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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year

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dress - m. murdock

a/n: i am not proud of this in the way that i will not be claiming it when i am judged by god. warnings: SMUT like real sex!!! dom!matt, p in v smut, matt has a thing for talking in bed, MATT BEING A TEASE!!! many nicknames, pining, praise with slight degradation, fluff here and there, tipsy reader and matt, i'm sure i'm missing one or two word count: 3.3k summary: ten months of yearning wears you and matt down to desperation. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: dress - taylor swift "say my name and everything just stops/i dont want you like a best friend/only bought this dress so you could take it off."

Foggy is so mad at him.

You’re a good employee, a great employee even! You’re dedicated to your job, and you bake in your free time, so you bring in all sorts of treats—Homemade bagels, donuts, cookies—His favorite are your cinnamon chai sugar cookies you make.

You’re intelligent, well-spoken, and good at explaining the issues that you run into. And you’re funny, Foggy would argue, you have incredible timing and wit. You always buy a round at Josies. You are an amazing employee and friend, and Foggy adores you.

So why, pray tell, must Matt feel the need to have you?

He won’t say it out loud, not to Karen, not to Maggie, not to Foggy, and certainly not you. But he’s entranced by you. He loves the sound of your voice as you explain things, he loves that your heart always skips a beat whenever you’re about to deliver a one liner that will crack everyone else up, he loves that when you bake, you always make things all naturally out of desire to make the best dessert you possibly can. But most of all?

He loves that your heart rate picks up whenever he enters the room.

You, on the other hand, are pretty much fascinated by Matt Murdock. You love the sound of his laughter, you love his hands, you love his charm, you love that you can see a chain around his neck when the day dwindles and he loosens his tie, and Jesus H Christ, you love that baritone.

So, it’s safe to say you’ve both been smitten since the first day you met each other.

Yet, you spend ten months cruelly dancing around your attraction for each other.

He’s hesitant to want you in any context, he’s your boss, he’s fucking Daredevil!

By then you know—Mostly accidentally on purpose. All his usual people are out of town or busy, so when he gets stabbed, he has nowhere else to go. He winds up climbing into your window, scaring the ever-living shit out of you. It’s not how he wanted to tell you about his alter ego, but he knows he can trust you.

And you hate the site of blood and gore, so you struggle to patch him up that night. And it makes your heart ache, all the ways he hurts from his nighttime hobby. And he decides right then and there that he can’t have you, not now. Not knowing how much you would—and really, will—worry about him.

So, he buries his want in other people that have no real meaning to him. He even goes on a second date with some of them. One of them even comes to visit him in the office to have lunch.

It makes you jealous to the point where you need to take a walk to dwindle your desire to go back into the office and beg on your hands and knees for her to leave so you can have him. What happens instead is that you go get a pumpkin chai latte and take it back to the office, sitting and keeping to yourself, even when the girl comes out of his office giggling as he stands in the doorway as she leaves.

He smells the pumpkin from his office, and it drives him wild. Just from how quietly you dwell in your jealousy, as you mask it with your favorite fall flavors.

He breaks up with the girl the next day.

• • •

And a week later, he gets his official invitation to Marci and Foggy’s wedding—A big to do, full of family, friends and coworkers that make it a real party. Matt will be Foggy’s best man. You and Karen aren’t in the wedding party, as you were good friends with both the bride and groom, but Karen wanted to make sure at least one of them was focused on the firm, and you hated to be the center of attention. So, you shared your love from a few aisles back.

You had gone shopping with Marci for your dress, Karen too. You enjoyed spending time with them—While you had made friends with them easily, prior friends had never really come easy to you.

It was nice to be wanted.

But they had insisted on you trying to find different dresses that made you look amazing. And for the most part, the dresses made you sort of uncomfortable. They revealed too much or revealed too little.

And then you came across this red satin dress. It hugs your curves in all the right way, and it makes you look good. It makes you feel good. You have these perfect black heels to wear with them, and then Karen says it.

“You know, Matt kind of has a thing about textures. He loves silk and satin.” Your face burns. Of course, he does. Why wouldn’t he? He can hear people's heartbeats, tell when they’re lying, why wouldn’t he be keen on nice textures?

“Karen Page, are you insisting I should by this dress to impress a man?” You laugh just to escape your nerves.

“No! But it can’t hurt! It’s not like he’s bringing a date—” She turns to Marci. “He’s not bringing a date, right?” she asks quickly. It makes her laugh.

“No, Murdock RVSP’ed for one.” You look at yourself in the mirror again, thinking it over. And over. And over. Then you turn to your friends again, and nod.

“Alright. Alright, I’ll get it.” You grin, “And y’know.. Karen’s right, It can’t make the situation any worse.”

“You know what you need now? Good lingerie for after—” Your face is red again at your friend’s comment.

“Shut up, Marci!” You whine, heading back to the dressing room to get changed.

• • •

Matt is sitting with Foggy and his brothers, enjoying a glass of scotch before the ceremony when someone knocks on the door.

And somehow, he’s not shocked to hear your nervous heartbeat when the door opens.

“Hey Fog, Karen said you had scissors—Can I borrow ‘em quick? There’s a tag on this dress I forgot to take off and it’s impossible to reach—”

“Yes, Absolutely, and you know who would be great at helping you? Matt. An incredible knack for… Cutting things.” It’s a poor attempt to get the two of you alone, yet Foggy hands you the scissors and pushes you and Matt outside the room.

“My rooms only two doors down.” He explains, taking your hand in his and leading you there.

After finding out about his super senses, it became clear that he was more than capable of finding his way through places he’s stayed, and that he’s privy to a lot more information than people would give him credit for.

So here you are. In Matt Murdock’s hotel room. A tag itching at your back, with you unable to grab it.

“I’m just gonna—” He awkwardly reaches to the top of your dress, and you just move the hair from your neck and try to ease his anxiety.

“Just go for it, Matt. I don’t care, it’s just annoying.” You promise. And he does.

He folds the top of your dress the best he can and its only enough for the scissors to almost grab the tag without him sticking his hand down your dress. He hesitates for a second before exhaling deeply.

Then, he leans down towards your back, and scrunches the material enough so that he can reach the tag and bites the tag off.

You can feel his other hand on your hip. His hot breath on your back. He hears your heart jump as your breath becomes shaky. He wonders how bad it would be for him to skip the wedding and take you right here, in this room.

He plucks the tag from his teeth and smooths out your dress, as you let go of your hair. He feels this raw need for you.

And you feel it too. Yet he pulls away, taking a step back from you.

“We should get to the ceremony.” he said, trying to catch his breath. He yearns for you, in a way that anyone else would laugh at. It’s the type of yearning you read about in Jane Austen novels. That is the level that Matt longs to touch you. It’s desperation.

“Yeah...” You say softly, trying to recover from what just happened. You drop him back off at Foggy’s suite and head back to the hall, hoping to find Karen and put the moment behind you. And that’s just what happens. You watch the ceremony, and it’s gorgeous. You’re thrilled for Marci and Foggy, and it elates you that they put together such a beautiful ceremony.

And yet, you can’t take your eyes off Matt and how good he looks. He stands tall, and he really does look good. It makes it kind of hard to focus. It makes it really hard to focus. And you think about this all the way through their first dance song, through dinner, through cake and through all the cheesy wedding traditions Foggy insisted on.

You have a few drinks but eventually it all becomes too much, and you take a minute outside of the hall and into the cold air. And you’re thinking about Matt.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn back to him and smile.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” You say, and he hums. It’s the alcohol in both of your systems, it’s why neither of you run when you say it.

“Same goes for you, sweetheart.” He takes off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders. You note the silky texture of the inside of the jacket. It pushes you further.

“Why do we insist on playing this game? Why do we watch each other go after people who we don’t want when all we want is each other?”

He takes a moment to answer. Because in truth, he’s sure he could tell you why, he could discuss all of the horrible things that have happened to him, and you could share the same sort of stories about your own life. You could sit there and dissect past traumas for hours.

But that’s not really what you’re asking.

“I don’t know...” He says softly. His hands find themselves on your hips, and he rubs small circles into the fabric. “Satin?” You hum, melting at his touch. “Words, pretty girl. You know I like hearing your voice.”

“Satin.” You confirm, your breath catching.

“There she is...” He hums, and leans in. You feel his breath against your lip, and you take it upon yourself to close the gap between the two of you.

It’s soft, full of this hesitation because despite all the flirting, you’re still unsure of yourself. He quickly eases these fears as his hands move and you find his arms wrapped around your torso. He deepens the kiss, and you both lean into it. It becomes more desperate after that.

Your hands find their way to his hair, and you fiddle with the ends, unwilling to break the kiss, even if it means air. He breaks the kiss for a second, only to come back to your lips with more passion, biting your bottom lip, before slipping his tongue into your mouth, taking the more aggressive approach.

And you can’t take it anymore. You need him. You pull away from him, pant softly before kissing his jaw gently.

“Take me to your room.” You request. He obliges.

You find yourself taking off your heels as soon as you get in, your feet aching as you walk further into the room. The context is much different than it was this afternoon—And it makes you nervous.

Matt comes up from behind you and places his hands on your arms, rubbing them gently, before kissing your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I’ll be gentle with you...” He says softly. You hum before he continues, “Or do you... want me to be rough with you?” he asks teasingly, landing a quick bite onto your shoulder. You make a noise of surprise and turn to him.

“You’re a tease, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Once or twice.” He begins to loosen his tie, eventually forcing it off and then starting to unbutton his shirt. You begin to help him with this task, eventually getting it all the way unbuttoned. Then you gently push him back against the bed and he laughs, falling onto it.

He thinks it’s cute. Until you sit above him, your dress hiking a bit. You lean down to kiss him as his hands find their way to the back of your thighs, and begin to move up and down, just being the tease, he is.

You whine into the kiss, and it just makes him chuckle further, before flipping the pair of you over, then planting a kiss on your neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Needy from just a few kisses?” He slips off his shirt as he continues to kiss you. One hand remains on your thigh, travelling up your thigh, eventually finding your panties.

“Mhm...” You hum, your hands wrapping around his neck again to play with his hair.

“Talk to me, sweet girl...” he says softly before he continues his assault on your neck.

“Matt…” You hum. “You know, I only—” Then his fingers find your clit and begin rubbing gentle circles, just teasing you with his fingers. It turns him from tease to cruel. You let out a moan, and he only tuts in disappointment.

“Keep talking or you won’t get anything from me.” He tells you, before continuing to tease you. His fingers begin to work on your folds. You try your best to focus. He takes off your panties and throws them on the ground somewhere.

“Only bought this dress for you... Thought you might like it...” You gasp again as he slips a finger into you, “Fuck—Thought it would make you do something about it.” In fairness, it got the reaction you had only hoped for in your wildest dreams. It makes him chuckle against your skin.

“Only got this pretty little dress for me to touch you like this?” He adds another finger and starts to move. When you don’t answer, too busy getting lost in his fingers, he bites your shoulder again. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes! God, yes…” You respond. He hums in approval, continuing to curl his fingers inside of you. It only takes a few minutes before you can feel yourself near the edge of an orgasm. “Matt… Baby, please...”

“C’mon, sweet girl... I’ve got you, let go...” And it’s enough to make you, cumming all over his fingers. He lets you ride out your high, out of breath. He kisses your neck again before bringing his fingers up to his lips, tasting your juices. “Sweet girl, still.” He smirks. Your heart skips a beat. He chuckles. Then he continues, “Did so good for me, sweetheart... Wanna keep going?” He asks.

“Yes, please... Wanna feel you inside me...” you confess.

“You want me to fill you up and stretch you out, pretty girl?” You should know better by now, but you just hum in response, gaining another bite to your shoulder. “Try again.”

“Yes... I want you so badly, Matt, please... I’ve been dreaming about it for months now,” You confess, “Need you...” He seems satisfied by this, and moves back, helping you sit up.

“Well then, we’ll need to get this pretty dress off you.” He says, his fingers working to take off his belt. Your fingers run over his chest. It’s all he can do not to rip the dress off, but he knows how much it means to you and how much it could’ve cost. So, instead, he slips the dress off you and feels you shiver against him. Still so nervous. He tosses the dress in the general direction of his suitcase, so it doesn’t sit on the floor. He leans in and starts pressing kisses to your chest, his hands reaching up to your bra and unclasping it. He throws it with much less care than the dress.

He keeps kissing down your torso as he lays you back on the bed, your hands going again to his hair.

“How come it’s fair that I’m fully naked, and you still have pants on?” You ask. It makes him laugh, and he stands straight again.

“Fair enough,” he says, taking them off. And then goes his boxers. Before you can stare at him, he’s on top of you again, kissing you deeply. You can feel his cock resting against your fold and it makes you moan into the kiss. He pulls away for just a second before asking, “Is this, okay? You’ll stop me if it’s too much?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” You respond. He smiles at your words.

“Perfect. Perfect, pretty girl...” He hums as he begins to kiss your shoulders and the top of your chest, before slipping inside of you. You let out a moan, and he groans as well, taking a few minutes to take all of you in. It feels amazing. He begins to move inside of you as he brings you in for another kiss. When he pulls away, he’s talking, “Been thinking about this for... Fuck, so long...” He groans. “Been dreaming of this perfect pussy and how good it would feel around me…” He says, and it elicits a shaky moan from you.

“Faster, please...” You request, and he obliges, picking up the pace. You’ve been thinking about this for a long time too. You never imagined he’d be so controlling about the whole thing. It works you up almost as much as how vocal he is.

He leaves bites and marks down your chest as he pulls you closer to him, knowing he won’t last much longer. He feels you tighten around him and makes another demand, “Tell me how badly you want to cum, and I’ll let you.” He says this before planting a rather contrasting soft kiss to your ear.

