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zafirosreverie · 3 months

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Their reaction to you asking them out (BSD)

a/n: Lovecraft's mentioned in three of these other than his simply because I LOVE him. Sorry not sorry.

Doppo Kunikida:

"T-tell Dazai this joke isn't funny."

You blinked in confusion, before realization hit you. You didn't need Ranpo's mind to know that the blonde in front of you had a soft spot for you, it had been that way since you entered the ADA, and for you it was an immediate crush.

But neither of you had acted on it, keeping your interactions purely professional at first and then simply being friends. The complete opposite of Dazai. After rejecting his proposal of a double suicide with a simple laugh, the brunette decided that you were his friend and that was it, you had nothing to say about it, not that you cared much.

Since you had no ability, you simply worked as a secretary at the agency, but that didn't stop Dazai from dragging you into his chaos. When he wasn't bothering Kunikida, or traumatizing Atsushi, the waste of bandages was stuck to you, trying to coax you into doing something diabolically chaotic, simply because he was bored.

You usually ended up taking most of the blame, since Fukuzawa and Kunikida were softer on you anyway, but at the end of the day, Dazai was a good friend. He had given you the courage you needed to finally confess to Kunikida, after teasing you of course.

Honestly, you believed that if the blonde rejected you it would be because you hardly fit into at least five of his ideals, you didn't expect him to be jealous of his partner.

"It wasn't a joke" you said softly "but we can talk about this at lunch."

Kunikida looked at you surprised, his green eyes shining with distrust but with a hint of hope as well. You smiled at him and quickly walked back to your desk, not caring about the evident blush on your face.

For lunch, he would take you to a restaurant further away from the agency building and you could finally talk. You would show him that you were worth more than the ink in his notebook and even though he didn't think you would last long together, in time he couldn't imagine a life without you.

H.P. Lovecraft:

You sighed internally but tried to keep a kind smile on your face, although you honestly didn't know how much you could fool an ancient god with that. You mentally cursed Mark and John for convincing you this was a good idea, but you cursed yourself more for thinking Lovecraft would actually agree to go on a date.

"Explain to me?" he asked after a minute of just looking at you with those piercing but empty eyes.

"Uh?!" You stammered, jumping a little “D-don't you know what a date is?”

"No, I know that" he replied "I have been here since before humanity, I have seen you develop, break down, and rise again, and although I am never near you unless summoned, I know enough to know how those types of relationships work"

“Oh” you whispered.

You weren't really expecting a philosophy or anthropology lesson, you just wanted a yes or no (preferably the former), but realistically, when, since meeting him, have you been able to have a simple, easy conversation with Lovecraft?

"Then what?-" you started, but he interrupted you, still staring at you.

"Why would you want to form that kind of human bond with someone who...isn't?"

You blinked and, for the first time since you started this awkward conversation, looked at him. His face showed no emotion, as always, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that hadn't been there before, as if he really wanted to understand what was going on in your mind.

For some reason, the minuscule possibility of being a mystery to a man whose mere existence was the biggest mystery of all, made you feel important, like the entire universe was watching only you.

"I don't know" you shrugged "maybe it's your way of treating me a little warmer than you treat others, or maybe it's because my eyes can't see anyone else as soon as you walk into a room… Maybe I'm just crazy, who knows?"

"Why would you want to join your being to an evil eldritch god?"

“I don’t think you’re evil” you refuted.

"Then you don't understand me" he said.

"No, but I've never said I do" you agreed "but…if you really are older than humanity…shouldn't you be immune to the criteria of good or evil?"

Lovecraft looked at you with, what by his standards, must have been a ghost of amazement. He didn't respond, but the gleam in his eyes intensified and it only took you a few moments to register that his normally cold and indifferent aura seemed warmer and… joyful?

"You're not an ordinary human" he finally said "You're not afraid of the dark"

"I never have been" you smiled "Hawthorne says that will condemn my soul to hell…nice guy right?"

"Your soul already belongs to the abyss"

You looked at him curiously and swore the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You weren't sure if that was a yes or no to a date, but the moment he took your hand, you decided it really didn't matter.

Edgar Allan Poe:

Why? Was it a joke? Were there hidden cameras capturing his humiliation? No, you weren't like that…but you spent a lot of time with Mark, maybe he had convinced you…No, he liked to make fun of Hawthorne, not him. So it didn't make sense, why would you ask him something like that? Why would you want to stain yourself with the same madness, anxiety and loneliness that accompanied him everywhere? Why would you want to subject yourself to such torture? Not even he could beat his own demons, why would you want to see them yourself? Why would you, of all people, ask him out on a date?

Those were the questions that ran a thousand miles an hour through Poe's mind as he looked at you silently, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Karl had long since moved onto your shoulders, sensing the imminent defeat of his owner.

"…Edgar?" You asked softly, worried.

It was a good thing you were in his study, because the moment you touched him, the writer fell back as if he were a statue, making you jump and scream a little before running to his side.

"I think I broke him" you said to Karl, as you fanned the man on the floor.

"I'm fine" Poe grunted, sitting up.

It seemed like the hit was what he needed to get his mind working again. He hadn't really expected your confession, much less for you to ask him out, damn it, he hadn't even hoped that you might like him like he liked you. But there you were, looking really worried about him (and damn cute, but that was another story), and he owed you an answer.

"I-I'm sorry" he stuttered "You took me by surprise"

"I noticed" you laughed softly, awakening butterflies in his stomach "I didn't mean to"

"N-no, it's okay, just…I didn't think you saw me like that"

"Really?" You blinked “I thought it was obvious. Even Lovecraft noticed”

"He did?!"

You nodded. It was true, the entire Guild knew about your feelings for Poe, some had even bet how long it would take him to realize it or if you would have to tell him yourself (you could already hear Margaret complaining about having to pay Nathaniel and John), even the eldritch horror had noticed it and he was asleep 18 of the 24 hours of the day. It seemed like everyone knew except Poe.

"I understand if you don't want to" you said "don't feel obligated to-"

"No!" he interrupted you, making you both jump at his sudden shout "sorry… I do want to, it's just… it's hard for me to think that anyone would want to spend their time with me willingly" he admitted awkwardly.

You looked at him for a moment, not understanding how he could not see how cute, not to mention how incredibly interesting, he was. You smiled at him and held his hand tenderly, waiting for him to make eye contact with you.

"Don't worry" you told him "I do"

Nathaniel Hawthorne:

"I miss her"

Herman looked curiously at Hawthorne for a moment before following the man's line of sight. You were sitting, talking calmly with Steinbeck about the small garden you had decided to start a few days ago, and although the blonde was more than happy to give you tips and advice, it was obvious that your attention was more on the tired sea god at your side. It was no secret to anyone that Lovecraft was one of your favorite beings.

"And why don't you tell her?" the older man turned his attention to the minister next to him.

"Its not that easy"

Melville looked at him a moment longer before looking back at you. He was a wise man, and he has known Nathaniel for years, even before the latter joined the Guild. He knew the man's faith, his ideals and moral compass, he knew that he could be stubborn and immovable in his convictions and that few things mattered more to him than his religion. After Mitchell's failed attempts at a romance with him and his relentless way of ignoring Twain's jokes, it had become clear to everyone that Hawthorne was a man of god, that his devotion was to him, and no one else. Most simply opted to leave him alone when he wasn't needed for some mission and he had been fine with that. Until he met you.

Of all the new Guild members, you were by far Melville's favorite. You were kind, happy, calm, willing to learn and rarely caused problems. You were often the first to offer help to whoever needed it, and although you possessed a dangerous ability, you had complete control over it, so no one was worried about you hurting them. You were practically an angel, and it was obvious that you were quickly earning a place in everyone's hearts. Nowadays it was common to see Poe leaving his room more often thanks to you, or how Louisa laughed more, how Fitzgerald praised you even for the smallest things, and Herman himself loved the peaceful afternoons with you in his office. You were even replacing John as Lovecraft's favorite human. But it was obvious that the person you had most under your spell was Hawthorne.

The usually serious man smiled as soon as he saw you, he talked to you about all kinds of things, often even forgetting his Bible and his talk about sins, he accompanied you everywhere if you asked and was always the first to welcome you when you arrived from a mission, always making sure you were okay. It was a lovely sight, and Herman appreciated your presence in the other man's life. But all that ended a few days ago, when he had broken your heart.

Melville was the only one who knew the story thoroughly, listening to what you were able to tell him between sobs and what Hawthorne himself had confirmed the next day when he confronted him about it. Apparently, he had rejected you without hesitation, and although he tried not to make drama about it, it was obvious that his words hadn't necessarily been soft, but rather dry and direct. You had smiled and accepted the answer, before quickly leaving, but Nathaniel had caught a glimpse of disappointment and sadness in your eyes, which had pierced his chest for some reason.

It took him a terrible sleepless night and a tough talk with Herman to realize that he had made a terrible mistake. He hadn't wanted to realize the true nature of his feelings for you, he hadn't wanted to face what that meant for his faith and ideals, but he gave up when he couldn't get you out of his head for days. At first, he was surprised by your ability to act in front of others as if nothing had happened, but in reality you no longer spoke to him, you no longer smiled at him, nor did you look for him, you had left him alone, and that, like he himself confessed to Melville, felt like the greatest penance for a mortal sin, the sin of having hurt an angel like you.

"I can't face those broken eyes, not again" Nathaniel whispered, not taking his eyes off you.

"You've already lost her" Herman sighed "what else do you have to risk?"

The minister didn't respond, watching as you softly laughed at Lovecraft, who had fallen asleep with his head in your lap. He knew that the other man was right, he had already lost you, there was nothing more he could risk, the only thing he had left was the hope that you would give him a second chance.

Herman Melville:

(shhh lemme be, we love Sea Santa Claus in this house)

"My child" he laughed softly "I'm sure Mark would be happy to date you."

You blinked in confusion, as your cheeks quickly heated up. In the man's defense, you really shouldn't have confessed your feelings to him… like that. Seriously, what did you expect by basically yelling at him that you loved him while you played chess in his office?

"I- I don't like Mark" you simply said "not that way"

"Oh… John's pretty nice too"

“Steinbeck scares me” you shivered

"Really?" Herman raised an eyebrow “You spend a lot of time with him”

Was that… jealousy you heard in his voice? A part of you clung to that thought, despite the very clear surprise, confusion, and rejection in his voice.

"I do it for Lovecraft" you admitted "I like him… Steinbeck gives me nightmares"

Herman looked at you for a moment before sighing and laughing softly. Really, he couldn't understand you, the idea that someone as young as you, with a whole life ahead, could have fallen in love with someone as old as him, was ridiculous. But if he had learned anything in the time he had known you, it was that when you wanted something, there was no human power to change your mind.

And if he was honest with himself, you had truly earned a permanent place in his rusty old heart. You were a happy and confident soul, kind and gentle, something rare in the current Guild. Apart from him and Lovecraft, you were the only one who saw Moby Dick as more than just a ship, you had brought warmth back to his chest, and he would do whatever it took to protect you.

“I guess Poe is out of question” he whispered in amusement, gently taking your hand across the table.

You quickly understood the joke and caught the glint of hope in his eyes, which made your heart race and a huge smile bloom on your face.

"Nope" you said "I already made up my mind"

Herman smiled at you and nodded, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it reverently. It would be awkward to explain this new step in your relationship to others, but it was worth it to see you smile.

"Besides, we all know that Poe belongs to Lovecraft. I'm not going to fight a sea god over him."

Louisa May Alcott:

"M-me? R-really?"

Louisa looked at you with wide eyes as you laughed softly and nodded, repeating your question for the third time, just to make sure she believed it.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

She felt her already red cheeks heat up even more and tried to hide her face in her hands. She was basically a tangled mess of nerves and little squeals.

Listen, she liked you too, ok? Louisa just wasn't someone who thought much about dates and partners and stuff, mostly because she had long ago accepted that no one would notice her that way, but deep down, she had to admit that her heart had always harbored a little bit of hope for romance. She just didn't expect that you, who had become Guild's golden girl thanks to your charisma and power, would be the one to be interested in her.

On one hand, she was afraid that this was doomed to be a failure, that the more you got to know her your interest in her would fade, but the braver little part of her told her that it might be worth it. After all, you had always been kind to her, you tried to include her in everything you could and it was not unusual for you to spend your afternoons reading silently next to her. You made her feel special, like no one had ever made her feel before. She supposed that, in a way, it had been impossible to stop her from falling in love with you.

"I-I…I'd love to!" She responded, a little louder than she would have liked.

But it didn't seem to bother you, you simply smiled wider at her and gently pulled her closer to you to hug her, giving her enough time to get away if she wanted to. Louisa hid her face in your shoulder and as she felt your hand rubbing gentle circles on her back, she was mentally grateful that someone was finally noticing her for who she was, not her power or position in the Guild.

Bram Stoker:

"Why?"

"Because now you have legs and I don't have to carry you on my back all the way?" you joked lightly, feeling a little silly under the vampire's piercing gaze.

Bram just frowned and tilted his head in confusion. You had told him that you would like to go for a "drink" with him, or just "walk around the fair", mundane things, but little lady Aya had told him they were "dates".

It had taken the poor girl a couple of hours to bring him up to date on modern courtship customs, and even longer to convince him that it was fun and romantic. In his time, there was not much room for romance, marriages were arranged according to the political and economic advantages that the union could achieve and that was all. Much easier if he was honest.

But that wasn't what bothered him, it was the fact that apparently you, of all people, could have developed feelings for someone like him. Yes, you had helped him and Aya escape from Fukuchi and had remained loyal to the end, despite your lack of ability, but that was precisely why he couldn't understand your reasons.

A mere mortal who didn't know who they were talking to, he could understand, but you? You knew what he was, you knew the monster you were trying to court. Bram was no fool, and despite his lack of understanding of modern times and customs, he had never been one to deny his feelings (from that to him acting on them was another story, of course), and could easily admit to himself that he had developed a liking for you, especially after the whole vampire apocalypse.

But you? What could you want with one of the ten calamities of humanity? It just didn't make sense, no matter how much he thought about it.

"Uh-…Bram?" you asked softly

"Why?" he asked again

"…because I like you?" you said, giving up on your jokes and opting to be direct.

"Why would you?"

"I don't know" you shrugged "I just do."

"Why me?"

"Why not?"

Sigma:

"You're cruel"

You blinked before frowning in confusion. It wasn't exactly the answer you had been waiting for. When you decided it was time to ask Sigma on a date, you had prepared yourself for a no or a yes, what were you supposed to do with this answer?

"Excuse me?" you murmured

"YOU'RE CRUEL!" he shouted, looking at you with tears in his eyes.

Now you were worried. You tried to approach him, ask him what was wrong, and apologize if you had upset him with your question, but he just walked away abruptly and turned his back on you, furiously wiping the tears from his face.

"Sigma-"

"Why would you?" he whispered "Of all the pranks you could play, why such a cruel one?"

"What?-"

"You know how I feel about you" he continued, completely ignoring your worried look "I'm not even good at hiding it, but I thought you'd at least stop Gogol from using it against me…why would you? Why would you give me hope like this?"

His voice broke on the last sentence, just like your heart. You watched him fall to the ground, covering his face as his shoulders shook from silent sobs and your mind tried to catch up with everything. You couldn't really blame him for thinking this was a joke, after all, you were friends with Nikolai, his main tormentor.

Usually, you tried to stay neutral about the pranks the clown played on the poor boy, mainly because you knew that if you defended him, Nikolai would just make an even more evil prank. But you didn't expect him to actually think you would do something like that to him.

You felt guilty beyond words, and you promised yourself in that moment that you would do everything you could to repair a trust you didn't even know you had lost. It didn't matter if Gogol or Dostoyesvky got upset, you swore you weren't going to let them (or anyone) hurt him again.

"I swear on my life that this is not a joke" you said softly, sitting next to him "I'm so sorry if I ever gave you reason to believe that I would hurt you like this."

Sigma glanced at you, but he didn't respond. You took it as a small victory when you moved his hair back a little to caress his cheek and he didn't move away from it. It took you a while, but in the end, you managed to get him to look at you, still with tears in his eyes, but a glimmer of hope in them.

"I really like you" you said "and I promise I'll do everything I can to make you believe me."

He gasped when you leaned in to place a tender kiss on his cheek, and his entire face heated up as you held him close to your chest. You both knew that it would take you a while to convince him that you weren't really trying to use him, that you were sincere in your feelings, but at least, you were pointing in the right direction.

Nikolai Gogol:

"I knew you couldn't resist my charm"

You rolled your eyes as the clown laughed maniacally in front of you. Honestly, sometimes you questioned why you liked him, and if this had been a good idea. You knew he wouldn't let you live with this, he loved any excuse to boost his ego and tease you, but deep down you knew you wouldn't want him any other way, murder and obvious insanity aside.

"Oh, but darling, you didn't think it would be that easy did you?" he smirked at you and you could feel a shiver running down your spine "oh no, before you date me, you have to prove how much you love me!"

"Oh no" you shuddered "on second thought, let's stay friends."

"No, no, no" he said, grabbing your wrist before you could escape "you can't back out now!"

You looked at him for a moment before sighing and giving up. You knew that there was no human power that could stop him when he planned one of his "games" and that no matter what you did, you had already let the cat out, there was no way he would forget your confession, much less that you could get out of this.

“Okay” you sighed “what do you have on your mind?”

Nikolai simply smiled at you before using his power to transport you somewhere else.

In the end, you ended up spending hours solving puzzles and tests that, if you were honest, weren't even too difficult, at least not by what he was used to, but it was frustrating that every time you finished one, another immediately appeared, it seemed like a never-ending punishment. You assumed he wanted to test your willpower.

However, the reality was that Gogol wasn't even thinking about it, he was simply keeping you busy while he dealt with the sudden rush of complicated emotions, doubts, and fears that washed over him. It wasn't a secret to anyone who was observant (which meant it was only obvious to Fyodor) that the DOA clown had really taken a liking to you, which was why he teased you so much, as an attempt to keep your attention on him.

He never expected you to have feelings for him tho, much less ask him out on a date. A part of him was happy about it, but his mind was yelling at him that he shouldn't accept, that he shouldn't be tied to anyone. His entire life was supposed to have been dedicated to seeking his freedom, he couldn't risk that, not even for you. You really were a danger to him, and for once, he didn't know what to do with it.

Ogai Mori:

tw: manipulation.

"Bold and brave" he smirked "I like that"

Are you okay? Is someone threatening you? To be fair, you really didn't know what you were getting into. You didn't know the true nature of the man in front of you, you simply knew him as the kind doctor you had met by accident on the street and who you sometimes ran into.

It was weird at first, but after the third time "casually" meeting each other, you just decided it was funny and started a friendship with him. Bad idea.

You had no idea of the danger you were in, you didn't know what he was capable of. Developing a crush on the Port mafia boss was probably one of the stupidest things you could do. But he had made you feel safe, appreciated, and it really wasn't long before he had you under his spell.

It wasn't really your fault though. Mori is a brilliant man and a skilled manipulator, he rarely took a step without thinking, and it definitely wasn't a coincidence that he found you. You had a powerful ability, one that would be a huge asset to the mafia or any organization that had you.

It had gone unnoticed for so long because, as you had confessed, you didn't really like using it, but it was only a matter of time before someone else found out, so he had made sure to get to you first.

Honestly, he didn't expect this turn of events. His plan was simple: lure you in with kindness, make you feel safe before showing his true colors and then offer to join the mafia, which was an understatement, he was more than ready to force you to join if you didn't accept of your own free will, he even had planned to use Elise (he knew you had a soft, motherly spot for children) to convince you.

The fact that you were offering yourself on a silver platter only made things easier for him. Besides, he wouldn't say no to other kinds of advantages and a pretty face. (He would never admit that in that time of "knowing you" he had developed a… liking for you)

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mixiury · 6 months

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Always remembering you - Genshin x GN reader

Characters: Wanderer, Itto, Kaveh, Neuvillette

Summary: You have to leave for a long period of time. What do they do after it? (Basically them missing you)

A/N: I am alive!! Sorry for not posting in a while. Honestly I haven't been very motivated to write but I randomly got this idea so I hope yall like it! (I edited some parts and typos I noticed so hopefully now it is better :)

Wanderer has no need for things as transitory and insignificant as the attention of others— specially if it comes from an human being— so what makes you believe that you would be an exception?

It's been decades since he last sought companionship after all. The only reason why he asked you to accompany him is to complete the tasks Nahida assigned him. It is just easier for you to do all the hard work instead of him. Don't try to read between the lines.

Yes. Of course it was necessary to stop in the middle of Sumeru's forest to contemplate the surroundings for the past hour. It is part of his job to ensure that there are no potential dangers near the city.

Actually, the fact that the path you were taking was blocked by a tree that mysteriously collapsed in front of you due to a strong blown of wind has nothing to do with him. Why would you think he did that in the first place? You're imagining things.

The only reason he's holding your hand right now is so you don't get lost or delay him by this absurdly long new path he's chosen. Yes, it's clearly the only option you two have, so don't complain and keep walking.

But if you need a moment to rest he won't refuse. And if at any point you decide to lean your head on his shoulder, he won't push you away either. Just don't get used to this, he only allows it because he knows how fragile human bodies are and he prefers to avoid Nahida's scolding for leaving you in the middle of nowhere.

And if you still have doubts, that's right, the fact that all these things happen after not being able to talk to you all week is totally a coincidence.

Itto, on the other hand, doesn't seem to know the word discretion.

What do you mean you have another important commission to do? But didn't you just finished one yesterday? How about you join him in a beetle tournament instead? Or maybe you can spend time with the gang? Come on, he knows you can't refuse this unique opportunity!

Hmm? That you always spend time with them..? But this time is different! This time they will do something so different and so incredible that you just can't loose! Trust him. Arataki Itto always keep his word!

And it is just that it seems like the entire universe is sending you signals to spend time with him. From Itto posters that mysteriously appear on paper airplanes to his name in the alphabet soup you eat.

But if all that is not enough to convince you that it is the destiny the one putting you together, somehow you both end up meeting multiple times a day. No matter where you look, he will be there.

Do you have to collect different flowers from Inazuma for your commission? It turns out that floristry is one of his hidden talents! Do you have to give them to someone? How curious! He was just talking to that same person! Are you saying he is brothering them? Of course not! He would never do that... On purpose.

There's no point in questioning him, somehow he always has an excuse- (although it doesn't mean they make sense). It's only until you look up at the sky and see fireworks with Itto's face, his signature, and the words "I miss you" that he finally tells you the truth behind all the coincidences that has happened during the day.

However, the moment does not last long, because shortly afterwards different guards come running to capture Itto for alleged harassment and "illegal use" of fireworks without authorization. Complete defamation if you ask him.

At the end, you and Kuki have to visit him in jail and take care of all the paperwork for the damage him and the gang caused. But hey, at least that means his plan worked?

Kaveh directly doesn't seems able to function properly.

Don't get him wrong, he knows better than anyone how hard it must be for you to be so busy. After all, he has found himself in the same situation as you multiple times in the past.

