence them with a murderous look, almost the very same one he has on in the picture.

Some might think why doesn’t he just ask you to stop showing the photo to people? It’s enough for you to confirm that you got together over drinks, end of story. But as he watches and listens to you recount how you met again, the smile on your lips and the laughter that slips past and the grin as you show all the pictures - he can’t imagine saying no.

Why would he make you stop when you’re so happy?

That’s what he thinks now, as he sees the frown on your face.

He thought people already understood. He let you tell the story over and over even though it got on his nerves time and time again because it made you happy, yes, but also so people saw who they were messing with if they ever even thought of messing with you. This city was a small one - if people didn’t know him from his mother, they surely have heard of him and his friends. This city was the kind where word travelled fast if you were even in any social circle. If not for that, they would have surely seen him walking around with you with all the places you wanted to see.

He underestimated how dumb people could be.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes before frowning. He pocketed his phone and all but jogged to the park. From a distance, he could see two guys in front of the bench he was sure was where you were supposed to meet. It was the bench he and you stopped at to exchange numbers, so it became a place that meant a lot to you. When he was close, the group of guys looked at his direction, snickering, before heading to the next bench over. Finally, he has a perfect view of you, your head down, holding on to your drink and phone like a lifeline. His drink almost lay forgotten beside you.

He quickly grabbed the drink from your side and sat beside you. From the corner of his eye, he can see the group of guys stealing glances at the both of you, not even trying to hide their laughter and sneers. He’s gripping his drink almost as hard as you were.

“You’re here,” you smile at him, but as quickly as it’s on your face it drops back to a wobbly frown and you look away. “Sorry if I made you hurry, I-”

“What happened? Did they do anything to you?” his voice comes out in a rush but it’s soft, as comforting as he can muster with the situation at hand. He can feel his blood boiling, his senses on high alert.

“No, no, they were just being mean and annoying and I-” you shakily pocket your phone and hold on to his hand. He can feel you shaking and he grit his teeth.

“What did they do? What the fuck did they say?” he was gripping onto the cup so tight he would’ve been surprised that it hadn’t broken yet if he wasn’t so focused on you.

“Nothing important.” he squeezes your hand, not enough to hurt, but to make sure you know that he’s here now. You didn’t need to hide anything from him. You just need to tell him. You look up at him and purse your lips. “They just said-”

He hears laughter and immediately whips his head towards the two guys, feeling absolutely feral. The closest one sitting on the edge of the bench flinches for a second, before he meets his glare with a sneer.

“I was wondering what kind of parents would leave their little princess walking around alone like that,” the guy smirks and Scaramouche can feel you flinch under his touch. “But another kid just showed up to pick them up. Where are your parents, kiddies?”

The two guys laugh and Scaramouche can feel his teeth crack with how hard he was biting down. He stands up but you hold on to his hand.

“Just let it go. Let’s just get out of here.” you mumble to him, but the guys heard perfectly.

“Let’s just get out of here~” the other guy copies your voice, all high pitched and mocking and everything that Scaramouche knew you were very much not. “She dresses like a little princess and sounds like one. Aren’t you too old for that?”

They howl with laughter and slowly, Scaramouche feels you let go of him. He looks to you, concerned, but you meet his eyes, your face blank but he knows that look.

Go for it.

With quick strides he’s right beside their bench. They stop for a moment to look at him.

He looks at the matcha latte in his hand and sighs.

What a waste of a drink. You got it for him, too.

“What are you- ARGH!” Scaramouche shakes the cup empty of all it’s content, making sure that each of the guys’ heads had at least a bit of the matcha drink. But Scaramouche was sure he got them both - it was a large drink, after all.

“Pick on someone your own size, you lil’-” the man closest to him goes to stand, but just as he does, Scaramouche raises his own leg and drives a kick right on his knees.

*CRACK*

The man screams in pain, forced to his knees and tending to his newly acquired wound. The other guy stands to try and help, but his form quickly falters as Scaramouche takes one step towards him, eyes blazing. The man doesn’t move, too frightened, as Scaramouche leans down to the man on the ground.

“There you go. Now we’re the same height.”

Scaramouche feels a pull on the back of his shirt and he’s ready to throw his arm back to punch when he sees you. He lets you pull him and you make a break for it as he hears the man crying in pain behind him.

Trees turn to buildings around you both as you leave the park and head to the city center, stopping only when you’re sure the coast is clear. You both take in large breaths of air after running for so long, but even the silence does nothing to make him realize the gravity of what just happened. That’s not the case for you, though.

“Oh, God, I didn’t think you’d do that. The drink, yeah, but...” you say between breaths. You take a shaky laugh and rub the back of your neck. “Was the kick really necessary, though?”

Was that necessary? Scaramouche knew the answer for himself. He walks closer to you.

Why would he let anyone destroy whatever you two had going on? You came as a pair.

"Scara, what are you-" he stops in his tracks and looks you in the eyes. There's a pause before he lifts his hand and flicks your forehead.

"Talk smack, get whacked."

"I didn't even say anything! And why are you hitting me?!"

There’s a pause as he runs his teeth over his lower lip.

“Hey… you.”

“Wow, I thought by now you knew my name,” you sneer at him. “You telling me you still don’t know it?”

He inhales before he says your name softly. You gape at him, suddenly aware of how serious he’s gotten. “You’re happy with… yourself, right…?”

“Of course I am. That’s not even worth asking about,” there’s a doubtful look on your face, but not because of your answer. Your apprehension stems from where this conversation was going.

“Keep being happy, then.” Scaramouche rubs the knuckles of your hand with his thumb before pressing a kiss to your palm. He smirks at you. “If anyone else says otherwise, a drink over their head and broken kneecaps are the least of their concerns.”

“Now, come on,” he doesn’t let go of your hand and you make no mention of it. “We still gotta stop by Nahida’s, right?”

＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

❀BONUS❀

“Your mom’s gonna kill us when she finds out what you did.”

“Nah. She’d be fine with it.” Scaramouche scoffs.

“Find out what?” Ei appears by the kitchen doorway and looks at you both expectantly. You turn to Scaramouche, eyes wide with fear, but he doesn’t flinch or even stop chopping the melon.

“I poured a drink over some guy who said Matcha was acting too much like a kid,” Scaramouche answers easily, passing you a melon slice. “Also might have broken their knee, but we didn’t get to see.”

“I’m really sorry, Ms. Ei-”

“That’s it?” Ei leans on the kitchen counter and to your surprise, looks at Scaramouche with disappointment. “You should’ve broken a bone or two more.”

You blink as they continue talking about how best to have handled the situation; all their solutions involved hurting someone.

Well, you guess Scaramouche must have had to got it from someone in the family.

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist: 💛@wonpielle 💜@shikanosn

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin impact modern au #scaramouche modern au #genshin impact reader insert #scaramouche x reader fluff #scaramouche fluff #genshin impact x reader fluff

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luuuuucyscorner · 9 days

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞- 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

Chapter One. Info: spider gets called up and put into the SLT. upon entering, he meets the new student: Y/n L/n and is immediately taken by her

Tags: 18+, swearing, groping

word count: 5582

gif by me

The semester started off normally enough, summer had just ended and it was time to start a new year of school. Spider's peaceful start was quickly interrupted by some random girl running through the courtyard yelling; "Oi! Theres a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell! It's called the Incest Map." In a blur all students were shoving their way into the stairwell trying to catch a peek at the Map. As Spider walked with Ant, attempting not to laugh at the current situation, his name was called over the loud speaker, "Will the following students please meet at classroom 5D," the principle lists a few names before saying "Spencer White". Spider groaned, “oh cunt.” As Ant next to him laughs, "Anthony Vaughn." At least he wouldn't be alone. “Oi, shits fucked, eh?” he says to his friend, “can’t imagine what kinda arvo it's gonna be.”