“Please... Please, Matt, Fuck... I need to cum all over your cock... Wanna feel so good, baby...” You moan, your fingers pulling on his hair. It excites you when he moans. “And I want you to cum inside me... Fill me up, Baby, please...” You beg. He’s happy with it for now, but he knows he’ll want to hear more another time.

“C’mon, sweet girl. Cum for me…” He pants, and it’s all you need before you let yourself come undone around his cock. He continues thrusting for a few minutes, letting you ride out your high, before cumming himself, and you moan at the feeling. He lays against you for a few minutes, trying to recover, and it’s then that you notice he’s shaking.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, brushing his hair out of his face. He looks at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. He laughs at your question.

“I’m great... You’re just... amazing...” he says honestly, kissing your shoulder one more time. “Perfect, pretty girl...” He praises. “My perfect girl...” It makes you shudder. He stays like this for a moment more before kissing you softly. Then, he sits up and goes to get a towel to clean the both of you up. And then, he’s back in bed with you. He pulls you close as you both recover from what just happened.

“I wasn’t lying,” You start, “I’ve been thinking about you for months. You’re all I’ve wanted for so long...” You confess. He kisses your head and pulls you closer.

“Me too... I was too much of an idiot to tell you though. Almost let you get away.”

“You got me.” You affirm. He hums and begins to rub all too familiar circles into your hips with his thumbs.

“And now I just want you more.”

The feeling is mutual.

#matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock smut #matt murdock being hot #matthew murdock #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil fic #first smut #yearning #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfic

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unholybacon355 · 8 months

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All Mine

Momo x Reader

Words Count: 1.7k

A/N: I just wanted to write this to get rid of the idea. And also yes, I should be writing other things like the chapter of the stories i still didn't update. But here I'm, writing obscenities.

As always, I hope you have fun reading this.

You were sure that you were the luckiest person in the world, there couldn't be anyone luckier. Right in front of you you had your girlfriend with her chest pressed against the bed, her back arched at an angle that only someone with her flexibility could reach; and her ass up. Her knees were well planted on the mattress, wide apart from each other. Which was why her plump buttocks parted naturally as well, letting you clearly see her sodden vagina and her tight rear entrance. The full sight of having Momo in that position was a wonder, a delight you dare say.

"Are you going to fuck my ass, or am I going to have to go out and find someone else who does?" Momo moved her butt impatiently from side to side trying to get your attention.

"You'd love that, right?" You gave her a spank that resounded throughout the room. Despite having a very athletic body and well-toned musculature, her butt was still very soft, so the hit made her buttock tremble as if it were made of jelly. A delicious peach flavored jelly. "You'd like to go hunting and fuck as many people as you can."

"Yeah." Momo replied with a mischievous smile on his lips. "But it's still more fun when you fuck me."

“I love so much that you are a hopeless slut.” You leaned in to put your face inches from your girlfriend's crotch, from where you could smell the delicious scent of her holes. You two had been fucking for a while now, and even though she had come a couple of times, you knew that when she was in the mood for anal it wasn't over until you filled her ass. The very thought of fucking that wonderful tight asshole again was enough to make your cock throb, and when you were in front of Momo it seemed to have a life of its own.

You spread her cheeks with both hands for better access before taking a long lick from her clit, past her soaking vagina, to the puckered opening of her ass. The taste of her juices was quite a delight, nothing that even the best dessert in the world could match. You could spend hours eating her pussy, to the point that your girlfriend came so many times that she ended up with cramped legs due to spasms. But now the cavity that interested you was not that.

Your tongue swirled around her anus, licking and salivating as much as you could. Savoring even the most remote confines of her, as if you hadn't eaten for a week. If you loved the taste of her vagina, then you had to invent a new word for what you felt for the taste of her ass. It was without a doubt your favorite, and Momo loved how obsessed you were with it.

Now the tip of your tongue was entering her anus, doing all the work to dilate it as much as possible. You could hear loud moans from her, indicating that you were doing a wonderful job. But unfortunately you were aware that your saliva was not enough to lubricate such a perfect ass, if you did not want to hurt your girlfriend you had to use real lubricant. Which is why you reluctantly parted from her anus and grabbed the bottle of lube you had next to you. Then you let a thick stream fall on Momo's anus.

"Be careful, it's cold." She complained when the viscous liquid touched her skin. Without giving importance to her words, you began to spread the lubricant where you had been leaving your saliva before. Using your middle and ring fingers you made sure to drench and massage her anus, drawing circles over her wrinkled entrance. When you decided that your care, added to what your tongue did before, was enough, you put both fingers inside it. The sudden intrusion made Momo moan in surprise, and in the wave of pleasure that ran through her body.

Knowing that she could take it perfectly, you began to put your fingers in and out, fucking her ass at a steady pace. For her part, she let herself be loved and only her moans told you that you were doing well, that she was enjoying it a lot. You even dared to separate your digits a bit, wanting to maximize the pleasure she felt and dilating her entrance even more.

"I love having your fingers inside me, but that's not what I want right now." Your impatient girlfriend said between moans, urging you to fuck her in a different way.

"Always so impatient my love." You took out your fingers out making a fart noise when all that was left inside was the lube you left behind. You took a few seconds to watch her anus slowly close in the absence of your fingers, before positioning yourself to penetrate her. "Spread those buttocks for me."

"If I do, are you going to hurry?" Despite always bothering you, you know that her impatience is due to the fact that she loves you very much, and of course you couldn't love her less than she loves you. How else could you have done so many dirty things together?

You watch in delight as she uses both hands to spread her cheeks apart, causing her anus and vagina to open up a bit in a rather obscene way. Knowing that this is your cue, you smear some lube on your cock and rub the tip against her anus. The touch is so pleasant that you have to force yourself not to cum before even penetrating her. But after having spent so much time fucking the truth is that you were already close to your limit.

Using pressure you work your way into her anal cavity slowly, stretching her walls an inch at a time. You feel as though you had lubricated it well, the pressure on your penis is overwhelming, you moan yourself as you enter it. “I love fucking your ass so much.”

"I know, I'm irresistible." You were going to laugh at your girlfriend's words, but just at that moment she squeezes her anus to maximize the pleasure of both of you. You let the air out of your lungs in a loud moan, causing Momo to laugh. “Are you about to cum yet?”

You spank her again before responding. "You know yes." You begin to move slowly, fucking her ass at a pace that was obviously not enough for both of you. “I never last too long fucking you from behind”

Momo lets go of one of her buttocks and uses his right hand to rub her clit as she slowly picks up the pace of your thrusts. I know, it's my ass you fill when you cum.” So knowing what she's doing she's squeezing and releasing her anus with a random rhythm that drives you crazy. You can hear her laugh as you speed up the pace with which you fuck her in revenge for the wonderful things she was doing with her body.

Now all that can be heard in the room is the slapping of your hips against her ass, and the moans from both of you. Sweat soaks your forehead, and you can see how also covers your girlfriend's back with a thin layer. That well-toned back that you loved to kiss and massage, but now was not the time to think about those things. It was time to focus on other things just as loving, like fucking your girlfriend's ass as fast as possible.

Her anus was swallowing your cock completely and then you would pull it out until you almost withdrew from it, to put it back all the way to the base. And despite clenching and releasing her ass muscle she never stopped massaging her clit. Even now she had inserted two of her fingers and was fucking herself trying to match the pace of your thrusts.

"Babe... I'm close." You heard her say it in the most loving way she could, which made it all the obscene. "Fill my ass with your hot milk please."

"Is that what my bitch wants?"

“Yesssss… Please cum inside my ass.”

"Your wishes are orders my Queen." After those words you increase the pace of your thrusts to the point where your hips ached, but that didn't matter when it came to pleasuring your beloved. You knew she was close, and certainly you were about to cum too. You weren't going to last much longer and you both were aware of that.

Already with erratic thrusts, while she continued using her fingers to fuck her vagina, you continued penetrating her ass. But you knew that this was already your limit. With one last strong thrust you left your cock inside Momo and came inside her tight ass. You held on to her hips to keep from falling as the orgasm clouded your vision and sent spasms through your entire body. Between your moans you could hear how she was also enjoying her own orgasm, and you could also feel it because her anus was tighter than ever. Smothering your cock as her juices trickled down her thighs.

When all your milk had spilled inside your beloved's rectum, you carefully withdrew. Her anus took a few seconds to close completely, during which time some of your semen squirted out.

Then they both collapsed on the bed, covered in sweat and gasping for breath. Thus, all tired and sticky, you hugged her from behind and covered her shoulders with kisses.

"That was incredible. My last orgasm was the strongest of all.”

"I know, you almost squeezed my dick."

"Exaggerated." Between giggles Momo rubs her butt against your now flaccid penis, just to annoy you.

"Do you want me to clean your ass?" You ask her while you continue kissing her shoulders. She interweaves her fingers with yours before responding.

"No, thanks. I love how feels your semen inside me." She lifts your hand to kiss it before placing it back on her lap. "We better go to sleep."

"Honey, it's three in the afternoon."

"Do you have something better to do?" You burst out laughing at her question, and before you know it you snuggle up to her and settle in for a nap you certainly needed to pull yourself together. God, how you love this woman.

#twice #twice smut #twice x reader #momo smut #momo #momo x male reader #fanfic

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queers-gambit · 9 months

Text

Confection Invention

prompt: what is a legacy other than what we're remembered for after we die? names are lost, stories altered, family names obsolete, but recipes are forever because cuisine transcends time.

or how Sansa Stark's favorite dessert, lemon cakes, came to be after discovering your husband's never had a nameday cake.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.5k+

warnings: none? none. seems suspicious.

Sansa Stark, newly crowned Queen in the North, was once a child too small, too scared, too sheltered from the harsh brutality of life's reality. Before she left Winterfell that fateful day, it was well known in the castle that the young girl adored the tasty sweet treat, lemon cakes. A confection of dense cake with lemon shreds mixed in the batter, a lemon glaze poured over, and garnished with a bright and tart lemon slice.

King's Landing was equipped to make the dessert and the young redhead still found pleasure in them, sure, but then shit got real when the Lannisters, you know, murdered her father. Sansa "grew up" and didn't bother with sweet treats after that. They just never tasted the same, and she began to admonish herself whenever she had a hankering; figuring with so much bad in the Realm, her want for cake was inappropriate and misplaced.

After years of turmoil, of losing any and everyone she ever cared for, the night the North declared her Queen of their newly-independent realm, Sansa Stark indulged herself and asked the kitchen staff to send lemon cakes to her room with supper. When her private meal was served, so was her dessert, and Sansa had to ask the servant serving her before they could disappear, "Excuse me?"

"Yes, Your Grace?" The serving maid bowed her head, facing Sansa with clasped hands locked stoically in front of her. Sansa almost cringed when she heard her new title, but refrained from reacting - it would simply just take getting used to.

"Might I ask, how are these made?"

"How what are made, Your Grace?"

"These lemon cakes."

"Oh, uh, I do not know the recipe, but I can ask the kitchens - "

"Well, it's odd, isn't it?"

"What is, Your Grace?"

"I've been all over the Realm," she spoke with an even tone, ever the emotionally-stunted diplomat, "and I've sampled many of these cakes in my lifetime, yet fail to find any real distinction. It's almost as if everyone is following the same recipe."

"Oh, well, I do know that they are, Your Grace."

"They are? All of the kingdoms?"

"Yes, Your Grace, i-it's a rare thing, but yes, the Seven Kingdoms use the same recipe."

"How can that be possible? How do they all get the same recipe?"

The maid glanced at the door nervously, "Uh, I-I do not know, Your Grace."

"You may speak freely, you are in no danger here," Sansa encouraged, gesturing to the only other empty chair at her table. "Please, come sit, indulge me in this tale. I am only curious."

"Well," she turned to shut the chamber door, speaking quietly as if what she was about to say was a secret, "it would depend if you know anything about the Targaryen dynasty, Your Grace."

"Only what was generically taught."

She nodded, taking the seat Sansa offered. "Some 2 centuries ago, there was a great scandal and a great war - one you may know as the Dance of Dragons." Sansa nodded and the maid explained anyway, "You see, it started because King Jaehaerys lost his heirs and was forced to choose between eligible familial candidates. Viserys Targaryen, the King's grandson, and his granddaughter, Viserys' cousin, Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Right, I remember the names somewhat."

"The King chose Viserys because, well, he was a man and Rhaenys was only a woman - though, married to a Velaryon, another ancient House hailing from Valyria." Sansa nodded along. "Anyways, uh, King Viserys' first wife was a Targaryen woman who gave him a daughter and then died birthing a son. He remarried a Hightower girl after that and had four other white-haired children; three sons and a daughter."

Sansa nodded slowly as she ate. Nothing like dinner and an entertaining story.

"The second son was Prince Aemond Targaryen, and he had this wife, you see, who was something akin to a saint on soil."

"Nobody's that nice," Sansa snarled in refusal, eyes almost rolling.

"You forget, Your Grace, some 200 years ago, the people never considered rebelling against the Targaryens. Only an arrogant fool would charge a horse at a dragon and think they'd win, so, at the time of this tale, there was no thought to protest the monarchy. Anyways, it wasn't just her kindness that made Aemond Targaryen's wife saint-like. It was all she was, and her most notable work was helping establish, build, organize, and operate orphanages in King's Landing, and then, around the Realm."

"Hmm."

"Well, she worked with those kids and apparently, had an affinity for baking. And because she worked with orphans, when she would take them around to other regions for adoption or placement, she'd leave each kid their own copy of the recipe."

Sansa considered the tale for a moment, then asked, "So, why lemon cakes? Where did they come from?"

The maid smiled.

Aemond Targaryen flinched when he heard something shatter, walking up the hallway alone and only a few strides from his bedchamber. When he opened his door, the One Eyed Prince actually laughed at the sight, "Oh, Gods, are you all right, my love?"

You pouted up at Aemond from the floor, "It was an accident."

"I can tell."