It's just that he had never noticed the influence you have on his life until that moment, where instead of having breakfast together at the same place as always he finds himself eating preheated noodles from the microwave.

For the first time in a long time he's having trouble concentrating on his work, unable to finish the commission he's been putting off for the last week— not so surprisingly— the same amount of time since you traveled to Fontaine.

Because every time he looks at the paper on the desk he can't stop his hand from drawing sketches of you, his mind clouded with questions about your safety and how you are doing.

Kaveh doesn't really know how to control that feeling so he does the only thing he knows in situations like this; Overwork himself. Going from basically doing nothing all week to creating almost a month's worth of work in a few days.

Of course, it doesn't take much for his friends to notice, trying to reason with him more than once. However, if there is something to recognize from Kaveh it is his stubbornness, reassuring them that everything is completely under control.

It's only until he ends up falling asleep during a conversation with Tighnari that he decides to take action into his own hands, sending you a letter telling you about the situation because your boyfriend can barely stay awake during the day and has been living of coffee.

And despite his reproaches towards Tighnari, he can't help but feel glad the moment you return to Sumeru a few days earlier than anticipated, updating you on every little detail that happened while you were gone and sleeping for almost a full day no long after. He may thank Tighnari later.

Unlike the others, Neuvillette feels totally fine after you left.

Of course he notice your absence and perhaps your name has appeared in his mind more than three times in the day but that's all. There is no need to worry about it, Take all the time you need.

He continues with his routine as always. He is also a very busy person so he doesn't think a lot of it. He's just walking around in the same place where you met because he's taking a short break. Nothing more than that.

In fact, you might even be able to see him ordering at the same coffee shop where you had your first date, sitting at the same table he sat at back then. But that isn't related to this situation, so please continue what you are doing.

But if you notice how Fontaine has fallen into heavy rain this last month, he will just reassure you that it's completely normal. Probably is just the weather that hasn't been stable lately. Nothing to worry about. Everything is under control as it always has been.

Yet, even if he manages to fool himself, all the melusines notice the way his gaze wanders from the documents on his desk to the empty seat next to him. His eyes shining every moment he hears the door of his office open just to met with the disappointment in them when he realizes it's not you on the other side.

Because despite his attempts to distract himself, it's simply impossible when every place he goes has some memory of you. He knows you won't be away for long so why does he feel like something is missing when you're not around?

Melusines try to talk with him, even requesting help to Furina, but it doesn't seems to be an end of the countless rains that has been occurring since you left.

He will just continue denying his feelings over and over, completely oblivious of them and the attempts of others to cheer him up.

It's hard for Neuvillette to understand the reason for his the emptiness he feels, but when he sees you once again he can't help but notice the great sense of relief that comes with you, immediately asking you how you are doing and making sure you feel welcome.

Maybe with the pass of the time he will be able to come in terms with his feelings but for now all he wants to do is to spend more time with you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #itto x reader #kaveh x reader #neuvillette x reader #not proofread #Sorry xD #Genshin Impact #genshin impact x you #genshin x you

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fallingfor-fics · 2 months

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Jealousy - Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Okay this is scary ... my first Melissa fic! Please let me know if yall fw it.

Warnings: minimal angst, dom!Melissa/spanking, not any straight smut tho

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You accidentally make Melissa too jealous in a space out of her control, so she decides to take it into her own hands and remind you of your place.

This is inspired from a scene in one of my new fav movies Secretary (2002)

This was thrown together when I got the inspo so I hope its not too shitty!

The day started out wonderful, birds were chirping and the sun was peeking in through the sheer curtains that glazed the windows in Melissa’s bedroom. You couldn't have had a better start to a Wednesday. Wednesdays were always your favorite day, no lunch duty and halfway done with the school week. Which meant you were halfway to spending all weekend tangled up in your girlfriend's arms (and legs). The traffic on the drive to work was practically non-existent and you seemed to only hit green lights. Melissa had a firm hand on your thigh as she drove and you managed to make it to work on time. So how you ended up flushed, out of breath, and bent over your desk as Melissa’s hand placed firm smacks on your ass, was a mystery. Or so you pretended it was.

“How was lunch duty yesterday Y/n?” Barbara asked from across the breakroom as she went to sit next to Melissa at a table.

“It wasn't that bad for once!” You chirped, making eye contact with the red head who smirked and turned back to her coffee allowing a small blush to grace your cheeks from the interaction. Before you could make your way to the table you heard a voice call your name from the doorway.

“Miss L/n can I talk to you for a second?” Dylan, a new fifth grade teacher like yourself, called with a smile on his face.

“Of course, and please Y/n is fine!” You smiled, setting your coffee down next to Melissa, who looked up at you with an unsatisfied glare which she allowed to follow you out of the door as you approached Dylan. You didn't enter too far in the hallway and could still be seen, and heard, by Melissa's spot at the table, and of course as nosey as she is, she didn't take her eyes off of you and Dylan.

“What's up? Have you been settling in okay?” You ask politely with a smile gracing your face.

“Yeah I have, thank you so much for all the help, you have been so kind to me and helping with the lesson plans, and oh god the projector-- has been so appreciated.” he gushed and flashed you a grin, looking you up and down, stepping closer. Melissa rolled her eyes at the remarks, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“Oh don't mention it! I had someone do the same for me when I first started and I don't know what I would have done without her.” Your back was turned slightly to Melissa so you couldn't see the cocky grin she had on her face over-hearing that. You and her were keeping your relationship under wraps to avoid the whole school making a big deal out of it. Something you both were perfectly content with and honestly preferred. Melissa was snapped out of her daze when she heard the sweet sound of your laughter from the hall. She must have missed the joke Dylan said that was apparently so funny it had you covering your mouth as your cheeks grew red and you placed a hand on his arm, shoving it playfully. Melissa felt her own cheeks growing hot but not from laughter. She squeezed her mug tight, her knuckles turning white as she forced herself to look away. Melissa was an incredibly jealous person, but you loved that about her cause so were you. You knew the root of jealousy for you both did not come from insecurity but more so possession. When Melissa was jealous she became incredibly protective and therefore sexy. You always secretly loved when a man would flirt with you when you two were out, because it always led to Melissa giving a snarky remark to the man, and then taking out her anger on you in the bedroom. You knew Melissa was watching, and you wanted her riled up so when you got home tonight, she didn't… hold back. What you didn't know was that things weren't going to necessarily follow your pre-planned timeline.

“So what do you say? Dinner tonight?” Dylan asked, flashing dreamy eyes at you. You stopped laughing fairly quickly and was obviously caught off guard from the question.

“Wait, what?” You squinted in shock, your hand now resting on your chest to play with your necklace, one gifted to you by the redhead who was fuming a few feet behind the scene playing out.

“Dinner. To go over lesson plans.” Dylan restated confidently, moving his arm to rest up against the doorframe beside you. Your gaze followed his arm and soon realized what he was proposing.

“Oh. By lesson plans I thought you meant in my classroom like last time.” You cleared your throat, taking a step back slightly. He shook his head and moved his arm back to his side, not wanting to completely bruise his ego.

“Oh yeah we can do that then. Rain check on dinner?” he smirked.

“Uh yeah, sure.” You said with slight uncertainty, “I'll see you in my classroom after school then?” you clarified.

“Yeah I look forward to seeing you Mis- Y/n.” he corrected himself with a nod.

Before you could say a farewell of any kind so you could get back to your lunch, you felt someone roughly brush by you running into your shoulder as they walked out of the break room. You quickly noticed it was Melissa and your eyes went wide. That seemed a bit more aggressive than you were intending. You knew you couldn't follow after her immediately without looking suspicious so you watched as she disappeared down the end of the hall and you went to quickly finish your lunch. However, you didn't have time before lunch was over and you had to get back to teaching. Since you taught fifth, your students had three periods throughout the day and changed between you and two other teacher’s classes, Dylan being one of those teachers now. During the period changes Melissa would usually stop by to talk with you while her kids went on a bathroom break or were watching an educational movie. It was a short amount of time to see each other but something you had been doing since you practically started, however she didn't come today and you grew worried. You brushed it off knowing that you would at least see her at recess and continued on your day until then. But there you were, sitting on a bench watching kids run around playing, their screams growing muffled as you scanned the yard and checked the entrances continuously. No sign of Melissa, her kids were out here playing in the smaller jungle gym, but the redhead was nowhere in sight.

“Hey Barb, where is Melissa?” you yelled slightly so you could be heard over the noise.

“I don't know, I haven't seen her since lunch.” She shrugged.

You asked her to watch your kids while you ran to the bathroom and she nodded. You quickly made your way to Melissa's room, practically sprinting to get there. Crossing your fingers and praying to every god that she would be in there. Sure enough she was sitting at her desk, glasses perched on the end of her nose, a red pen in her hand as she graded papers. You walked in slowly, heels clicking on the tile as you approached her desk.

“Hey sweetie.” You greeted softly and she didn't answer. She continued to harshly mark the papers with X’s or checks.

“Do you want some help? Must be a lot to do if you're in here instead of at recess.” She still didn't answer, just grabbed a stack and a red pen and held them up for you to grab.

You grabbed them without question and sat at the desk in front of her and began grading them, every now and then glancing up at her. You could feel the heat radiating off of her and it honestly scared you a little. You were reluctant to say another word, or ask her a question in fear she would either explode or just storm out. You had played with her and her possessiveness before but she hadn't ever reacted this way, maybe you went too far. You couldn't have predicted Dylan would ask you out! You finally got the courage to speak up, hesitance present in your tone.

“Melissa?” you called and she hummed in response, that's a good sign. “Um, is everything ok-” before you could finish your sentence the bell was ringing, and you realized you left Barbara outside with the kids.

“Shit” you muttered, standing up and walking to her desk. “Um here, I'm sorry I'll see you after school?” you asked gently and she just grabbed the graded papers from your hands and nodded. One of the scariest things about this was the silence. It was thick, heavy, and suffocating. Melissa loved to argue, she loved to prove herself right, so the fact she was giving you the silent treatment was terrifying.

The rest of the day dragged on insufferably slow and you couldn't tear your eyes off of the clock, waiting for it to hit three fifteen and to hear the sweet ring of the bell. Finally the time came and you dismissed your students. You figured you wouldn't have time to see Melissa before Dylan got here so you just hoped and prayed she would come to you. Thoughts of the redhead filled your mind and caused the guilt to take over. You didn't understand what was so different about today that caused her to react this way. Maybe it was the environment. That's when it clicked, she was probably incredibly frustrated that she wasn't able to show that you were hers. She wasn't able to chew Dylan out with sarcastic yet classy insults because you were at work. That made you feel even worse at allowing Dylan to flirt for so long, and for playing into it. After a few minutes you got lost in your thoughts and didn't hear your girlfriend enter your room. You were brought out of your focus by a hand slamming a piece of paper down on your desk from behind you. You jumped in shock and quickly looked up when you felt Melissa standing close against your back with her hand around your shoulder sitting firmly on the paper on the desk. She lent down close to your ear and you felt a shiver run through you.

“You have multiple grading errors on this paper, are you trying to make me look like an idiot?” She whispered into your ear, her hot breath against your cheek. You quickly shook your head and turned to look at her, but she moved away and walked around you, causing you to turn back the other way and follow her with your eyes as she came to stand in front of you, her hands on your desk.

“I'm sorry Melissa-- I can fix it.” you stuttered out softly and she didn't offer so much as a sympathetic smile.

“Close the door.” she ordered in her deep voice, her eyes never leaving yours as her brow lifted. You quickly obeyed, getting up to shut it. As you walked back over to her you went to reach for her but she moved away, turning the paper on the desk to face away from your chair. You stood next to your desk watching her in confusion. She was acting so unusual. It wasn't like you weren't secretly enjoying this, but she hadn't behaved like this in school before. She walked over to your door and locked it, pulling the shade over the small window on it down. You felt your heart beat faster as she turned to face you again.

“Melissa, I didn't know Dylan was going to ask me out or that he even liked me. I was just trying to tease you-”

“Bend over and place your palms flat on the desk and look at the paper.” she interrupted with a monotone voice. You looked at her confused, looking around the classroom and then back at her. You and Melissa were into a lot of stuff when it came to kinks, so nothing was ever out of your comfort zone, you had just never done anything at school besides a mini makeout sesh.

“What? But- Melissa, someone could walk by.” you stated and she just walked closer to you. Her eyes scanning you up and down and her hips swaying. Her sparkling green eyes were dark and lustful now and you couldn't seem to read her as easily as you normally could.

“Y/n… Bend. Over.” She stated again and you obliged. She hardly used this tone on you and it sent a shiver up your spine. You felt like one of her students that was being scolded. Arousal and excitement was present but so was a slight sense of genuine fear. You walked to face your desk, placing your palms and elbows flat on either side of the paper, causing your ass to arch up so your back was more comfortable as you bent down fully. Looking at the paper you noticed her highlights on the errors you missed, or marked incorrectly. You soon felt her come up behind you and you forgot how to breathe. Your heart was racing, having nothing to look at but the paper before you. Your eyes darted across it, trying to use all your other senses to get an idea of what the woman was doing behind you. You heard her let out a shaky breath as her hand rested on your hip, squeezing ever so softly.

“You know how much I hate you flirting with other people, especially men like Dylan. Do you realize how much of a slut you look like when you do that at work?” Melissa scathed from behind, her grip on your hip tightening. Your breath hitched and you felt a warmth growing in your stomach.

“I wasn't flirting with him.” you quipped back, a false confidence laced in your words. Her other hand came to grip the other hip and you let your eyes shut for a brief moment.

“No man tells a joke that funny hon,” she laughed with a hidden aggression, the addition of the pet name causing you to press your ass back into her, but she stopped you with her grip, holding you into place. “And then, you do a half-ass job on my papers that I so graciously trusted you with even after the stunt you pulled at lunch.” she scoffed, one of her hands running up your back to grab ahold of your hair. She yanked it back slightly as she leaned forward to whisper in your ear earning a moan from you. “Read the paper, out loud.” she released your hair and you let out a small gasp as you looked back at the paper. You were definitely soaked and could feel the fire burning in your core, causing your vision to go blurry for a second. Before you could mutter another word, a knock came from your door and the handle jiggled.

“Y/n? Are you in there?” Dylan called from the other side. Your eyes went wide as you turned your head to the direction of the door. Then turning your head back to look at Melissa who gazed down at you with a smirk full of pity. Your mouth dropped open as you tried to think of what to say, the lights were still on so you couldn't just pretend to be gone. You felt Melissa run a hand down your thigh and your eyes fluttered, she grabbed for the hem of your skirt and you swallowed.

“I can't do lesson plans with you today Dylan! I'll see you tomorrow.” you yelled out and he muttered a response and then walked away.

“Melissa- we can't do this here anyon-”

“Read the paper Y/n.” she ordered, her voice deep and demanding, her hand leaving the hem of your skirt to meet your hip again. Your whole body filled with chills and you looked back at the paper, not wanting to disappoint the woman. You began with the first sentence, a spelling error you missed was highlighted.

“It can be hard to keep track of time when-” you were cut off by a harsh smack to your bottom. You let out a gasping breath you didn't realize you were holding in and slowly turned to look at her over your shoulder. When your eyes met with the redheads green ones they were filled with mischief and an envious lust. A small devilish smirk graced her face and she raised an eyebrow.

“Keep reading.”

You did as you were told and soon another smack was planted. She kept going as you read through the short paper. Speeding up her slaps and placing them across both sides of your ass. With every slap they grew harder and your body was pushing up against the desk. Moans escaping between sentences. You finished the paper and she moaned in disagreement breathing heavily as her own eyes threatened to shut.

“Again.”

You started again and she continued. Your ass was on fire and you loved it. Your hip bones in pain from hitting up against the desk, and your knees growing tired. You felt your arousal growing in your underwear and you began to lose your voice from your throat growing dry. Her slaps grew faster and harder and finally as you reached the end of the paper for a second time she delivered a final rough slap. She allowed herself to fall forward, her body pressed against yours and her hand coming to rest next to yours on the desk, her face inches from yours. You both breathed heavily and you allowed your eyes to shut for a moment. She moved her thumb to rub gently against your pinky in a gentle gesture to remind and reassure you of the true intentions behind her actions. As she stood back up she kissed the side of your head and straightened herself out. Fixing her hair as she used one hand to tap your hip a few times. You stood up, your back aching slightly, and your ass completely numb. You turned to face her with your cheeks red and your knees wobbling as you allowed yourself to lean back against your desk, still trying to catch your breath. She walked up to you and placed a hand to your jaw, pulling you in for a passionate kiss, her lips moving in sync with yours, slowly but deeply. She pulled away with a cocky grin, leaving your lips slightly red from her lipstick.

“Don't think your punishment is over hon, straighten yourself out and meet me in the car.” she said in a hushed and sensual tone, with a wink before letting go of your jaw and leaving your classroom.

You stood in shock for a moment before packing up your things quicker than you ever had before. Mentally preparing yourself for what is to come when you get home to Melissa’s.

#abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti #melissa x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #lisa ann walter #melissa schemmenti angst

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flowerinjuries · 1 year

Text

nct 127 kinks !

pls dni if ur not 18+!

taeil

switch! dom-leaning

really likes to be in control bc he lovesss to tease u!!

when he’s domming, he’s rlly into bondage! expect him to have a collection of ropes and ties for you

he’s also rlly into lingerie - anything delicate with lots of lace is definitely his cup of tea

he’s pretty laidback overall, no hard kinks but he does love when u put on a show for him like a strip tease

when he’s subbing he just loves to see u have ur fun with him! he loves seeing his baby use him for their own pleasure :(

johnny

dominant lol

no super hard kinks but he’s definitely a dom and loves seeing u be on ur hands and knees for him

he loves being praised too. honestly he just loves showing off for you.

will take u at any time on any surface all u gotta do is ask

i can see him being into handcuffs

like taeil, johnny also appreciates pretty lingerie but he prefers a sexier look like dark colors and garter belts

johnny is so boyfriend to me so everything with him is pretty loving and casual lol i also see him having lots of quickies just bc he thought u looked sexy and couldn’t resist

he definitely calls u babe, maybe the occasional ‘whore’ if he’s feeling extra dirty

johnny’s just hot idk what else to say

taeyong

switch! sub-leaning

yongie loves when u use him as ur pretty lil doll

he will do anything u ask bc he’s a good boy that just wants to make u happy

he loves when u manhandle him: using a leash, pulling his hair, just overall being rlly rough

he never disobeys u bc he just loves u so much and he also wants u to please him as a reward

when ur tired or stressed out though sometimes u just need ty to take the lead and use u too

he’s gentle but also rough with u bc he knows u like that

there’s only one thing he loves more than being praised and that’s praising u

overall he’s just the most caring partner who puts your needs before his <3

yuta

the sex god himself…extremely dominant if u didn’t know…

he is definitely a brat tamer

he loves putting ur bratty mouth to good use..he’s so rough so he always pushes u down on ur knees and grabs the back of ur head to force ur face into his cock, “well it’s not gonna suck itself now is it, slut?”

he just needs to fuck the attitude out of his baby

i just know he has an evil laugh whenever he catches u doing something he doesn’t like

he’s so so mean he will edge u for hours

loves using u to get himself off, then taunts u, “aw, did u want to cum too? well too fucking bad”

definitely a sadist

yanks your hair, spanks u hard, maybe slaps ur cheek

he loves to see u cry bc of him. it’s his favorite sight to see bc ur just so pretty when ur full of him as tears spill out ur eyes and over ur bruised lips :(

ur his lil prince/princess so he always gives in to you no matter how tough he wants to seem

so maybe one day u say u wanna try domming him (he definitely giggled at this) but he lets u have ur fun (only for so long..until he flips the script and is fucking into u super hard)

some things he really likes are knife play and bondage..like i said he’s definitely a sadist

but despite him being so rough and dominant he’s the absolute BEST at aftercare. he will clean u up and run u a bath..then hold u in his arms the rest of the night whispering sweet nothings as u fall asleep (i’m crying)

doyoung

i wanna say he’s a very sadistic dom but i can see him being a lil bit submissive at times so i’ll say he’s a switch

he’s more quiet than yuta and way more mysterious. doyoung as a dom is SCARY. he’s also a brat tamer but he will not give into your wants.. he is going to punish u whether u like it or not

spanks u until ur dark red and have his hand prints in ur skin

he’s very very possessive of u so don’t piss him off

he’s kind of a pervert though..probably has used ur lingerie to help him get off when u weren’t there

^^^he steals ur underwear

thinks about u alllllll the time.. he’s obsessed

uses his belt to tie u up

this man is crazy

onto his submissive side…

he just loves u so he just wants to make u feel good

very whiny

will let u tie him up to keep things equal

i feel like he’d be into sensation play like using hot wax or ice cubes..maybe even electrocution

anyways doyoung is very interesting :D

jaehyun

switch but very dom leaning

this man.. i am sweating

yes u call him daddy ok i’m sorry

he just loves to be on top and in control what can i say

jaehyun also loves to fuck

he could glance at u and get horny

his sex drive is so high…

really likes sex to be rough and hard

he’s not that into toys bc he thinks his hands are better

loves to wrap his hands around your throat

also loves to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he drills into u from behind with your back flush up against his front

his voice is so sexy and he knows it so he’s really into dirty talk

calls u all sorts of degrading nasty names like slut, whore, fuck doll

but also is soft and tells u ur doing a good job and that ur his good girl/boy .. his sweet baby <3 you’d do anything for him too bc u just love him so much

loves getting his dick sucked too

when he’s subby he’s extra vocal..begging and begging for u to do anything

but u love to tease him

sex with jaehyun is so much fun

jungwoo

i cant see this man domming anyone for shit so i’m going to say he’s a sub

god he’s so fucking whiny

just give him what he wants and tell him he’s a good boy… jk i think u should be rough with him and edge him

he acts all sweet but i swear he’s so bratty

loves to piss u off then pretend he did nothing wrong

he’s kinda tall but i think he should get manhandled .. he just likes to be controlled

he’s so mischievous

pushes u to ur absolute edge.. he wants to see u go as far as possible

he definitely has a toy collection and loves trying new things!! he is very experimental

maybe he’s also an exhibitionist idk i just see him not giving any fucks if he gets caught

jungwoo is so much fun but also a headache

mark

100% switch no doubts

when he’s domming he likes to be rough with u but he’s also very careful and asks u “is this ok?” after everything he does

once u give him the go though his brain turns to mush and there’s no going back

he fucks so fast

chokes u with his whole arm around ur throat

also into filming u two going at it just so he can watch later

i think he really loves oral sex, can go down on u for hours and not expect anything in return

just loves to see ur bodies tangled together

loves having his hair pulled and his neck sucked on

he’s vocal but he doesn’t want to be. will whisper curse words but immediately put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from moaning.

he gets so turned on knowing that he’s the one making u feel so good

god he just loves touching u.. ur so perfect to him

edges himself without telling u just bc he wants the sex to last as long as possible

he’s so sweet with aftercare too..brushes ur hair and brings u water

mark lee is the sweetest (but he can be as rough as u want)

haechan

also not sure on him.. he’s for sure dominant but could possibly also be submissive

sadist! sadist! sadist!

dominant hyuck is so so mean

hates giving u what u want bc ur just a pathetic little bitch that won’t shut the fuck up

might have to tape ur mouth shut

loves to take his time with u

will tease and tease until ur screaming

u annoy him so much but he loves fucking u more than anything so eventually he caves

haechan will definitely spit in ur mouth and force u to swallow it

also loves when he brings u to tears

he’s going to overstimulate u

he’s so selfish

i think he’d be into somnophilia

haechan is a good boy though don’t get me wrong

if he’s subbing then he’s very loud and does whatever u say just bc he wants to cum

ofc u let him <3

#jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct au #nct fanfic #nct smut #yuta smut #taeyong smut #nakamoto yuta smut #doyoung smut #haechan smut #mark lee smut #johnny suh smut #taeil smut #jungwoo smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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koisuko · 2 months

Note

Reader with an OF, but she never shows her face, been wondering if the cod boys would be interested in participate if both didn't show their face, no one would know their name, basically no one would know who they were

Tw: mdni, fem reader, sexual content, of is only fans

Ft: Alejandro Vargas, Phillip Graves, König, Rodolfo Parra

Alejandro Vargas…

Would join. People know who he is, so even if he were to show his face, I doubt he would be against it.