The two of them walk into class 5D and sit in the back, and as she walks in looking down, he calls out to Amerie; the girl who got him and twenty or so other students into this fucking mess, "Map Bitch! Map Bitch." he laughed noticing her miserable look. The teacher of the class, Ms. Obah, finally introduced herself before dubbing the class a sexual literacy class or SLT's, which quickly got spun into 'Sluts'. Spider and Ant start chanting "Sluts, Sluts, Sluts" before he's quickly cut off by the door slamming open and a new student stepping inside, he narrows his eyes…

A girl he had never seen before walks in, "uh hey? i'm not sure im meant to be here but i was called up? im new here, im Y/n L/n" the girl explained.

ms. Obah greeted her and motioned for her to sit down at the same table as spider and his mates. Leaning back in his seat, Spider smirks at the new addition to their little group. "Y/n L/n, huh? Well, Y/n, nice ta meet ya, the names spencer but my friends call me spider" he drawled, spewing more Aussie slang than usual. Crossing his arms, he gave her a once-over, grinning when she mentioned she wasn’t supposed to be there. "Well, looks like me and Ant here are gonna teach ya a thing or two bout rules today. Wanna play along, darlin'?" He winked, eyebrow raised suggestively. With a chuckle, he motions towards Amerie, snickering softly. "'S her fault we're here, dollface."

Y/n watches on, unimpressed. "god, so you're the class dickhead then?" she sasses.

"Oh, I ain't even close to bein' the biggest one around, love," Spider retorts with a cocky grin, leaning back in his chair. Seeing her stand up for herself only made him more interested. "But thanks for makin' me feel special, darling. That smile, though... How could anyone resist?" He leered at her playfully, crossing his arms over his chest. "Better start learnin', kiddo. Looks like yer in for a wild ride in 'SLT's.'" He chuckles, looking around at their fellow classmates before turning his attention back to her. "You're American, aren't ya?

Y/n rolls her eyes, "uh, no. its a British accent, you asshat"

Spider blinks, adjusting his gaze to study her for a moment. "British? Blimey, ya sound American tae me, love. Or Canadian, maybe?" He scratches the back of his head, tilting it to the side quizzically. "I dunno, mate. But yer right, I shouldn't judge a book by its cover, should I? Jus' a typical Aussie mistake." He grinned widely, clearly enjoying the banter. "Alright, Y/n, im sorry for taking the piss outta yer accent" he teases, noticing your expression.

"fuck off Spider we both know you'll be jacking off to my accent tonight" she winks as Ant and Dusty shove and make fun of Spider. Spider's cheeks flush a deep red. He glares at his friends before turning back to her, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement coloring his features. "Alright, alright. I'll admit it - I might've been thinking about it a bit. But yer can't blame me, doll. You've got a voice like honey." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, feigning innocence. "Just enjoy the view." Swallowing hard, he tries to recover his composure. "But seriously, welcome to our lovely little class. Just try not to break anything, yeah?"

"Well stop taking the piss out of my accent then" she reaches over and palms his crotch under the table when no one is looking to enforce what she said. Spider jolts in surprise, gasping quietly as your hand connected with his crotch. His face turns bright scarlet, but he somehow manages to maintain eye contact with you. "Fuck, love! Not exactly what I was expectin'," he stammers under his breath, trying to stifle his laughter. "But I think I'll survive." He clears his throat, attempting to regain control of the situation. "Listen, if it bothers you that much, I won't mention it again." he gives her a lopsided grin, still feeling the lingering effects of her touch. "Now, let's focus on this class" he adds, subtly adjusting himself under the table.

"deal" Y/n winks and turns her attention back to ms. Obah. Spider sits, watching you intently, his heart pounding slightly faster. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt, nor could he hide the satisfaction in his eyes. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he forces himself to pay attention to Ms. Obah's lecture. Still, his thoughts kept drifting back to your bold move and the thrill of it all. And despite the awkwardness, there was undeniably a sense of excitement that lingered between them. "Deal," he agrees softly, keeping an eye on you during the lesson. Little did he know, he was already hooked.

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tiyoin · 2 months

Text

pt 1 | 📍pt 2 | pt 3

“floyd you fucking dick” was all you said when you entered his house. a plastic bag in hand as you looped the car keys around your neck.

the house, bigger than jade’s didn’t have the same aesthetic. instead of presten marble floors, there was black quartz with white streaks and blobs. the house almost reminded you of a deep sea palace instead of a mansion with all it’s colors, architecture, and furniture.

his furniture was all brand new, and there were different family pictures lining the grandiose staircase. mounted in the teal wall were big photos, large photos, and even larger photos.

all leading up to the statement piece of a painted family portrait. from the quick glance in jade’s house, he had one too. yet it was only of him and his wife, while floyd’s was of him, his father, his mother, and jade.

no wife.

“ne, it’s not nice to barge in shrimpy, don’t ya think?” you heard his voice echo from somewhere in the house.

rolling your eyes, your footsteps thundered through the house as you stormed upstairs. you couldn’t help but feel angry. but there were too many things to be angry about. you were angry at floyd for setting this up when he knew about jade. you were angry at his wife, which you shouldn’t be because she’s his wife, which technically makes you the other women. and more than anything, you were angry at jade. for moving on, for doing nothing, for letting her touch him like that…

you clenched and unclenched your hand, now standing in front of the golden lined portrait.

from the looks of it, this was taken years ago, when they were younger. maybe 3 years ago? you weren’t sure. but you were able to make some sharp inferences.

like the ring on jade’s finger, the bags under his eyes, the slight dishevel of his hair.he looked horrible, but to the untrained eye, he looked perfect.

calculating eyes that stared into your soul. it felt like even here he had some kind of hold on you. sly smile, the one he’d get while screwing someone over. and his sharpened jawline only seemed to make the dangerous man all the more siren like.

you lost your grip on your bag, yet that didn’t seem to matter to you as you drank up every flaw, every imperfection the leech brother had. you weren’t sure if you were greedy- after all, you were listing over a married man. yet there was some small part of you that wanted to make sure everything was still there. that he hadn’t changed.

the stray hair in his eyebrow was gone, the slight sneer in his smile was gone- his heterochromia eyes, the thing you loved about him the most- seems almost dull. not full of life and wonder like they were in highschool.

he looked… different.

you frowned.

eyes looking down to the golden plaque on the bottom of the painting. ‘Leech Family’ is what it said, below that it listed all their names.

and yet… “irene is her name”

gasping from shock, you stumbled back towards the painting and saw ja- no, floyd.

floyd was grinning like a sea-urchin as his eyes flicked over your tensed body. “hehe, i forgot how fun you were y/n”

sending his good well, you let your shoulder untighten- only a little bit, as you were in floyd leeches house. alone.

and who knew what would happen.

“what happened to shrimpy?” you fought the cracks in your voice as you cleared your throat, your turn to study him.

you couldn’t tell if he grew taller as he was usually leagues above you in the height department. his hair was still messy, but in a cool, slicked back way… and yet, he wore nothing but red plaid pj pants and an off-white shirt which you knew costed much more than the money you had in your pocket.

his smile sharpened, nothing but pure glee on his features as he stalked closer. “ehh? wasn’t it you who told me to stop calling you that?” he raised his eyebrow in faux thought. even though his finger was tapping against his chin, you could tell from his leering that he wasn’t remotely serious.