"I really didn't mean to."

He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest, "No, no, I can tell by the way only the vase my mother gifted us for our wedding is broken. Never mind you telling me over the weeks how you despise it."

"It was an accident! I really didn't mean to," you sighed, glancing at the shattered vase around you.

"How'd it happen?" Aemond asked softly, moving forward after pushing off the doorframe and shutting the door. "Hmm? C'mere, little love," he bent at the waist to pick you up from the floor, hoist you in his arms, then carry you to the bed. "You all right? You hurt?"

"No...?"

"Show me."

You frowned and showed the shallow cut on the underside of your forearm, informing, "It was an accident, I swear t'the Seven, Aemond. I just tripped on the chair," you pointed to where the sitting furniture was overturned, "and fell into the table. I was replacing the flowers in the vase."

He nodded, "Your cut isn't bad, here, just hold this to it." Your husband pressed a spare cloth to your wound before straightening his spine. "Sit here a moment, I'll clean."

"No, let me - "

"No, no, love, just wait," he chuckled. In the time it took a maid to bring in a broom and dustpan, Aemond had successfully distracted you enough with casual conversation. It was there you discovered a secret you deemed unacceptable. "No, I am not lying, sweet girl," Aemond chuckled, "I've truly never had a cake for my nameday. The idea just seems silly, doesn't it? To celebrate such a common event?"

You scoffed, "We'll come back to your cynicism later. Surely, in your youth, your mother made you cake?"

"Being the second son, you often got overlooked," Aemond shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "I am not missing much, it's just cake."

"'Just cake'!? You say that because you do not know," you pouted. "What kind of a wife am I that I did not know this?"

Aemond laughed, "We've been married all of 3 months."

"It should've come up," your eyes rolled, "or at least in the lifetime of friendship before our betrothal."

"Consider this a learning opportunity between spouses. It isn't a bad thing," Aemond defended, the shattered and scattered ceramic being swept away. "So what, I've not had cake? I am missing nothing."

"It makes me sad."

Aemond laughed as he eyed you for a moment, nodding like he understood something. "You mean to remedy this, don't you?" He asked, showing the maid out of your chambers.

"Of course I do!"

He chuckled, "You know I am not fond of sweets."

"Doesn't matter, I'll find something you like. We can start with the basics, uh... Um... Well, I guess, do you like dense cakes? Fluffier, lighter ones?"

He paused to think, offering, "I like the gooseberry pies served at banquets?"

"Those are dense."

"Hmm, then dense is fine. They're in smaller quantities because they're so heavy."

You nodded, "Any flavors?"

"I am unsure on that front."

"Fruits? C'mon, fruits are usually really good with pastries and cakes."

"You know what I like," Aemond sighed, uncomfortable with the idea of attention for his nameday. "Trust me, love, I cannot make this decision - I just don't know. I am terribly green when it comes to sweets. Even when offered at formal events, you know I'm not interested."

"Well, how about a sampling? I can make you different treats and you tell me which you like."

Aemond chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let this go and agreed, "All right, sure."

And boy, did you keep to your word. The kitchen staff was already used to seeing you on a decently regular basis, but suddenly, you were spending all day in the kitchen, trying out different recipes. You made cakes, cookies, brownies, pastries, all kinds of desserts! You even went a step further, trying out newly invented ideas until narrowing down several options. You were determined to give Aemond something, wanting him to feel your love and effort in the confections because his nameday was the one day you had to pamper and spoil him without complaint.

(Though, trust me, he still complained and deflected attention.)

You loved Aemond's nameday because he had no choice but to be at the forefront of your attention and affection; something his family found amusing after their years of neglect towards him. Every other day of the year, he was stubborn and impossible and made everything about you; but not his nameday!

Even though he truly wasn't a fan of desserts, Aemond still met you on a balcony at the end of the week because not only did he adore making you happy, but he hardly ever said no to you. You had an array of treats made and displayed, and slowly, he sampled what you presented; speaking simply for your mental notes. However, he came upon something new - something he's not seen before.

"What's this?"

"Um, well... See, my younger siblings sometimes like citrus in their desserts, so, I thought this might be good? Or it could be tart - one or the other."

"This is lemon?"

"Yes, and that is made with limes from Volantis," you pointed to another platter, "that one's orange, that one's cherry, and that one has coconut."

"Where did you get coconuts and cherries?"

"That's not important. Which one is your favorite? It's what you're getting for your nameday, so do not lie."

"Pardon my pun, but the lemon cake takes the cake, sweet girl."

Aemond's heart soared in his chest when your grin of pride was hardly contained; looking pleased that you had invented something to his liking - making it all the more special, being something Aemond never has to share with others.

Sansa thought it was a lovely tale, clarifying, "So, when you say she established King's Landing's orphanages, did she use the Crown's money or the tax payer's?"

The maid smiled, "No, Your Grace, she used royal funds. King Viserys commissioned her bakery, and after a bit, the people actually started donating to her cause because the King offered tax exemption for those who donated."

"And she would take the kids around the Seven Kingdoms for placement? By herself? Why? Why not bake full time? She was obviously good at it."

"She was passionate, and the kids couldn't all fit in King's Landing anymore, so, she had to help relocate them for a better quality of life. She also gave each child the recipe so they could have a little taste of 'home' when they wanted."

Sansa nodded slowly. "How did word spread if she only made it for her husband on his nameday?"

"A moment, please," you interrupted your in-laws departure from the dinner table. When Alicent looked you in the eye, you smiled, "I've something for you all to try in honor of Prince Aemond's nameday."

"Oh, love, no," Aemond whispered in embarrassment, "not tonight."

"Would you mind, Mykal?" You asked the kind servant, who nodded once and exited the dining room.

"What's this about?" Otto questioned.

"Well, I thought we just might celebrate for just a moment together," you eased. "What with tensions so high lately, I just figured we deserved something... Sweet."

Alicent's lips twitched, always knowing in her heart that you were too good for Aemond - too good for this wreck of a family. When Mykal returned, he carried a decorated platter of lemon cakes and set it in the middle of the cleared-away table. You stood.

"What are they?" Aegon asked with an unsure curled lip.

"Lemon cakes," you smiled, "a confection of my own invention made especially for my husband, hmm?" You served a small, personal cake to each family member using saucer platters. "Please, just try it - tell me what you think."

You placed the final cake in front of your husband, grinning and taking your seat again. You knew he hated the spotlight, it gave him anxiety; so, you tried to do your best by acknowledging his nameday without needing to fuss over him. He always liked that you two celebrated privately, but being a "special event", the family had dinner together that night and you thought it a great time for the tart dessert to debut. You dwelled in anticipation as your in-laws all tried their cakes, Aemond feeding you every other bite from his fork as there came a chorus of satisfying hums and groans of approval.

"Holy Mother," Otto chuckled, instantly forking another bite in his mouth. "Mh, mh, mh, wow," he smacked his lips, nodding in impression. "You invented this?" He asked, watching you nod. "You invented a new cake..."

"For Aemond's nameday, yes," you confirmed, tone a little sharper than usual in an effort to make your point.

"I gotta admit, Y/N," Aegon spoke with a full mouth, a few crumbs flying, "this is bloody delicious."

"It really is," Alicent agreed, offering her husband a bite. "Viserys? Love? It's a lemon cake, here, try a bite."

"A what?" Viserys wheezed in confusion. "N-Never heard of l-lemon cake."

"They're new," she explained, "Y/N made them for Aemond's nameday. Isn't that special? Try a bite, love, there you go."

Viserys accepted the bit of cake on Alicent's fork, wincing gently at the tart taste before, too, humming. "'S good," he whispered, looking drained of energy.

"Gotta make these more often," Aegon pointed his fork at the cake crumbles left. He continued, "Like, bring these to every banquet we host and this will be the star." You chuckled and put another cake on his plate, it being instantly torn into.

You smiled at Aemond, "Guess they're a hit."

He leaned down to affectionately press his lips to your forehead for a long moment, mumbling, "Knew they would be."

"So, does this mean I can bake you cakes now? Every nameday? You won't complain?" You asked, tangling his hand with yours and relishing in the way he squeezed.

"Oh, he'll still complain," Helaena giggled, licking icing from her finger, "no matter what."

Aemond smirked at his sister, offering a subtly jab at his family, "I would never complain about being loved. Besides," he offered you a fond, softening look, "she does it so well, wouldn't you say?"

The family hummed in agreement, not truly paying attention to his words - all enraptured with scraping their saucer platters clean. You smiled up at him, letting his lips find yours in a brief show of emotion.

Otto mused, "You know, I've heard it said, 'the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes'. I think food is a surefire way to ensure that legacy of love, respect, consideration..."

For the next few weeks, you spent more and more time in the kitchens; whipping out batches of lemon cakes to offer the Keep's staff after rumors spread of your cakey goodness. You gifted guards, trainers, tutors, members of court, maids, the castle's servants the newly invented confection. It quickly became the most talked about topic in King's Landing; the citizens being obsessed with your cake and demanding a taste of their own.

In fact, Viserys was so pleased by the turn of events that on one of his rare good days, he consulted Otto. "A bakery for Y/N - would it be worth the purchase? Do you think the Crown should fund the purchase?"

Otto considered, "Well, since her cakes are the hottest commodity currently, I'd say, yes, Your Grace, it'd be worth exploring as a new revenue for the Crown."

"No, no, not for the Crown t'collect from - leave it for Aemond and Y/N to share. This is not to be a business we collect the profits from - but rather, something they might enjoy." Viserys tried to smile, deciding, "Make it happen, Otto, my friend."

"Your Grace?"

"I want - I want her to have a bakery. Where she might sell her baked goods as she sees fit, not as an extension of the Crown, she deserves it. All her hard work," the King wheezed, coughing violently.

"Of course, Your Grace."

Yet when you were informed about your new business venture and shown the building that was to be your bakery, you told Otto that you didn't bake for money and having your own business would be terribly redundant. Yet Otto insisted that you made your own rules and if you wanted to charge, you could, but Viserys wanted you to have a designated safe space to create in.

Upon the grand opening, you were a SMASH hit. The line in your bakery was nonstop and extended out the door; the Gold Dragons overflowing enough for you to restock your ingredients tenfold AND have leftovers to funnel back into the orphanages. People talked, they spread word and rumor, and most patrons had heard through the "grape vine" that your bakery was well worth any wait. Being so popular, you required extra hours baking and only opened about three days a week because you still had your other job.

Speaking of, you obviously still worked with the orphans; in fact, some of them even came to hang out in the bakery! No, they didn't help bake unless they asked to specifically mix the icing or something, because you didn't believe in exploiting child labor. Anyways, on certain days, you closed the bakery and brought all the cakes to the orphanage to distribute, always having a warm heart when the kids giggled while eating the little sweet treat. It inspired you to write down the recipe you invented and every trip you took to help kids find their placement, you brought them recipe cards.

"Here," you handed the card over to the guardian agreeing to care for the kids, "this is just a recipe for a cake and I promise it's really simple to follow. It'll be a familiar taste to them when living here, somewhere unfamiliar for now." You sniffled, offering a watery smile, "Just wanted them to have a piece of home."

The volunteer guardians were usually grateful, knowing baking these cakes could be a form of bonding between them and the kids. It was difficult trying to get these types of kids to open up after all they endured on the streets before your orphanage took them in. Maybe a little cake would help mend those wounds and assure them, while here, they were safe.

You never expected to live out through history, but while names are lost, stories altered, and family names become obsolete, cuisine is a universally shared experience that transcends time.

Sansa sat for a moment, stewing in the story. Never had she imagined such a history lesson surrounding her favorite dessert; she would've thought some old granny would've been messing around in the kitchens to invent such a treat. Not a Princess of the Realm, especially one belonging to the most fearsome and longest reigning monarchy in Westerosi history.

For a brief moment, she was jealous by the description of your relationship to Prince Aemond; hearing how loving your husband was, how supportive and kind to you. She wondered if she'd ever experience something like that - and if she'd ever meet someone who would take her nameday as seriously as you took your husband's.

"What happened after?" She asked quietly, taking a long sip of her wine. "To the Prince and Princess, I mean?"

The maid shrugged meekly, "Not too long after, the Dance of Dragons started and there was no time or reason to bake anymore. They both perished in the flames of war, unfortunately, becoming victims of the Princess Rhaenyra - Aemond's older half-sister."

"Mh," Sansa nodded, "I've heard of her. Maegor with Tits, they called her."

The maid nodded, finishing, "But, you see, Your Grace, the recipe was already spread around the Realm and to this day, is still being used."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"All that," she stabbed her lemon cake with her fork and lifted the bite to her eye for examination, "just because she loved a man and wanted to give him what he's never had before."

"Perhaps, Your Grace, that is why nameday cakes are now tradition. They say the love of a good woman will echo through lifetimes, Your Grace."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

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bau-muffin · 6 months

Text

“Pure Intentions”

Ship: Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Rating: E

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1,162 Words

Summary: You are an agent who is also spiritual and loves crystals. So, you decide to give your favorite boss man, SSA Aaron Hotchner, black tourmaline.

Hotch really didn’t know why insomnia had chosen to haunt him on a Sunday night, but he felt the full extent of it when he stepped into the bullpen the next morning. He wasn’t really given to vanity, but he felt like his eyebags were eye-totes now, and even though he had downed a cup of coffee before leaving the house, he felt like if he was still for even a second, he’d fall asleep.

Of course the weekend he had off was when his mind barred him from a good night’s rest- the night before work, no less.

He had not been at his desk for more than ten minutes when you bustled into his office, your smile wide as usual despite being almost eight in the morning.

“Good morning! I was going to wait closer to lunch, but then Penelope told me a case came in, so I decided to give this-“ you stopped to actually look at him, and even though an amused smile was pulling at his lips, he looked so exhausted. “I’m so sorry, I should have asked how you were doing first.”