The added mystery excites him, being obscured for all eyes except yours. He wants to keep the face to the body reserved for you and you only.

Plus, he likes that no one can see the faces you make. Only he can see how beautiful you look, sweat beading on your forehead while you scream his name for the 5th time in a night.

Phillip Graves…

Is indifferent. He’s taken down terrorists, drug lords, you name it, pictures of his naked body for all to see isn’t something that scares him.

He gives me the vibes that he’s a bit cocky of his appearance. So he actually might like the idea of showing it off, with you as his cowgirl, taking him for a ride.

There will be more pictures of him fucked out than you. It’s supposed to be your OF, but he seems to be the star of the show, and the fan favorite.

König…

Isn’t into it. He’s insecure, and not fond of his appearance. He doesn’t mind if you do it though, as long as some part of you is private to him, your face works just fine.

He’s a private man, and secretive too. Even if no face is shown, he still has defining tattoos and distinct scars that someone could recognize. That in itself makes him paranoid.

He will however, have you choking on his cock behind the camera with the lens faced at your naked body, your fingers between your folds. Just out of frame, your eyes are rolled back and wretched gagging sounds bounce off the walls. His raw pink tip slams the back of your throat, grunts and choked moans fill the room. He’ll let out a guttural roar just as he slaps the tip against your tongue, spurting his seed all over your face. The only part of him your fans will ever see, is his cum dripping down your chin.

Rodolfo Parra…

Is too shy for it. If he agrees, you’d definitely have to ease him into it. He’s a bit shy and reserved over his appearance. He wouldn’t say he’s ugly, no, but he doesn’t see himself being a guy everyone would gawk at.

Honestly, he might like it. I think he would enjoy the attention he’d get from comments and subscribes. He’d be happy that so many people want what they can’t have, and feels lucky to have such a beauty by his side.

He’d prefer the pictures where you ride, or missionary, anything to get a good view of where you two merge as one. He also enjoys watching his cock disappear inside you, and a bulge forms on your lower abdomen. His all time favorite though, is when his face is covered by your pussy, sat all the way down. The picture is from your angle, while his face is buried so deep inside your cunt that you worry he is suffocating.

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strniohoeee · 4 months

Text

Web Of Desire

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N is a sweet girl who just loves all things rough and dangerous. Except her facade is cracked by her current obsession…..🗡️

Warnings⚠️: SMUT, just fingering. Psycho obsessed reader, mean Chris kind of. Honestly Y/N is a bad bitch in this….queen knows what she wants and will stop at nothing.

Song for imagine: House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls- The Weeknd

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

Part 2 here

So don’t blame it on me

You didn’t call your home

So don’t blame it on me girl

Cause you wanted to have fun

Since Y/N could remember she was obsessed with all things mysterious and dangerous. The bad boys for lack of a better word. There was something about the fast cars, the money, the jewelry and the extravagant lifestyle that had her ears perked up when she was around a “bad boy”.

Her eyes becoming rounded in infatuation, a sheepish smile growing on her lips as she crossed her arms as dainty as she could. Nodding and blinking as they talked to her. Her dreams were crushed when they turned her down looking at her as nothing more than a mere deer in headlights.

So she gave up, but that was until she met Christopher. He wasn’t a dangerous boy, but he seemed different. Rough around the edges and deeper than most. His name rolled off her tongue as she’d say it to herself randomly. Although he wasn’t in that gang type of lifestyle he also wasn’t the nicest boy to everyone.

She gathered this information from him as she became friends with him and his brothers. An intense obsession soon pursuing. Her mind just fluttered with Chris as his friends called him, but she preferred Christopher.

As time went on and they grew closer she became obsessed with the chase. Knowing that she wasn’t the type of girl he went for she pushed even harder to get his attention. Now he didn’t ignore her or treat her badly like he did to other girls like she observed. The problem was that he was too nice to her and really enjoyed their friendship. This became a twisted yearning for him and all his approval.

Y/N slowly started to push more, seeing just how far she could take this little crush. Trying to make it as obvious as ever, but her advances fell on deaf ears and blind eyes. Sucking her teeth, and huffing out a breath of annoyance. She couldn’t wrap her head around why Chris didn’t look at her the way she wanted.

She’d say she didn’t want to date him, but to see what he was all about. To her this seemed normal, but in reality it was a sick obsession. Her benefit was that she could hide it well behind her “all too good” demeanor.

The innocent one was what she was known and seen as. She preferred it because then people didn’t expect much from her. She had twisted ideas racking up in her brain to see which one Chris would crumble from.

Slowly she started rolling out these ideas. It started with the skimpy outfits, and bending over in a dress or shorts that were too short, even the light hearted questions to get him to break down his walls. The hair twirls and the lashes batting as he spoke. The low cut shirts. But still he didn’t even care to look at her that way. Anger slowly bubbling inside her she needed HIM.

One day though his eyes lingered a little longer than she expected. A sheepish smile grew on her face as she turned on her heels.

Y/N sat on the lawn chair in their yard talking and laughing as they were clad in swimsuits soaking in the LA heat.

“I bought popsicklessss” Nick yelled as he walked back out from the side door

“Oh my god! Thank you! It’s so fucking hot” Y/N stated

“It is pretty hot out today” Matt said slapping sunscreen on his arms

“Want one?” Nick asked pointing the box to Y/N

“Uhh no I think I’m going to go for a swim first” She replied smiling up at him as he blocked the sun from hitting her eyes

He nodded at the girl and sat down. A twisted plan running in her head. She’d let the ice pops melt a bit before taking one so that it could melt on her, and she’d be a sticky mess. All for Chris to see…..

She removed her coverup. Clad in a black bathing suit. One that was very much a thong and very much open by her breasts.

Tossing the coverup behind her she dives into the pool. Giving a perfect view of her ass to Chris. Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he watched her through his sunglasses.

About 10 minutes later Y/N got out walking over to the boys as she grabbed her towel. Drying herself off and making sure to bend forward giving Chris a clear view of her breasts.

“I think I’ll have a popsicle now” she said as she sat cruz’s cross on the lawn chair

“Be careful they’re probably melted by now” Nick said handing her the box

“Thanks” she said smiling and taking the box from his hands

Pulling out a cherry popsicle. That was after feeling around for the most melted one.

“You were digging in there for a while” Chris suddenly blurts out

“I couldn’t find the cherry one” she says lying through her teeth

“Right” he says seeing through her lies

Y/N began to suck on the popsicle as she watched Nick and Matt talk. Her tongue swirling around the sweet frozen treat. Her lips became stained with the color red.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Matt suddenly asks her

“No, why?” She asked letting the popsicle melt some more

“Want to do movie night with us?” He asked her

“Fuck yes” she said

“Yay! Well order some dinner and do a movie marathon” Nick said

“Sounds fun to me, I'll just have to shower here if that’s cool?” She asked him

“Yeah of course, you can use my bathroom and I’ll use Matt’s” Nick replied

“You’re the best thank you” she replied smiling at the red haired boy

“Your icee” Matt said laughing at the girl

Her eyes darted to her hand as the red icee became liquid running down her hand and arm

“Oh shit” she said before licking up the side with a flat tongue. The melted liquid dripped onto her breasts and down the valley of them.

She began to eat it as more dripped on her chest. Finishing the popsicle and licking her red lips she stood up.

“I’m going to need that shower” she said laughing

“It’s all yours girl” Nick said

“After the shower, do you want to start the movies?” She asked them

“Sounds good to me” Nick said nodding at her

She glanced at Chris who sat with his legs spread, chest glistening with sweat as he watched her. Y/N finally felt like she won. Turning on her heels she walked back into the house

Making her way to Nick's room to shower. When she walked into his bathroom she remembered she brought bubble bath soap the last time she visited. Running the tub water and putting loads of soap in.

“Fuck I love bubbles” she said as her eyes widened in excitement

Stopping the water as the bubbles rose higher. The only downside was that Nick's bathroom had no door, so she hoped neither him nor Matt would walk in. Chris though, that she didn't mind so much. She giggled to herself as she thought this.

Reclipping her hair up before removing her bathing suit. Hanging it over the glass shower door to dry a bit more. She sunk into the warm water, engulfed by vanilla and cherry scented bubbles.

The only light source being that from the window above the tub. Casting a beautiful daytime light into the large room.

Washing her body with a cloth as she hummed to herself. The melody of “Laughing on the Outside” by Bernadette Carroll. Singing in between her hums as she scrubbed her legs.

“I’m laughing on the outside, crying on the inside cause I’m so in love with you” she sang as she leaned forward

Turning the warm water on again to heat up the coolness that began to engulf her. Leaning back before humming again.

“Now Y/N what would you say if Chris walked in here right now?” She asked herself out loud

“Hmmm” she responded to herself rubbing her chin

“I’d simply say, oh my god you perv how dare you?” She says acting fake shocked.

Laughing as she played with her necklace. She was going to make Chris hers one way or another.

Her mind tracking back to singing, swaying her arms in the water as a grin plastered on her face.

“How do you call your lover boy?” She asked herself

“Come, here lover boy” she said back to herself

“And if he doesn’t answer?” She said

“Oh, lover boy” she said swirling her tongue over her teeth

“And if he still doesn’t answer?” She said

“I simply say….baby, oh, baby” she sang as she laughed to herself

She laid back against the cold tub, smiling as she swayed her head side to side. Her movements stopped when she heard Nick's door creak open.

Choosing to ignore it as her eyes remained closed. But now she felt the breeze of an AC draft, and she knew that person was standing there.

“I know it’s you Chris” she said with a smile on her face as her eyes were still closed

The mystery person walked in, shutting the door behind themselves and walking in her direction. Her eyes snapping open to the sight of Chris standing at the bathroom doorway.

“Chris you perv! What are you doing?” She said acting fake shocked

“Drop it” he said bluntly and to this her brows furrowed

“What are you doing?” He asked her as he crossed his arms over his chest

“I’m bathing of course” she said moving the bubbles around from beneath the water

“That’s not what I meant” he said rolling his eyes

“Well then? What did you mean” she says sweetly looking up at him

“You’re real sick and deranged you know” he said shaking his head

“That’s not a nice thing to say” the girl responded pouting

“Nick and Matt don’t see it, but trust me I see right through your bullshit” he replied swallowing thickly

“Christopher….I don’t know what you’re talking about” the girl stated cocking her head to the side

“Short dresses? The cleavage? The dumb questions? Batting your eyes and that shit you pulled today? I know exactly what you’re doing and I’m not stupid” he said

“Not stupid? You fell for it today” she said shrugging her shoulders and looking to her left

Chris stomped over to her and roughly grabbed her by her face. Y/N taken aback as her breathing began to quicken

“What’s your problem huh?” He said as he looked the girl in her eyes

“Can’t you see? I like you” she said trying to pull away from his grip

“Like me? You’re crazy” he said letting go of her face

“I may have a bit of an obsession problem” the girl stated giggling

“That’s not funny” he said rolling his eyes

“Do you think I’m scary? Because I’d never do anything to hurt you” the girl stated looking up at the boy through her lashes

“You’re not scary, you’re just a girl who thinks she’s can get any guy she wants even if it means tricking them into it….tangling them up in her webs of insanity” he stated glaring down at the girl

“Wrong” the girl stated glaring back at Chris

“Oh I’m wrong? You crave attention don’t you? You need it? You thrive off of that shit” he said swallowing thickly

“I just want you to like me back is all” she states in a whisper

“No….no, you just like my attention” he stated shaking his head

“Wrong again” she states laughing dryly

Chris sunk down to his knees, plunging his right hand into the water and immediately grabbing Y/Ns pussy.

The girls mouth dropping as a gasp left her mouth. Going frozen against his touch. Her eyes darted to his own, and they were….they were challenging her?

“I’m giving you all my attention now sweetheart, and you’re going to say I’m wrong? Look at you I’m giving you what you’ve always wanted and you can’t even think straight” he says bluntly

His fingers swirling against her clit as he watched her intensely. Squirming against the rough palettes of his middle and ring finger.

“I just wanted to be the girl of your dreams. Wanted you to like me back as much as I liked you” she said looking at him with doe eyes and a pouty mouth

“You’re too crazy for me my dear, so take what I’m giving you and leave me alone after” he stated smiling obnoxiously in her face

“But please?” She moans out as his two fingers begin to sink deep into her. Curving against her g spot in a motion that has her head thrown back

“Think just because you have a pretty face I’ll like you?” He asks as his fingers plunge deeper into her, the water splashing around

“You think I’m pretty?” She asked as her mouth hung open

“God you’re one crazy bitch” he said as he stared her down

But Y/N didn’t care. In her eyes she won and she finally got the man of her dreams. He was knuckles deep in her, called her pretty and was now degrading her. A recipe so dark and delicious it was bringing her closer to the edge.

Her mouth hung open as little pants left her lips. A flush creeping up along her neck and chest. Loose hairs sticking to her forehead. And her grip on the edge of the tub was lethal. Her eyes never breaking away from Chris’

Chris leaned over, his lips against her ears.

“Is the pretty girl feeling better? Now that she’s fucked dumb simply from my fingers? Huh? Come on pretty girl talk to me” he said maliciously….taunting her

“I love when you call me that” she stated challenging him

“I’m finally giving you what you want and how does that make you feel?” He asked her ghosting his lips over her neck

“It makes me think you like me” she states as goosebumps formed

“Wrong” he said planting a kiss to her neck

His finger moved faster against her as she fought to keep her eyes open. Lewd sounds coming from her mouth often with his name directly after. Her back was arched off of the bathtub. Clenching down on his fingers as his thumb began to rub her clit.

“Come on pretty girl, cum for me” he says egging her on

“Fuck CHRIS” she yells as she reaches closer to her orgasm

“Look at you, making a mess on my fingers. Just how you always wanted” he states laughing

All Y/N can care about is orgasming and that’s all she’s focusing on. Her head is thrown back as strings of curse words leave her mouth. Her right hand now gripped at Chris’ arm that was under the water.

“Fuck fuck fuck” she begins to curse out

Clenching down on his fingers as she came, her back leaning off of the cold tub as her thighs began to shake. Her furrows furrowing as her mouth hung open and broken pants fell from her lips.

After coming down from her high Chris removed his fingers from her. Walking over to the sink and washing his hands.

Y/N shakily stood up as she wrapped herself in a towel. Pulling the plug and letting the not so bubbly water go down the drain.

Staring at Chris through the mirror.

“Are you happy now? I gave you what you wanted” he says as he washed his hands

“Of course your pretty girl is happy” she states staring at him through the mirror

“You’re not my girl. I simply needed to prove a point. That you crave male validation no matter what the cost is” he says dryly

Her face dropping and a smile growing on the young man’s face.

“Two steps ahead” she states

“I am two steps ahead” he says drying his hands

“No….two steps ahead….i'm always two steps ahead” she stated bluntly

Now it was Chris' turn for his face to drop as he watched her in the mirror.

“Wrong” he states nervously

“You see…. I plan almost all of my incidents so to speak. The melted icee was planned. The bubble bath was planned. The unlocked door was planned. I’m like a spider weaving my own web and you’re the dumb little fly who got caught in it” she says tilting her head to the side and smiling maliciously

“You think you’re all planned out, you’re not. I walked into this with a plan” he said furrowing his brows

“You see! Walked into it. You fell into my trap without even realizing it. I called you a perv and you stood. I told you I liked you and you stood. You were knuckles deep in me without me having to initiate any of it. You called me pretty and you wouldn’t be standing here right now if you didn’t feel the same way” she states to the boy who’s now questioning everything that just happened

“Now I’ve watched the way you’ve treated girls and I’ve listened to your hookup stories…. You only finger girls you like�� she says smiling and laughing at him

“You’re a psycho and I’m over these mind games” he says throwing the towel on the counter

“You’ve called me crazy and deranged this whole time yet you stood” she says clapping her hands together

Chris stood there puzzled .….did she really have him this tied up. He couldn’t even realize that he walked into her web of craziness and couldn’t escape.

“Face it Chris…you’re stuck with me forever. So I’ll see you downstairs my love” she states before kissing him on the cheek and walking out of nick's room.

The young man was so confused. He swore he had this whole plan perfectly done. The whole time his plan was fueled by the deep desire he had for Y/N….. He was truly stuck with her forever. How the fuck did he get tangled up in this?

The End

I started this going one way and then I took a psycho turn to it LMFAOOAOOA. I hope yall enjoyed this one🕺🏼. I love yall dearly 🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

@sleepysturnss

#sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader smut #chris sturniolo smut #Christopher sturniolo smut #Christopher X reader smut #smut #sturniolo triplet smut #Spotify

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anticomedygarden · 7 months

Text

"Would you quit looking at everyone like that?" Will said exasperatedly. "You're scaring people."

Nico didn't even try to control his scowl as he studied each of Will's classmates. It could be any one of them, really, since Will had stuck a bi pride pin on his backpack for anyone to see. (Not that he had a problem with the flag, obviously, but when half the room was clearly leering at his boyfriend...maybe he had a problem with it.) "If you just told me which one-"

"No," Will interrupted, fiddling with something on the chair. The two were at a blood drive in the cafeteria of Will's school, and Will, being a med student, had to work it along with several kids in the same program, giving Nico a perfect chance keep Will company. "I'm not telling you who was hitting on me."

"Why?" Nico thought it was a fair question, him being the boyfriend and all.

"'Cause I prefer my classmates unmurdered, thanks."

"I wouldn't murder anyone," he grumbled.

"Tell that to your face."

Somehow, he resisted the urge to give Will the finger.

Around them, doctor's office chairs were occupied by generous people hooked up to machines taking their blood. Will's was the only empty chair.

So maybe it was Nico's fault.

He worked on unclenching his jaw, and within a few minutes, someone approached them.

Will smiled and pulled out a clipboard. "Hi! Are you here to give blood?"

The blonde woman smiled. "Yes."

"Awesome! Go ahead and sit down. I have a few questions to ask you."

She maneuvered herself into the chair awkwardly, glancing at Nico a couple times. "Is this confidential?"

Will nodded. "Of course."

She looked at Nico again. "What about him?"

Nico waved a hand. "I'm gonna go get a drink."

Without waiting, he walked through the cafeteria and out into the hallway to wander around for a bit. There were very few people in the hall, even for a Saturday, so he was able to explore unhindered. He passed a lot of classrooms (obviously), several with anatomical models, a couple with actual full skeletons, and one with the distinct smell of formaldehyde wafting from it, a smell he probably shouldn't be able to identify so easily. For how much everybody considered him and Will to be opposites, their domains really weren't all that different, honestly.

In one hallway, there was a big floor-to-ceiling window through which he saw some pigeons absolutely going at it, the city skyline a simple background to the showdown of the century as the birds flapped their wings menacingly and pecked and jabbed at each other. Just when the fight was getting good and Nico thought they could be monsters in disguise, they just flew off, disappearing into the cloudy expanse above.

Well. They couldn't all be epic Greek demigods.

At some point, he found a vending machine and bought himself some chips and a bag of Doritos to take back to Will, and, checking the time, started making his way back to the cafeteria.

When he got there, Will brightened considerably across the room, which made Nico pretty happy. Take that, mystery person.

There was nobody in the chair, so Nico walked right up to him. "Hey, Sunshine."

"Hey." Will grabbed his wrist in a latexed hand. "Are those Doritos?"

Nico laughed. "Yeah, but you can't have them until you wash your hands. Germs." He wiggled his fingers.

Will wrinkled his nose. "Fine. Hey, as long as you're here, why don't I take your blood?"

Nico looked at him oddly but got in the chair. "I thought you couldn't use our blood because of the ichor?"

"That's not what I need it for."

Incredibly confused, Nico narrowed his eyes, wondering if this was some kind of modern thing he didn't know about. "What?"

Will continued getting him ready for the blood draw. "Do you know how much blood your reckless ass loses weekly? It's good to have it on hand."

Nico blinked at him, then offered his arm. "Um. Alright."

Which was how, ten minutes later, Nico ended up shoving two bags of his own blood into his inner jacket pocket, hoping nobody was watching.

"I better not get arrested for this," Nico muttered, because even in this completely ridiculous, stupid-as-shit situation, he never even considered not covering for Will.

"You'll be fine," Will said as packed up his station. Apparently, it was time to go. "That's what the mist is for." Even so, he glanced around, checking for eyes among the other med students getting ready to leave for the day. Then, satisfied, he stood and offered Nico his hand. "Ready to go?"

Nico took it, lacing their fingers together. "Yep."

Together, they walked out the doors into the sweet free air.

#solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fic #pjo fanfic #my fanfic #my fic #my writing #solangelo fluff #solangelo fic #solangelo funny #solangelo fanfic #fluff #percy jackon and the olympians #nico x will #will x nico #ficlet

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the-desilittle-bird · 11 months

Text

AN- Another preference guys!!! Also, I have an angsty Daemon oneshot based on Tere Liye song in my drafts...

Requests are always open and well appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

HOTD Preference

Being in an Arranged Marriage

Characters- Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon, Cregan Stark & Criston Cole

Warnings- Westrosi Shenanigans

Daemon 'Rogue Prince' Targaryen

You are an honorable lady of one of the Great Houses of Westeros. And after Lady Rhea Royce dies mysteriously, your father plotted to marry you into a marriage with the Rogue Prince.

You had met him a few times earlier, and you were less than impressed with his... antics.

You swore you would have ran if you weren't devoted to your father and his life's work in order to make a beautiful legacy for your family (sounds Lannister-ish).

You had controlled the urge to laugh during the entirety of the feast hosted to honour your betrothal with the prince.

Daemon's face resembled that of a pouty kid who was denied something he needed. While on the other hand, Viserys was gleaming with happiness as he congratulated the "beautiful pair".

The wedding was lavish, much to both your and your husband's dismay. And while you covered your dismay with grace; his remained bad.