“yeah, but that was years ago. and things change”

“like jade?” he stopped once you started craning your head to see him.

“like jade…” you finished softly. unable to meet his unnerving gaze, you ran a hand through your hair, yet every time you tried pushing the strands away from your hair your fingers would get tangled. like a mess of limbs in the sheets-

“heh, shrimpy looks worse than me” his teasing voice softened a bit. although you kept your gaze down, you tried watching his shadow through the floor, tried looking for his reflection-

yet there wasn’t one from how dark, the cold marble was.

a tingle shot through your arms as you felt a large, warm hand on yours. as gently as the merman could, he worked on untangling your hair from your hand. he’d pick at your scalp, caress your locks, even encase his hands over yours.

he’d move your head in every which way as he worked. but he made sure the last view you had was of him, smiling down at you. there was a crinkle on the side of his mouth, one that came with age. yet floyd couldn’t have been past 25. and mermen were known to have fantastic skin.

gripping your wrists, you flinched, eyes looking up towards the crown of your head before returning back to his.

slowly, he lifted them up over your head, his smile never quite waivering. you knew he could sense the internal panic in your bones, the frozen response in your muscles nothing new to him you realized.

thinking about high school days while you were about to get pinned to the wall was counterproductive. gasping a little when your hands made contact with the painting, you stared holes into his exposed collar bone.

he stayed there for a second before he spread your arms. slowly, he lowered them, extended, to your sides. each movement was slow, sensual. intimate.

you shook your heads from the cobwebs.

“eh, seems like you’re in your own little world again” you looked back at his face. the same gleeful expression was still there, yet his teeth were shining through the gaps in his lips.

once he reached your hips he stopped. looking down at you trapped in his gaze.

“i’m glad you’re back y/n” he said, eyes softening just a bit. you could tell he meant it, as someone like floyd was too genuine to lie. too bored to keep up with charades to trick you.

still, you tried budging, tried leaving his grip. yet with every struggle his smile only seemed to grow sharper and grip tighter.

unable to break free from him, you sighed. craning your neck to look at the painting behind you, you stared at him. at jade.

“not sure if i can say the same…”

—

i don’t think you guys understand how devious floyd is in this mini series. cause oh my god. even tho i wrote this as i came up with it, there’s definitely a few itchings of foreshadowing 😝

—

potential tag list? :

@hopefully-not @dmiqueles @ryuuisthecutest @kiwibirdmother

i tagged the people who seemed interested in another part. lmk if you want to be removed/ added

i also think this is trash and a quickly put together scenario but i’ll definitely add, and revamp it at a later time

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#jade x reader #floyd leech #floyd x reader #jade leech x reader #twst jade #twst floyd #floyd leech x reader #jade leech #tiyoin 🔍#🔍 tiyoin

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suashii · 4 months

Text

— 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 ౨ৎ

matsukawa issei x f!reader. 1.1k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ dad!mattsun ﾉ issei and reader are separated and coparenting ﾉ reader referred to as "mama" ﾉ a bit of jealousy ﾉ silent pining :3

“look what i drew, daddy!” your daughter holds up her art that she’d been working on at school up to your phone, the front-facing camera picking up the colorful piece of paper. you sit beside her, surveying the call and trying to hold back your laugh at matsukawa’s expression—a mixture of confusion and enthusiasm, more of the former.

his eyebrows are knitted together but there’s a smile pulling at his lips. it probably doesn’t help that the picture is flipped—you yourself had a bit of a hard time determining what exactly it was when she pulled it out of her backpack to show you when she got back from preschool. “that’s such a nice… puppy?”

the small girl to your left frowns and shakes her head, holding the piece of paper impossibly closer to your phone in hopes of giving her dad a better look at her drawing. “it’s not a puppy, it’s a bear! see!”

“ah,” matsukawa breathes out, nodding his head in understanding. “sorry, kiddo. daddy can’t see too well.”

she quickly accepts his apology, discarding the art and picking up on a new and entirely different topic in the blink of an eye, something about a game she had made up with her friend. it’s a story she’d told you about when you picked her up in the afternoon so you find yourself zoning out, focusing more on the girl’s excitement that’s mirrored on her father’s face as he intently listens to her retelling. it brings a soft smile to your lips.

you were worried about the whole coparenting thing, anxious that not growing up in a house with the two of you would have a negative effect on your daughter. though, it seems like your apprehension was nothing to fret over. the little girl spends an equal amount of time with you and her dad, even asking to video call whichever she isn’t staying with at any given moment to keep them updated on the happenings of her days.

she’s never had any complaints and as long as she’s happy, then so are you.

there’s no telling how much time has passed when your daughter has grown bored of talking but when she does, she tells her father so. “i’m gonna go play now.”

“okay, little lady.” he knows that once the girl has her mind made up, there’s no changing it. mattsun could talk to her forever but he agrees to let her go. “hand the phone back to mama before you go, yeah?”

she slides the phone across the table so it’s sitting in front of you, getting up from her seat and wasting no time waddling off to her toys.

“bye!” mattsun’s voice sounds over the speaker, “love you!”

“i love you!” she yells before crossing the threshold of the room into the next one.

your daughter prefers video calls with her dad and even though you find it a little awkward to facetime with the man you were once in a relationship with, you stay on the current call instead of starting a new one with only the voice feature. you sniffle weakly as you wait for him to start the conversation. although, when he does, it’s not something you’re expecting to hear.

“wow, you look like shit.”

your mouth falls open in offense and you fight the urge to flip him off. “thanks, asshole.”

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he chuckles under his breath. every interaction, in spite of them being much less frequent than in the past, reminds him of when the two of you were together. the charm he fell in love with is still there and sometimes he finds himself wondering how he ended up parted from you. he shakes the thought from his head, focusing on the current conversation with you. “what’s the matter? you sick?”

if you’ve learned one thing about mattsun during your separation from him, it’s that he’s more attentive than he lets on. he pays attention to the little things—you wonder if it’s a trait he’s picked up on as a result of being a parent or if something else brought about his consideration.

with another sniffle you nod, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. “i think she gave me her cold.”

his jovial tone turns a bit more serious with the new information. “why didn’t you tell me? i could have taken the munchkin so you could get some rest. i’m pretty capable of this dad thing.”

“i never said you weren’t,” you clarify, because you know he is, “i just didn’t want to bother you and what’s-her-name with looking after her on my days.”

he snorts and wonders if you truly forgot his girlfriend’s name or never bothered to learn it to begin with. he supposes it doesn’t matter now. “mei. and i broke up with her. a couple weeks ago.”

you’re surprised he didn’t mention that much sooner and even more surprised that your daughter didn’t spill the beans the moment she took notice of the woman’s absence—the kid is just like her father, observant, a little gossip at heart.

“got it.” you nod. you’re not quite sure why, but your heart feels a little lighter in your chest now knowing that the woman you never really cared for is out of the picture—that issei is single again. your relief is rooted in selfishness, a sense of possessiveness that you have no claim over. it’s a little concerning but you’ll take the time to reflect on it later. clearing your throat, you return to the topic at hand. “you really wouldn’t mind taking her for a couple of extra days?”

“of course not.” he shrugs. “the kid’s my best friend.”

you laugh at his declaration. it’s equal parts funny and sweet because you know he means it.

the pleasant sound makes matsukawa smile. it’s been a while since he’s last heard you laugh, a genuine one, at least. he misses being able to draw those giggles from your chest, hearing them every day.

he doesn’t let himself get lost in it.