“I’m not sick, just tired,” Hotch said kindly, “what do you have?”

“Black tourmaline! I know you’re not much of a spiritualist, but the low down on it is that it sponges up negative energy! And I mean… I know you don’t exactly have a choice, you know, to be or not to be around negative energy but…” you shrugged before admitting, “It also reminded me of you too. Also, again I know you don’t put huge stock into it, but I also charged it for you.”

You put the shiny black chunk on his desk, almost shyly. He picked it up, studying it and turning it over in his hands. You half expected him to pull his reading glasses out to look at it, and if he had- well, you couldn’t rightly be held responsible for the noise you might have made.

“This reminds you of me?” Hotch asked skeptically, his brows knitted slightly.

“Mhm! It’s a bodyguard type crystal. And… I guess you have that sort of… vibe? To me anyways,” you added on a little less than tactfully as you were visibly becoming fidgety, your hands smoothing down your skirt.

“You see me as the bodyguard type.”

You put your hands on your hips, an eyebrow raising. “Did you or did you not become overprotective when I said that my car alarm was going off in the parking lot and you insisted on stealthily going towards the car first with your pistol? Or did I hallucinate that?”

“I’ve seen some things in my time, and I know malevolent people would target a woman who’s alone when she’s leaving her workplace,” Hotch said defensively. You only smiled.

“Whatever you say. Regardless, that’s for you. Maybe, one day, I’ll get a keychain for you.”

“Thank you, that was… actually thoughtful and sweet of you. You’re right that I don’t put a whole lot of stock into this… sort of thing,” he admitted as he turned the crystal over in his palm again, “but I think… I think the weight of intentions are real.”

“Maybe those intentions will carry you home safe from this case, then. Judging from the groaning sounds coming from Garcia’s cave, I’m thinking it’s a doozy. By the way…”

“Mm?”

“Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee before you go in to briefing?”

“That would be wonderful of you, thank you. One sugar-“

“-and no cream. I know how you make your coffee, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” you teased.

Hotch shook his head. “The full government name.”

You turned to walk out when he called your name, and you turned back to him.

“Can you come to my desk for a second?”

You complied, going to his desk with a nervous giggle. You thought he was going to speak, but instead he simply rose from his seat and kissed your cheek.

You touched your flushing cheek with a slightly shaky hand. “What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Just a thank you for being as thoughtful as you are. Truly… you make working here a bit easier.”

“Aw, you’re going to make me cry, so I’ll laugh instead.” You were going to turn to flee, but boldness filled you and you leaned up to kiss his cheek, except he moved, and you kissed the corner of his stern lip.

“Uh-” you backed away from him.

“Don’t panic,” Hotch ordered calmly- almost too calmly- “it’s not your fault, it was mine for reacting too quickly.”

Your cheeks flushed hot red and despite his command to not panic, you immediately fled the scene, leaving behind a confused but slightly amused Aaron.

A few minutes later, JJ entered his office with his cup of coffee in one hand and sat it on his desk, the other arm full of file folders. She gestured with her head towards the bullpen, “Hey, um, Agent-“

“I know,” Hotch said with a minuscule smirk, sipping the coffee, and almost immediately moaned aloud. True to your word, you knew exactly how he takes his coffee. He kept glancing towards the crystal sitting on his desk, and when Garcia called for him to come to the briefing room, he carefully slid it in his pocket.

On the jet, after all the details of the case had been discussed, Hotch leaned back in the chair, his fourth cup of coffee of the day in his hand. Even though he made his coffee exactly the same as always, it didn’t taste nearly as good as the one you made for him. He took the black tourmaline out of his pocket and held it in his hand. It works on a jet, right? It’s closer to the sun, it has to be like the best charging method.

“What do you have there?” Rossi asked from across him, looking up from a book- a compilation of Garfield comic strips over the years.

“A crystal. I think it’s… black tourmaline?”

Reid, of course, overheard this and had to jump in with, “you know, within pagan and spiritual circles, black tourmaline has protective properties, banishing negative vibrations, and it’s also supposed to be grounding.” He looked at the crystal in Hotch’s hand. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen this crystal on that agent’s desk. She and Anderson talk about them all the time, and apparently she keeps some of them in her desk, as does Anderson.”

“She and Anderson are good friends,” Hotch volunteered. “She’s the one who gave this to me.”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Rossi commented, sounding too innocent for Hotch’s liking.

“She is,” Hotch agreed simply, not taking the bait.

He and “that agent” were going to have to have a conversation when he got back home- he was entirely too intrigued by you. Perhaps he could ask you what crystal was the best for asking someone on a date.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #fluff #fluffy #fluff fic

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wandascosmic · 2 months

Text

whatcha doing with a boy like that? (1)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part one of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 1348

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“I have a question for you,” Wanda whispers.

You smile, leaning further over Wanda’s receptionist's desk to hear the question.

You can see Wanda suppressing a laugh as she says, “Are you going to Jennifer’s cat party on Sunday,” finally breaking as she finishes her sentence.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe how serious she is about her cats.”

Wanda looks up at you from her chair smiling at you, and you smile back, secretly pulling out a container of mixed berry yogurt from behind the desk and placing it on the elevated edge along with a metal spoon on top of the lid.

“You made me forget what I came here for,” you say, pointing towards the yogurt. “Special delivery of a mixed berry yogurt for your afternoon snack break.”

Wanda grins and takes the items from her best friend.

“You know my favorite flavor of yogurt?”

“Nah, it was the last one in the fridge.”

Wanda’s face falls.

You smile. “I’m kidding,” you say, bringing the smile back to Wanda’s face, “of course I know the same flavor of yogurt you’ve eaten for the past 7 years.”

Vision doesn’t. Wanda thinks in her head. But that’s fine, he only sees her at the end of the workday, so it makes sense that you would know instead.

You’re about to ask Wanda what’s wrong since you see her lost in thought, but you’re both suddenly interrupted.

“Y/N!” Tony, your boss calls out. “Stop giggling with Maximoff and get back to work!”

“Since when did you care about your work Tony?” Nat calls out.

“Good point,” he responds, walking back into his office.

You turn to look at Wanda giving her an apologetic look. “I should probably get back to work anyways,” you tell her, pointing at your desk over your shoulder.

Wanda nods, a little deflated on the inside since you’re the only thing that makes her work day more interesting.

You sigh as you sit down at your desk, picking up your phone to make a few sales calls.

Wanda does the same, doing her job of answering the ringing phone with ‘Shield Industries this is Wanda’ over, and over, and over again.

You notice Wanda out of the corner of your eye, seeming a bit forlorn compared to before.

You smirk, knowing exactly what to do to make her feel better.

“God, damn it!” Sam yells out, growling. “Damn it! Y/N!”

“Hold on, hold on. Sam, what happened?” Tony asks.

Sam sighs, putting his head in his hand.

“She put my stuff in Jell-O again,” he pulls out the plate that has the stapler encased in the lemon dessert.

And right on cue, Wanda lets out a shocked laugh, her hand going to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter. You smile.

“That’s real professional. Thanks a lot, Y/N. Tony, do something.”

You decide to engage in a bit more banter for Wanda. You pull out a Jell-O cup and a plastic spoon from your drawer, opening it to eat the treat.

“How do you know it was me?” You ask as you lean back in your chair.

“It’s always you!” Sam snaps.

Tony sighs. “Alright, the thing about practical jokes is you need to know when to start and when to stop,” you look over at Wanda, sharing a knowing look as she smiles at you. “And Y/N, I think it’s time for you to stop putting Sam’s personal items in Jell-O.

You nod, placing the Jell-O cup down and swallowing the Jell-O that had been in your mouth. “Alright. Sam, I'm sorry, because I have always been your biggest flan,” your mouth quirks up into a smile at your pun.

You watch Wanda out of the corner of your eye bite down on her fist to stop from laughing.

Tony snorts. “That was a good one,” he puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You know what, that’s just the way it is around here. Just deal with it, Sam.”

“I’m not gonna deal with it, Tony. It’s damage to company property.”

“I’ll order a new one, dude. And those staplers are getting old anyways.”

Sam sighs. “Fine, whatever.”

Tony leaves to go back to his office.

“Hey, Sam,” you say.

“What do you want?”

“You should’ve put me in custardy.”

Wanda lets out another laugh.

“Do you like going out at the end of the week for a drink?” You ask Wanda, leaning over her receptionist desk and smiling at her.

“Yeah,” Wanda replies, looking up at you.

“Yeah, I mean.” you shrug. “That’s why we’re all going out. You know, so we can have an end-of-the-week drink.”

“So when are we going out?” she asks, hopeful to have some fun after a while.

“I don’t know, tonight, hopefully.”

Suddenly, the creak of the door opening is heard, and you both turn your heads to see Vision walk in. Wanda’s fiance. You pull away from her desk.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you reply.

“Hey, babe,” he says to Wanda.

“Hi, Vis,” she leans over her desk to kiss him. You look away. “Do you mind if I go out for a drink with my friends from work?” she points to you and the rest of the Shield Industry staff.

He looks over at you before responding. “Uh, no, no, let’s just go home, Wanda.”

Wanda frowns but quickly replaces it with a neutral look. “Um, okay. Give me a few minutes though,” she points to the various papers on her desks. “I still need to do my faxes since it’s only 20 past 5.”

You watch the way her eyebrows are still creased, and you can tell that she had been looking forward to a night out.

Wanda walks around her desk and smiles at the two of you, heading off towards the fax machine.

You open and close your fists nervously, turning around to face Wanda’s fiance. “You know what, you should come with us. You know, since we’re all going out, it would be a good chance to see what people are like outside of the office. Who knows, it could be fun,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. “No, I think we’re good. We’ve gotta get going anyways.”

You nod, “Sure, no worries.”

You and him stand there for a bit, and you can’t help but break the awkward silence, “What’s in the, um, what’s in the bag?” you point to the black trash bag he has in his right hand.

He gives you an annoyed look before turning around, “just tell her I'll talk to her later,” he says to you and walks out the door.

“Got it, no problem.”

Your co-workers’ plan to go out for drinks has been canceled, and you sit at your desk trying to finish up your sales work as fast as possible.

“Hey.”

You swivel around in your chair to face Wanda who has her arms crossed over her baby blue button-up shirt, looking stressed.

“Hey, are you ok?” you reply.

“Oh, oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she waves her hand. “Weren’t you going out for a drink with everyone?”

“Oh, no, the plans got canceled.”

She frowns. “I’m sorry that’s a bummer.”

You chuckle. “No worries, Wanda, I think I’ll be ok.”

She lets out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry,” she looks around. “Hey, are you, uh, um-” she points towards the door.

“Walking out?” you supply with a smile.

She grins. “Yeah, that.”

“Yes I am, Maximoff. Wanna go together?”

She purses her lips and nods.

You start packing up your stuff while Wanda waits for you, but suddenly you both hear an aggressive honk outside.

You pause to pack up your stuff. “Oh, shoot, Vision.”

She looks at you apologetically, “yeah, sorry, Y/N. Have a nice weekend!” she tells you before turning around and running off to meet Vision in his car.

“You too,” you tell her, leaning back in your chair.

You sigh as you watch the girl you’ve been in love with for 7 years go home to her stupid fiance.

part 2

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wandamaximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel mcu #mcu #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel

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throwaway-yandere · 2 years

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I Got Reincarnated As A Server NPC In An Otome Game But A Capture Target Won’t Leave Me Alone (Yandere!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

a/n: fasghadsa this is my thank-you fic for @poptartsthings for supporting my fics for the past year!!! thank you for the tips huhuhuhu ;;;—;;; hence, I wrote this diluc fic for *clears throat* "mommy milkers". Enjoy this self-aware yandere otome game!duke diluc ragnvindr!!!

unreliable synopsis: what if you got isekai-d in your favorite otome game and one of the Love Interests found out they aren’t a real person? (or, ya know, whatever the title said lmao)

"Bottoms up, Duke Ragnvindr!"

"No matter how enthusiastic you are, I remain inclined to think that this is a horrible idea, (Y/n)..."

Reluctantly swirling a small amount of fire-water while wearing gloves, the duke saw how the alcohol hardly made a wave. Unsatisfied, he diverted his attention and observed the NPC pour their drink.

"In all honesty, your grape juice is worth more than this, (Y/n)–"

"Shush!" With a flamboyant and dismissive wave, the generic common mob silenced one of the Main Characters. "Don't ruin the mood, now. I had to pull a few strings to get this bad boy right here. It’s such a shame that Mister “Best Boy” Albedo can't come, so we have to make sure I get my money’s worth off of these bottles. It’d be such a waste of francs."

"Wasted like the thousand francs wine you clumsily spilled last year?"

"Don't bring that up again, please."

"Why not?" He chuckled. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you."

"If I hadn't, I would've been drinking with Villager B..." They muttered as they grabbed another glass from the cupboard.

He pretended not to have heard it.

They are both aware that their destinies follow different paths. No matter how hard one of them tries to walk next to the other, this cruel fate will separate them with a penalty that is even more agonizing than the last. All because (Y/n) was a real person, and Diluc was not.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr is this game’s easiest route: the typical childhood friend who falls for the heroine– Princess Lumine– first. In this genre, he falls into the category of those love interests who are incredibly austere with themselves that they were unable to enjoy the small things in life outside work. Ultimately, he follows the cliche of protecting the heroine from harm until she remembers that they used to play together as children in the palace gardens. Which, in itself, is quite a feat since the duke was not a man many could befriend. Unless you count Chief Justice Ajax as his greatest comrade, then perhaps he could finally add item number 11 to his list of trusted people.