He was partially dragged to the sept by his brother.

Marriage with him can go two ways.

Either you become another bronze bitch for him.

Or you impress him with your charms and he ends up being completely enamored by you.

If you try to reject his advances; he will never quit making them.

And when you accept his devotion, he will be the happiest man in Westeros.

Aemond 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

He marries you on his mother's demand.

Very formal and stoic. Will reward you with only a hand on your back in extreme situations.

Aegon teasing him about the upcoming bedding after your wedding.

Also offering you an opportunity to approach him if Aemond doesn't suffices you.

"My lady, you know where to find me if my brother can't suffice your womanly desires in bed."

You in reply, had smiled sarcastically and said, "it won't be required."

The boy's ego was wounded.

While Aemond was downright impressed by your courage.

It starts slow with him.

And takes a loooooong while before he shows you his left eye; bared of the eyepatch he wears.

You had a hard start; worse than that of possible.

But he starts seeing you as family after Helaena softens up with you and you spend time with his niece and nephew. Alicent also likes you.

He would never compliment you directly or profess his love in words. But his actions speak louder than anything else.

Otto 'Hand of the King' Hightower

You are his second wife. And not really a recipient of his love and care.

Purely political marriage with both your and his house benefiting in some way; all while you were being prepared to be a man's second wife.

You learnt quickly how you shall always been seen as a shadow of his wife. And you were actually happy with it.

Both of you shall perform your duties to one another, but that would be it.

No speaking until necessary.

His children not liking you at first; but once you start to open up with them, they come to tolerate your presence.

The first real conversation you two have is after you find Alicent crying in her room, reminiscing the happy family they used to be before her mother perished.

You had barged into his office, demanding to know when was the last time he spoke to his daughter.

And you fought for hours. Until you broke down into tears as your patience ran thin.

"YOU DO NOT CARE OF ANYONE AROUND YOU, BUT YOURSELF! Not Alicent, not your sons, not the king... not me."

He saw you in new light that day. Someone who was ready to fight for his family.

And he starts engaging you in conversations at feast.

And honestly, you like it. Being noticed by your husband who only saw you as a trophy before.

Corlys ‘Sea Snake’ Velaryon

Your father was the most important merchant in Essos; and you were his precious little daughter.

You met Corlys for the first time after his negotiations with your father.

When your father tells you that you shall be married to the Sea Snake to assure the new alliance’s birth and growth.

You were extremely angry. And hurt.

Your marriage to him was anything but modest; and took place in Driftmark.

You could feel the unease radiating off the lords and the King as they congratulated you and your new husband.

Unfortunate for you, your father skipped the part of him being a widower and having kids close to your age.

And you were furious. Very. Very. Furious.

You kicked and screamed; creating a scene behind the closed doors while your new family and your family was present.

Tensed with anger and disappointment burning deep in your chest, you find yourself roaming the beach as the sun raced towards the horizon.

You hadn't expected the man, your new husband, to come for you. But he did.

And you talked, deciding a few terms for easy marriage life.

Cregan 'Wolf of the North' Stark

You were from the West; betrothed to him after his first wife passes during childbirth, leaving him with a son, alone.

And so, your father decides that you should become his second wife and mother to his barely a year old son.

Your betrothal is officiated on letters. No formal meeting. No courting.

You were sent to the North before a fortnight from your wedding.

You arrived to be greeted by Sara Snow, since you cannot see Cregan before your wedding, as per traditions.

You have a wedding in the customs of North.

And then a smaller wedding with only close people around in the small Sept in Winterfell, where you are wedded in your traditions.

The feast following was loud and warm with wine flowing the cups and fire blazing in the backdrop.

When you were asked to share your first dance as a couple, your very first dance anyway; you hesitated as you accompanied him.

But everything went very very smoothly.

And then was the time of bedding ceremony. And Gods! Were you overjoyed when Cregan defended your honor and downright canceled the ceremony.

"Anyone who shall dare touch my bride shall spend his life without any further children. I and my wife are perfectly able to find our way to our chambers."

That night, there was no bedding. But you spent the time conversing while Rickon Stark slept against your bosom, peacefully.

Criston 'Kingmaker' Cole

Since he is the part of King's Guard, he can't marry anyone. But after he takes on the position of Hand of the King to King Aegon II and Prince Regent Aemond, that's a different story.

He arrives at your father's holdstead with a handwritten letter from the Queen Dowager Alicent, asking for your father's allegiance to the Greens.

But your father was no fool.

You were his eldest; first of the four sisters.

And so, he asks for a betrothal in exchange.

But with Aegon already married and Aemond betrothed to marry and Daeron too young for you, he asks Criston to marry you.

And with his undying loyalty to Alicent and Greens, he does.

The ceremony is small and not flashing, with only Aemond and your family present.

There was no feast. Just a close dinner between family.

You were scared... terrified actually.

But the Hand of the King reassured you that he will do nothing you don't wish for, and instead of consummating the marriage, he falls asleep; on the floor.

And you realize that maybe, he isn't as bad as you have heard of him.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon preferences #hotd preferences #daemon targaryen headcanon #aemond targaryen headcanons #otto hightower x reader #corlys velaryon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #criston cole x reader #house targaryen #hotd headcanon

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pastshadows · 6 months

Text

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 2: Home & Heartache

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Longing. Sexual themes. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

You’re standing on the docks overlooking the spanning vista of Deepwater Habor. A pale crescent moon is reflected in the glassy surface of the still water. Your hair blows in the slight breeze as you stare up at the heavens with tears streaming down your face.

Having to tell Astarion that you could only be his friend had been a kind of torture you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemies. The love of your life was standing in front of you, telling you he wanted to be with you, making all your dreams and fantasies a reality, and you had shied away from him.

It was the last thing you wanted to do. You wanted to be swept up in his comforting embrace and spend the rest of your life with him. A life with him was all you had desired since falling in love with him, but could you trust him not to leave you again?

“Do you always come here at night?”

You jump at the disembodied voice emerging from the inky darkness, nearly losing your balance and plunging into the bay water.

Astarion struts casually out of the murky twilight.

“Do you always sneak up on people?”

“Darling, you wound me.” he says with a dramatic sigh, “If I were sneaking, you wouldn’t have heard or seen me until I was right behind you.”

You know he’s right. You’ve seen in him action more times than you can count. His ability to move silently and blend into the darkness was uncanny and, honestly, a little disconcerting - if you were not his friend.

I am beginning to loathe that word, friend.

You roll your eyes at him, “I come here when I can’t sleep.”

“Which is often, it seems. I’ve seen you standing here every night since… since I saw you last.”

He’s been watching me?

“Astarion,” feigning irritation, “have you been following me?”

“Following is such a crude word,” he shoots you an innocent grin, “I prefer… admiring from a distance.”

“You always did find a way to twist things into a more glamorous light.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, my dear.”

You laugh, turning away from him and looking back out at the vast ocean.

“It is beautiful out here.”

When you turn around to answer him, you realize he’s staring directly at you.

Concern spreads over his face, “You’ve been crying. Again. What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean again?”

There isn’t a point in denying you have been crying tonight. You can feel your eyes are swollen and red from nights spent weeping. Trails of tears stain your rosy cheeks.

“Did you truly forget how good my hearing is, darling?”

Throwing him your most innocent smile, “No, I just wanted to hear you admit you’ve been stalking me.”

“Oh,” he tuts, “cheeky tonight.”

Laughing, you hold out your arm, “Walk with me?”

“Anywhere. Lead on.”

You spend the night walking around the sleeping city. Reminiscing about old times and laughing at shared memories.

“Do you remember the bugbear in the barn?”

He chuckles, “How could I possibly forget? I don’t think eternity is long enough to burn that image from my mind and the grunting,” his face twists in disgust, “Gods below.”

You laugh, “You wanted to open the door.”

“Darling, you were going to open that door regardless.”

“I was,” you admit.

“Thank you for allowing me to do the honours.”

Dawn starts to sprawl across the sky too soon.

You try to sneak into the manor, but Gale is waiting for you, pacing around in the foyer.

“Where have you been? I was worried sick!”

“I…I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk.”

You still have not told him about Astarion, but you can’t exactly put your finger on why.

I want to keep him all to myself… just for a little while.

“All night?”

“How did you know I was gone all night?”

He looks around as if you’ve caught him with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

“You’ve been entirely too reserved the last few days, even for you. I came to check on you, but you weren’t in your room.”

You feel a light annoyance grate at you, “I don’t need babysitting, Gale.”

“I’m just worried about you, my friend. You look like hell - no offence intended. You barely sleep, barely eat, and barely speak. Something is clearly troubling you.” his face softens, “Let me help.”

You know in your heart that Gale is genuinely concerned about your well-being but having him fuss over you is making you feel entirely too suffocated.

“I’m sorry, Gale. Please just give me space.”

He sighs, “I’ve been trying to give you space for months. It hasn’t helped.”

No matter how genuine Gale’s concern is, his reluctance to give you what you so desperately need drives your anger further. You had felled Gods, an army of mind flayers, countless creatures hellbent on killing you, and he dared to think you could not take care of yourself?

Turning, you grab your coat and open the door, “I can’t do this, Gale. Not right now.”

“You’re leaving again?”

You look back at him, “I’m so sorry.”

The morning air is crisp, and your skin prickles with goosebumps at the chilled, damp breeze. The sun is half-risen, splaying a beautiful blend of yellows, pinks, and oranges high into the brightening sky.

You wearily walk through the increasingly loud and crowded street. Your eyes are lidded heavily as your exhaustion sets in. You pass shopkeepers starting their daily stocking of goods, street vendors wheeling their carts out, and the children selling the daily paper screaming their sales pitch.

Before you’re even aware of where you’re going or what you’re doing, you find yourself standing in front of the Golden Harp Inn.

Fuck it.

You climb up the creaking staircase and stand in front of room 2. Glancing both ways down the hallway, you check for any sunlight peeking through the windows before letting yourself in.

I probably should have knocked.

The room is dark, nearly pitch black, but you hear bare feet pad on the wood plank flooring.

“You’re lucky I can smell you, darling. I very nearly took off your pretty little head.”

A match ignites, and Astarion lights a small candle on the bedside table. He’s shirtless, his trousers hanging loosely around his waist. The candle flickers, and the shadows frolic on his silvery skin.

He stares at you, confused by your intrusion, “What can I do for you?”

The words tumble out before your mind catches up to your mouth, and you have a chance to stop them, “Get in bed.”

He chokes, “I’m sorry. What?”

Your face goes flush, “Sorry, that was brash. Let me try that again - may I please sleep here?”

“You…I mean, of course, but why? What’s wrong?”

You whisper, so low that you know only his ears would ever be able to catch it, “Because I miss my home…”

“Oh, my love. Come here.”

You take long strides, closing the distance between you in a frantic rush. Wrapping your arms around him, you push your body against his as closely as possible, nuzzling your cheek into his cool chest.

His arms wrap around you in that tight embrace you remember well, and you breathe in his scent.

You’re exhausted. So many nights have been spent fretting over his sudden reappearance, wondering what you should do and trying to stop yourself from doing exactly this.

You release him reluctantly and shrug off your coat, throwing it over the chair sitting by the bedside.

“May I?” Motioning to the buttons on the navy dress you’re wearing.

You want to be close to him, as close as possible, with no more barriers between you, as long as he is comfortable with it.

At least, just for today.

You tell yourself it’s just for today. After this, you will have to return to being “just friends” as you requested, but do you truly believe you could ever be just friends with this man?

You know this could be a mistake, but you’re too far gone to stop yourself.

He smiles slyly, “Allow me.”

His hands move to the buttons, and he undoes them quickly. You barely even feel his hands at work before the dress slips from your shoulders and pools to the floor, leaving you in your undergarments.

“Beautiful.” His voice is breathless, with just a touch of hoarseness, and his eyes slither over you hungrily.

Astarion whisks you off your feet in an easy, fluid movement, and you wrap your arms around his neck instinctively. He eases you onto the bed before slipping off his trousers and climbing in with you.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” He eyes you quizzically.

“It’s nothing.”

You don’t want to tell him about your disagreement with Gale.

“Surely, you didn’t come all the way here to break into my room, delight me by letting me undress you, and climb into my bed over “nothing,” darling.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

His eyebrow cocks up, but he nods, telling you he will let it go… for now.

You reach out to him, laying your hand gently on his chest, “Can I come close?”

He replies simply by wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him with a happy sigh.

You lay your head on his chest and slide your leg over his in a careful, slow motion, watching for any of the usual signs he’s feeling uncomfortable. You pray that you haven’t gone too far. He’s deliciously close now, and you want nothing more than to stay like this as long as he will allow.

He doesn’t tense up at all. He seems perfectly comfortable. Dare you say, delighted even at the closeness of your body.

Astarion plants a soft kiss on your forehead and rests his cheek against it, stroking your hair in the same comforting way he used to.

Your eyes feel heavy and begin to drift closed immediately as your exhaustion envelops you. Your mind floats in that dreamy expanse between awake and asleep.

“I’m too cold.”

He tries to shift away from you, but you hang onto him tightly as if he were the lifeboat that was stopping you from drowning.

“No, you’re perfect.”

“Foolish woman,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval, “you’re trembling all over.”

“Perfect,” you repeat quietly.

He chuckles, shifting more blankets over you, “Rest now, my love.”

Astarion blows out the bedside candle, blanketing the room in darkness. He rests his cheek on your forehead and starts to hum like he used to, lulling you into your trance.

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?”

You can hear sleep starting to permeate his voice.

“I missed you.”

He kisses your temple softly, “I missed you too.”

For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, you fall into a deep and dreamless trance.

When you awaken, you’re still comfortably entangled with Astarion. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, but he’s awake with one knee bent, reading a book by candlelight.

You untangle yourself from him and shift away.

“I’m sorry.” you feel suddenly shy, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

A low laugh escapes his lips, and he smiles happily, “Darling, this sad excuse for a bed has never been more comfortable.”

You can’t help but grin back at him, “What time is it?”

“Hmm, I’m not entirely sure, but from the absolute ruckus coming from downstairs, I assume it’s late evening, possibly early night.”

You’ve slept through the whole day, and you feel like you could sleep through another one as long as your body is intertwined with his.

“Are you going hunting tonight?”

“No, not tonight.”

He typically went hunting at night for dinner of the four-legged variety, or at least he used to years ago.

“What were your plans for tonight?”

“Oh, you know me, darling. I skulk around in the shadows, stalk a charming sorceress until she retires for the night, and then I see how many drunkards' pockets I can pick before I get caught. The usual.”

You giggle and roll your eyes at him. He’s being honest, and you can’t help but wonder how many citizens of Waterdeep have awoken with a bad hangover and their coin purses mysteriously missing.

“Let me guess, you never get caught?”

He chuckles, “You know the answer to that.”

Yeah, he never gets caught.

You remember his deft hands well. They always moved with precision and purpose.

Especially when they were exploring my body.

You flush at your thoughts.

A wicked smile tugs at his lips, “Oh, don’t keep your dirty thoughts to yourself. Do share.”

“I was having no such thoughts.” “Your body is telling me a different story, but I digress. Are you going to tell me what this was all about now?”

You knew he wasn’t going to let it go for long.

You sigh, “I had a… disagreement with Gale. I didn’t want to be there.”

His eyebrows pull down in a slight scowl, “Did the wizard harm you?”

You laugh, “No, Astarion. Gale would hardly swat a fly unless he had to. You know that.”

“Good. I would’ve hated to have to kill him. I’m sure even his death would be boring.”

You nudge his shoulder slightly to show your disapproval of his joke. He merely laughs at you. It was a gesture he knew well, of course.

“Then what did the wizard do that made you come all the way here?”

“He… He was being Gale. He’s worried about me, but his particular style of worry can be so… overbearing.”

His eyebrow cocks, “Why is he worried about you? Did you tell him of my return?”

“No. I haven’t told him about you yet.”

He leans forward, finally closing the book he’s been holding, “Curious. Why’s that?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, Astarion. I just… didn’t want to.”

“I see…” He looks at you skeptically as if trying to read your mind.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

You get out of bed and whisper a cantrip, lighting a small fire in the little fireplace, warming yourself by it for a second. Nights in Waterdeep were chillier than you were used to.

Moving to the little window at the end of the room, you glance at Astarion to make sure he’s far out of the way of any potential sunshine that could stream in if he were wrong about the time of day.

Once you see he’s safely away, you push the heavy fabric curtain out of the way and glance outside. The sun has already set far below the horizon, cloaking the city in darkness. It’s cloudy, and the moon shines brightly behind the thick cloud cover, but that pale light doesn’t reach the streets. It gives the city a rather eerie feel.

“It’s night.”

You glance at Astarion, and he’s eyeing you with a seething scowl.

“What in the Nine Hells are those?”

You give him a confused glance.

What is he talking about?

He jumps off the bed and crosses the room in quick, long strides, grabbing your arm and holding it out for you to see.

“These. What the fuck are these?”

Oh…

He’s looking at the scars that mar the flesh of your arm. The telltale puncture wounds of vampire bites. Similar to the one adorned by his neck.

“They’re nothing.”

You pull your arm away from him swiftly, your hand trying and failing to cover the scars he’s so hawkishly inspecting.

“Those are certainly NOT nothing. Tell me.”

His tone is commanding, almost forceful, and his face is twisted in a rage you haven’t seen on him in some time.

There’s no point in hiding it.

“When you left, after I was sure you weren’t coming home, I tried to find you. I searched for you in every place I could think of.”

His brows slowly rise, softening his expression, and you can see the anger slowly dissolving.

“I returned to the Underdark to see your siblings. I thought maybe you had gone there to help the other spawn we set free, as you had mentioned before. The spawn in the Underdark are... shall we say, less in control of their impulses than you are."

The anger flares back up in his eyes, and his mouth sets in a hard line, but it's anger born from concern.

“Let me get this straight,” he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “you, quite willingly, wandered into a den of 7000 feral vampire spawn? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is!?” His voice is raised, harbouring a sharp edge.

You square off with him, standing tall, anger pulling at you.

Why does everyone think I can’t take care of myself? Make my own decisions?

You scoff at him disapprovingly, “I was well aware of the risks, Astarion.” you cross your arms over your body, “I would do it again and again and again, indefinitely, if I thought I had even a slim chance of finding you.”

He scoffs back at you. His eyes squeeze shut as he reins in his anger. When he opens them again, his face is softer, with a hint of sadness tugging the edges of his brows downward.

“Gods, you’re stubborn, as you always were.”

He reaches for your arm again, stretching it out and places gentle kisses on every scarred bite before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry.”

You hug him back, happy to be in his arms again, “It’s okay.”

A lie. It’s not okay. You haven’t recovered from the first time he left, and now you were setting yourself up for another grand disappearance.

Will I ever recover?

Astarion’s scarlet eyes harbour cavernous regret as they linger over your scarred flesh.

“I should probably tell Gale that you’re back… If you plan on staying in Waterdeep, that is.”

Please don’t leave.

“I’m not going anywhere, darling. Unless… unless you tell me to leave, of course.”

“Then, he needs to know. I can’t keep this from him forever.”

You don’t want to tell Gale. He and Astarion had a tumultuous friendship at the best of times, and that was before Astarion abandoned you in the dead of night.

He sighs, “Allow me to come with you.”

“You want to come with me?”

He groans, “I don’t relish the idea, but you should not have to bear this alone.”

You hesitate, knowing this is probably not a good idea, “You really don’t have to. I can manage this.”

“Beautiful, I have no doubt you can manage it, but alas, if we must tell him, the least I can do is be there for him to scowl at.”

Having Astarion there could make things easier or exponentially worse. It was a coin toss to know which though.

“Fine. You can come, but don’t expect a warm welcome.”

“Hm,” he snickers, “has the wizard lost all of his decorum?”

You give him a disapproving glower.

“I guess I should probably get dressed then.”

You look him up and down, relishing in that glorious view, “Oh, I don’t know. I rather enjoy you like this.”

He chuckles, “Well, darling, we can certainly arrange more… viewings. Although, I do wonder if this is something friends do. It has been such a very long time since I’ve had a friend.”

You realize he’s referring to the fact that you told him you could be his friend but nothing more. Yet you had come crawling into his bed, nearly naked and completely unannounced.

“I suppose that depends on the kind of friends we are.”

“Oh, there is more than one kind of friend? Well, tell me, do you and Gale fraternize in nothing but your undergarments?”

Your eyebrows raise as you redden, embarrassment heating your face, “Gods, no!”

You can barely get the words out fast enough, and they jumble out of your mouth chaotically.

“I thought not. We must be special friends indeed.”

The walk back to the manor is relatively silent as you try to work out what in the Nine Hells to say, how to explain this, and why you hid it.

Upon entering, the foyer is dimly lit, with only a few candles burning. Gale is nowhere to be seen, but Tara notices you and hops down from her resting place.

“Good evening, Tara. Where is Gale?”

“Mr. Dekarios is in the library, pacing about. That oaf forgot to give me my milk tonight!”

You giggle at her vexation. She did hate it when she didn’t get milk. Spoiled little thing she was.

Tara glances behind you, eyeing Astarion wearily.

“I remember you, vampire. Keep your distance.” Tara’s back arches slightly.

Astarion cocks an eyebrow at her and then looks at you, “Charming creature, isn’t she?”

You shake your head. He probably thought of her as an amusing snack.

“I’ll tell you what. If you tell Gale I need to speak with him in the kitchen, I’ll get your milk ready.”

“You will warm it?”

You nod to her, “Of course, just the way you like it.”

“Fine. I will fetch Mr. Dekarios. Be warned, he is in a foul mood.”

With that, she hops off, bounding up the flights of stairs.

Astarion sighs dramatically behind you, “Great. A dour wizard.”

You walk further down the hallway before you hear Astarion’s voice ring out.

“Darling! Are you forgetting something?”

You look at him puzzled for a second, before the realization strikes you.

Right. He needs to be invited in. Does it even work if this isn’t my house?

“Sorry… Wait, can I invite you in, or does it have to be the owner of the house? How does it work?”

It was never something you two discussed in much detail since it had never been an issue before when you were infected with the tadpole.

He looks at the doorway, and his eyebrows furrow, “Shall we find out?”

“Come in, Astarion.”

He takes a tentative step into the foyer and smiles, nodding, before following you down the long hallway.

Astarion sits in one of the lavish chairs, unimpressed, “So, you warm milk now for cats?”

“Tressym.” You correct him.

“Cat with wings.”

“Say it with me, Astarion. T-ress-ym.”

He rolls his eyes at you and looks out the window overlooking the bay, “Quite the view.”

You hear Gale’s footsteps bounding down the stairs at a breakneck pace before you see him.

“You’re back. I was worried. I wanted to apolo-.” Gale’s voice cuts off as his eyes fall on Astarion, stupefied.

“Astarion?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Gale.”

Gale looks between you and Astarion, bewildered. Tara trots out happily from behind Gale as you lower her bowl of warm milk to the ground.

Gale shakes his head and plants his hands on the back of a chair as if to steady himself, “It makes so much sense now.”