“i can swing by your place in the morning and take her to school,” the man tells you and he adds the next part on at the last second. “is there anything you need? medicine? food?”

how thoughtful, you think to yourself. he really only needs to have his daughter on his mind but he’s still thinking of you. “no. thanks though. i really appreciate it.”

“don’t mention it.” but what he really means is: i’d do anything for you.

i churned this out in like an hour bc i wanted to write the dynamic but it’s a little messy :3 nevertheless, hope you enjoyed !

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x you #matsukawa fluff #haikyuu fluff #matsukawa drabble #haikyuu drabbles

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anystalker707 · 7 months

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Denial

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x [gender neutral] Reader Summary: Reader likes Sanji, but they're in denial. Tags: Bitter sweet / Sanji is very loving / Boyfriend material a/n: sloppy ass writing

MASTERLIST

There was something about the waiter— Or better, cook. All the entertainment you had on the ship while you guys were about seven days away from another island—according to Nami—was watching Sanji cook. In the whole time you’d spent around, you’d never watched an actual cook doing their job, since it usually happened in the back of fancy restaurants, which you wouldn’t usually attend.

Sanji was skillful and did it so naturally that made you kind of mesmerized, clearing your mind as you sat at the dining table with an elbow over the surface and cheek against your palm.

You didn’t notice how lost you were until there was a loud slamming sound from outside. It was followed by giggles that sounded to be Luffy’s, and then Zoro’s complaining. Sanji was also startled, looking over his shoulder at the door’s direction, but then glanced back again.

“Oh, (y/n),” Sanji said with a hum as he continued doing whatever with that bowl hugged to his torso. “I didn’t notice you there, my bad. This is becoming a habit, hm? Would you like something?”

“Ah, no,” you mumbled and cleared your throat. The times you’d happened to talk to Sanji weren’t many, only occasional chats ever since you guys met at the Baratie, so you didn’t exactly know what to say. Most of the time, you were just watching Sanji interact with the others, sometimes even trying to flirt with Nami. The few times you were with him were for taste-testing or stealing bits of whatever he was preparing. He would complain before you two just settled for comfortable silence whenever you were around. “I just got nothing to do, and it’s too hot to sit outside on the deck. Am I bothering you, though? I can leave.”

Despite the fact he had his back to you, it was still possible to know Sanji was smiling. You followed him with your eyes, watching Sanji put the bowl on the table and take the cloth from over his shoulder to dry his hands. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, and it was one of the few times you’d seen him without the blazer. It was fine, honestly. The fabric stretched over his wide shoulders, then tight around his upper arm, also stretched over his chest, and… Shit, he was looking at you now.

“It’s okay,” he said as he grabbed something from the far side of the table and a glass from the cabinet, falling silent for a couple of minutes. “I’m used to cooking in an agitated kitchen, so it can be lonely when it’s just me in here.”

Sanji eventually walked over to you and placed a glass in front of you; the drink had a bright color, a salt-coated rim with a slice of strawberry on it, and a clear red straw in it. The ice clinked against the glass until it settled down. How the hell did he do that so fast?

“To help cool down.” He winked before he walked back to his previous spot to carry on cooking.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down at the drink, furrowing your eyebrows. Why was Sanji so nice? What was up with him? You sighed as you took the glass and sipped on it, and fuck, it was so good. How could he actually be this good? Maybe you were the one used to a crappy outlaw life before actually joining a crew.

You quietly sipped on the drink, unable to even look Sanji’s way this time. The glass hit the surface of the table with a little more strength than needed once you finished the drink, catching Sanji’s attention.

“Did you like it?” He paused what he was doing to look at you. “I could prepare another…” The words just trailed off as he gave up on talking the moment he saw you stand up and walk out of the kitchen.

Despite knowing something was wrong, Sanji couldn’t do much more than watch everything happen. He could not define what was going on, but he surely missed the companion he had during cooking, even if you were just sitting there in silence for most of the time, sometimes napping over the table.

Sanji also sort of felt like he didn’t have a say in this either. If he decided to question you, and you hit him with a ‘you do not know me’, he wouldn’t have much to do other than agree and just go with it.

A sigh escaped his lips as he paused his cooking. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, but it did. He looked at the ingredients displayed before him for a long moment to gather his thoughts and remember what he was supposed to do now.

“Sanji,” Luffy’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, making Sanji look up. “Got any snack? My stomach’s aching.” He twisted his mouth as he stepped closer, looking over Sanji’s shoulder to see what he was doing.

A small chuckle came from Sanji as he shook his head to himself and pointed off to a plate he’d left on the corner. “There are some sandwiches, if you’d like to take it to the others I’d be… Okay, never mind.” He just opted not to argue when he saw Luffy walk away—he’d bitten one of the sandwiches, widening his eyes and humming about how good it was before walking away with three or more of them in hand. “No, wait, Luffy!”

Luffy hummed, muffled by the food, as he stopped and looked at Sanji.

“Would you perhaps know what (y/n)’s favorite dish is?” Sanji raised an eyebrow.

Luffy furrowed his eyebrows and thought for a moment, shrugging a little before he took the sandwich out of his mouth. “I don’t know, but they mentioned they really liked what you prepared for dinner last Thursday.”

It took Sanji a moment to remember Thursday’s menu, and he nodded. “Thank you.”

Another sandwich was already in Luffy’s mouth as he hummed, giving Sanji a thumbs up before he left.

Okay, Sanji could try to do what he did best now. Once he finished making dinner, he would prepare the dish. He didn’t mind preparing a little extra food just for you if it meant having a chance of making amends, even if he didn’t know what was wrong, exactly. He wasn’t even sure why he was putting so much effort into it. Maybe it was just to make sure he was on good terms with everyone.

Sanji nodded to himself. “You got this,” he whispered, “for the crew.”

The idea had anxiety drumming under Sanji’s skin, constantly wondering what you would think of the dish and maybe make things better than they were before. He kept looking at the galley’s door while the crew walked in—or at least Nami and Zoro finally walked in because Luffy and Usopp had been at the table ever since the smell of dinner started filling the deck. Sanji’s breath hitched in his throat when he saw you walk in and take a seat. He quickly took the plate, and before you could start serving yourself, he slipped it in front of you.

You blinked a couple of times, observing the exact meal from a few days ago that you’d loved so much, and looked around to check if someone else had that meal. They didn’t. You looked up at Sanji, seeking an explanation, but all he did was flash you a smile before he moved on.

“Oh, why’s yours different?” Luffy gasped as he looked at your plate. “Let me—” He clicked his tongue and glared when Sanji swatted his hand away before it reached your plate.

Okay. Not bad. You quietly started eating, making a mental note of what was going on. None of the others commented on it, so you didn’t either, continuing to eat. The only open seat was by the other end of the table, making it easier since you didn’t have to face Sanji now. Would you be able to hold yourself back from snapping if he opened his mouth?

Something shifted in your chest at the thought of that meal. How did he know you liked it so much since you’d not told him a word about it? Only Luffy and Zoro were there with you when you had dinner out on the deck, and the probability the two dumbasses were even listening to anything you said was very low. Did Sanji want to talk with you after the meal? Just the thought of facing him again made your stomach churn, so you quickly finished eating and, as soon as Luffy caught everyone’s attention by trying to eat it all by himself again, you left the galley.

That kind of stuck in your mind for a while, unfortunately. You couldn’t even hold yourself back—you were looking over the window on the door to the galley, watching Sanji cook the next morning. He woke up so early in the morning to make sure he cooked the best meals for the crew. Everyone had bonded so quickly, and you all already felt so comfortable with each other. It made you think sometimes.