The “Duke of the South” only favored audiences for those he was willing to invest in— after all, he’s famously known for having a “good signature.” It may seem like a compliment for uneducated nouveau rich men, but those with an eye for Gaciean politics knew how much power he has as the head of the Department of Military Affairs. Tales about his on-and-off disputes with the Chief Ajax circled as frequently as Teyvat Time’s popular Paimon-The-Friendly-Fae’s comic strips. Some loved his obsession with national security whilst some were quick to call him a pampered weapon hoarder, but if there’s one thing everyone can agree it’s that they fear the southern duke.

Now, after introducing a political figure with crimson locks of hair and domineering combat prowess, it’s certainly a tough sell to introduce the last person left inside: (Y/n) (L/n).

Unremarkably, they’re merely an NPC from Xiangling’s Seaside Restaurant. They’ve “reincarnated” into this world fumbling about like a newborn until the chef offered a job. Fortunately, they were not completely helpless in the kitchen. They had shown off their managerial skills from their old job since day one. Since then, Xiangling had hoped to train them as the new manager, but (Y/n) preferred to take on some responsibilities gradually. After a few days had passed, they abruptly realized that they were "Server C," an NPC with only a character sprite and a scarcely distinguishable name. The red ribbon-theme outfit from their restaurant was the only thing that distinguished them from the other faceless workers. According to what they can recall, one of their tasks is to give the princess's order of candies while she flees from her overprotective retainer, Dainsleif. It was a tense moment in that common route since all three of the princess’ potential suitors were customers from different ends of the restaurant, which were Dainsleif, Kamisato Ayato, and, of course, Duke Ragnvindr.

… Unable to snap out of their initial shock after recognizing that this was one of the game’s CGs and seeing three attractive men inside the restaurant they work at, (Y/n) accidentally broke the script by spilling the wine on Duke Ragnvindr’s coat.

Since then, (Y/n) had trailed and followed the characters whenever they could for their amusement– often helping their favorite love interest, Albedo, set up the scene so they can view his "CGs" in real life. Due to their apparent lack of stalking skills, they had another off-script encounter with the duke whilst doing so. Instead of heading straight to North Gaciea as he had done in the game, he was delayed seven hours after he weeded (Y/n)’s hair out of the bushes they were hiding in. Their first meeting was horrid, and their second almost went in a similar direction. Almost.

Since (Y/n)’s lies were as visible as their head peeking out of their hiding spot, Diluc had them drink a truth potion to uncover why they were stalking the chief alchemist, however…

… Does the phrase “the truth is stranger than fiction” apply in this case when both the earth and the sky are nothing but lies?

Diluc put on a convincing poker face when they babbled about the game they live in, demonstrating both their objectives and, more critically, their in-game omniscience. Albedo is the only love interest who changes into a feral (and subjectively "hot") monster toward the end of the novel, thus (Y/n) was adamant that he be Princess Lumine's ultimate endgame—but going any further in their explanations would be deemed a "spoiler." Additionally, Albedo’s route could only be unlocked once you finished another character’s route first… and that character happened to be Diluc Ragnvindr himself.

———

“In layman’s terms… We are living in a complex romance novel-esque system, correct? And I am the ‘book’ people often recommend to start the series with first before moving on to the sequel?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“… and I am just a stepping stone for a happier ending? A pawn? A mere puppet for someone chasing a momentary cure for loneliness?”

“Well, it felt real to me when I played your route—”

“Perhaps, but feelings do not change what is real and what isn’t.” Diluc sighed, unsheathing his dagger to break off the ropes that held the server down.

(Y/n) traced their wrists, appreciating now how gentle he had been when he could’ve gone rougher.

“Diluc…”

He bit his lip. It pained him to hear the server call his name as if they knew him.

They spoke as if they were friends the whole time right after they just revealed that his life is a self-fulfilled prophecy of unrequited romance.

And it was insulting.

———

The two have come a long way since then. He lost his faux feelings for Lumine. After gaining self-awareness, Diluc had begun avoiding what occurs in the game’s plot under the NPC’s guidance. To improve Lumine's chances of acquiring Albedo's route, (Y/n) was more than happy to assist him, so they started exchanging chats that ranged from oblique threats to routine discussions only friends could have.

Even so, (Y/n)’s attempts were futile when Albedo revealed to both of them that he knew he’s also just a character since the day he was “created”, and that “I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped attempting to produce an inorganic chemistry between the protagonist and me.”

…The chief alchemist was a smart one for sure and his confrontation had sobered (Y/n) fully. Although Albedo will never be the princess’ endgame nor will he turn into an apocalyptic dragon, (Y/n) had earned his friendship and started treating the rest of the cast as people and not just characters.

Diluc gazed out the window.

It was late into the night and rain was falling. There was not a single domestic sound emanating from nearby homes, which was a wise choice since annoying harpies would have gathered at the sound of human noises. Birds accosted the drying trees and roofs as fog swept through the streets. With the exception of this seaside restaurant, most stores were noticeably closed. The downpour buried the sound of crashing waves just a few meters outside, so no one would have known that this was close to the beach.

"Huh," (Y/n) stared in the same direction. "Didn’t expect it to rain tonight. Guess you can't escape this cheap alcohol-tasting session, huh?"

In the course of his outdoor nightly training, the head of the Department of Military Affairs grew incredibly resilient against mere storms. "I don’t need an umbrella."

"Fair," they laughed, distinctly human compared to the usual polite chuckles he would hear from leeching nobles. "But oh, dear Duke, if you don't need an umbrella then why are you still here? Is it because you wanted to see me– w-wait hold on—I'm kidding— sit down!"

…

They reached for his arm, but try as they might—

their hand only passed through.

The two stiffened.

Diluc’s breath hitched.

That was proof.

Because of this scripted fate, a commoner like them can't even grasp his hand, let alone touch it. Not when the system outright denies the friendship they have.

An NPC like (Y/n) can’t remain friends with a main character like Diluc once they have fulfilled their role in their story.

Diluc was untouchable.

He closed his eyes. Just acknowledging this pains him.

They both sat back down.

Much like how Diluc had pretended not to hear their comment earlier, (Y/n) also pretended that nothing unreal occurred seconds ago.

"S... So, is there anything else you want with that?" They pointed at his glass. "We have a crap ton of limes and cranberry juice! Oh, but I'm not sure if it would taste that good if we mix it, haha."

He could practically hear them force that laughter right out of their throat. Diluc hurriedly swallowed the fire-water they offered him since neither could stand the awkward tension. Diluc cringed.

"Oh, sorry, was it too strong?" Many nobles who detained the duke with platitudes were met with sarcastic comments, but he never hated (Y/n)’s idea of small talk.

"It's fine." He spoke huskily.

"Does it need lime or any add ons–"

"It's fine."

"... Okay."

The silence was painfully awkward... Perhaps Diluc shouldn't have threatened Albedo to sit this one out. He wanted an opportunity to be alone with (Y/n), and this is far from what he had hoped would turn out. Diluc's forehead creased as he held back what could've been a long somber sigh.

"How's work?" He asked.

"Oh, it's been alright."

That doesn't sound promising. This was a trick up his sleeves to snap them back to a cheery mood. Usually, they’d start rambling about their regulars and watch how endearingly entertaining they are. There should’ve been a quip about Itto’s TCG losing streak or how Kunikuzushi and Kazuha were arguing again over where they should place their tent for their next travels. This time, (Y/n) barely uttered a phrase.

They continued, "I don't suppose I could ask you the same, given that most of your work is confidential–"

"The Holy Kingdom’s crown prince visited North Gaciea today."

"Oh?"

Finally, he could see them smile for just a bit. Of course, they’d be interested to hear about Zhongli since he was the poster boy for the game’s sequel. Fortunately for Diluc, (Y/n) never got to play the game.

"That's wonderful! I was waiting for an English Localization of the sequel for soooo long! Was he hot? I bet he’s gorgeous as fu–"

"No."

"No...?"

"I mean." Diluc cleared his throat. It's barely even a shot of fire-water and he's already getting impulsive. "I meant that I cannot discuss the matter further. I am not like Kaeya. This is confidential, like what you had said."

"Ah..." Their eyebrows furrowed "I see…"

Why did they sound so disappointed?

Is (Y/n)… bored of him?

Diluc digressed, "how's Dainsleif?"

"Dain?" Their nose scrunched. "I haven't seen that poor guy for weeks now. He’s probably escorting Princess Lumine to Justice Ajax’s territory like in the game. Why?"

"Kamisato Ayato?"

"Ah, he ordered a crate of Dango milk yesterday," they laughed softly. "I'm amazed at how that man is barely affected by the script. I mean, I guess that’s to be expected when your route can only be unlocked by choosing three unsuspecting dialogue options. I don't think he talked to the protagonist at all these past two years. You’d think Lumine would’ve raised her wits stat high enough to attract his attention, but alas, Lord Ayato’s still lounging around East Gaciea doing Venti-knows-what."

He wasn’t paying attention to their ramblings. All their names sound bitter in Diluc's mouth. Unlike Albedo and Diluc, the rest of the Love Interests are free to interact with them as an extra. Server C had also performed their last scripted interaction with them, hence, (Y/n) can never touch Albedo and Diluc again.

Retainer Dainsleif of the West, Lord Kamisato Ayato of the East, Chief Justice “Childe” Ajax of the North, Chief Alchemist Albedo of Who-Knows-Where, and Duke Diluc Ragnvindr of the South… Princess Lumine certainly had fine options.

The Duke just wished the otome game scriptwriters would’ve let him have his own choice in the matter as well.

(Y/n) rested their elbows down on the table as they gazed into Diluc's distant eyes.

"Why did you ask?"

Diluc frowned, He admits it— (Y/n)’s eyes are nothing to write home about. When compared to an ephemeral beauty like Princess Lumine, their ordinary (e/c) eyes and visage hardly qualify as "distinctive traits." Their vibrant red ribbon is the only thing separating them from the street's grey residents. Yet he can still tell it's them no matter how big the crowd is. No matter how much they look like an “NPC”, to him at least it was a face worth seeing. Even if they mesh into a blob of slime, he can sense their essence through and through.

Although he can now barely make out the features on their face, nothing on this false earth can convince him that he wasn’t talking to the love of his life.

"I..." Diluc loosened his collar, suddenly growing hot at the intensity of their stare. "I simply wished to learn how the two other Love Interests are doing. I’ve had a chat with Ajax, and he still acts like a quote-on-quote “yandere” as you had explained before."

“Is that all?”

Diluc nodded.

"Ah," They shrugged. "Got my hopes up there– I thought there are other “Wasureta: No More” CGs I haven't seen yet."

Diluc smiled and took a drink.

"Ahh..." He exhaled, his eyelids fluttering shut in the process.

"You okay there pal?" They asked. "I know I said we shouldn't let any of this go to waste but you know I can just store them back home right? Oh, you can have some too but I don't think you'd like so–"

"I'll take a bottle."

(Y/n)’s eyes widened.

"Y-You..." They stuttered, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Diluc mumbled, lying to himself. "It tastes okay."

They grinned. The sight makes his decision all the more worth it.

"Haha, great!" They fist-bumped the air "See? Told ya cheap fire-water tastes good!"

Don’t get him wrong, he's not taking one home because of its taste. He's taking one home because it might be the last memento he'll have of (Y/n).

"Hold on, let me get a ribbon." They opened their palms to stop him from leaving. "Can't give the great Duke of the South something that looks barely presentable now would I?"

They left him with a skip in their steps. Diluc smiled.

Now that he's left alone, he silently wondered:

Just how long can he last before he tells the NPC that he wants to ruin their friendship?

———

Along with the sounds of gutted flesh reverberating through the tunnel's dark passageways, a man's hysterical laughter echoed. It was mostly silence in the caves, and there is a strong sense of loneliness upon entering the vicinity. Humans and animals alike would feel as though there is no life inside those walls, but the joyous yet hollow laughter came from the end of the tunnel.

And on the other side, you'll find a red-haired man at his wit's end.

"Tell me..." His words dragged out in a low growl as he grabbed a fistful of the bloody and tattered blonde's greasy hair. The man whimpered from his touch. "Was it fun? Laughing at my misery this entire time? Were you laughing along with them? Lumine, Dainsleif, and all the rest?! Did I put up quite the show there?!"

Crown Prince Aether trembled.

Duke Ragnvindr had everything figured out.

———

“There’s one regret I have now that I’ve isekai-d in this game.”

“What was it?”

“It’s just that,” (Y/n) sighed. “I never really got this game to a 100% completion.”

Diluc raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by their obsession with Wasureta, “and why is that important?”

“Hey! It’s pretty damn important!” (Y/n) grumbled. "Tsk, if only I finished your bad endings… The guides say once you do that, you’ll be able to unlock a secret route.”

“A secret route?”

“Yeah,” they shrugged.

“I’ve read some spoilers from Otomekitten's blog and get this— the last route reveals where Lumine’s brother had been hiding all this time.”

———

The nerves on the back of Diluc's palms were more noticeable as he pulled the poor man closer. Simply put, their faces did not resemble what mankind should look like; rather, they were an animalistic representation of a predator and prey. Hitherto it had disturbed Prince Aether in his rests, but it was too late when he finally acknowledged that something unhinged lay dormant inside the duke.

"P-please..." He coughed. Blood started drooling down the edge of his lips. He assumes that a few of his teeth are likely knocked in, and he can feel his canines prodding inside his throat. "H-have merc–"

With alarming ease, Diluc threw him in the direction of the shelves. The blonde fell and gasped violently when the splintered wood struck his shoulder. The gaping wound on his hips gushed out once more, bleeding onto his carpet and scattered notes. The duke was a monster. He intentionally missed striking his vital organs to prolong his suffering. More blood gushed from his mouth and the prince noisily wheezed out wet coughs.

His Highness has (Y/n) to blame for the hints they gave the duke.

If they hadn't had that conversation, Diluc wouldn’t have figured out that Aether created this “game” world out of grief for his dead sister.

———

“I’ve been alive here for a year or so but I can’t get used to how the harpies in this world look so tame.”

“Hmm? What else were you expecting?”