His expression is nearly unreadable, pointing to Astarion, “When did this happen?”

“About a week ago, give or take a few days.”

“And you didn’t tell me!”

“I needed time to figure out what it meant, Gale. How I felt about it without external influences biasing my judgement.”

Gale eyes you warily. He would have tried to talk you out of ever going to meet with Astarion in the first place.

“And you, Astarion, what are you doing here?”

Astarion is calm and collected, just staring out the window, not at all perturbed by Gale’s harsh tone, “Looking for her, of course.”

“And now that you’ve found her? Are you planning to stay, or are you just going to run off again?”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, and his jaw tenses at the accusation, “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless she tells me to.”

Gale looks to you for answers.

“I’m not telling him to leave, Gale. If that’s what you’re wondering.”

Gale shakes his head disapprovingly and rubs his face with his hand.

“Astarion, do you have any idea what you put her through? What state she was in when she arrived here?”

A mixture of embarrassment and anger floods you. You had been in rough shape when you showed up here - thin, injured, and haunted. Gale had supported you, fed you, and housed you, allowing you to regain your strength.

“Gale, enough!”

You shout at him a little louder and harsher than you mean to. There were some things Astarion didn’t need to know, and Gale was about to spill it all.

I am going to have to answer for this later.

Astarion’s eyes narrow, “I have a feeling you were about to tell me, Gale. What state was she in?”

You scowl at Gale as his mouth opens, and he immediately snaps it shut again. This information wasn’t his to tell.

“That’s up to her to tell if she chooses to do so.”

Astarion caught the critical glare you shot Gale, effectively shutting him up. It was a feat you were relatively proud of. Not many people could shut Gale up with a look.

“Is that so?” Astarion’s crimson eyes are on you.

Yup, I am definitely going to have to answer for this later.

Gale throws up his arms in defeat, “Well, my friend, if you’re planning to stay in Waterdeep long term, then I think it best if you stay here, in the manor.”

Astarion’s eyes widen, and he laughs loudly, “Thank you for the offer, but I will have to decline.”

“The citizens of Waterdeep aren’t stupid, Astarion. Someone will notice your… nocturnal habits and eventually piece together what you are. It’s not safe for you to stay wherever it is that you are currently residing. I assume a cheap tavern.”

Astarion scoffs, “It’s not cheap.”

Gale rolls his eyes, “Be reasonable, my friend. The last thing she needs is for you to land yourself in a pile of trouble, where she needs to bail you out… again. I can have heavy curtains installed on the windows posthaste.”

Astarion thumb comes to his chin in his usual “I’m thinking” manner before abruptly turning to you, “And what do you think of this… proposition, friend.”

The way he says “friend” is almost seductive. Astarion always did have a way with words and could make almost anything sound as if he were making love to your ears with his voice.

This is a bad idea.

You, Gale and Astarion living in the same place is begging for trouble. Gale had feelings for you once upon a time. You had tried your best to be gentle with your rebuff of his advances, but he had been hurt that you chose the man who admitted to manipulating you over him. Whether those feelings were still alive and well was a mystery to you.

Regardless, Gale was correct here. Astarion staying at an inn was a bad idea. Someone would notice his peculiar schedule and eventually put 2 and 2 together.

You sigh, “Gale is right. You’ve already made quite the impression on the innkeeper from what I gathered from speaking with her. It would be smart for you to stay with people who know about your… predilections.”

He chuckles at you, “That is one word for it, I suppose.”

Astarion runs his fingers through his hair, sighing.

“Well, it appears I have been out-voted. I humbly accept your most generous offer, Gale.” He says in a pompous tone, “It will be like old times, but with exceptionally better lodging by the looks of it.”

You have to hold yourself back from groaning out loud. You wanted to keep Astarion close, but this close?

“Excellent! I shall have the room amended for your particular needs immediately. You should be all set to move here tomorrow night.”

Astarion groans, “Lovely.”

Astarion leaves the manor close to dawn. You retire to your room, hoping to get some rest, but rest is not for you. You toss and turn in your bed, missing Astarion and the comfort his presence provides. Eventually, you give up and move to the terrace to watch the sunrise.

Tara comes to curl up in your lap, and you’re thankful for her company.

“You sleep much less than the other humans I know.”

You gently glide your hand down the soft fur of her back, eliciting a pleasant rumbling purr, “You are quite astute, Tara.”

“I am.” She agrees confidently.

“I have a lot on my mind. Sometimes I can’t get it to rest.”

“Hm,” she thinks for a second, “have you tried warm milk?”

You giggle at her. Warm milk was Tara’s cure for every ailment.

“Is it the vampire that keeps you up?”

She really was astute, smarter than most of the people you’ve met in your life.

“Yes.”

There’s no point in lying to her. She would take your secrets to her grave as she would Gale’s.

“You care for him, yes?”

She eyes you with those large green eyes, the first light of dawn dancing over them.

“Very much so.”

She cocks her head, “And this is a problem for you?”

“I’m not sure I would classify it as a problem exactly. He means well, but he hurt me gravely not long ago. I fear he will do it again.”

“I see. Why do humans fear that which has yet to happen?”

Good fucking question.

“Hm, you know how you avoid sleeping in walkways or being too close to someone walking because you’ve had your tail stepped on before, and it was painful?”

“I do.” She nods her understanding.

“It’s kind of like that, I suppose. We anticipate pain we have already experienced and try to avoid it.”

“Hmmm,” she thinks long and hard, “I’m not sure I understand. I do avoid you humans when you’re walking about. You can be so clumsy with your feet, but I do not lay awake at night fearing it will happen.”

Damn fucking cat… Damn it, Astarion! Tressym.

She was right.

Why am I anticipating pain that has yet to come or may never come at all?

It was a pointless endeavour. Its only use was torturing yourself further. Yet here you were, every night, torturing yourself.

“You’re smarter than I, Tara.”

“I know.”

You laugh at her utter conviction and watch the sun rise above the horizon, casting a brilliant yellow reflection over the water’s smooth surface.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You sense a note of hurt in Gale’s voice, and your heart drops into your stomach. He was your friend, and you had intentionally kept this from him.

“I should have. I don’t have a good excuse.”

“Yes, you should have. We could have talked about it.” He scolds you.

I guess I deserve that.

“Therein lies the problem, Gale. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I could have at least provided some comfort. Gods know nothing can make you talk when you don’t want to.” He scoffs, annoyed, “What colour do you think the drapes should be in Astarion’s room?”

You shake your head at him, “Honestly, no matter what colour you pick, he’s going to complain about it.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you picked them out when he does.”

Laughing, “Be my guest. If you’re lucky, he might believe you.”

He won’t.

“As long as they block out all sunlight, I’m sure he will live.”

Gale’s hand comes to his chin, and he looks around, assessing the surroundings, “I suppose I should adorn most of the manor with these heavy drapes. I wouldn’t want him to feel confined to his room all day.”

Despite the often-sour animosity infecting their friendship, Gale truly does care for Astarion, and it shows plainly. Although, you weren’t so sure about Astarion’s true feelings on the subject. He could be impossible to read, even to you who knew him better than anyone.

“That’s nice of you, Gale, but I doubt he expects that.”

Gale continues looking around, evaluating the rooms, probably working out how to cover the large stained-glass windows, “Well, you lived with him. What did he do during the day?”

Your mind wanders back to the time you and Astarion shared loggings in your little house.

What did we do during the day?

You can feel yourself flush with the memories. Heat rises to your face, turning you red.

“Perhaps, I don’t want to know.”

The embarrassment only deepens at Gale’s obvious notice of your hesitancy, and you blurt out things in a rush to fill the awkward silence, “He mostly sleeps, reads or fusses over his clothing.”

Gale nods, “I’ll have drapes hung in the library then.”

Gods below.

You excuse yourself, desperate to get away from the awkward mess the conversation has become. You spend the day fretting over useless things just to get your mind off the fact that you will once again share space with Astarion.

Why does it make me… nervous?

You have shared much more than space with that toxically handsome man, yet the prospect of living with Astarion again made your stomach flip around in your abdomen uncomfortably.

Night falls over the city, slowly blanketing it in dim silvery moonlight.

“Should we go fetch him?”

You don’t get a chance to answer Gale before you both hear the knock, heads snapping towards the sound. Gale opens the door, and Astarion is waiting with a small pack slung over his shoulder.

“Darling! I’m home!” He announces in a cheerful, albeit fake, voice that rings with sarcasm.

“Where are the rest of your belongings?” Gale eyes the little pack, glancing around Astarion to see if he’s brought anything else.

“Waterdeep is quite the trek. I had to travel light.”

Gale’s eyes widen, “You NEVER travelled this light before. You always had us hauling around that damn mirror!”

You nearly snort, making the sip of tea you just drank shoot out of your nose.

The mirror. How could I forget?

Astarion always lugged around that clunky, gold-rimmed mirror he loved so much. It had been a pain in the ass to travel with, and almost everyone complained about it at one point or another, not understanding the point of carrying around a heavy mirror he couldn’t even see his reflection in.

It has been one of his most precious possessions, and it was one of the things he had left behind when he left you.

Astarion’s crimson eyes find yours knowingly, “Careful, darling. Don’t choke.”

His eyes return to Gale, “I have relinquished unnecessary sentimental attachments.”

“Certainly convenient timing.”

“What can I say? I’ve grown as a person.”

Gale groans.

This is off to a wonderful start. They are already annoying each other.

“Are you going to make me stand out here all night? Where ever did your manners go, Gale?”

“You’ve already been invited inside, or do you need to be invited in every time?”

Astarion chuckles taking a step into the entryway, “I was being polite.”

“I will show you to your room.”

You follow Gale and Astarion up the stairs. Gale had chosen which room Astarion would stay in, and it just so happened to be the furthest room from yours. He had touted that it was the room that got the least amount of direct sunlight, but you weren’t so sure that was the real reason.

“So, tell me, Astarion, what kind of trouble have you been getting into the last couple of years?”

Your heart slams against your ribs. Naturally, you have wondered the same but refrained from asking because you aren’t sure you truly want to know the answer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would actually.” Gale’s tone is icy and confrontational.

He’s trying to spur on Astarion.

You stare at Gale with a skeptical look, but he is too busy glaring keenly at Astarion to notice. You had never known him to incite arguments. He was more likely to try and stop them before they started than to actually go searching for one.

Odd.

Astarion stares back at Gale with an easy, relaxed smile. He won’t be so easily enticed into an argument, “You know me, a little bit of this, a little bit of that.”

You know that’s all the information he will divulge. He’s being intentionally vague, giving nothing away.

“This room is yours.”

Astarion walks in, looks around and whistles before smirking, “Nice curtains.”

On cue, Gale points to you, “She picked them.”

Astarion’s eyebrow cocks up in a clever glance, “Oh, I don’t know about that. They scream dull wizard more than draconic sorceress.”

You laugh, and Gale groans loudly.

“She told me a little about what you like to do during the day.”

Astarion eyes you with an amused look, one that screams he’s about to say something he probably shouldn’t.

Don’t do it.

“Did she now?” His finger comes to his chin, and his eyebrow cocks handsomely, “I’m curious. What did she tell you I like to do during the day.”

You feel yourself redden again, and he stifles a laugh, knowing he managed to fluster you.

Ugh.

Gale looks at you with a furrowed brow but continues, gracefully skipping over the awkwardness, “She said you like to read, so I’ve had the library windows draped, as well as most of the lower floor so you can move around freely during the day. I’d stay away from the upper floors unless you would like to be a pile of ash.”

“Your generosity truly knows no bounds, Gale. Thank you.”

Gale laces his hands behind his back and bows shallowly, “You’re welcome, my friend. I shall leave you to get settled then. Make yourself at home.”

Gale strides away and disappears down the hall, muttering to himself under his breath. Your ears can’t pick up what he’s saying, but from the look on Astarion’s face, he definitely can.

“He’s certainly in a tizzy.” He chuckles.

“You goaded him, Astarion.”

His hand comes to his chest dramatically, “I did no such thing!” He mewls, “How should I know what you told him about what, or rather whom, I like to do during the day?”

You feel that familiar flush rush up to your face again.

This Gods damn man!

He snickers at you, “You’re too easy, darling.”

“You should be nicer to him. He did change his home to accommodate you, after all.”

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, “I never asked to stay here. I was perfectly content to stay at the inn.”

“It’s dangerous, Astarion.”

“Darling, I’ve spent two centuries learning how to blend in. I can take care of myself.”

You roll your eyes at him, “You couldn’t blend into a crowd if you tried.”

“Is that so? Care to tell me why not?”

He knew why. He was well aware that he turned heads everywhere he went. He thrived on the attention. It had often been a point of contention between you and him. There weren’t many places to go during the night, but you two would often go to the tavern for a drink to get out of the house, and he was constantly being fawned over.

People would “accidentally” bump into him, "trip” in front of him to elicit a response and all other manner of convoluted attempts to get his attention. The most exceedingly brazen individuals would simply try and push you out of the way or wedge themselves between you.

It didn’t phase him, of course. His eyes were always on you, and only you, but you had a fiery jealous streak, and no matter how well he disregarded all advances, it drove you crazy.

“You know why.”

He smiles devilishly, “Yes, but I do enjoy hearing you say it.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Your bedroom door closes with a quiet click, and you take deep breaths, trying to steady your frantically beating heart.

Why does he have this effect on me? He barely has to look at me before my heart is trying to leap out of my throat. Worse yet, he can hear it.

You curse your body for being so obvious to read. You’re an open book to him. All he has to do is listen to the racing of your heart, the hitching of your breath, or oftentimes, all of the above, and he will know what you are feeling.

Foolish, foolish woman.

Changing into your night clothes, you crawl into bed and fall into your trance fitfully.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support.

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

#astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #bg3 #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion #shadows of the past #astarion x oc #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #spawn astarion

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years

Note

Hey, I'm sorry I couldn't find anything about whether request were open or not, but if they are can you do the gushing over their animal form with Jade/Floyd, Ruggie and Malleus (since he has referenced several times that he can turn into a dragon)? If not pls just delete thank you

Jade Leech

“Ohhh My Gaaahsh! You’re a merman?! An eel merman?! Wooowww!”

“(Y/n) focus! Or you’ll lose Ramshackle forever!”

“But he’s a moray eel!”

Even after the fact he’s flattered that you were so stunned about this

If you don’t seek him out he’s seeking you out

Like feather on a string to a cat he’ll mention something about being a moray eel or dropping a fact

Watching excitedly as your face lights up and your face moves closer to his

You’re so adorable it's insane

Inviting you to meet up with him so you could look at his tail

Or letting you look inside his mouth at his rows of teeth

Of course it's all for a price but he doesn’t need to tell you that

He’ll just happily repeat that whenever your friends ask why he thinks it's okay to disappear with you in the Coral Sea

“(Y/n) just wants to know more about me, what's the problem with that?”

He knows why they’d be worried but it's so satisfying to find you so excited to simply hold his tail

You’ll even let him squeeze you if it means you get to touch his scales

You’re just cute like that

He’s addicted

It's his favorite game of watching you ignore all his red flags so you can gush over his animal traits

“If you promise to spend that weekend camping with me, I’ll let you see a secret trait I have in common with real moray eels.”

Floyd Leech

That's adorable

Shrimpy likes morays!!

He’ll be curious as to why your so excited everytime he comes to play with Baby Seal or Crab or the Mackaral

And as long as he doesn’t squeeze too tight you love playing with him

“So I’ve been meaning to ask: what is it that you like so much?”

You aren’t afraid to tell him and his reaction further spurs you on

Immediately he’s carting you off so you can play with him in his mer form

You’re so excited because Morays are so mysterious

Where you’re from they’re pretty elusive so your more than excited when Floyd proudly presents his teeth

Your his favorite to play with, so don’t play with anyone else

Don’t look at Jade hang out with him

he prefers it when you don’t announce when you get handsy with him

He’s guarding your curiosity because its his you’re his

At first it's just your interest in marine life than its you simply asking how your friends are

“Oi oi I don’t like it when my Shrimpy goes explorin’. You’re not encouraging that right?! Otherwise I’ll have to squeeze all the air out of ya.”

Ruggie Bucci

For a while he just knows that whenever he enters the room your eyes are on him

He doesn’t have to talk to you but you notice him

He sees you look at his ears and tail

And he figures you just want to touch them

That's cool if your willing to pay

But even if you do it doesn’t stop

Honestly he’s flattered he doesn’t have to do much to get your attention

It certainly helps when he’s busy taking care of Leona all day

So he’ll bite

And he’s in shock when you admit how much you like hyenas

“Like you're already a team player and survival is like super important! Not to mention you are a male but your so cool and sure of yourself–”

“G-geez don’t dissect your seniors like that! It gives serious Rook vibes.”

“R-right, sorry.”

“Not exactly saying you should stop all of it though…”

He’s blushing but he’s making the most of your interest

Drinking in that smile on your face as he answers your questions

While he’s not exactly used to being the one that's glorified but he doesn’t mind it

In fact the moment he feels your attention wane he’s pulling out any and all stops to maintain your attention

“Ruggie, did you take something from my bag?”

“Shishishishi you know hyena’s are scavengers! Best you start paying more attention!”

Malleus Draconia

This doesn’t come up casually

For the beginning of your friendship you didn’t even know his actual name

So it's more likely than not you mention it off-handedly

Once characters in books or movies or just in general is recognizable he’s keeping track

This is still so new

He doesn’t want to lose you if he reveals this part of himself

But Malleus is a stickler for correctness

So if you speak about how dragons in fiction do things and he corrects you or makes a distinction and your doubtful or just downright now believing he’ll transform

Totally dwarfing you in sheer size

Realizing what he’s done he’s fully prepared for you to gasp and runoff Not that you’d get too far

Your beam and squealing and touching him so much more

Your so adorable with your questions

Your soft little fingers running over his scales and spending all night excitedly being around him

Transforming back he relishes in the intimacy this brings

In the future he may refrain from full-on dragon form but his tail is close enough

But it keeps you close to him both as a conversation topic and as a limb that can easily pull you to his side

“Sorry to put you under the lens like this Tsuno…”

“It is not a problem. I have found that your inquiries help answer my own curiosities about you.”

He can’t be beat, he won’t be beat because who else is going to go full dragon for your mere curiousity

No one can compare especially when it comes to animal-heritage

According to you the closest that you could ever get to a dragon would be a carnivorous lizard

So aren’t you lucky that this dragon fae is swooning at the suggestion of your touch

“I would like for you to feel my horns. Please, do not be shy, this is an action instigating intimacy. Intimacy that I welcome with you (Y/n), my child of man.”

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novelizt · 9 months

Text

PEERING EYES OVER WROUGHT-IRON FENCES ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ childhood friends (to estranged friends) to lovers. angst w/ a happy ending.

WC ➺ 12.2k

SYNOPSIS ➺ to uncover the mystery of iris griffith's murder, it's time to face the music, cross the fence, and talk to a friend you never expected to become a stranger to.

WARNINGS ➺ mentions of the lockwood family tragedies, strained family dynamics, discussions and descriptions of murder

DISCLAIMER ➺ fem! reader. lockwood & co. are aged up to about 18-years-old, I try to shoe-horn forensic science into psychical investigations (I am not a professional so... it's unrealistic, sorry.), and Lockwood calls reader cherry/cherry cheeks

NOTE ➺ I can't remember if Portland Row has wrought-iron fences. In case it doesn't, it does now — this is fan fiction. Also, this is the first time I've finished a story this lengthy and I feel really proud of myself. I hope you enjoy!

The first time Lockwood had laid eyes on you, you were a set of peering eyes over a wrought-iron fence. He could barely see over it, but he could remember how round and shiny your eyes were. All doll-like and unrealistic. Honestly, it scared him. You couldn't blame little Lockwood for scuttling back to his sister.

That same day, your parents had brought you over and formally introduced themselves. Between your parents's statuesque figures, stood you.

Contrary to your encyclopaedic eyes, your mannerisms were timid. You looked miniscule in your Sunday dress. You looked like a breeze could knock you over. Anthony couldn't help but feel bad for running from you earlier.

Following introductions, a terse dinner ensued. Your parents were doctors, the kind who would scamper about in hospitals in scrubs and white coats — people who believed in science. His were researchers who dabbled in spiritual devices of different cultures — people who preferred to find the emotional aspect in the supernatural. Suffice it to say, the conversation was very one-sided.

Even then, Anthony was determined to be your friend. He thought having pretentious parents, like yours, would spoil the fun in things like spinning tops or fencing or enjoying pie with ice cream after supper. (Your parents had insisted the sugar would make it difficult for you to sleep.)

Anthony had made up his mind before you even uttered a word to him.

The instant the adults had dismissed you to the living room with Anthony and Jessica, he had snuck you a pie with extra ice cream on top. He and Jessica had their backs to the door so in the unlikely event that your parents came in, they wouldn't see you breaking their rules.

You weren't much younger than Anthony back then, but with cherry smeared across your cheek and ice cream clinging to your lip, he thought you were as cute as a button. He wasn't aware that he had been smiling at you so widely.

He missed the knowing glint in Jessica's eyes.

Across the peaceful months you'd spent as friends, Anthony and Jessica would tell you about their parents' most recent findings and you'd tell them the most bizarre concepts you learned at the academy.

At night, Anthony would sit by the window in his attic room, flagging out written messages on a sketch pad. Across the way, you would poke your head out to read it.

lots of apples are falling these days. want some?

my parents won't let me

that's because an apple a day keeps the doctors away. i think they're scared

no way... papa says he cuts people open. how could he be scared of apples?

ew... and I dunno, cherry. do you want apples or not?

stop calling me that

apples?

sure...

come down

ARE YOU MENTAL??

He was, indeed, crazy. He had tiptoed all the way downstairs and grabbed his mother and father's favorite jackets on the way out.

In the bite of night and the glow of ghost-lamps, he looked up at your house to see your head poking out of of a different window, a crazed expression on your face. 'What are you doing?' you mouthed.

"Hurry!" He yelled back. He chuckled when you'd flinched and checked behind you. He held up the jackets and took a breath, watching in amazement as fog formed from it.

All while you tapped the window sill in thought. You took one more contemplative glance behind you, then shut the window.

You were vaulting over the fence in no time. He caught you, cushioning your fall with the jackets he'd taken and greeted you with an incandescent smile. Even in greenlight, your little heart skipped a beat.

"Here. Wouldn't want you to catch a cold. We'd both be in trouble if you did."

He threw his mother's coat over your head. It was so big, it enveloped you like a gown. You tried to slip your arms through the sleeves but you only got halfway before you wiggled the limp fabric in his face. He swatted you away but folded them up enough so your palms could come through.

His father's jacket was huge on him, too, but he had the kind of air that made him look natural in it.

In his efforts to help you, his own hands had turned red from the cold. You seized them and stuffed them in your pockets, since your—his mother's—jacket had the lined pockets.

After huddling for warmth, you two grew warm enough to walk further into the backyard and pick up handfuls of apples. You found that you could only fit three apples in each pocket, so you held more by tucking your shirt into your pants and shooting them into your shirt. Anthony had done the same. You didn't realize how ridiculous your actions were until you saw how puffed his figure looked with that many apples stuffed down his shirt.