Part of you still wanted to walk in there and watch Sanji cook as you used to, but another part still cursed Sanji. Why was he trying so hard to make it up with you? As long as you and him fought and worked together as a crew, that’d be enough, right?

“Oi,” the sudden voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and you saw Zoro standing there. “What are you doing? Did the waiter burn the water?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Can you help me with something?” Zoro said without much emotion, but that was to be expected. Formulating his thoughts wasn’t exactly his strong point. Maybe thinking itself wasn’t one of his strong points in general.

“Depends.”

“Look, I can’t find any weight in here, but I gotta train,” Zoro sighed, “would you sit on my back while I do push-ups?”

You thought for a moment, humming. “And the others?”

Zoro pressed his lips together and sighed. “Luffy and Usopp won’t sit quiet, and Nami doesn’t want to do it.”

With a sigh similar to his, you nodded. “Okay, fine.”

It was a little awkward at first, but you quickly got used to it, finding a point of balance on his back. He was quite more resistant than you’d judged at first. You observed the sea—the weather was quite pleasing in the morning like this, with the sun shining weakly over the sea and the main deck, making a nice contrast with the cold breeze. Watching the waves got you a little dizzy, hence you averted your eyes away and tried to think about something else.

“Y’know,” you mumbled, patting Zoro’s head a little. “What are you doing regarding your swords?” Sometimes, you’d think back to how easily Mihawk had reduced them to bits, and it made you want to do anything not to get in his way, at least not yet.

“Finding new ones once we reach an island,” Zoro said through the huffs.

You thought for a moment. “Buying it? You don’t seem like you’d use just any sword, and I don’t think we have money for something like the Ō Wazamono.” Was his hair naturally green like that? You had to lean forward and inspect his roots a little, running a hand through the strands.

Zoro didn’t answer for a while, only the sound of his heavy huffs coming from him for a few reps. “You think too much.”

“I’m afraid of you,” you mumbled and patted his head a little, but not lightly.

“Stop doing that!” He grumbled without stopping his push-ups. It made you laugh, so you did it again, resulting in more complaints and laughter.

Spending a while with Zoro had been good, honestly. Well, you didn’t know if he could say the same about it, but you’d enjoyed getting your mind off the Sanji matter, even if not for long. You’d not even noticed how deeply you’d been thinking about it until now. It was easier to think about Sanji, and the idea of going back to your routine of watching him cook was very tempting.

You headed over to the galley after Zoro said he didn’t need your help anymore, and Sanji was there when you walked in, cooking as usual. Ah, fuck, why did he have to look like that?

“San—” You’d barely said his name when he stepped out of the way. Okay. Maybe he was too busy to help you right now, so you just stepped ahead and grabbed a glass of water yourself. You were about to say something to Sanji when Zoro stepped into the doorway.

“(Y/n),” Zoro said, still a little out of breath, “need something again. Also, bring some water, please. Or sake, if you can.” And he was gone just as that. You huffed.

Helping Zoro had you busy with Zoro for a long while, so you were a bit late for lunch, even if you’d been dying to leave already.

“You two are getting stronger?” Luffy said with a grin, watching you and Zoro sit down, with wide eyes.

“Something like that,” Zoro muttered, so you said nothing as you started serving yourself.

Though you couldn’t place what, this feeling in the back of your mind alerted you something was missing. You kept eating your food, just listening to their conversation, still a little too tired to talk. When you reached for your glass, however, you noticed it was empty. Sanji hadn’t filled it as he usually did. He hadn’t greeted you, either. Okay.

Luffy was eyeing you weirdly during lunch, so it was no surprise that he pulled you with him to the deck the moment you were done eating.

“What’s going on?” Luffy raised an eyebrow. “I’m sensing some kind of tension. Is it the food? You’re always in a mood during the meals.”

It made you want to chuckle a little, honestly. “No. There’s nothing wrong.”

“I’m the captain,” Luffy said as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You can trust me with anything.”

Such a captain, huh? Not like you could complain about it a lot.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The answer didn’t please Luffy completely, but his lips curled in a reassuring smile before he let go of your shoulder.

Right when you thought you could solve things, it seemed to get a little worse. You’d tried to step into the galley, but the same welcoming feeling it always had wasn’t there. Staring at Sanji’s back felt intimidating instead of pleasant, so found yourself leaving the galley without even actually doing anything. Your muscles would lock before you could even say anything, mind screaming at you. The light mood from the morning felt long gone now, like a dream in the back of your mind or something that’d happened days before. How was it eating you from the inside out?

That kept you up at night. You kept rolling on the bunk, sometimes sleeping for a few minutes before waking up again. That fucking sucked. The same subject came roaming over and over your mind, and you thought about how nice Sanji always was. What was that for? What did you ever do for him? Nothing. Okay, nothing… Maybe the problem was there. Your chest heaved a bit the more you thought about it.

Eventually, you felt your bladder complain, and the very faint sleepiness you felt just faded away completely when you were heading back to the quarters. A glass of water wouldn’t hurt, right?

A faint slice of light cut through the darkness, coming from the small and round window in the galley’s door. Was Sanji on the night watch for today? Since overthinking had fucked you up so many times, you decided to just go with it this time, trying to keep your mind clean as you walked into the galley.

A glass of wine rested on the table as Sanji sat on one of the stools, with a cigarette and a cookbook. Why did he have to look like that? Your breath stopped in your throat, but you moved before your muscles locked again.

Sanji did acknowledge your presence, of course, but why didn’t he say anything? He kept his eyes on the book, even when you stood in front of him for a couple of minutes.

“Sanji,” you whispered. Why did your voice sound so weak?

There was silence, but Sanji did react this time. He blinked before his eyes finally met yours. “Are you hungry? I can prepare you something in no time.” His lips stretched into a smile, a tired one.

“Can we talk?”

Sanji furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, looking away, before he looked at you again. “Sure,” he said, though it sounded like a question.

“No, like—” You clicked your tongue. It was so hard, for some reason. “Are you alright?”

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, that air of confusion remaining on his face as he thought about what to say.

“Okay, let me say something else,” you mumbled. You couldn’t lose that spur of courage. “I love your cooking. That day when you made the meal that I love just for me… That was very nice of you. And you were always letting me try whatever you were cooking, making me some treats. Sorry, okay? I wasn’t very fair with you.”

Sanji’s expression softened as he observed you. He glanced at the book before he closed it and put the cigarette out against the table. He shook his head a little. “It’s okay. I know those aren’t always welcome, and all.”

“Well, I welcome it,” you whispered. “I just— I don’t know. I actually enjoyed all of those so much, I just—” It was hard to even organize your thoughts about it. Why were you so reluctant about accepting it when Sanji was nice? “I’m sorry, okay? I was an asshole, but I didn’t mean to.”

A sigh came from Sanji as he shook his head a little to get his bangs off his eyes before he stood up. “Okay, I accept your apology. However, I’m also sorry for being a little too pushy.”

“Don’t think about it like that,” you sighed. “It was all so nice, I just didn’t know how to appreciate it. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t really think too much about it until today.” Exactly because he stopped doing it today, but you didn’t know how to address it directly.

Sanji hummed, tilting his head and running his tongue between his lips. “Ah, yes. I also meant to apologize for that. It’s not new that my relationship with mosshead isn’t the best, but I wouldn’t contribute to major conflicts within the crew.”

It made your mind shortcut for a second. “What?”