“Nothing much, it’s just that they look so different in the game’s beta.”

They shrugged. “Fun fact: did you know that “Wasureta: No More” was a fantasy-horror game before the scriptwriters decided to rewrite everything?”

———

"Tsk." Diluc spat and wiped his mouth with his last dirty palm as if there was a major difference. Both are equally soiled with oil and Aether’s blood; it wouldn’t have mattered.

The duke snarled aloud into a burst of savage laughter, "what's wrong, My Creator? Can't even muster up the courage to face your retribution?"

"F-Friend..." Aether called out, hoping to garner sympathy for the Diluc who once looked after both him and his sister at the royal gardens. Hoping to remind him that he was placed number 1 on the list of people the head of Military Affairs had trusted.

"Don't call me that," Diluc's grip on his claymore grew tighter until his knuckles paled.

"Du-Duke..." The blonde looked up. "I can't just... Rewrite this story again..."

"You can," Diluc spoke in a somewhat broken voice. His sanity may be waning, but he cannot deny that Aether was included in the list of the people the duke trusted. "We’re just characters you’ve written. You've done that before. You've done that to Lumine."

"And I r-regretted it!" He sputtered out, accidentally stronger than intended. The blonde scurried to lean against the wall as he feared Diluc would attack him for his offensive tone. "I regretted it. I thought I could revive my sister... I thought that would bring Lumine back into this new world. I thought it would bring her happiness if– if I gave her m-more options–"

"Forced options," Diluc grumbled, rightfully angry at the blonde's interferences. Based on his inference, three of the five suitors wouldn't have been whisked away by Lumine's whims if it weren't for her brother’s influence. And judging by his pained reaction, Diluc would be right.

"But she’s not my real sister.” Aether sobbed. “She never will be— she’s just an image I had of her. And I-I still ended up making this false Lumine more miserable."

"No shit." Diluc snickered with narrow eyes. "You made her miserable—"

The duke just wished he knew where Aether was from the very beginning. He would've had Prince Aether's head before this whole damn game even started.

"And you made me so fucking miserable, Crown Prince," Diluc muttered.

“I just wanted to be with (Y/n).” He breathed in shakily, “is that so much to ask for?”

"P-Please, listen to me." Aether wept. "Ch-Changing someone's fate brings more harm than good!"

THUD.

Aether shook as a claymore thrust through the concrete just a hair beside his ear. He gulped under the towering gaze of those piercing red eyes. They glowered over him, and they were far from pleased. Aether was too terrified to look away as he saw how Diluc's eyes spiraled into the abyss. The air was thick with heat emanating from Diluc’s pyro-abilities. The sound of the metal rang in the prince’s ears like a warning, thus, the strength in his shoulders weakened and his muscles have gone mushed as he cowered down.

Changing fate brings more harm than good? What a joke. By the looks of it, letting fate run its course only puts the prince in greater turmoil.

Maybe Diluc should offer his head to Her Highness. It doesn't matter whether he lived or died, does it not? If she's so desperate to find the missing prince again, it wouldn't even matter what state his casket is in.

"Di–"

Aether couldn’t breathe.

"Don't struggle."

Diluc effortlessly slid the prince's entire body up the wall after grabbing his throat. Aether's feet curled up as he struggled to steal a breath. He tried to kick and claw Diluc's arms away, but the man stood his ground. Ruby eyes continued to pursue him with an icy rage that Aether was all too familiar with.

The fact that they both placed a lot of faith in one another was a mistake.

Aether's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. Diluc spoke those words as if they weren't threatening remarks, but a merciful command. Yet it doesn't change the fact that he intended to assassinate the prince with his bare hands. Aether began balling up his fists and striking him, but it was ineffective.

"..."

Diluc coldly watched his stomach bleed out like a student dissecting a frog.

Aether's vision clouded. As he flailed his limbs like a wild animal, dark blotches started to appear in his line of sight. His fingers are unwittingly clawing at everything as the adrenaline starts to kick in. Aether never wished to harm a soul, but at that moment he was aiming for Diluc's eyes.

His survival instincts kicked in.

He can't die.

Not like this.

"Si–..."

Lumine. Sister.

Aether needed to apologize to his sister.

He still hoped to say sorry— sorry for leaving her to run a kingdom alone— sorry for not being able to save her in the original timeline—

sorry for resetting and rewriting the game just to see her alive and happy again.

Aether had so much unfinished business piled up. So many discoveries he has yet to pen down. He can't die here. He mustn’t.

He grabbed something. A fleeting crimson near his assailant's collarbone.

Was it Diluc's hair?

He pulled harder. All his strength was wasted on that sliver of red hope. Anything that would get his assailant to stop.

And Diluc did. His grip on Aether's throat loosened as the prince fell back on the floor. Aether wheezed, his vision slowly returning to him. His bated breathing echoed inside the room as his eyesight returned to him. When the prince's eyes finally focused sharply, he saw silk.

This wasn't Diluc's hair, it was–

"(Y/n)’s ribbon."

Diluc used the very same ribbon (Y/n) to decorate a bottle of fire-water with to tie up his hair.

Aether shivered.

"It seems like you wanted to choose your death."

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

Aether looked up. He shouldn't have looked up.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr's face was red with a grin uncannily reaching his ears to a degree that shouldn't be possible. His expression was akin to a lovesick young adult twisted to its extremities. He appeared to look excited. To think that he burns up by just a mention of this person’s name makes Aether sick to his stomach.

"Allow me to heed your last wish, Your Highness."

The prince felt his whole body tense up as Diluc wrapped the ribbon around his neck.

Diluc did not give him any more room to breathe as if his body was moving automatically.

This wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore.

His eyes were empty.

This was a man possessed.

"Ch...de..." Aether forced out his last words as the ribbon quickly wrung around him.

"S..ve... my... s....ter"

———

Diluc only pulled out of his trance after he started washing the blood off his hands. Elzer subsequently informed him that the duke had entered the manor bloodied and unkempt with no recollection of how he got there and that he had strolled carelessly to the restroom like a corpse. There was a commotion across the entire Ragnvindr manor and rumors that he had lost an unpleasant duel quickly circulated. Better that than the truth, he supposed. Even his memory of what transpired in Aether's basement is hazy. Diluc only had their red ribbon and the idea of winning in his mind. He refused to let things continue as they are.

It wasn't until he started drying himself with a towel that he realized that the crown prince perished by his hands.

To think that Diluc used to be so terrified of offending royalties– of accidentally slipping a lese-majeste out of his lips– but now he let a royal's soul slip out of his wrists.

It's invigorating.

Diluc not only tied his fate with theirs, but he successfully managed to cut their ties with those disgusting vermin they call their “regulars.” They can't have them anymore, and they won't even intend to reach out. No one remembers who Server C is. They are now alone together with him. He’s the only person they can depend on. Diluc's breathing heaved lower. Just thinking about their inevitable dependence excites him.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Server C." He smiled. "Or, should I say, my beloved?"

Just the two of them.

They won't look at anyone else. They can't. The whole world will now feel what he felt when he was unable to touch (Y/n). Only HE has the privilege to hold them now.

It's just the two of them in this world left. After all, there is no statute of limitations once you learn how to play Creator.

Diluc Ragnvindr had successfully rewritten this game’s script.

He no longer carries any in-game responsibilities, much like how there is no Lord Kamisato, Justice Ajax, Retainer Dainsleif, and Chief Albedo that exists in this “script.rpy” file.

It’s just him and his beloved server, alone.

Diluc wiped his mouth. He's practically dro– no, his mouth is literally watering at the thought. Diluc's heart is pounding, almost threatening to break free from his ribs.

"I’m all you have now, (Y/n)." Diluc's gaze softens. "Isn't that wonderful?"

His hands reluctantly traveled under their blanket where their hands should be, scared that when he reaches out, he'll feel nothing there.

He felt their warmth.

Diluc grinned tearfully. He can finally touch them again. He felt their fingers crossed miraculously against his own.

"You’re so warm..."

He gently rubbed their calloused hand against his cheek.

No matter how overworked or ragged these hands were from washing the dishes, for him, they were silk to touch. So soft. So vulnerable.

Diluc swallowed his saliva with great difficulty. God. They’re so vulnerable right now. So peaceful. So fragile. His breathing increased in volume. He could just take them right here–

His bottom lip started to bleed. He was doing everything in his power not to cave in but his throat was starting to get parched. He breathed in deeply.

Not now. Please, not right now. Not when they probably don’t remember who he is.

Diluc wanted to see the look on their face as he finally kisses them. What expressions will they make? It's not fair to both of them to steal such a moment when they’re asleep. That's not what he had been waiting for. Not what he's been craving.

"My beloved, you're a beauty from afar, but you're even more flawless in my arms," Diluc muttered over their ear.

"And I'll do everything in my power to let it stay that way. Fate and the entire world be damned."

-----------

A/n: want to read more of this in a visual novel form? It's here :)

Edit: HERE'S THS IMPROVED SPRITES AND OVERALL UPDATED GAME!!!

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 22: I May Be Right or I May Be Crazy

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ because it handles some heavy subjects! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Seriously it is DARK. THIS ONE IS REALLY DARK! Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Abuse (sort of- it's more the reader being used without knowledge of it and I'm not sure what to call that), Numbness, Mentions of character going through some HEAVY EMOTIONS and INTERNAL TRAUMA , Violence, Explicitly Described Torture, Fire, Graphic depiction of death, Blood, Gore, Sexual References, Family Problems. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

A/N: I'm serious guys this one is really gory, violent, and bloody. I mean, so is the show. BUT this is an additional warning if you don't like reading that kind of stuff, please do not read this. It also handles a really delicate issue with the reader going through something that no one should ever have to. I've never written something like this before and honestly I don't think I ever want to again, but it had to be addressed...

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

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"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Ben says, gently pushing back a few strands of your hair from your face, fingers trailing against your cheeks, warmed from the morning sun that peaks through the large trees which shield Legend's property from the rest of the world.

Butcher had finally found Mindstorm, figured out which cabin he was hiding at, and although you wanted to go to make sure that Ben was alright, you knew that you couldn't go with him.

There was something you needed to do and you needed to do it without Ben there. It had to be handed delicately. You weren't sure what you would learn, what it would confirm or deny, and as much as it hurt you to be apart from Ben, you had to do it alone.

It was two days after your revelation, after you received what seemed like divine wisdom while staring at your daughter as if seeing her for the first time in forty years and understanding what it was that you'd forgotten. It had been hard to laugh off why you'd shattered a mug during Butcher's little pow-wow, even Rosemary was concerned after, but you'd waved her off and said that you were just getting accustomed to your new supe strength.

But Ben wasn't fooled. When you went upstairs to clean the alcohol from your clothes Ben had followed and tried to get you to tell him what was wrong, but you'd only said that you were tired. He knew you were lying, but he only sighed and hugged you because he didn’t really know what else to do.

And now standing outside of Legend's house while Ben, Butcher, and Hughie were about to go after Mindstorm you wanted to tell him what you believed, but you still couldn't.

You had to find out for yourself.

"Yeah. I don't want to leave Rosemary or Lou." You reply leaning in to his touch. It was true, you didn't, but it wasn't the whole truth and it made you feel guilty. You'd never lied to him before or well, hadn't tried to intentionally trick him. And it felt worse to do this now that the two of you were starting over, and when everything felt more wonderful than you could have imagined all those years ago.

Ben eyes you for a moment and you're suddenly worried that he's been a mind reader this whole time and he's just never said anything. But then his expression softens. "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't said too much since the other day."

"I'm fine." You touch the front of his supe suit, laying your hand directly over his heart and feeling the gentle thud in the palm of your hand. It was difficult not to touch him now, not after the boundary had been crossed so many times over the past two days. Somewhere deep down you worried that Ben was still uncomfortable with you doing something so intimate in public.

You were aware that everyone was looking at the two of you, Rosemary and Lou standing more towards the house on the front porch and Hughie and Butcher were standing by Butcher's car parked in the long driveway. Butcher's car still had a giant hole in the roof from when Ben punched through it and when he saw the hole, Butcher had threatened to send Ben back to Russia and you threatened to melt Butcher into a puddle.

But Ben gently touches your wrist, where your hand rests against his chest, frowning slightly.

"Fine. I've got a few things on my mind-" You whisper, hating how easily he could read you, but at the same time you loved it.

Ben made you feel seen, and after years of feeling invisible, feeling like you were losing you best friend, and feeling like he would never care about you the same way, it made you happy and comforted.

"Then tell me. I want to help." Ben's hand slides up your wrist to your hand, entwining his fingertips with yours and surprising you again. He was being so open and thoughtful in front of everyone. His eyes search yours as if he was trying to see your thoughts and it made you smile again to understand how much he loved you and cared about you.

"Ben." You breathe, squeezing his hand. "I don't want to talk about it now. Can we talk about it when you get back?"

"Is it why you're not coming with me?" His frown deepens.

"A part of it. But I really want to make sure that Lou and Rosemary are safe."

Ben raises his gaze to look at where Rosemary stands frowning at the two of you, before he looks back at you. "Okay." But he doesn't seem happy with the turn of events.

You didn't blame him, you didn't want him to go face Mindstorm alone even with Hughie and Butcher. You still didn't trust Butcher and of all your old teammates Mindstorm was the most troubled.

"Can you promise me something?" You ask Ben, looking up at him.

"Anything."

"Watch out for the kid."

"The kid?" Ben looks confused. "Lou?"

"No. Hughie." You glance over to where Hughie is standing at the back of the car with Butcher.

Probably talking about the Temp V they're going to shoot up to take down Mindstorm.

You really didn't want to leave Ben with Mindstorm of all people. Mindstorm was probably one of the only supes that could do something to Ben. Ben did have some psychic immunity, but you thought that Mindstorm could peel away the layers, sink deep into his mind, make Ben see the things that always plagued him. And the last thing you wanted was for Ben to be trapped in an automatic loop of him listening to his father say what a disappointment he was. You were trying to make him forget those things, just as Ben tried his hardest to make you forget the things your mother said to you.