You snorted so loud it hurt, slapping your hand over your mouth to kill any more laughs that could alert the sleeping adults.

He turned his head to you, like an owl. It made more apples fall from your shirt as your shoulders shook. He shushed you, frantically glancing at the house. "What's wrong with you?"

You shook your head, riding the wave of maturity before it crashed. Little laughs and apples spilled from you. "You look like a pufferfish!"

He looked down and examined himself then, indignantly, he pointed at you. "You're literally spewing apples, you're just as bad!"

Restraint crumbled. Your hand came away and your laughs filled the silent night air. Anthony's laughs began to dance with yours until the pair of you were reduced to shaking stumps surrounded by fallen apples.

"Don't look at me! You're making me laugh!"

"Your face is funnier!"

"Stop it!"

"Cherry— You're only making me laugh more!"

It was no surprise that his parents had woken up and scolded you two accordingly. While they tutted at you, you two sat under the same blanket. Elbowing each other when they began to question who'd initated it.

You weren't a snitch. You did not tell, and they never found out who caused the trouble.

Jessica later rewarded you both with a cookie under their noses. You cracked your cookie in half to share with her. Anthony did the same to his, giving his other half to you.

—

Those memories were a far cry from the present. On some days, they felt like dreams. Now, all you are to him is a pair of peering eyes over wrought-iron fences.

Lockwood would catch glimpses of you on the way back from a case. He would nod, you would nod. Then both of you would continue on with your lives like the era of cherry pies and fallen apples had never happened.

Some days, he would turn the newspapers, checking to see if student doctor you had earned any new accolades in your scholastic journey to saving lives, but he never had it in him to say hello to you.

That morning's issue had you on the front page. You with your resplendent eyes and smile finally sporting a white coat at the ripe of eighteen, the first one of your age to earn 'Doctor' as a suffix to your name. Apparently, you'd applied your studies on forensic science to aid psychical investigations involving mummified body parts.

Seems you were doing well.

He placed the paper face down on the thinking cloth, ignoring Lucy's questioning gaze as he took a sip of tea.

"What's happened now?" Lucy asked, stretching her neck to see what made him so upset. She settled back into her seat after she set her eyes on the crossword puzzle, unable to glimpse the front page. "Kipps's crew?" she guessed.

"No, he would have his brow furrowed like this–" George turned to show his brows knitted together so hard they looked like they were drawn on with marker. "–if it was Kipps. It's got to be something else."

"Oh, right," Lucy said with bite, smacking her head like that made sense. "How could I forget?"

George shrugged, grinning like he had a secret on the tip of his tongue. "I don't know, Luce. Maybe it's the letters you've been receiving from one; Norrie White."

Lucy's chair scraped as she stood, gaping at George with anger tightening her mouth. "You went through my mail!"

"She wrote her name in marker. Red. Marker. I would have to be blind to miss it."

Lockwood kicked back and watched the drama ensue, a smile easing itself back on his face. Lucy and George's petty squabble was always a shot of espresso on a rather depressing morning. They made an excellent stopper to all his wonderings about the past.

"That was none of your business!" Lucy shrieked. In her fury, her hands itched to do something... to throw something.

Lockwood realized too late. He vaulted forward to pry the newspaper from her fingers, but Lucy's rage made her a savage. She chucked the newspaper at George with the velocity of a racing car.

The headlines collided with George's face with a resounding thud.

His glasses fell and landed with a unceremonious noise. Thankfully, unscathed from the impact.

The same could not be said for his nose.

George's face pulsed like he had been stung by the world's largest be. He splayed his hand over his nose to check for bleeding and groaned.

"That hurt..."

"Of course it did. I intended it to," Lucy huffed. She scooped up George's glasses and the paper. "That ought to teach you about looking at my correspondence."

"Didn't have to thump me that hard though," George grumbled, snatching his glasses back.

He looked like a dartboard bullseye wearing glasses. Lockwood couldn't focus on it though. His eyes were honed in on the newspaper Lucy was currently unraveling.

He bit his cheek and decided to finish his tea in one gulp. "Well," Lockwood started, fixing his collar as he stood. "I'd better see what we're taking on tonight. I'll be—"

"Hey, this is that girl next door." Lucy pushed her face closer to the paper to reassure herself that she wasn't seeing wrong. She'd seen that blouse and trouser combo on you a few days ago. "Yeah! That's her!"

George showed a rare kind of expression. A raised brow aimed at Lockwood. "She's a doctor now. How could that be upsetting?"

"Don't tell me you have a rivalry with her because she poked you in the bum when you were little," Lucy joked.

Lockwood's face flushed. He looked at the kitchen door, contemplating escape, then back to his friends. He leaned on the doorframe, attempting to look lax but coming off as stiff as a board. "Who said I was upset?"

"You were quiet over tea," George said.

"What of it?" Lockwood pushed.

George gave him an are you kidding me kind of look. "You never shut up when you can help it."

"And you did this." Lucy copied his pondering face, and Lockwood grimaced—reminding himself to school his expressions better.

"Please. For all things good, never do that again, and I am not upset at her—"

"Defensive now? You so are," George chuckled.

Lockwood's jaw ticked. "I am not—"

Saved by the bell. All three heads turned to the door with interest. It was still early in the day, so a new client was unexpected.

"I'll get it," Lockwood said. He left a prattling Lucy and George in the winds of his coat.

The doorbell rang again before he got to it. "Keep your shirt on—"

George and Lucy idled at the foot of the stairs as the door swung open. George let out a gasp, Lucy elbowed him to keep quiet.

Speak of the devil and he will appear. Though, you were more seraphic in that white dress, innocently festooned with embroidered cherries. Your smile was as disarming as ever. It was even brighter than the light haloing your hair.

"Hello."

Lucy tripped over air at the sweetness of your voice, now understanding how the word 'mellifluous' came to be.

Lockwood was indifferent.

Just staring at the back of his head, Lucy knew he was sporting an expression reserved just for Kipps and his crew. It made her want to kick his shin and tell him to get himself together.

"Hi," Lockwood finally greeted, tone bleak. "What are you doing here?"

"Lockwood," George finally intervened. Seems he was taken by how you carried yourself, too.

Both your and Lockwood's heads turned to him.

"Oh, you must be George Karim." Your smile widened, outshining the light above the door. "And Lucy Carlyle. Pleasure to finally meet you."

Lucy and George rarely agreed on things, but they spoke like they were on the same wavelength then. "Pleasure is ours."

A little laugh escaped you, just as graceful as the swish of your skirt. You introduced yourself, discounting your new title. "My parents asked me to invite friends to my celebratory dinner tonight but I don't have people I'd really consider friends." Your honeyed eyes drifted back to Lockwood, trying not to wilt under his blasé gaze. "I was thinking you three could drop by. No need to bring anything but yourselves. We have pie and ice cream for dessert."

Hope was alight in your eyes. The insider statement flew over George and Lucy's heads, and apparently, Lockwood's too. Your expression dampened as it struck you.

"That sounds nice," George said pleasantly.

Lucy nodded in agreement. "And it's not every day we get invited to a free meal."

"With pie." George was already dreaming about it.

Lockwood let out a breath. "Sorry. We have a case tonight."

"No, that's for Friday night," George interrupted. "Isn't that right, Lucy?"

"That's right," Lucy doubled down.

Both of Lockwood & Co.'s best simply blinked and grinned at Lockwood's taut form.

"Great," you quipped. Your eyes lingered on Lockwood but moved to George and Lucy when he showed no interest in being civil. "I'll see you tonight, then. Have a nice day!"

"You too!"

Lockwood gave you a sufficient nod and lipped smile as he closed the door. The moment you were out of sight, the room turned sepia.

Silence for a moment, then George.

"There is definitely something going on here."

—

Despite Lucy and George's joint efforts to pry answers from him, Lockwood did not bend. When the light began to die outside, they retired to their own rooms to prepare. Finally leaving him in silence.

Lockwood chose to wear his usual get-up. The only difference was his waistcoat. It sported a thin, stylish red stripe down it's right side; George had worn an unstained shirt for once, so he did put a bit more effort into his looks that evening; and Lucy wore her best skirt and sweater to put her best foot forward.

"Now," Lockwood said as they all spiraled down the steps. "You have to remember a few things about our neighbors."

"And that would be?" George rolled his eyes.

"They're doctors," Lockwood answered like it was a sin.

"All of them?" Lucy asked with interest.

"Yes, the entire family," Lockwood confirmed. "You have to remember that when they start getting weird about our work."

"Why?" Lucy flicked a crumb left on George's shoulder once they reached the last step. "We get help from hospitals when we need to examine post-mortem documents. It's not like our professions are worlds apart."

"You mean I get help," George corrected firmly. "Not like either of you do the grisly work when it comes to research."

"Well, you're the best at it," Lucy said placatingly.

"'Course I am," George nipped.

Lockwood shushed them. "Regardless of what they say, do not loose your cool. They think getting you worked up means they win.

"They can't be that bad. Your girl was nice enough," Lucy said.

Lockwood's brows furrowed then unfurrowed. "She's not my girl," he said, opening the door with zeal.

"Sure," Lucy grinned as she slipped past.

—

34 Portland Row looked the same as 35 from the outside. The interior decor made it clear that the home was made up of doctors. Successful ones, by the looks of it.

You greeted them at the door with the same radiatant smile from the papers. Your dress was marvelous but Lucy and George could not help but look over your shoulder, into the opulence of 34 Portland Row.

Like always, Lockwood greeted you with a nod and addressed you by name. It wasn't much but you accepted it with cheeks strained from practicing your smile.

As you lead them to the dining room, their eyes wandered at their own volition. Lockwood couldn't help but do the same.

The crystal chandelier in the living room was as decadent as ever; the doorknobs had been changed to be made of glass and silver; the bookshelves were packed with newer books—likely yours; the wall next to the stairs still held your height measurements from years ago. He caught your eye as he did so, trying not to flinch at the waves of melancholy that crashed over him. He chose to look at the back of your head as the light of the dining room enveloped them.

Like every room in this house, a chandelier sat in the middle. Everything was gleaming. Not a speck was out of place, except maybe him. Perfect, just like the family that lived here.

The table was already set with steaming meals of steak, veggies, and mashed potatoes. There was a pitcher of juice in the middle but Lockwood noticed that he, Lucy, and George's glasses were already filled with water. Your mother had just finished filling the last one when she offered her most deceitful smile.

"Anthony Lockwood and friends..." your mother greeted. Her tone was eloquent but the drawl in it sent an unwelcomed pang of anxiety through Lockwood, he tensed then forced himself to relax. "Haven't seen you around lately, Tony."

"Running a business does eat time, unfortunately." He spared her a terse smile and sat at the chair you directed him to — just across from you. Lucy sat beside you, and George had the misfortune of sitting next to your father. Lockwood cleared his throat to break the silence. "You haven't aged a day, Mrs.—"

"Doctor, actually. We've had this conversation before," she chortled with a furled smile you would only expect from the devil's mistresses.

Lucy and George found sudden interest in their food. Your shoulders sunk, but like times before, you didn't say anything. Lockwood tried not to look surprised.

"Right... Doctor. My apologies." He straightened himself in his seat. "You two look swell. How has the winter been treating you?"

"Oh, it's absolutely tiring," your father said. He had the kind of tone that suggested that he was always pouting. At least he wasn't spitting venom while he was talking about himself. "Patients coming in but rarely being able to make it out. Terrible thing, really."

"Sorrows to those who have passed because of the upstart," your mother chipped in. "Our little darling saved some lives in lieu of her recent graduation, and she's only been a doctor for a few days!"

Your mother smiled at you. You refused to look up from your dinner. "All I did was administer CPR. The hospital was understaffed that day. I work in a different department, mama."

Her smile faded before her eyes snapped to Lockwood, her grin sharpening.

"Can you imagine that? Not even a day as a doctor and she's already on the papers. Real talent gets recognized straight away, everyone knows."

Your father did not finish chewing his steak before he joined in. "Kids these days run around wasting their time on things other than their academics. What do they expect to do after their talents fade, huh? Our girl has no worries in that department."

George pushed his plate away after a blob of spit landed on his potatoes. He thought it was best to put down his utensils as well. His grip was turning his knuckles white. Lucy had resorted to pushing her asparagus to calm the anger beginning to stoke in her mind. They were beginning to see why Lockwood did not want to come. The aforementioned remained with a practiced smile on his face.

Your eyes conveyed your apologies yet Lockwood refused to look at you. You were as meek as the girl Lockwood first saw over the fence. Your voice was weaker when you used it in this house. "Mama, papa. Those kids risk their lives to make living easier for everyone. Bravery like that can't be learned from textbooks."

"No, but keeping your nose out of that business altogether will keep you alive." Your mother's expression changed, a beguiling woman turning into medusa before their very eyes.

You sunk under the weight of her stare. You might as well have turned to stone.

"Knowledge keeps you alive," your father added. "Perusing supernatural business will only end with dead kids or orphans who have to resort to psychical work to get by. Some of them work up the nerve to call it a real profession."

A resounding ring resounded from Lockwood's side of the table. He had dropped his knife. His smile had gone. His lips twitched, like he wasn't sure what to do or say. Ultimately saying nothing.

Your eyes glossed over, anger and sadness swirling together in your belly. You were ready to let loose, to set your parents straight. Yet, one look at your father's face was enough to have you curling in on yourself.

The temperature dropped like the conversation had. No one said a thing when smoke began to choke the room.

"Well," your mother cheered. "Seems like the pie is ruined. I'm afraid we'll have to end supper here."

—

Lucy rushed the door open, just itching to unload the tangle of colorful words she'd thought up in that stuffy house of yours.

"They were horrendous," George said, throwing his flannel aside. "I thought that junior doctor was nice but now I know she's Medusa's spawn."

"She is. And have you seen her dad?" Lucy doubled down. She considered going downstairs to release her pent-up emotions but thought better of it. "Terrible, the lot of them."

Lockwood had thought the same cruel thoughts but hearing it from them made him defensive. You weren't bad. You were just a bystander. Your lack of responses hurt as bad as your parents's passive-aggressive jabs, but you weren't even close to being half the evil your parents were. He felt his stomach churning as they began to drag your name through the dirt.

"We are never going back there," George declared. "You were right, Lockwood."

"I need 24 hours of sleep to recover from it. I've never felt so murderous before." That was Lucy's way of saying goodnight. She started for the steps right after.

"I think we should go back. So you can finish the job," George said, following Lucy up the stairs.

Lockwood stumbled ahead, throwing his coat on the newel and collapsing at the foot of the steps. From where he lazed, he continued to hear Lucy and George bicker.

"Maybe you could call up that Norrie White to help you get away with murder," George said encouragingly.

"Don't even start on that, George," Lucy warned.

Her door closed.

"Fine," George said despondenty. "It was just a suggestion, geez."

His door closed, too.

Lockwood let out a breath. It felt like his soul had left his body for a moment of reprieve. He didn't have even five minutes of silence before he heard urgent taps reverberating through his ears. He sat up, alarmed, trying to assess where the noise could have come from.

After a quick sweep, he swung the kitchen door open and discovered you on the other side of the garden door, knuckles raping against the glass with a pained look on your face.

He contemplated leaving you out in the cold but decided that he wasn't that kind of person. He opened the door and wasn't all that surprised that your habit of forgetting a jacket stayed true. You were shivering.

"Anthony—"

"Give me a moment," he interrupted. He turned, walked back to the steps to retrieve his coat, then returned to drape it over your shoulders. "Come in. Sit. You never remember to bring a coat at night, stubborn girl."

You smile despite the frost on your face. Your face turns pink as the warmth of 35 Portland Row thaws you. He sits you on his usual seat and takes George's cushioned seat instead.

"Old habits die hard," you chuckle, holding his coat tighter. If you bent your head enough, you would get a whiff of him on it. You could have tried to do it inconspicuously but he was sitting right there, he would know. "I'm sorry... for everything. I thought they wouldn't– I really should have known they would say things like that. I apologize for them. I really do feel bad. If Mr. Karim and Ms. Carlyle are still up, I'd like to tell them as well."

"They've retired for the night," he reports. He redacts the part that they were discussing the demise of your family. "but thank you for coming to say that."

"And I'm sorry I didn't say anything," you add.

Lockwood doesn't say anything to that. In his mind, you would have stopped them if you were really sorry. "Why did you come here? And please don't say you're inviting us to another dinner."

"Goodness, no." You snort. "I... have a case. I don't know who else to surrender the evidence to."

His brows jump. "You're asking for psychical service? From me? Us, I mean."

You nod. "I hear that Ms. Carlyle is particularly gifted. What I think we're facing is something special. Something no regular agent can feel out."

"Why hasn't Fittes or Rotwell been put up to this if it's that important?"

"Because it's a personal study of mine." You drop a manila folder on the thinking cloth. Lockwood didn't even notice you were holding it earlier. "It's a closed case. An unsolved one. The autopsy is gruesome and justice was never brought to the victim. I searched her property myself and found the source. I tried to communicate with her but I can't do it."

"And you think Lucy is the Listener for the job?"

"Yes. I don't just want to get rid of a ghost, Anthony, I want to lay her to rest. To give her peace."

He leans back in his chair, drinking in the information while he raked a hand through his hair. "You investigated the area of the haunting alone?"

"In daylight," you said in your defense. "My sense of touch is useful enough for me to know if something is a source. Problem is, I can't get any psychical resonance to find out who had killed her."

"Amazing..." he breathed. He didn't know you had that level of sensitivity. Still, he had to think of this as an official case. He righted his posture immediately. "I'll ask George and Lucy in the morning. Can you come by at nine?"

"Yeah. My parents are at work before then. No worries about them."

"Good."

You nod, not knowing what else to do. "Good."

You stared at each other. Possibly taking in how much time had changed you; The scars he'd earned through the years, the callouses on your hands from studying, blemishes, changed mannerisms—and then the unspoken reminder that you had drifted apart after the Lockwood family turned from four to one. You were completely different people to the children who used to laugh through these halls.

"I better get going," you said. You couldn't handle Lockwood and his expressive eyes. You don't know if he was doing it consciously, but it was like you could see his sadness bleeding into the world just by glancing at them.

He nodded like a puppet on a string, pulling himself up and leading you to the garden door once more.

"Goodnight," you said, mustering a friendly smile that was, thankfully, returned.

"Night... Cherry," he replied.

You smiled for a moment more before you snuck back home. Neither of you remembered that you had his coat until morning.

—

You were knocking at 35 Portland Row at 8:55. You stood stiffly, not knowing how to conduct yourself after last night's catastrophe. Lockwood's coat was folded over your arm when George answered the door.

Opposite of the day before, his face was flat. If you turned around and left, you'd be doing him a favor. Unfortunately for him, you were there with intention.

"I need the help of Lockwood & Co."

George opened his mouth, probably thinking of some creative way to say 'shove off'. Lockwood's voice from the kitchen bellowed over his train of thought. "It that her? Let her in, Georgie."

George was mumbling something but he stepped aside and didn't stab you with a nearby rapier. You believed that meant there was a chance to redeem yourself.

You were lead to the receiving room where you were shortly joined by Lockwood and an either groggy or bloodthirsty Lucy. George had retired to the kitchen to bring in biscuits. You hadn't earned the respect to have cake in the vicinity.

Lockwood lead the conversation, eyes trained on you. It made you conscious enough to shuffle and pick at the frayed seams of his coat.

"You only gave us a few details about this case. Evidently it was murder but it was closed and unsolved for two decades."

"I have the rest here," you said, revealing another manila folder. This one was thicker, packed with all you knew about it. It was the real deal. As you passed it across the table, the three of them ogled at the vivid red 'confidential' stamp slanted across the front. "Her name was Iris Griffiths. She was a forensic scientist who cracked several unsolved cases in her time. She had sensitive hearing, from what her colleagues said. She wasn't working on any new cases before her housemate reported her dead on a random night."

"Was it during winter? She could have been ghost-touched." Lucy suggested with a clipped tone. She just wanted to close the case and never see you again.

You shook your head, reaching across and guiding Lockwood's hand to another page in the folder. "Her autopsy shows several lacerations and bruises but no remnants of ghost touch. Her body was already decomposing when she was found."

"And her flatmate? They could be a suspect." George pitched.

You shook your head again. "Celia Rodney was out of town with her fiancé. Several colleagues were interviewed and confirmed it."

Lockwood looked up. "Then we have to assume that it's someone from Griffith's personal life. Did she have a lover?"

"This is like the Annie Ward case all over again," Lucy groaned.

You continued nonetheless. "She did have a lover, actually. Howard Gasley was her co-worker and boyfriend. They had a good relationship, according to the interviews, so I don't suspect any foul play between them."

George leaned against the right side of his chair. There was a creak from the old thing but he ignored it. "What if their relationship was rocky behind the scenes?"

You looked down at the evidence file and sighed. "I guess we will find out when Ms. Carlyle's able to speak with her. All our suspects have solid alibis. To obtain justice for Iris Griffith, we'll have to be her witnesses."

George turns stiff. "We? Lockwood."

Lucy does the same. "You're asking me to communicate with a ghost?"

Lockwood tries to settle them down with a relaxed smile. "It's high time I stop scolding you for being good at what you do, Luce. Our client is explicitly asking you to exploit your talent and find us a killer. The client is always right. Isn't that right, George?"

George grumbles a reply you don't hear, and Lucy nods limply, like she can't comprehend the fact that Lockwood was being so lax about this. What happened to the dangers of communicating with ghosts?

Regardless, they realize that arguing with him was going to be a losing battle. He has that look in his eye—one akin to an adrenaline junkie who's about about to jump from a cliff, and his eyes are set on you.

Lucy and George watched as you returned his coat before they shot each other looks.

What happened to hating you and your white-coat family? Lockwood marched to the beat of his own drum, apparently.

They had their kits ready before dark and met you on the street you'd told them about. Lockwood saw your peering eyes over the run-down house's picket fence and quickened his pace.

"Lovely place," Lucy drawled, eyeing the chipping paint with faint curiosity. Two decades could do so much to a nice house.

"Very lively," George seconded with bite, side-stepping the corpse of a rat.

"I have the source inside, under a chain net," you inform them. You push open the door, wincing as the hinges break and send the wood slamming to the floor. "I hope the house holds long enough to finish this investigation."

"Finally," cheered Lucy. "something we can agree on."

Lockwood was contemplating over how to behave himself. One second, he was keeping pace with you, then walking ahead the next, then falling behind you. He cycled between all three, ignoring George's rolling eyes and Lucy's sighs until all four of you reach the second-floor's lavatory. Luckily, no one had fallen through the floor.

"Do tell me we're not dealing with supernatural turd," George begged.

Lucy wrinkled her nose. "I'll be the one doing the Listening so you can take your complaints outside, George."

"This might be worse," you answer them when you pull off the chain net from an odd looking thing. It looked like a starfish wrapped in ripped and yellowed tissue paper. Lucy gagged when she took a second look.