“I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship with him.”

Your relationship with Zoro? Maybe you were still too sleepy because it took you a while to understand it, looking blankly at Sanji until you breathed a chuckle, shaking your head. “Sanji, are you going crazy or something?”

Sanji furrowed his eyebrows lightly. He really didn’t know what to say. He just shook his head a little. “Um, just to make sure, we’re good for now, yeah? Will I still have the pleasure of your company while I cook again?” The way those words made your heart flutter was fucking shameful, even more with that smile of his.

“Yeah,” you finally mumbled with a nod. The tension that once clung to your muscles was now gone, thankfully, and the sleepiness that you longed for so much now clung heavily to your eyelids.

The bowl that Sanji handed you still had some cake filling in it, enough to fill a couple of spoonfuls if you were determined enough, and thankfully, you were. You licked the spoon before starting to scrape the bits off the bowl, humming at how good the flavor was. You’d really missed that.

“How’s that?” Sanji asked as he carefully set the second layer of cake over the carefully spread filling.

“Good,” you said while still eating. It was hard to criticize Sanji’s cooking, and you were not an expert in most of the dishes he prepared, so it was hard to even know what they were supposed to be like.

Sanji smiled and nodded, grabbing the icing this time. He was spreading it over the cake when you stood up and dipped your finger into the icing, taking a bit of it with a hum.

“This is good!”

After eyeing you for a solid minute, Sanji scoffed, shaking his head with that smile of his. “Of course it is. Now, don’t go around eating before I’m done, yeah? What are you doing if I end up needing more than expected?”

You raised an eyebrow, putting aside the bowl that once contained filling, now truly empty. “Well, then make more. That’s not stopping you. I know you’re a good cook. Like, the best I know.”

A chuckle came from him as he glanced at you. “How many cooks do you know?”

Your lips twisted a little. “Blow below the belt,” you mumbled while he chuckled more, making you smile lightly. Sighing, you observed him still decorating the cake, and it was hard not holding yourself back from trying to get some icing again, just that he caught your wrist before you could do anything. “Hey!”

“What did I tell you?” Sanji raised an eyebrow. He grabbed a little of the icing with his finger and wiped it on your nose before he let your hand go, his hip bumping against yours to push you away lightly.

“You’re no fun,” you mumbled while wiping the icing away with your finger and then licking it.

“Am I supposed to be fun?” He asked, and you seriously cogitated jumping on him; he sensed it, of course, chuckling. “I’ll stop bothering you. I just can’t help how adorable you look when frustrated.” Something played in his eyes as he looked at you, making you look away immediately. Ugh, he was so difficult. He chuckled again. “Come on, look at me, let me see your face.”

“No,” you groaned. “Just finish cooking, Sanji.”

Sanji hummed softly. He walked around you, and showed up by your other side, putting his face in front of yours. “I told you not to look away!” He placed a hand on the counter by your other side, hence you couldn’t walk away or anything, just trapped in there.

“I hate you!” You glared, but the way he didn’t even react just had you so angry. You turned around and groaned, holding onto his lapel to shake him a little, which did nothing but make Sanji chuckle more. “Why are you like this to me? All you do is mistreat me!” The little dramatic rant didn’t do a lot more than amuse Sanji, never wiping that grin away from his face.

“Oh, poor (y/n)! I’m so evil!” Sanji rolled his eyes as you stopped. “Maybe if you weren’t so annoying….” He kept that smug tone as he held your chin between his fingers, keeping your face towards him.

“What are you doing?” You clicked your tongue. “You’re the annoying one!”

“Stop moving!” Sanji glared without stopping smiling, and you felt his thumb wiping the corners of your lips. You raised an eyebrow before biting down on his thumb. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get!”

“That’s what I get?” He scoffed and chuckled. “Well, I’ll show you what you get!” His hand easily squeezed both of your cheeks together, ignoring the way you kept complaining as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You couldn’t do a lot more than blush and fall silent, observing Sanji with your cheeks burning red. “Oh, so that managed to calm you down? Maybe you deserve a little more,” he chuckled.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

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

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 17 days

Text

Tavern: knight!price x princess!reader

this part is a little longer but it had to be. it's under 3k!

You and your ladies in waiting sat in the solar after lunch. You had spent the better part of the day speaking with your mother about suitors and delegating other potential kingdoms for trade, effectively draining you of most of the energy you had.

A new suitor was to show in a week or so. You tried your hardest to not let it ruin your mood so instead of thinking about it at all, you decided to preoccupy yourself with your embroidery with your ladies in waiting.

"Did you see Sir John training the squires the other day?" Lady Katherine said which piqued your interest. "Normally he lets the other knights do it."

"Maybe he did it to impress you." Another lady teased and you watched Katherine's face turn pink.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Despite her chiding she smiled bashfully at the thought. You could only imagine what was going through her mind about her and Sir John if he ever decided to court her.

How his touch would be gentle and leading with the same softness he had shown on the day he had tended to your wound. How effortlessly he would protect you with a practiced hand that wouldn't make any mistakes. The way his gruff voice would sound as he spoke with you about anything and the way his blue eyes stared with perfect attention.

You could only imagine how his beard would feel against your fingertips or how it would feel against your face-

"Your highness," Lady Katherine's voice brought you out of your thoughts and you quickly had to hide the way they had made you feel breathless. ''Did you ever find out who your secret admirer was?"

"O-Oh, no." You composed yourself. "But I haven't received another gift, so I assume they've given up."

"It's for the best."

You nodded, not at all bothered by it. In fact, while you hadn't forgotten the gesture your mind had moved on from an unknown admirer to someone much more tangible, though no less unattainable.

"If only Sir John would send you flowers." One Lady teased Katherine.

"Oh hush!"

There was a knock at the door and Sir John stepped into the room after you called out to let him in.

He froze when he realized that all of the ladies were there. He shuffled uncomfortably in his spot when he realized that everyone was staring at him, especially Lady Katherine who could hardly hide the love look in her eyes.

His eyes snapped to yours and he sucked in his lips before he bowed.

"Your highness, I was under the impression I'd be accompanying you today." He said and your eyes widened.

You had planned to go to the fields today for another chance at distracting yourself yet you had completely forgotten about it because of the circumstances but also because of him.

"Oh yes, now would be a good time for that."

The ladies in waiting all took their leave, bowing to you and then saying goodbye to Sir John as they left the room, hiding their coy smiles the best they could. Even Lady Katherine found it difficult to hide her bashfulness while he only stood there awkwardly, sucking his lips in as he gave them all a stiff nod.

He shut the door when they left and you raised an amused eyebrow at his expression.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted something." He cleared his throat but you shook your head with a smile.

"No, I'm glad you came when you did." You're not sure if the relief came from the conversation being cut off or because you were going to your favorite place. "I've looked at this enough, I'm quite sick of it."

"Why's that?"

You gave him the piece that you were working on as you tidied up the solar. You suddenly felt shy, so you kept your back to him while you tried to find the necessary items you wanted to take with you to the fields.

"It's better than anything I could do." Price said and you chewed on your inner lip. "The colors look nice."

"The others are better." You shrugged but he scoffed.

"I like yours."

You caught yourself before you could smile and scolded yourself for feeling so foolish over something so small. What were you, a child? You had never known a man, no matter the status, to care about something like embroidery so you were sure he was just saying it to flatter you...even if he sounded genuine.

"It's a good way to pass the time when you have it." You picked up a book before a thought crossed your mind and you looked back at him. "What do you do for fun, Sir John?"

"Follow you around." He said immediately without looking up from your embroidery piece.