If Mindstorm put Ben through that, you were going to hunt him down to the ends of the earth and make him understand what it was like for someone to peel the skin from your flesh bit by bit and then make him eat that brain of his that he loved so much.

Plus you figured that the worst thing that could happen is Mindstorm would lock you in your own head and you'd have to spend your final hours with your dead mother, which yes that would suck, but at least at the end of it you'd have a new fun superpower to torture Mindstorm with. Seemed like a good trade-off if you had to spend your last moments with the bitch herself.

I wonder what he'd make her say to me, what I'd see. I've heard it all before, don't really think that he'd make me see anything I haven't seen before or heard before.

"Why?"

"Hughie's not like us. None of this is him. He's different. He's a good person and all of this is-” You glance over at Hughie again, before looking at Ben. “ Just look out for him."

Ben's hand tightens in yours where it still rests against his chest. "Fine. But if that fucker comes for me I'm not going to tip-toe around Hughie's feelings. I'm going to kill Mindstorm, that's why I'm going there."

"I know." You nod.

"I mean you saw the shit he did to those kids-" Ben whispers the last part because he doesn't want Lou to hear, but notices Rosemary perk up, where she stands on the front porch.

"Yeah. I remember."

Mindstorm was more fucked up than most of the others on your team, found joy in making people see terrible things. And his favorite targets were children. Stan had a hell of a time covering that up, covering up Mindstorm's morning walks through parks and on the edges of elementary schools. He liked to live in their minds as he took them apart bit by bit, exposed them to his own twisted reality.

Mindstorm wasn’t a good person, but you knew that Hughie was.

"I'm not asking you to spare his life." You whisper back. "He was one of the worst from our old team. I'm just asking you to look out for the kid."

"I will."

You nod, still worried. He was going with Hughie and Butcher, but it still felt like he was alone if you weren't with him. The problem was you couldn’t see the way around it. This was your chance to go alone to find some answers, but you didn't like it, didn't like leaving Ben.

Probably about as much as Ben hated leaving you.

“I promise I’ll come back.” He murmurs pressing his forehead against yours, green eyes soft in the morning light. He was mistaking you hesitation for your fear of him leaving and never coming back.

You reach up with your free hand to touch his cheek. "I know." Your thumb gently rubs over his bearded cheek, smiling up at him. "I love you." You whisper.

Ben leans down and kisses you softly, just a fleeting brush of his lips against yours that leaves you wanting more. "I love you too Sweetheart." He murmurs with a soft smile.

Again you weren't used to that, used to him looking at you like you were his whole world, and you never wanted him to stop.

Ben pulls away and raises his gaze to where Rosemary stands arms crossed over her chest with Lou standing beside her watching with wide eyes.

"Be careful." Rosemary says, but it sounds pained, almost as if it took a large amount of effort to say, but you were happy she said something to him that wasn't meant to hurt him.

Maybe that's a good sign. You think to yourself, but then you notice the frown on her face. Or maybe not.

He nods once, but as soon as he takes a step towards where Hughie and Butcher are waiting by the car, Lou runs to him, her tiny arms pumping as fast as she can.

"Ben wait!" She cries, throwing herself against his leg and pressing her head into his right knee. "Don't go. If you go Aunty y/n will be sad again!" Lou mumbles into the fabric, hugging him tight.

Ben stiffens, his eyes shifting to you and for a second you see something unfamiliar flash in his gaze, something painful. It shakes you to your core, and makes you remember how he looked when he stood above your bed the night he came back and said that he couldn't lose you and when he sat in the car and showed you how upset he was that he wasn't there for you when you were pregnant with Rosie.

It made you want to pull him into your arms and hold him close, make him feel loved all over again, show him how much you wanted him here with you despite everything that happened in the past.

He crouches down so he can look Lou in the eye. "I won't be gone long. I'm a little harder to kill than these other sons of-" Ben stops to sensor what he was going to say and clears his throat. "Um. I'm a little harder to keep away than other people."

"Do you promise?" She says.

"Yes I promise honey." Ben smiles tightly.

"Take this for good luck." Lou reaches into the front of her bright pink overalls to pull out a small yellow flower about the size of Ben’s pinky, holding on to the stem in her little hand.

You have no idea where she got it, only that she was holding it out to Ben as if it had the power to save the universe.

Ben looks from Lou's face to the flower, but takes it from her. “Thank you.” He places it carefully in his pocket and zips it in, but before he can stand to go, Lou throws her arms around Ben’s neck and hugs him tight.

You're sure that Ben must barely feel it, you'd seen a supe try to choke him out and Ben only laugh at them. But this is different.

Ben doesn’t move, in fact it doesn’t look like he’s really breathing. His eyes flick to where you’re standing, wide in surprise and you give him an encouraging smile, because Lou already loves Ben just as much as you do. Ben’s arms are still at his sides awkwardly, but he finally wraps one arm over Lou’s back to hold him to him, gently as if he’s afraid he’ll crush her.

"I'll come back." He murmurs to her. "I promise." But his eyes aren't on Lou, they're on you, open and almost earnest. Making you understand again that he didn't want to leave you, that he wanted to stay, but if he had to go, he'd always come back to you.

Rosemary watches with a frown from the porch, but doesn’t say anything. In the days that had followed their initial meeting she was still trying her best to let him know that she wasn't going to be his friend, that she wasn't going to forgive him.

It hurt you. You didn't say that to her, because you didn't want her to be guilted into liking Ben, but it hurt. It hurt to see your daughter push him away, when all Ben wanted was family. You understood that. Understood that in the way he treated Lou and understood it in the way he treated you.

He was so different than before and you wished Rosemary could see it like you did, but you understood that she needed to realize that all by herself no matter how long it took. You all had time.

Maybe that was the problem, Rosemary had an eternity to hate Ben, but maybe the good thing was that you had an eternity to make him feel loved.

Lou pulls back from him and you take her hand while Ben stands.

"Oi' while we still got daylight!" Butcher shouts from his car, leaning back against the door.

But just before you think Ben is going to go to the car, he steps close to you and kisses you so fiercely you don't remember how to breathe and then he's gone just as suddenly.

You watch the car pull away holding Lou's hand tightly, while it goes down the long drive and finally vanishes in the thicket of trees. It doesn't feel as warm anymore, you're not sure if that's because Ben is gone or because you're preparing yourself for what you have to do next.

"Here you go kitten. This is the only one I could find" Legend says walking through the front door of his house and past Rosemary to hand you a knee-length dark green leather coat. It was vintage, and you had asked him to find something that didn't make you look ridiculous. Legend had closets full of clothes that would have made you look like you were in a Solid Gold music video, and Ben had started wearing the clothes around the house because he didn’t have anything else.

Of course on him they looked good, Ben could be wearing a paper bag and a shower cap and still somehow pull it off.

"Thank you." You release Lou's hand to take it, putting your arms through the sleeves so it hung over your jeans and your black t-shirt.

I swear if I lose one more jacket someone is going to pay. Yeah, because that's what I should be upset about, losing another jacket.

"What do you need that for?" Rosemary asks.

"Lou." You crouch down next to her, smiling up into her freckled cheeks. "I want you to go inside and draw me a field of sunflowers okay?"

"A whole field?" Her eyes brighten.

"A whole field."

"Can I give it to Ben?" She asks.

"Of course you can honey. I think he’d like that very much.” You tuck her dark hair behind her ear before she turns and runs through the large wooden double doors at the front of Legend’s home.

You stand. "I have to do something."

"What do you mean? I thought you just told Ben that you weren't going after Mindstorm?"

"I'm not going after Mindstorm."

"Then what? You’re going to kill someone else aren’t you?” Rosemary crosses her arms over her chest, obviously upset.

You don’t answer.

“Why? Why are you doing this-“ She shouts exasperated.

“Something about everything that happened doesn’t sit well with me.”

“What do you mean everything that happened?”

“Ben was Vought’s golden boy. And I don’t understand why Stan Edgar would just let him be taken like that.” You look at where Legend stands. You didn't think that he knew anything about it, hoped that he didn't. He was one of your oldest friends and to find out that he had betrayed you the same as Payback had betrayed Ben wouldn't end well.

By now he's lit a cigarette, smoking it thoughtfully. "I've wondered the same thing. Stan Edgar was involved in everything, and for him to give the go ahead for Payback to hand Soldier Boy over, means that there must have been some money exchanged for him to green light it." Legend blows out a lungful of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face. "Stan never brought up much with me, just that he was excited that the team was going to be given a chance to help out in Nicaragua." Legend frowns. "I will say that before the premiere that night, Stan seemed to already know that y/n wasn't going to be on that trip. In fact he was convinced that you were going to stay state-side and work with Vogelbaum on some things."

"Vogelbaum?" Rosemary questions looking at him.

"He was the main scientist for Vought, he had in fingers in every pie, knew the extent of all our powers, except mine." You wave a hand. "I always refused bloodwork, I didn't want him to be poking and prodding around in my DNA for too long. But he definitely was big on genetic testing. They were trying to make a new hero-" You pause remembering what Vogelbaum said the night of the premiere. You hadn't remembered what he said until now. When Vogelbaum mentioned the next generation of heroes.

"What is it?" Legend asks.

"Stan knew I wasn't going to Nicaragua. He knew that Countess would make Ben push me away, but what if he was working with Vogelbaum?"

"What would that help?" Rosemary interjects.

"The night of the premiere Vogelbaum said that he wanted me to come by the lab, to meet someone. He said that he was working on "the next generation of heroes" or something." You shake your head as if trying to move things back in place so you can understand. "There's something I'm missing about the whole situation. Some missing piece that doesn't fit." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Stan tried to come talk to me after Ben died, but I never heard what he had to say- I broke his nose and threw him out."

"Maybe he was going to try to get you to come to the lab again." Legend shrugs.

"But why were they so adamant about that it just makes no sense. Why was I important? Why me? It could have been anyone. Hell, they could have had Countess go instead of me. There were other women, other supes. Why did I matter so much?"

You glance at Rosemary again, examining her face and seeing the same thing you realized the other day. Deep down you understood why, but you wanted to be wrong, you didn't want to believe that someone would take that from you, that someone was capable of doing something like that.

"But do you have to kill someone to find out why?" Rosemary pleads. "I don't understand how you're okay with killing people-" She begins to say looking at you like she's never met you before.

"You think I'm okay with killing people?" You ask her. "You think I like this?"

"No but-"

"I've done a lot of shit that I'm not proud of. I've lost control. I've killed people. But believe me when I say that what I'm about to do, I do for you. It might not seem that way right now, but I hope that one day you can understand that."

"Mom I-" She starts, but you hold out your hand. She looks from it to you as if confused, but then finally takes it.

"If Homelander comes here, you kill him. Do you understand me? You don't give him a chance to speak, you kill him." You say, feeling your powers transfer into Rosemary. It didn't hurt, it never did, in fact if she did it to anyone else they probably wouldn't have noticed. Her ability was almost undetectable, the only thing that changes is the quick flash of molten gold in her eyes when she does so. But it was instantaneous and it didn't matter how long Rosemary held on to someone, all it took was skin to skin contact, one touch and that was it.

Rosemary's expression hardens. "Okay."

"I love you." You squeeze her hand once more before you let go.

"I love you too mom."

You take a few steps away from her. "I'll be back tonight. I promise. If Ben gets back before me, just tell him that I needed to do something and that I'll be back. Don't let him try to come after me."

"He's not the easiest person to tell what to do." She sighs.

"I know." You shrug. "He's just like you."

"He is not-"

"He is."

"You need to borrow the car kitten?" Legend asks, beginning to search through his pockets for the keys to his black 1967 Impala. It was in mint condition and Legend was proud of it.

He should be. It's a nice car.

"Nah I think I'll hitch-hike." Your smile is triumphant and maybe a bit mischievous, as you take to the sky, leaving the world and everything you know behind.

If only you knew what was coming.

************************************************************************

Stan Edgar was a simple man. He liked his whiskey neat, his coffee black, his cigars Cuban, his suits pressed, his dinner at 6 pm sharp, and his women poised. Stan Edgar rarely deviated from his plans, never cancelled a meeting, and took every phone call no matter how late. He read the Wall Street Journal each day, checked his blood pressure meticulously, and was in top shape for a man of his age. After years of shaping his image, Stan Edgar's life was the epitome of control and composure.

Not a hair was ever out of place, his apartment on the Upper East Side was perfectly organized, and he never got angry, he got even. He never lost a minute of sleep. He never raised his blood pressure and he knew the exact price that a minute of his time was worth.

He took his morning coffee in the dining room of his large five-bedroom penthouse apartment with a bowl of oatmeal while he read the Wall Street Journal and left his home at exactly 7 am only to return at 5 pm to read through various briefs before his housekeeper delivered his dinner to the same dining room table that he had previously had breakfast on.

When he was taken off the board from Vought, his schedule had deviated slightly, but it was easy for him to control the company, especially with the connections that Stan Edgar had worked his entire life to maintain.

Stan Edgar's life had reached a point of comfortable routine and after forty years it was as it should be. He knew the ins and outs of New York City, he had a stable home, various rental properties, rising stocks, and a control of most of the inner workings of Vought even with Homelander's hostile takeover. Homelander was proving to be a bigger problem than he hoped, but Stan Edgar did not allow himself to revel in Homelander's destruction of the company Stan worked so hard to build up.

Every moment in his life was mapped out to the second and Stan Edgar had worked hard to make it to the top, had crushed many an executive, assistant, and person to gain the power and status that he had.

When Forbes did a profile on him, they had proudly described his rise to power, of course there were details left out, pieces of Stan Edgar's life that he had worked hard to sweep under the rug. But he did not lose sleep over that.