"Mummified hand," Lockwood said aloud, trying to keep a placid smile on his face. "I always tell you to never mess with mummified body parts but we'll have to make an exception."

"Mummified parts bridge the forensic and psychical field, unfortunately." You cover the source back up as a mercy to Lucy. "They couldn't find her hand before they autopsied her body. Found this under a plank in her bedroom."

"Handy," George said dryly.

Lucy glared at him. "Not the time."

"I'm not sorry," he replied.

"You could have mentioned this sooner," Lockwood interjected, turning his head to you.

You gave a smile in response. "I think it's just another piece of evidence that proves someone had been very angry with her."

"Did the academy teach you to smile so morbidly?" George questioned.

"No, that's just her face." Lockwood said gravely.

George spared you a look that resembled concern. "Pity."

You dropped your smile and walked passed a chuckling Lockwood.

—

Lucy couldn't hear a thing while there was light out. Even with the chain net off, all she could hear was George's heavy breathing.

Lockwood had everyone sat in the disparaging kitchen to have tea and some biscuits before night fell. All the courtresy of Lockwood & Co., of course. Papers spread across the table, rehashing the details in hopes that it would help Lucy discern which questions to prioritize once she made contact with Griffith.

George squinted his eyes at the court transcripts. "There's an awful lot of witnesses."

"It was a big case. Griffith did wonders to connect the world of science and the psychic." You dipped a biscuit into your overly sweetened tea; it was not so coincidentally your favorite brand, and took a bite. "She inspired me to study. It's been a dream of mine to solve her case."

George nodded with the most plastic smile on his face. "Wonderful. We're fulfilling childhood wishes while Lucy experiences rediscovered trauma."

You sighed and sunk into the rotting seat. There was no salvaging an acquaintanceship with George at this rate. You lulled your head to look at Lockwood. He spared you a smile but looked away just as quick.

"Don't interrupt me, that's all I ask," Lucy said as the clock struck six.

Papers were put away, circles were drawn, several more candles were lit, and Lucy hunkered down in the lavatory. The door was closed to give her room to work, leaving you to stand between Lockwood and George. You hobbled from heel to heel as you eyed their rapiers and their weary wandering.

The silence reminded you too much of home. Words poured out of you to chase away your parents's images in your mind. "How strong are Ms. Carlyle's talents? I've only heard heresay about her abilities."

"None of your business—"

"She's the best Listener in the field," Lockwood answered. Even in the dim light, you could see his smile pull higher. It made your heart do funny things while your stomach dropped. "I ought to think she'd be on parr with Marissa Fittes, given enough time. Maybe even better."

George nodded in agreement, turning his head as the ghost-lamps outside flickered to life. The green hue bled into the room, dimming the atmosphere even more.

You leaned against the wall as a chill crept out from under the lavatory door. "I have no doubt that we'll be able to get our answer then."

"Oh! Ow!" George exclaimed.

You didn't have a rapier or any form of weapon but you turned to him like you could help, just to find he was simply hugging himself.

"Got really cold all of a sudden. Felt like something passed through me," he said. He looked down at his thermometer. "Temp's dropped significantly. This visitor is a force."

"That's why she got the best of the best to do it," Lockwood boasted, winking your way and changing his stance as a spectral glow began to flicker under the door.

"Do we have a guess on what we could be facing?" you asked, backing away.

Lockwood didn't miss the tremoring in your hands. "No, but where where is a lack of knowledge, there is faith. We'll make it out this alive."

"Oh," you laughed unhumorously. "how reassuring."

"He's good at that," George added flatly.

Lockwood held out an arm, guiding you to stand between him and George. Their backs turned to you, their rapiers raised and at the ready.

"Here," Lockwood didn't look away from the dark as he unclasped a salt-bomb and a flask of lavender water. He held them out and you took them with shaking hands.

Malaise stalked in on you three, making the hairs on your arm stand. You gripped the salt-bomb and lavender water for dear life. Pressure squeezed down on your chest and your heart raced for a danger unseen.

"This much activity before ten? Griffith must have had qualms about dying." George said.

Lockwood chuckled, nodding along. "Wonder how nobody reported this much activity if the source was hidden all this time."

"Nobody wanted to visit this place when the killer was still at large," you answered, struggling to keep your tone even. "Some kids started some rumors during the court proceedings. They said someone just wanted the house badly enough to kill for it."

"That would be unfortunate," George said. "Imagine all that commotion over a killer who simply wanted real estate."

You tried to stiffle a laugh but failed. "It does sound ridiculous."

Lockwood chanced a glance at you, catching your faulty smile before a scream shook the Earth.

"Lucy?"

"Lucy!"

"Ms. Carlyle?"

She came bursting out of the lavatory, two fingers pinching the mummified hand, and looking quite disgruntled before she stood in the boy's protective circle.

"We might need Little Miss Doctor to stand in the iron circle," Lucy said, fumbling for her rapier and holding the source a ways from her body. Frost was gripping at her gloves.

The plan was scraped with one glance to the circle. It had been thrashed by Griffith from the time Lucy came tumbling out of the lavatory.

"Type two," all three of them agreed.

"What happened?" asked George. His eyes darted down the hallway with more apprehension than before.

"She got angrier and angrier the more names I mentioned," she answered. "I felt like she was about to drown me."

You took the mummified hand from her grasp. The sigh she let out was laughable. "Did she say who killed her?"

Lucy shook her head as she readied herself. Miasma was building. Fear gripped you like nothing you'd experienced before. When you touched the hand, that feeling multiplied. You heard murmurs but nothing substantial.

Shell...

Kill me...

Secret...

You couldn't stitch those words together to come to any conclusion. You were crossing your fingers that Lucy could. The possibilities kept you up at night. If you weren't thinking about your estranged friendship with Lockwood, you were thinking of getting justice for this woman you didn't even know. The cold pinching your skin from the source was a reminder that it wasn't over.

Like a light in the dark, Lucy looked at you and said, "She kept nodding her head whenever I asked if some person killed her; She said yes to Rodney. She said yes to Gasley—"

"So even she doesn't know who killed her?" George laughed emptily. "Brilliant."

"We might have to investigate more on our own to find more details." Lockwood nudged your side. You thought it was to shield you from the cold but that would be too presumptuous. He had bumped into you to swipe away the apparition of Iris Griffith.

She came and went like a zap of electricity. Frantic and unpredictable. Every time you caught sight of her mauled face, your heart picked up. How these three hadn't double over from heart failure was a mystery. Your knees gave up when she'd appeared beside you.

Your eyes watched her in slow motion. The rippling gashes in her plasma, her sneering face, her slashed dress... She was a hairsbreadth away from you before your instincts kicked in.

Your blood fell to your feet but your hand reached into your pocket in a panic, saving yourself as you pulled out a silver button. You threw it at her face and, fortunately, it was enough to disperse her ghost.

Lockwood let out a loud breath of relief but jumped back into the rhythm when her apparition reappeared. "Was that my mother's button? Nevermind. Time to make our exit! Luce, where's the chain net?"

She clicked her tongue. "Dropped it. Her manifestation appeared right in front of me."

"Go get it then!" George rushed, swiping at the air and setting off the first salt-bomb of the night.

"I would if I could," Lucy replied with a bite in her tone. She grimaced at the hand in your vice. "It's in the toilet."

"Pick it up! You've held worse." George backed into Lucy. They switched places.

"It's best if you don't," you advised. "This place has been deserted for years. Who knows what kind of bacteria's been growing in the bowl."

"Oh, you have to know everything, don't you?" George hissed.

Lucy didn't snap at you this time. "Listen to the doctor, George! Did we bring any more chain nets?"

Lockwood reached for your shirt, tugging you towards him as Griffith bit the air where your head would have been. He held you between his arms as blood rushed to your ears and cheeks. Lockwood's breath tickled your ear. The warmth of your face was a juxtaposition to the cold encasing your hands. "My bag! It's a bit away. We'll have to split up."

"Try not to die," George said with false sweetness. He and Lucy ran the opposite way you and Lockwood had.

Griffith chased them. The farther she got, the more you remembered how to breath.

"Calm down, cherry cheeks, ghosts can feed off of your fear," he tried to pacify you. The rasp of his voice evened your heart rate enough for you to get your brain turning again.

"Right. You're right..." You looked ahead, through the darkness and could barely make out the lumps on the ground. "Chain, we have to get the chain net."

"I've got you," he assured.

Even if your pivotal functions had returned to normal, your legs hadn't gotten the memo. Getting up made your knees buckle and legs feel like cooked pasta. As if the cold eating your fingers weren't bad enough.

Lockwood caught you around the waist, holding your weight while he held his rapier at the ready. "Hold on to the source and remember the salt-bomb."

You nodded firmly, clutching both to your chest as you two made a joint effort to get to the bags.

You were almost there, just passed the iron circle that Griffith had broken through, when she appeared above you like an unwanted mistletoe.

You screamed, Lockwood said something to console you, you threw the salt-bomb without taking off the clip, and Lockwood quickly sliced off the top to set it off. Salt sprayed over you two. His body folded over yours as it showered down.

Griffith's yells faded for a moment, a moment long enough for you to slide forward and grab the chain net that clung onto the side pocket of Lockwood's kit. Your hand wrapped around it, Iris's spectral glow kissed your skin, you felt the chill of it — she was colder than her source.

Suddenly, Lockwood had tugged you back towards him. His pull was strong enough to knock you onto your side. It would bruise but at least you weren't ghost-touched.

You wrapped the mummified hand in the net and sighed as the glow faded away and the screaming ceased. The frostbite on your fingers were worth the pain. You were alive.

Silence and heavy breathing ensued.

You rolled the rest of the way on your back, heaving for breath you won't get back. Not while Lockwood remained hovering over you.

The candles had been blown out in the earlier attack. The only light came from the ghost-lamps that sifted through the broken windows. Everything was in that ugly shade of bottle green... but that didn't make him any less magnificent.

Sweat collected on his brow, his mouth was agape—chasing for breath, and his lips were curled in that kind of smirk you could only dream about. Holding your breath did little for your racing heart.

"You okay, cherry cheeks?" His lips moved like their one purpose was to enrapture you.

You nodded dumbly, unable to find your words.

—

Portland Row was cloaked by the night when you four made your escape.

The three of them headed for the 35th while you bound up the steps to your parents' place. George and Lucy gained enough respect for you to wish you a good night before heading in, successfully tuckered out. Lockwood remained, staring at you with his hands in his trouser pockets.

He raised his brows at you then motioned to your front door. "Head on in. It would weigh on my conscience if I don't see you home safe. Your parents would have my head."

"You..." you paused at the fog before you. It was colder out than you thought. "You called me cherry cheeks earlier."

His stance turned tense. He rocked on his heels before he mustered a smile. "Old habits die hard... Sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

"It's okay," you reassured, returning the smile. "I missed it."

"You don't mind then?"

You shook your head. "Never did."

His smile broadened, teasing a glimpse of his pearly whites before he looked at his shoes to hide it. "See you tomorrow then, cherry."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him. These days, both of you were tall enough to see each other clearly over the wrought-iron fencing. You missed the days you had to tiptoe to show him a smile.

You had no problems shooting him a smile from over the fence. You had no problems coming home to your perfectionist parents. You had no problems imagining your world without Lockwood in it... but you missed him.

Now that the events kept replaying in your head, all you could think while you looked at him was I miss you, I'm sorry. I miss you, I'm sorry. I miss you, I'm sorry.

Lockwood had the talent of knowing when you wanted to say something but couldn't bring yourself to. He forgot how when you had grown apart. Now, in the quiet of the night and the privacy of the stars, it came back to him like the memories he tamped down by closing his window.

"What's wrong?" He asked, setting his hands on the freezing iron fence.

You feel the knot in your throat and the tears in your eyes. It hurts to hold back. Your lungs are lined with spikes as you take a breath. It feels like you're cracking your ribs open as you cave and admit to him, "I don't want to go home to them."

It may have been a trick of the light, but you swear there were tears in his eyes, too. His smile had changed. It was the same one you were accustomed to—the one he used to welcome you into his parents's house all those years ago. Like no time had passed at all, he beckons you. "Come on in then. 35 Portland Row is always open for you. It's your home, too."

—

One night's sleep on 35 Portland Row's most uncomfortable couch was worlds better than the comfy bed in your own cold home. You stretch like a cat to work out all the kinks in your joints, smiling at the air for no reason other than the happiness that filled you the moment you realized you were at the Lockwoods'. Your frosted hands had been wrapped up over a very sleepy catch-up the night before.

Ambient music was playing in your head as you took in your surroundings. The browned books and the disarray of trinkets left all around you were more home than anything you were used to.

It felt like you were wading through the most pleasant dream.

It all screeched to a halt the moment you swung your foot down and stepped on something squishy and loud—it groaned like a beast.

Terror clawed out of your throat in the form of a scream. Juttery legs hopped onto the back of the couch to gain height, and weary eyes looked down at the monster under the bed— er, sofa.

The lump inflated, made of patchwork quilt... until that fell away to reveal a very disheveled and very grumpy Anthony Lockwood.

"Ow," he simply said.

Your soul returned to your body. You offered a little laugh as you eased back down on the couch. "Sorry, Anthony."

"Don't worry yourself," he assured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I was the one who snuck down here."

You were a kid when you admitted to being afraid of being alone. It was thoughtful of him to come down here to keep you company when he had a perfectly good bed upstairs.

With a fluttering belly and a sheepish smile, you reached out and patted his sleepy head. "You've always been good to me. I should be more grateful."

He opened one eye to look at you while he rubbed the sleep out of the other. A corner of his lip tipped up into a lazy smile. "You can start with a 'thank you', darling."

"Thank you," you said all too quickly. The deeper octave and the rasp in his voice had finally hit home. It made your cheeks warm.

Judging by the growing smile on his face, he had accomplished what he was intending to.

Your shoulders jumped. A knock broke through the calmness of the air. You turned and saw George in an apron and kitchen mitts. "Are you two going to give each other goo-goo eyes all morning or are you joining us for breakfast?"

—

The investigation resumed as soon as the breakfast plates had been cleaned.

You split into two groups. George and Lucy were off to the archives to work out all of Griffith's social connections, and you and Lockwood were off to the hospital to look for documents that contained the same M.O. or similar timeline to Griffith's case.

"I thought police were the only ones allowed to hold information like this," Lockwood admitted as you two shuffled through files upon files in the hospital archives.

"Most of it, they do. I just hope there's something here relevant to our case," you reply. "If we have to hand this off to detectives, DEPRAC will get involved. They'll just close the case and leave it be."

He nudges up to you after a good three hours of finding absolutely nothing. "Let's look at the last few cases she solved. Could have a clue."

"All of those are solved though," you respond. You were biting your nails at this point. You had to find something before questioning Griffith's ghost again—for Lucy's sanity and for the group's safety.

Lockwood took you by the shoulders just as you began to imagine the worst. "Cherry," he said to snap your attention to him. "If we can't find anything, I don't want you joining us on this one."

"What?" You back away from him in your incredulity. "I helped last night, didn't I? This is my investigation as much as it is yours, Anthony."

"This visitor is a type two, cher. It's not as simple as solving a case. This means lives are in the balance—"

"I'm aware." You put your foot down. You slapped his hands away and shimmy a thick stack from under the desk. "I'm aware of the risks and I consent to them." You pick up the one at the top of the stack and shove it into his chest. He had always liked the curiosity in your eyes, so he was taken aback by the void in them as you looked at him. "I have enough people treating me like I belong at home or behind the safety of iron fences—I do not need you to coddle me like that. My parents do it enough."

He watched your back as you look through the second file in the stack. "You know I don't mean to coddle you..."

"You're doing it right now." Your tone carries a point. "You're telling me to sit this one out because it's too dangerous."

"It's risk assessment—"

"You're underestimating me—"

He slams his hand down on the paper you're idly reading. Bringing your attention to him. "I do this because I don't want to lose you."

Your anger falls away.

The reminder of how how much he'd lost occurs to you. It makes your arms grow limp and your heart to shrink. You can only stare at him with those same eyes he can't unsee even when his are closed. He hates the way he's made sadness swim in them. "Anthony..."

He said your name with the same caution. "You want to know why I became distant?"

"People grow apart when they grow up, Anthony. It's not your fault—"

He knelt beside you, laying his heart out right then and there. "I couldn't stand watching you with your perfect family. They always said any field tampering with the supernatural was a death sentence. I hated how they were right. I hated how they made you so small. I couldn't watch you like that. I hated that you turned into a doctor, just like them. I hated how they were so bad and so cruel, but they were always right."

You were quelled into silence. Biting your lip to keep the tears in. He held your hands delicately, careful of your injury. His touch was light but you knew you would feel it for hours. You held his hands with as much strength as you could muster, even as your skin burned and screeched for reprieve, you did not let go. "They are wrong about you..." you whisper to him.

He went on, plastering on a smile you knew was fake. It sheared your heart to know that. "I knew they were right when they said you would do great things... But they said so many other things that hurt. I couldn't stand being around. It just made me remember that no one was around to defend me anymore. I'm sorry that I had to leave you out, too. Seeing you reminded me of everything they said and I... I couldn't shake it."

Your eyes hurt so much. You gave up somewhere along the way and let the tears fall. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to fight them. I wanted to say so many things but they've always been so- so..."

"Scary?" he supplied with a pathetic laugh. "I know. Don't blame yourself."

You bobbed your head, sniffing as tears went. "You don't have to apologize for all that, Anthony. I'm so sorry, I didn't stand by you when you needed me. But I am going to see this case through to the end, I've dedicated my life to it."

Even when you were hiccuping and heaving for air, you wiped away the tear that tracked down his cheek. His heart surrendered to you then.

"Okay... And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ignored you like I did," he said again, just because he felt like you needed to hear it.

"No. I'm sorry," you reply. Vehemently wiping his eyes. "Anthony, come on. Don't cry. I'm not worth crying for."

"Oh, don't say that," he said lightly. "You're worth everything, cher."

Both of you manage a smile but neither of you are well enough to hold it. You laugh at each other's attempts.

You came clean to him too: How your parents had made you the sun of their solar system; How they poured their knowledge into you like you were a cup meant to hold their images in vivid color; How they moulded you into being the projection of a golden girl—their magnum opus. You carried the weight of their world. Most days, they acted more like teachers than parents. It got worse the older you got. Trophies and medals took the places of photographs until all you became was your achievements.

"They were so hard on you..." he said slowly. It was just sinking I just how trapped you were. You were cornered in a place that was supposed to covet you.

"Still, I should have defended you. I hate that I didn't," you said, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve. It was the most ungraceful thing he'd seen you do but it brought him back to the cherry pie incident, and he found that he couldn't even think of you in a bad light.

"It's water under the bridge. I hate your parents, but there is one thing we can agree on," Lockwood said, cracking a semblance of a smile.

You cocked your brow at him. Teary eyes and all, he still found you as cute as a button.

"I would make you the sun of my solar system, too. They got that right."

With a snort, you said, "You're good at buttering people up, you know that?" You shoved his shoulder to shut him up but he caught the red on your ears and the smile you hid with a tilt of your head.

—

When you rendezvoused with George and Lucy, it was around 5:40 in the afternoon. The sun was dipping and the ghoulish were about to walk the earth. If George or Lucy noticed the redness in your eyes, they said nothing of it. You hurried along inside the stranded house and relayed newfound information.

"The last case Griffith reviewed involved a woman named Shelly Carson. She immigrated from America and died at 17 while she was interning for Hayes Inc." You flipped the file open on the kitchen table over tea. "They profiled the case to be a suicide but I don't think Griffith agreed." Your finger pointed to the lower left corner where Griffith would put her stamp of approval. The line was void of it. "She wrote 'Garrote not rope??' on the unofficial report. Carson's case could have been a murder."

The information set off a spark in George. He was rubbing invisible dirt from his glasses and finished doing so as you concluded your assessment. "We found a Shelly Carson in our search too," he said. Everyone lent their ears. "She was friends with Griffith in childhood. Alongside Rodney and Gasley. The four of them were close friends from well-off families."

"Ah, they're rich. Explains a lot," Lucy snorted. George ignored her quip.

"Turns out Rodney and Carson were both interested in Gasley. Rodney moved on with some bloke named Jerome Holt, but she suspected him of having an affair with Carson. Holt proposed to prove her wrong."

Lockwood tilted his head. "Sounds like gossip, Georgie."

George brandished an old leather diary. "We tracked down Howard Gasley. He gave us this."

Lockwood lit up. Sitting up with renewed energy. "How did you manage that?"

Lucy grinned. "The death of his girlfriend weighed on his conscience. All I had to do was tell him that her ghost can't be put to rest. Spilled like a waterfall after that."

"So, he did kill her?" You asked.

"Well, that's the difficult bit... The rest of the pages were ripped out and he didn't explicitly say he did. Maybe he did do it, he likes ripping things." George revealed, pointing the diary at the mummified hand in the net. "I think he's involved, one way or another."

Lockwood looked at it, then looked at Lucy. "What do you think, Luce?"

She looked at all three of you with a gleam in her eye. "I think we're about to find our killer."

—

The set-up was same as last night, except the iron circle had been extra fortified to fit all four of you in case things get out of hand. Lockwood stuffed lavenders into your pockets as Lucy lit the the candles.

"If you die tonight, I will not forgive you," Lockwood said as he put a salt-bomb in your hand.

"Same goes for you," you retort with a smile.

He returns your grin, tapping your sides and making your heart flutter before he sets off to help George with inventory.

You cross the chains to help Lucy in the lucky room chosen to host the seance in. With all the furniture pushed to the walls, the sitting room was the epitome of morbid. The carpet was patterned in a way that made it perfect for summoning and the cobwebs embellishing the place contributed to the unsettling ambiance. Lucy herself was lighting candles around the source. You took a pack of matches and helped light the rest of them.

"How are you feeling?" you asked as you lit the last candle and killed the match.

"Confident," she replied. She even spared you a smile. "And you?"

"Scared. Excited, mostly."

She bobs her head. She had a far-away look in her eye before she asked, "Your room is an attic room, correct?"

The nature of the question surprised you. "Yes. Why?"

A smile teased her lips. "I knew it." She looked at you like she saw right through you. "Lockwood was loitering near the window this morning. Just thought it was odd."

You hear him in your mind then — cherry cheeks. Warmth crawled up your neck as Lockwood and George entered the room.

"What are you two blabbering about?" George questioned, off-put by Lucy's smile and your flushed face.

"Nothing," you said together, one more pitched than the other.

George didn't look convinced.

Lockwood spoke up. " You ladies ready? Let's catch ourselves a killer."

The door was left open with an heavy stopper, giving you ample room to run to the iron circle in case things took a turn for the worst. Though, you doubted it would. The other three shared the sentiment. Some kind of energy buzzed between you four and livened the room, something that wasn't there the night before.

Lucy looked between you and Lockwood with a knowing expression you only ever saw from Jessica Lockwood. It was gone as quick as it came but the brief blast from the past made you dizzy. The resemblance must have been what made Lockwood so comfortable with her.

Lockwood had crossed the room and stood by you. Close enough to catch you if you stumbled forward in your daze.