You laughed, thinking he was joking until he looked up at you, his eyes full of sincerity. Your smile fell and you tapped your fingers against the book.

You hadn't thought about how you took up most of his time. You assumed that he had time to himself when you were busy but the more you thought about it them more you realized that he was most likely busy even when he wasn't by your side.

"You're serious?"

"On the rare occasion I'll play cards or have a pint at the tavern on the days you decide to stay put and I have nothing else to do." He explained and you frowned slightly.

"Do I really keep you that often?" You couldn't help the slight guilt you felt.

"I'm not complaining, your highness."

You hummed, not convinced but you honestly didn't blame him if he actually was. You forced him to go everywhere you wanted to go, though only because your mother wanted it, and considering he was busy often it was no wonder you two bumped heads as often as you used to.

You wanted to change it up this time, to give him a chance to enjoy something he liked doing and the perfect idea came up in mind. Not only would he get his chance but you would also get the chance to have some real fun and a better opportunity to ignore the looming responsibilities.

Price was about to say something when you grinned.

"I've thought of something even better than the fields." You said and he almost looked concerned. "We'll go to the tavern tonight for drinks."

"Pardon?" His eyes widened and he stared at you as if you had grown three heads. When you repeated what you said he shook his head. "No, you're not going to the tavern."

"Why not?"

Price's face scrunched up slightly and he sucked in his lips as he shook his head with disbelief. He couldn't believe you would want to go to the village tavern, a place that was the complete opposite of what you called fun.

"It's not a place for a princess," he began and you gave him a look.

"That's never stopped me before." You pointed out and he looked almost in pain.

"It could be dangerous-"

"Then bring the other knights. I'm sure they'll enjoy a couple drinks as well."

Price sighed heavily, knowing that you weren't going to back down from this idea even if he tried his hardest to make you see that it most likely wouldn't end well. However, when he saw the twinkle in your eyes and the way that you seemed more excited about it than just going to the fields, he relented.

"An hour." He bargained and you placed your hands on your hips. "It's for your safety, your highness."

"Fine." You sighed. "We'll leave tonight, when everyone's gone to bed."

"As you wish."

Price helped you down from the horse before he glanced at the bustling tavern. Of course you had to choose a night when it was busy and of course he couldn't give you a firm no.

It wasn't that the villagers were bad people but alcohol did things to folk's minds and the last time he was here a fight had broken out over a game of cards.

Simon, Kyle, and John all walked in first with varying degrees of excitement. They were happy to get a couple drinks especially after having worked hard for the entire week.

"You're still on duty," Price had told them with a firm look. "Her safety is the top priority."

"Aye, but I doubt you'll be far from her." John had winked despite the glare he received.

He left it at that and hoped that despite everything, they would at least try to stay vigilant for any potential assailants.

Price had to stop himself from keeping some sort of hold on you. He barely touched you as it was but as he walked protectively behind you towards the tavern he couldn't help the growing urge to grab your hand, to hold you close to him so he could make sure you wouldn't get hurt.

When the two of you stepped into the tavern, all eyes went on you and it grew deathly silent. All of the villagers were wide eyed, a sort of uncertainty falling across them as they stared at you.

He clenched his jaw and his hand rested on the dagger he brought with him.

However, you were undeterred as you gave them a polite smile.

"No need to stop because of me." You told them before you walked towards the bar.

Price followed close behind you, his eyes on the patrons who slowly went back to what they were doing despite their confusion. Soon the noise began again and the familiar lively atmosphere returned.

He stood close to you as you gave the bartender a smile, who bowed to you in return.

"Unfortunately, I don't carry any wine for you, your highness." He said but you shook your head.

"That's fine, just give me what everyone else is having." You said and Price raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure your highness?" He wondered and you tilted your head. "It might be a more bitter than what you're used to."

The bartender put two pints on the bar and you carefully grabbed one before you nodded for Price to take the other. You stared at the liquid inside it before you looked up at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I think I'm quite used to bitter, I'm around you often." You teased and he rolled his eyes.

"Cheeky." He clicked his tankard against yours and waited for you to take the first sip.

When you did he had to hide his smile behind his tankard as you struggled to stop your nose from scrunching up. He puffed out a few laughs when you frowned and failed miserably to hide the disgust on your face.

You sighed heavily and gave him a weak smile when you swallowed.

"We can leave." He offered genuinely but you shook your head.

"I'm trying new things." You took another drink and forced it back. "I wouldn't dare back down now."

And you didn't. Before Price could stop you, you had drunk two pints and were already working on your third. He tried to stay close to you as you drunkenly visited with the villagers, speaking to them as if you were old friends, but you were too fast for him, even drunk.

He sat himself down at a table in the corner where he could watch everyone and you at the same time. He kept his eyes on you and watched your every move. He was on edge even when Simon gave him another drink.

The tavern got more lively and eventually someone asked you to dance with them.

And when you began to dance, it seemed like nothing mattered anymore.

Price watched you dance with warm cheeks and a warm chest. There was something in the way that you were smiling, the absolute joy on your face that made his shoulders loosen and made a smile of his own spread across his face. The life in your movements and the lack of the usual poise was enough to have him imagining things he probably shouldn’t.

Things like how it would feel to be the one dancing with you, to be the one who held you close and felt your fingers caress his skin. The one who knew what your lips felt like against his own, to know that he was yours and you were his.

They were dangerous thoughts, ones that gave him a feeling he knew but didn’t dare name. Not when the law forbade it, not when he couldn’t have it.

“Play a round, old man.” Simon sat across from him and slid over a deck of cards.

A soft sigh escaped his chest and he grabbed the deck. He relaxed more, knowing that the other patrons in the tavern weren’t dumb enough to cause trouble, though he kept his eye on you, and began to shuffle the cards.

After a few rounds and a couple more drinks, you finally made your way over to him out of breath but a dazed look in your eyes. Simon gave you his seat, which you thanked him for before your eyes lit up at the cards.

“Oh! How many have you won?” You looked at Simon who grunted with a frown, which made you laugh. “I should expect nothing less, Sir John.”

“It’s nothing but luck.” He told you and you smiled.

“Teach me.”

“It’s a lot different than chess.”

“I know, so teach me.”

Even if you were safe within the tavern, Price liked that you finally sat across from him. He tried his hardest to explain the rules to you, though the two of you were a little too drunk and the tavern was too loud to properly play, you both still had fun. Well, Price had more fun since after the first round, he couldn’t stop winning.

“You’re cheating!”

“I’d never cheat you, your highness. You’re just awful at the game.”

As the night went on you slowly found yourself unable to ignore the problem at hand. Even if you weren't sober and even if this had been one of the more enjoyable nights you've had, you couldn't escape your fate.

The tavern was a lovely distraction and you were happy that Price had enjoyed himself too, but now as things slowed down your mind wandered.

"Another suitor is coming." You told him softly and his face hardened. "A prince. He sounds nice, better than the king."

"Yet you sound upset." He watched you.

You weren't as upset as when you were going to be married to the king but he could still see the hidden overwhelmed feeling in your eyes. He knew that your mind was racing, that no matter how much you tried to distract yourself it was there.

"Suppose I'm just nervous. I know how it's going to go."

Price remembered what you had told him and couldn't the slight anger in his stomach. Again the queen had failed to tell him, especially after the last time, but it was more than that. He hated how upset it made you, he wished he could take it away or at the very least make it easier for you.

His loose tongue spoke before he could control it, the ale making it easier for him to say his thoughts even when he normally wouldn't say it.