He glanced at his wrist to check the time. "7:30's a good time. Ready, Lucy?"

"Ready," she confirmed. With a tug, the iron net came off of Griffith's mummified hand.

George and Lockwood reconsidered their stances with their rapiers as warmth was immediately sapped from the room. It was akin to jumping into a lake without testing the waters. Blood rushed to your ears. The whispering began again.

"We're here to help you," Lucy said calmly.

Wind began to pick up despite the windows being closed. Lucy persevered. "Iris Griffith, I know that you're experiencing a great injustice. Let me help you. Talk to me."

Lucy closed her eyes. You trust that she was establishing a connection with Griffith. The chill subsided by a fraction, her eyes were moving rapidly like you do when you're in the middle of a dream.

"There's a spectral glow behind you, George." Lockwood caught that faster than you. He was glaring down at the opposite corner of the room.

George's face remained impassive. "You'll tell me if she gets too close."

"Shush!" Lucy threw a hand up in the air. "Shell... Shelly? Yes, what about Shelly Carson? She died before you. You saw her case. They got the autopsy wrong, didn't they?"

A faraway scream interrupted the silence. You fumbled forward. Lockwood caught your arm. "Careful there, cherry cheeks." You lived up to your nickname.

"They all kept... Secret...?" Lucy murmured. "They all killed you to keep a secret?"

If this were a cartoon, you imagine everyone to have exclamation marks above their heads. Finally, some of the mystery began to come into focus. Who are 'they' and what secret were they so desperate to keep?

"Secret... Shelly Carson?" Lucy's expression lightened and the room grew slightly warmer. "Yes! Their secret is Shelly Carson. No? Oh, then what— They killed her to keep the secret... then paid people to say they were innocent."

"Rich people," George tutted.

The anticipation was killing you. All those nights of research, pouring over case files and autopsies were boiling down to this. You gripped Lockwood's sleeve to ground yourself. He glanced at your hand, worried you were seeing something he wasn't, but felt a smile twitching on his lips when he noticed the elation on yours.

Lucy'a voice pierced the air. "They killed her to keep what secret?"

The silence, the anticipation, and the chill in the room melded.

"Rodney pregnant? With Gasley's—" Lucy shut herself up. It was like a bad episode of a telenovela, but this was real, and someone had died because of it. "And when you were about to uncover the truth about Shelly... Rodney and Gasley they got you, too? I'm sorry to hear that. Gasley must have regrets. He had left a diary and... your, ah, hand so we could uncover your story."

It wasn't the most peaceful way to end a talk with a ghost. As soon as Lucy finished the conversation, the apparition of Iris Griffith had appeared once more. Contrary to your hypothesis, finding out the motive and her killers did not put her to rest at all.

She wailed louder than the previous night and zipped about even faster than before. Nothing Lockwood & Co. couldn't handle though. You showered the room with lavender and salt as Lockwood & Co. danced with a ghost.

—

You all appreciated a bit of silence after getting your ears blown off by a visitor. The world clearly didn't like you enough to grant the request, judging by the hunched and fuming figures of your parents blocking the door to 35 Portland Row. They sported crossed arms and crossed expressions. Your mother, specifically, was blowing steam from her ears.

Seeing your sweaty and worn form only confirmed their suspicions: You'd been running around with ghost hunters.

"You ungrateful brat..." your mother muttered.

Lucy stepped forward, blocking her way to you. She was hardened by her own experiences and least expected the horrid woman to turn on her own daughter for simply doing something outside of white-tiled establishments. You were grateful for it.

That only stirred the pot for your parents.

"We sheltered you, spoiled you, and educated you to be the lady you are today. You are our legacy." Your father harumphs forward. "We made you what you are and you would throw that all away by risking your stupid little life for some miniscule ghost adventure!"

George is the next to block their way. He wasn't that protective type, but he did look the part when he wanted to. "It was her childhood dream. Let her live." Leave it to George to be forward.

Your mother stamped her feet. The display was so awfully childish you had to look away. "You are children who don't know a single thing about building a foundation for a good life! You are going to run my daughter to ruin!"

Because of her display, Lockwood & Co. weren't so intimidated by her anymore.

Lockwood had stepped ahead, completing the wall that prevented your iron-fisted parents from getting to you ever again. "We're the best psychical agents in London. We expect a little more respect, doctor."

You could hear the smile in his voice. You couldn't help but smile, too.

With a last burst of anger, your father yelled to you. "You either come home or you find your own way. I'd rather live without a daughter than live with a disappointing one."

It shouldn't hurt as much as it did, but you had given your whole life to live up to the version of you they were dreaming of. Even if you had achieved all that, all it took was having a moment of autonomy for them to turn against you and disregard your sacrifices.

Lockwood had turned to you with a face so full of hope, it brought you back to the other night at the horrid dinner party and the night you snuck out to pick apples. After all that's happened, you found it in yourself to steel your resolve and face your father with bravery that felt unnatural but oh-so addicting.

"I'm going home," you told them.

You walked passed a stunned George and a speechless Lucy. Lockwood was far bluer than the two, but you shot him a smile that put all his worries to rest.

When you were kids, he was the one to take you by the hand and drag you off on a new adventure. This time, it was you so took his hand and pulled him passed your parents's skyscraping figures and into the comforts of 35 Portland Row.

Home, at last.

The first thing you saw as you pulled Lockwood through the threshold was his smile, radiant as ever. He didn't give you much time to admire it. He swooped down and stole your first kiss before you could even blink.

You could hear Lucy and George laugh over your parents plights. You were tired, sweaty, and covered in salt but all you could think of was; you should have done this sooner.

The next morning, you submitted the evidence and psychical report to the relevant authorities, convicting Celia Rodney and Howard Gasley for their crimes. Griffith's source was relinquished from your possession and burned at the Fittes Furnaces, marking the end of Griffith's case. It was the best thing you could do to bring her peace.

Shortly after, Lockwood and Co. welcomed you as the company's official forensic consultant, and in 35 Portland Row, you were finally comfortable in your own skin.

You and Lockwood now stand on the same side of the fence. There is no need shyly avoid your peering eyes when he could have the satisfaction of seeing them flutter close as he kisses you.

Thought, it is nice to remember that all this started with those peering eyes over wrought-iron fences. You and Lockwood reminisce those days over a cherry pie with extra ice cream or an afternoon picking apples from the backyard.

Every now and again, Lockwood would toss an apple over to your parents's side of the fence to scare them.

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

LOVELOCKED (PEOWIF BONUS CHAPTER)

NOTE ➺ Thank you to everyone who made it through to the end! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. It's the first time I completed a project this big so I hope it brings you some joy. To everyone mourning the seasons we'll never get, I'm with you. To my fellow writers, I'd appreciate a tip or two to improve my stories. To everyone in general, may you continue finding fics that comfort you 💙

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄#anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood angst

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wildesqdreams · 10 months

Text

love rock

pairing - grayson hawthorne x fem!reader.

summary - sweet nothings with grayson are y/n's favorite thing. but an evening at the beach isn't a nothing it's a something, just like every small, sweet moment with him.

warnings - none, just pure fluff and love.

navigation | masterlist | taglist | request

a/n: honestly i think that after this there will only be angst fics... well lets hope not (this was inspired by my lovely day at the beach).

"you okay?"

y/n's gaze from the old woman with her dog drifted to grayson. she gave him a small smile, "yeah, it's just a nice evening."

the boy kissed her on the temple, while she squeezed his hand, "it would be for the lady too, if you would stop staring at her like a creeper,'' he murmured against her skin.

grayson pulled back and gave her a smirk, which made y/n's heart skip a beat, "shut up," she slightly pushed him with a smile on her face.

the couple continued to walk along the beach, enjoying the peace that surrounded them. these moments with grayson were rare - mysteries, work, enemies - the hawthorne life making it difficult to find the light in the darkness. but she was his and he was her's and they made it work, even if sometimes it was hard.

the salty air. the slight breeze of the wind. the water that hugged their feet every once in a while, was comforting. it felt like home. to be honest anywhere where the blonde hair boy was felt like home to her. his smile. his warmth. his love. he made her feel at ease.

they arrived at their destination. the perfect spot to watch the sunset. grayson went to the rocks to take a seat, while y/n looked at some beautiful rocks near the water. a habit from childhood that had still stuck with her.

"GRAY," the girl shouted as she pulled something from the water, "OMG, LOOK," she looked at him as she raised the heart-shaped rock, but she immediately lowered her head down and covered it with her head, when she saw her boyfriend with his camera, facing her. y/n walked towards him, "grayson," she groaned.

the girl heard him chuckle, as she sat beside him, "not funny."

"couldn't help it, you looked beautiful."

"mhm," the boy always had a way with words. and the girl was always affected by them.

grayson smiled, "mhm," he took her hand, "now what did you find," his smile became bigger as he saw the object, "a rock?"

"don't say it like it's stupid or something," she looked at him, "it's heart-shaped and really pretty."

the boy looked at her.

"what?"

"nothing," he kissed her jaw, before turning his camera on, "just wait," he lifted the camera above her hand with the rock and took a picture, "i still prefer taking pictures of you."

y/n rolled her eyes, and grabbed the camera. she turned it around and leaned closer to grayson, kissing him on the cheek, as she took a picture.

the girl turned it back around and pressed to view the photo. the sunset's light made it shine, but grayson's smile was the thing that made it magical. she looked at some more pictures, that he had captured - the rock, her in the water, trying to find something, and a photo of her sleeping, that she didn't know of.

"that's my favorite," she heard him say.

"then you have really bad taste," the photo was bad. more like the girl sleeping. the picture was taken in the morning, after a tired evening. even though, as she recalls the sleep was really good, the appearance of her looked scary.

grayson took the camera from her and settled it down on a rock beside him, "well i would have to disagree on you with that, princess," his arm found its way around her waist and pulled her closer, "and i can assure you that i am rarely wrong."

she rested her head on his shoulder, as she fidgeted with the rock in her lap, "this is the time you're completely wrong."

"this is the time when i am completely right."

"you are absolutely impossible."

"and my love for you is absolutely eternal."

a big smile appeared on her face, as her stomach filled with butterflies. grayson hawthorne was her big happiness. her future. the love of her life, even though how cliche it sounds, but it's true.

"i love you," y/n pressed a kiss to his cheek, before resting her head back on his shoulder, facing the ocean and the sun that was going to rest.

"and i love you," she felt him place a kiss on her forehead.

taglist: @noaboacoa @wiltspring @bookish-swiftie13

#the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #grayson hawthorne imagine #grayson hawthorne fluff #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x y/n #grayson hawthorne x you #the hawthorne brothers #jameson hawthorne #nash hawthorne #avery grambs #xander hawthorne

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 6 months

Text

Taking Deuce To Build-A-Bear

Reader/Yuu is female

Masterlist

“Come on, handsome,” you beam at your boyfriend, laughter lacing your words as you tug his arm forwards into the mall and lead the way to your mystery location. Deuce chuckles fondly at your enthusiasm, finding your youthful joy absolutely adorable. The pure elation glowing on your countenance makes it impossible for him to even think about suppressing his smile (not that he would ever dare to).

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he smiles back at you, letting you drag him around your homeworld without a care in the world. Right now he’s too busy relishing in the fuzzy warmth that the comfort your hand clasped in his brings. He did ask you where you were taking him when you had first started this outing but your only reply was a cheeky grin, placing a finger on your mouth as you mischievously whispered, “it’s a secret.”

He didn’t really care where this date was, honestly. All he knows is that if only the thought of it makes you this happy then he can be patient. With that lambent smile, you could push him off a cliff and he’d die a happy man.

“Alright,” your voice cuts in through his thoughts. He looks at you and sees you buzzing with excitement, bouncing on your feet as your eyes sparkle with eagerness, “we’re here. Ta da!”

His eyes follow the length of your arm to see what you were gesturing towards and he finds himself looking at a technicoloured store with vibrant crimsons and sunflower yellows dancing along the exterior. Inside of a large, brightly lit window, he could see a display table exhibiting an array of smiling stuffed animals all dressed in colourful clothes. With its lively music, toddler picture book-esque vibe and majority population of children that appeared to be under twelve, he had the feeling that this wasn’t the type of place two teenagers would go on a date.

“Is this,” he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, looking at your still beaming face with the expression of someone who hadn’t quite caught on the punchline of a joke, “are we at a toy store?”

“‘A toy store?’” you repeated with mock outrage, “it’s not just ‘a toy store’. It’s Build-A-Bear Workshop! Where best friends are made! I’ll have you know, handsome, that in this world, entry into such a respected and renowned institution is a rite of passage, a coming of age if you will.”

He couldn’t help but feel amusement at your giddiness and he didn’t even think about resisting the urge to wrap an arm around your shoulder and bring you closer to him so that he can press a loving kiss onto your forehead, the giggle he receives in return makes him want to do it again but, with all of the willpower he can muster, he says, “Alright then. So I guess this is where our date is then?”

“Yep,” you respond with a chirp, “I thought that it would be really cute if we made teddy bears and dressed them up. I passed by here the other day and I thought of you. So, do you like it?”

“To be honest, I’m not really sure what ‘it’ is,” he admits with an embarrassed smile, “but if it makes you happy then it makes me happy.”

The resolution in his words made you smile and you pecked him on the cheek. After taking a moment to appreciate the pink that blossomed across his face, you took his hand and pulled him into the store.

“So the point of Build-A-Bear is to choose a teddy that you want, make it nice and cuddly and fluffy, take part in a Frankenstein-esque reanimation ritual and then name it and dress it up so it’s nice and warm.”

“Alright,” he nods once and then pauses, “wait, what was the one in the middle?”

“Make it nice and cuddly and fluffy,” you respond, “now, here’s our selection. Do you have any preferences?”

He surveys the wall in front of him, taking in the sight of smiling stuffed animals and the rows of unstuffed plushies that filled the baskets, “I’m not really sure.”

“That’s alright, we’ll figure it out,” you say, “did you have any teddies when you were younger.”

“Well,” his cheeks darkened as he looked away from your expectantly smiling face, “I had a stuffed white rabbit when I was little but I quit playing with it when I was like seven. To be honest, I kind of like those big stuffed animals you get in toy stores but I’ve never really been able to ask anyone.”

You make a mental note to ask his mother to send you as many baby Deuce pictures as she can and then you also make another one to take this boy to IKEA so that you could introduce him to and purchase the perfection that is the blahaj™.

“Well, the ones here are all the same size but the rabbit thing I can work with,” you reach into a basket and take out some fleecy brown cloth, “the brown bunny is a classic. What do you think?”

He held the tan material in his hands, letting the warm and fluffy fabric gently rub between his thumb and fingers, and glanced at its stuffed counterpart on the display shelf. It was so soft and loveable, so much like you that he had to accept it, “I love it.”

“Perfect,” you grin and take another for yourself,“now, onwards, to the hazing.”

“The what?”

You bring him to the next station where a lady wearing a white shirt and cobalt blue apron with a cartoon bear on it was sitting beside a large blue and yellow machine with a big window showing heaps and heaps of fluffy white stuffing getting churned around and around.

“Hello there,” she greets you amiably, “will it be just these two then?”

“Yes, please.”

“Wonderful. Now can one of you just hop on over here and step onto the pedal so we can get your new friends stuffed?”

To show Deuce how it’s done you step forwards and step onto the black pedal in front of you. You watch his eyes widen as the woman attaches one of the bunnies to the pole sticking out of the machine and it plumps up to full huggability. When she calls him over for his turn, he turns to you and you just smile supportively, give his hand a squeeze and gesture to where you were standing.

Next, you take two small red material hearts from the heart shaped box attached to the side of the stuffing machine and pass one along to Deuce, who has finished getting his plushie filled, before eagerly asking the lady manning the station, “can we do the heart ceremony, please? It’s my boyfriend’s first time.”

Her eyes glitter as she nods her assent, clearly excited at what’s to come. Knowing what was going to happen next, you place your phone on the honey coloured apparatus opposite you, propping it up so that you and your boyfriend are distinctly in the frame of your recording camera.

Deuce looks at you curiously, cheeks still a little rosy from hearing you call him your boyfriend, and notices your suspiciously playful smile, “what are you recording for?”

“For memories” is what you say.

‘To send to your mother’ is what you mean.

Okay both of you,” the employee said brightly, “first I need you to warm up those hearts so they’re nice and warm and toasty.”

You enthusiastically complied, rubbing the crimson fabric between your palms as the older lady demonstrated. Beside you, Deuce did the same but with his eyebrows pinching slightly in confusion.

“Now rub it on your heart so it's full of love,” she continued.

You both did what she asked and your smile did little to hide the laughter that was threatening to burst out of you at the cautious and tentative expression on his face.

“Now rub it on your cheek so it’s always smiling.”

You figured she was also getting a kick out of Deuce as well and you wondered what it would be like to be paid to mess with people.

“Now rub it on your arms so it’s as strong as you.”

“Hmm,” you muse innocently, “I don't think my arms would be strong enough.”

Deuce goes pink when you then turn to him and rub your heart on his bicep, “that’s much better.”

“N-no way,” he stutters, completely flustered, and in retaliation, he rubs his heart against your forearm, “you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

“You can carry more than double the weight I can,” you counter.

“I’m not talking about physical strength,” he shoots back, his cerulean eyes looking deep into yours.

Now it’s your turn to get flustered as you simply mutter, “oh.”

The employee claps her hands, instantly snapping both of you out of whatever was going on, “Alright you two, now hold them in your hands, close your eyes and make a wish.”

You clasp the little heart between your hands and do just that, your mind drifting off to thoughts of Deuce and his kind eyes and warm smile, before you open your eyes and look back at your boyfriend.

Once the both of you are looking at the lady for the next instructions, she concludes with, “now, finally, give it a big kiss so they know you love them.”

You kiss yours and then Deuce tugs on your sleeve and shyly hands his over to you with an expectant smile, so you look at him knowingly and press your lips against his heart as well before the both of you give them to get inserted into your plushies.

As you stop the recording on your phone and both of your hearts have been placed inside your bunnies, the employee swiftly stitches them up, nice and tight, before handing them back to you with a smile and a cheerful “enjoy yourselves.”

The two of you thank her before you turn around and grin at Deuce, “okay, clothes time.”

With one hand hugging your new companion protectively against you and the other clasped in your boyfriend’s, you drag him towards the clothing section before gesturing to the miniature garments.

“We need to dress them up now,” you explain, “why don’t we look for something together for your little guy first?”

“Alright,” he smiles back at you, “I don’t really know what I’d want though.”

Your eyes scan the hangers in front of you, “well, there’s got to be something - ah ha!”

You reach over to grab a hanger and excitedly present it to the dark haired boy. On it was a black leather jacket, very reminiscent of the one he’d drape over your shoulders whenever you visit his hometown, “look! Doesn’t it look a lot like the one you have?”

Admittedly, the thought of the adorable smiling bunny in his arms donning such an outfit was a funny one but his nose wrinkles in distaste, “well, yeah, but I don’t think I’d want this little guy to wear something that has such bad ties to my past.”

You lower the hanger, your smile decreasing ever so lightly. You should’ve known. You were aware of Deuce’s self-loathing for his past and he was forever thinking back on the shameful actions of his younger self with disgust and guilt and you saw how the weight of trying to redeem and prove himself would rest heavily on his shoulders. You’re always ready to talk about his insecurities, to comfort him and to show him how much you care for him and your love for him was because of his past, not in spite of it. Instead of addressing his regretful look like you usually would do, seeing as such a deep topic shouldn’t really be done during a cute date in a very public Build-A-Bear, you simply place the jacket back where it was and let another outfit catch your eye, one that you were sure that he would definitely like.

You immediately unhook its hanger from the rod and show it to him. At the sight of the three piece police uniform, consisting of a smart light blue shirt and tie with a dark blue tie that was paired with navy trousers and a police hat, his eyes brightened, “is that a-?”

“A police uniform?” you happily supplied, “yep, it is. Since you told me that it was your dream to be one back during the Starsending event, I figured it would be nice for your bunny to share the same goal and to remind you that I know you can achieve it.”

Deuce looks at you with an expression you know you will be unpacking late into the night, his eyes filled with wonder and reverence as he stares at you as though you’re something impossible, something he’s never seen before.

You swallow and look away, once again reminding yourself that you are out in broad daylight and that you don’t think the young mall-goers or their parents would appreciate the two of you doing what you reserve for closed doors. Beside you, you hear Deuce clear his throat before unsubtly suggesting, “why don’t you get that one?”

Your eyes trail to where he’s pointing and land on a shimmery white angel dress, complete with silver wings and a halo, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself.

“What?” he reacts to your fond laughter with a look of both confusion and defensiveness, “I think it fits you perfectly.”

“In your eyes maybe,” you respond, “mine, not so much. How about something a bit more-oh my days, no way!”

Instantly, you get drawn towards something peeking out of the clearance bin and you find yourself holding the Holy Grail. In your hands lies an Alice in Wonderland themed dress with a rounded checkered pattern collar with a black bow in the centre, glittery black spades running down the middle of the bodice and glittery black and red card suit symbols that ran along the bottom of its sparkly blue tutu-like skirt.

“It’s perfect!” you exclaim, looking eagerly to Deuce who watches your joy with fond amusement, “and they’re both blue as well so we’ll have sort of matching outfits.”

He nods, smiling adoringly at you, “that’s great!”

After you get some black trainers for Deuce’s bunny and some glittery black flats to match the sparkly black bow that came with your dress (you also grab a jacket and a cute pair of wellies that you just couldn’t not buy for Grim) you make your way to the naming station. You then print out your certificates, pay for your items and happily leave the store, one of each of your hands clasped together and the other one swinging a bulky white cardboard cub condo.

“So~” you stop him near the entrance with a hopeful lilt in your voice, “what do you think?”

“I loved it,” he tells you, smiling radiantly at you, “definitely one of the best dates we’ve been on.”

“Well, I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself. I certainly did. And now you’ve got your own little police guy to cheer you on,” you jerk your head towards the box in his hand.

“Actually,” Deuce’s face was pink as he smiled at you bashfully, “do you mind if we switch?”

“Hmm,” you look at him perplexed.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe, it might be a cute couple thing if we had each others’. We don’t have to if you don’t want to but I thought it might be a nice thing to have to remember each other by since we don’t really see each other that often.”

Without a question, you hand over your box to him, “I think it would be nice as well. Got to admit though, what are you going to tell Ace and your dormmates once you show up to your dorm room with a toy bunny wearing a sparkly dress.”

“That my girlfriend gave it to me on a date,” he answered resolutely as he traded his box for yours, “besides, she’ll fit right in at Heartslabyul - she’s already dressed like us.”

“True. Well, I certainly feel much safer now that I have a Deuce made and approved police rabbit to protect me. Thank you, handsome,” you smile lovingly up at him and peck his cheek. He slings an arm over your shoulders and pulls you against him in response, letting your head rest against him as you both walk onwards, “Alright, next on my list: food. Come on, let me introduce you to the delights of my world’s food courts.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #deuce spade x reader #fem reader

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