"Then I'll get more violets."

Your eyes widened and you stared at him with an unreadable look. You were drunk, so maybe you had misheard him but the more you thought about it the more you realized that it made perfect sense and you couldn't believe you hadn't thought about it before.

Sir John was the only one who knew the fields and the violets made you happy before you were given the bouquet. He was the only one who went to the fields with you, the only one who actually listened to you.

He gave you the flowers the first time.

Your chest warmed and you blinked away any tears before he could see. An overwhelming feeling washed over you, one that you weren't sure you had a name to as you watched him shuffle the cards. It was soft, warm but also so violent as you realized it would spell death for him if you were ever to indulge in it.

"Are you tired, your highness?" He asked softly, noticing the way you got quiet.

"Yes." You sighed because truthfully the alcohol was making you sleepy but selfishly you didn't want to part from him even when you'd see him tomorrow. "But let's play one more round. Then we can leave."

Price nodded a small smile stretching across his face.

"Maybe you'll win this time."

"Play me in chess and you won't gloat anymore."

a/n: to be seen is to be loved and knight!price is the only one who sees you

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @sofasoap

#knight!price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #john price #call of duty #princess!reader

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rogueddie · 1 year

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Steve realizes that he's been spending too much time with the kids families when he gets home, realizing that he'd bought supplies for knitting. It's something that Claudia and, recently, Joyce have been getting into. They would rope Steve into joining them whenever he time there.

But it's nice. He likes knitting. He likes the repetitively and how easy it is to simply... stop. Stop worrying, stop pacing, stop thinking. Stop being so afraid.

It's hard to be scared of beasts in the walls when he looks down and finds a badly knitted sock in his lap. It looks too silly.

The longer he spends on it though, the better he gets. It's not long until he's knitting things nice enough that he feels confident enough to wear them outside the house. And no one bats an eye.

Robin even steals some of his scarves- until she learns that he knit them and then she starts making demands. Which he's happy to fulfil. Seeing her light up when he hands her the scarf and gloves, in the exactly color and pattern she'd asked for, is more than worth it.

That Christmas, his new knitting skills save the day. He had to set himself a very strict budget for the presents. He's trying to save as much as he can, with Robin and Eddie, so they can move into a little house they have their eyes on.

He blows the entire budget on the kids.

So, with the help of Robin, he tries to think of the best things to knit for the adults.

Robin asks him to make them matching scarves and gloves. She knows that Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle will want matching things too, which solves what to get them. As well as Joyce and Hopper- though, Steve isn't sure how those will go down.

The other parents are easy. He's spoken to them, been in their homes enough, to know the patterns and colors they favor.

By the time he finishes knitting everyone their things... he's still not sure what to knit for Eddie. All he has is the black yarn he got and some of the maroon and dark green left over from the other projects.

"He'll be happy you got him anything at all," Robin teases. "You know that. You just want it to be perfect because-"

"He's my friend! Ok? I just want to get him something nice for Christmas."

"And that's all there is to it?"

"Yes!"

"Mhm," Robin smirks, slowly walking backwards towards the door, raising an eyebrow at him. "I totally believe you."

Even though Robin hadn't been any help with thinking of any good ideas, he's sure that he's only thinking of worse ones without her. It doesn't help that, the longer he sits and tries to think, the more ideas they came up with together he forgets.

In the end, he settles for a gothic version of a Christmas sweater. He tries to make it as detailed as he can- knitting in snowflakes and zig zags, the hellfire devil head instead of a reindeer and little Christmas trees along the bottom hem.

He shoves it into the little Christmas bag he got for it, taping the top shut before he can doubt himself. He tucks it away, pointedly avoiding so much as glancing at it.

It's a relief when, a few days later, Christmas comes around.

Most of them bounce between the Wheelers and the Byers homes. The kids all spend most of the day at the Wheelers, gathering all their presents with them. Dustin helps Steve bring the presents from him, Robin and Claudia inside.

He stops at the Byers, where most of the adults are gathered. Joyce and Nancy both try to convince him to change his mind, to stay for dinner, as he drops their presents off. But, as he reminds them, he promised Robin he'd spend Christmas dinner with her.

She's sat on the trailer steps with Eddie when Steve pulls up.

"You're late!" Eddie yells as Steve opens the trunk, grabbing the last three presents. "Have you no consideration for the peasants?!"

"Shut up," Steve says, rolling his eyes. He gently kicks him. "Move."

Eddie throws himself off the steps, onto the floor. "Ah! Rob, he's bullying me!"

"Good." Robin stands up, opening the door and waving Steve inside. She raises an eyebrow at Eddie. "Get up, I'm hungry."

"Fine!" Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "You're all so mean to me."

Wayne clears his throat. He's stood by the kitchen, leaning with his arms crossed, watching them with an amused grin. "You kids ready to eat now or do you want to do presents first?"

"Food," they all say in sync.

The dinner is amazing, something Steve and Robin both keep telling Wayne. Whenever the conversation pauses, they have a little kick-fight on who gets to speak up that time.

Wayne jokingly asks Eddie why he's never so complimentary about his cooking, which earns him an eye roll.

"You don't need the ego boost, old man."

Wayne gets him in a loose headlock when he stands up, ruffling his hair, before quickly grabbing the plates that Steve tries to collect.

"No, no, no. You kids get started opening your presents, I've got these."

Robin drags him along, into the living room, by the collar of his polo when he tries to offer help. Eddie helps, grabbing his forearm. Steve grumbles the whole time, folding his arms when they push him down, onto the sofa.

"Ladies first," Eddie throws a present at Robin, nearly hitting her in the face. He grins widely when she flips him off.

He insists that, once Robin opens all of her presents, Steve has to open his. Then Wayne. And, once they've all opened theirs, Eddie claps his hands together at the remaining presents.

"Perfect. All for me." He grins, grabbing Steves first. He almost rips the bag with how hard he pulls at the tape.

"We have scissors," Robin waves them at him.

He bats them away, digging the sweater out of the bag. "Oooh, gothic Christmas, very-" he stops when he turns it over, staring at the front for a moment. "Is... is this, like, custom made?"

"Yeah, sort of," Steve says, shrugging. He offers a smile when Eddie looks up at him, looking almost... awed.

"He made it himself," Robin says. "He's gotten into knitting."

"You knit this? Yourself? Stevie, what the hell! This is amazing!" He quickly shrugs off his jacket so he can put the sweater on. "I'm never taking this off. Fuck, I could kiss you."

"Save it for the bedroom," Wayne quickly says, holding a hand up. "Some of us here don't want to see all that PDA."

Robin snickers. "Yeah, have some decency for the rest of us."

"Ha ha," Eddie deadpans. "You're both hilarious."

"Seriously though, son," Wayne puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know I'll support and love you no matter what, but I'd hate to see you and a girl getting like that just as much."

"What?" Eddie frowns, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Wayne glances between him and Steve. "You and your boy."

"Holy shit," Robin whispers. "I knew it wasn't just me."

"I'm, uh..." Steve eventually speaks up, once it's clear that Eddie isn't going to say anything, simply continuing to gape at Wayne. "I'm not his boy."

"What?" Wayne turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. "You ain't asked him out yet? How many dates have you been on and you still ain't-"

"We're not dating," Eddie hisses. "I've told you this, like, seventy times!"

"This is amazing," Robin whispers, eyes darting between the two as they continue arguing back and forth. "Stevie, you owe me money."

Steve groans, slouching as low as he can, covering his red face with both hands.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #christma22k

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owliellder · 8 months

Text

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

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