His apartment is cold, silent, and dark when he walks through the front door at 6 pm sharp, odd because Stan expected his housekeeper to be standing there to take his coat as she had been for the past twenty years. The same navy blue wool coat he shrugs out of and hangs on the maple coatrack just inside the front door in his foyer.

You can hear the sound of his footsteps along the marble tiled floor as he makes his way through the silent apartment, his dark brown shoes polished to a shine, squeaking slightly against the polished tiles.

"Roberta?" Stan calls looking for his housekeeper. His voice caries through the darkness.

You could smell the tobacco from his last cigar on his suit coat, his heady cologne, and his hair oil that was just a little spicy. It was old fashioned, something that you could remember from the first time you met him. You could hear the steady beat of his heart in his chest, perfectly maintained by the bottle of medication you had found in his bathroom only a few hours ago.

You already knew Stan Edgar's routine by heart, knew exactly how he spent his days, and the kind of person he was. Today was not the first time that you had trailed him, wove through the crowded streets behind his thin form as he moved oblivious to your shadowing, and watched his driver Carlos pick him up and drop him off at the correct times. You had done it many times, taken days to understand who he was, understand where he went at what time, and who he met with.

Nothing in Stan Edgar's life was a mystery to you.

Hughie's revelation of Victoria Newman's relation to Stan Edgar was not a surprise. It was a piece of information you held close to your heart if things between the two of you ever went South. You didn't fear her power and you weren't above torturing the weapon that Stan had turned her into. It would have been difficult, she was after all a senator, but it would be easy to inflict a small problem within her body telekinetically, something that looked normal to the naked eye.

Of course what you were about to do to Stan was going to be difficult to explain to the police.

You had contingencies in place for that though, there was nothing to worry your head over. The hardest thing you'd done today was get out of bed this morning and your day had included disposing of Stan Edgar's security detail, who hadn't even been able to touch you, let alone know that you were following him.

Some security detail.

You took a drag from your cigarette, leaning back in the high-backed chair in Stan's ornate living room, the tip burning orange in the darkness, the smoke obscuring your form where you lounge back against the faded green velvet. It already smelled like cigar smoke and you knew that it was where Stan smoked his nightly pipe after dinner, the velvet holding the strong scent of tobacco and Stan's ancient cologne. You hadn't had a cigarette since you were pregnant with Rosemary, but there was something about the drama of smoking one that you couldn't pass up.

Stan turns into the living room, but his foot hits something solid where nothing should be and he pauses.

"Roberta?" He says again hesitantly. "Did you move the couch?"

She wouldn't answer him, couldn't answer him. Killing her had probably been a mistake, but when you realized that she was an ex-hero hired by Stan as an extra precaution to make sure no-one entered his apartment, it had made you feel better, especially when she tried to electrocute you, which had surprisingly slowed you down, but not enough to spare her life.

You hear Stan's fingers fumble against the light switch on the wall and the hiss of his surprise when his hand comes back sticky and wet.

You can see him clearly in the darkness, Homelander's x-ray vision meant that you'd never have a problem seeing in the dark ever again. You watch Stan's nose wrinkle in disgust, confused at the discovery, but then watch as he reaches again and flips on the light, his eyes leveled at the ground trying to figure out what it was that he stumbled onto.

His security detail had come to sweep his apartment as they did each day thirty minutes before he arrived home, and it had been the last thing that they had ever done. The blood from the bodies was soaking through the hardwood floors and trickling down to the oriental rugs below Stan's modern living room furniture. The thick copper smell of blood was everywhere and you weren't sure how he missed it.

You hear the sharp intake of his breath as he sees the bodies, traces the ripped limbs and headless forms of his pathetic security detail at his feet. There were others in his bedroom, one in the kitchen, and another hanging from the horns of a moose head over the fireplace at your right where you sit, the blood flowing thick down the beige wallpaper and dripping onto the once pristine floors. There were nine in total, and although the past version of you would have maybe felt some remorse for their deaths, you were finding it difficult to, especially after realizing what you had.

"It's hard to find good help these days." You arch your brow taking a drag from the cigarette perched between your index and middle finger. "I'd say you paid too much for their service given how easy they were to dispose of. I'm kind of disappointed, thought that they'd be a bit more of a challenge."

Stan looks up from the bodies, eyes wide, to see you sitting there in the armchair. There was blood flecked over your shirt, on your jacket, in your hair and on your cheeks that you hadn't bothered wiping away, you figured that there would be more soon and you didn't care.

"Y/n." He keeps his voice composed, but you can hear his hand shift to his pocket for his phone.

It doesn't get far.

You telekinetically pull him over the back of the couch and force him on his knees in front of the ornate square coffee table poised in the center of the room. His hands palm down, fogging the glass with his body temperature. His body is outlined in bright purple, completely at your mercy and under your control, your own eyes glowing bright purple.

You allow yourself to take another drag of cigarette and let a cloud of smoke trickle out from your full lips. "It's good to see you Stan. How long has it been? Ten years? You look good better than my teammates did anyway."

"I was wondering when you were going to drop by." He says tightly eyeing you. "Are you going to keep pretending that you're not Indigo?"

You smile and laugh at him. "I think I'm done pretending."

You weren't surprised that Stan knew. When you'd seen him at your art show all those years ago when you moved back to the city you had suspected he knew, not to mention that he had called Legend to ask about you. It was unfortunate that Stan knew, because now you worried who else knew, but you also figured that the cat was out of the bag as soon as you fought Homelander.

Plus, maybe the secret would die with Stan.

"Is Ben here?" Stan asks, and you hear the way his voice sticks on Ben's name. His eyes shift to the dark corners of the room as if he believes that Ben will materialize from the shadows.

It's like him to be more afraid of Ben than me. No one was ever afraid of me. I was just Ben's little friend, another supe that they could dress up and put on display. They should have been afraid.

"No, I came alone. Thought I'd give him the night off."

"I’m surprised you let him back into your life after everything that happened." Stan replies, but you don't miss the twitch of his body as he tries to escape the grip of your powers. He wouldn't. Your hold was unbreakable for someone like him. If you had decided to use your powers on Ben or on Homelander, you were sure that it wouldn't hold them for long, they were too strong.

You examine Stan again. His body is rigid in your hold, head tilted up to stare at you, hair flopping forward into his face from when you yanked him over the couch, and his knees are pressed into the blood soaked carpet on the living room floor.

You knew what he was doing, he was trying to get inside your head, try to make you turn against Ben the way everyone else did, but you wouldn't fall for it, not again.

"Well you did you best to keep it that way, didn’t you Stan?"

"I don't know what you're talking about-" Stan's words are cut off in a gasp as your telekinetic grip tightens on his body, squeezing him tight for a moment before you release the pressure, but keep him where he is.

"Do me a favor, don't lie to me. It's insulting, plus we're old friends." You smile sweetly. "And I always love seeing my old friends. Especially ones who stabbed Ben and me in the back."

Your glowing purple eyes flick to the large painting on the living room wall. It's one of yours, a depiction of a quiet forest from your last show. It was weird to see a piece of the new life you crafted hanging there. "I'm flattered you bought one of my paintings."

"You always were talented. I was disappointed that you didn't start trying to sell them earlier. Probably would have sold more when you were a hero, could have enhanced your image." He says, but you can hear the edge beneath his voice. He's trying to keep conversation, make this diplomatic, when he knows there's no way out. You’d made sure of that. No one was coming to help Stan Edgar.

"I sell enough now. Thanks though." Your body stands from the chair, listening to the rapid beat of his heart in his chest, and gesture to the collection of tobacco pipes that line the mantle beneath the body of the security guard. "My dad had a pipe just like this one." You stop at a simple one, not carved, plain, a dark cherry wood that tapered into solid black. "Used to smoke right before he went to bed every night. I spent a lot of time sketching him sitting in his chair by the fireplace, learning what he looked like, tracing the plains of his face." You take another long drag from the cigarette.

It was hard to think about your father after all these years, you hadn't thought of your family in a long time, not when you had Rosemary and Lou and now Ben. But you could still remember those quiet evenings when there was a hint of a chill in the air and your father would smoke his pipe and listen to music from the phonograph he had in the corner while you sat at his feet and drew him. Sometimes your mother would join him with her own embroidery in the matching arm chair next to his. As much as you never got along with her, you could see how much she loved your father and how much he loved her.

"I'd never met Homelander in person before a few days ago. I'd seen his face on billboards, on energy drinks but never in person. I would have realized it years ago if I had." You trace the gentle curve of the pipe with a fingertip, exhaling another trail of smoke.

"Realized what?"

"I'm only going to ask you this once Stan." You pause as you turn to look at him. "Why does Homelander have my father's nose?"

It was obscure. You knew that. But it was what you had realized the other day when you were looking at Rosemary, the one feature that distinguished her from Ben, the one piece of yourself that she had, was the same one that Homelander did. You suspected that the smell of hair dye you smelled when you met Homelander for the first time was to cover up the brown hair that he must have shared with Ben, just as the makeup on his cheeks would cover the familiar freckles Rosemary had. They could have been twins, you could see it now.

Stan doesn't breathe, his muscles straining under his suit as he silently fights for his freedom, his heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears, but he doesn't answer you.

Your eyes glow a dangerous purple and the ceiling light flickers above the two of you, the sound of the static with each blink breaking up the wet tap of the blood dripping to the floor and the low pitched thrum of your powers that fills the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Stan swallows.

"What did I say about lying to me?" You sigh, flicking the cigarette into the full length white curtains that remain closed over the living room windows, immediately catching fire. Of course they would, you'd soaked them in gasoline moments before Stan came into the room.

His eyes flick to the flames as they reach up to the ceiling, but the fire alarm wouldn't go off, you'd sabotaged it.

"The human body can withstand 50 pounds of pressure per square inch before it starts to crush. I’ve never crushed anyone before, mind you I’ve also never been crushed." You shrug your shoulders turning back to look at him. "But I'm very interested to see what it will do to your body."

Stan utters one word. "Please."

"It's funny." You take a step closer to him, tapping your lip thoughtfully. "I didn't ask you to beg for you life, I asked you to answer a simple question."

Stan still doesn't answer. The high pitched snap of his fingers one by one breaking is sharp as you increase the pressure on his hands , like the crisp sound of a wishbone at Thanksgiving.

Stan inhales sharply, his gaze lowering to what used to be his fingers, not quite realizing what the sound was. You watch as the realization rolls across his face like thunderclouds on a stormy day, as he realizes they have been reduced to mush beneath your powers and a scream rips from his throat, echoing through the empty hallways, but there's no one there to hear him scream. Blood swells beneath the ruined flesh, turning his skin a sickly shade of purplish-red, before oozing through the breaks in the tissue by the sharp points of what were the delicate bones of his hands.

"Ooo. That doesn't look too good buddy." You click your tongue. "You want to rethink your answer? Or do I have to do your toes to match?"

"Vogelbaum tried to tell you at the premiere." His voice is a weak growl, eyes not raising from his hands. "I tried to tell you too, but you broke my damn nose."

"Tell me what?" You hold your glowing purple hand over him like a warning prepared to crush whatever you have to, to make him speak.

He continues to look down at his ruined hands.

"Ah-ah-ah." You place a fingertip beneath his chin, feeling the stubble of his five o'clock shadow, so his gaze is now on you. "I want you to look at me."

"Ben was a manic, crazed, he needed to be replaced. He wouldn't follow orders, wouldn't listen to us. He only listened to you!" Stan spits, his eyes filled with rage and pain. "It was easy to turn the rest of the team against him. Countess was jealous of his attention on you, it was logical that she would be the one to break whatever you two had. Even Noir was easy to convince. He always was obsessed with you after you saved his life from that asshole." More blood seeps over the glass table.

You withdraw your hand from Stan's chin for a moment surprised. You knew that Countess was always trying to get between Ben and you, but the news of Noir's obsession was new.

"What do you mean Noir was obsessed with me?"

"Oh please." Stan seethes through his gritted teeth. "Did you really think that you kept losing things? Your hair ties, your underwear, your hairbrush, even that stupid fucking necklace you always wore! Noir was harder to keep out of your apartment than Ben whenever you were out of town. Not to mention he always asked to be put on the same interviews, given auditions in films you were in. Noir was always trying to get between Ben and you, but you never gave him the time of day. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to make sure you never figured out that he kept breaking in to your apartment?"

Your body goes cold. You knew the necklace Stan was talking about, the pearl necklace that your father had given to you all those years ago, the one that you'd lost a few months before your birthday and never figured out where it went, and the one that Ben had replaced on the night he gave you everything you wanted. You had noticed some things missing, the hair-ties and hairbrush, but you thought you'd left in the hotel rooms that Vought paid for, you had no idea that Noir had been in your apartment.

Whenever he talked to you, you thought that he was being friendly, that Noir was trying to be nicer to you because the rest of the team avoided you due to your close relationship Ben, but you never imagined that he wanted to be more.

"Noir was first on board with the plan. It didn't take much to get the others to fall in line." Stan continues.

"What plan?"

"The plan to replace Soldier Boy. But it had to be handled delicately, there couldn't just be any supe that took over. It had to be someone worthy, someone who exemplified the bullshit American Ideals that Ben used to boast about in all of those ridiculous films."

"So what? You sent Ben off to fucking Russia and you replaced him with Homelander? You shoved all that American dream shit down Homelander's throat and look what you created. You created a fucking monster!"

"It wasn't supposed to be that way. Vogelbaum wanted the replacement to grow up with a mother. He saw how Ben lived with only a father's influence and he wanted a soothing reassuring person in the replacement's life."

"You're not answering my question." You snarl, your hands beginning to glow brighter as you tighten your grip on his feet, preparing to crush them into mush.

"We had the genetic material from Soldier Boy it was harder to get it from you!" Stan shouts, feeling the pressure intensify in his feet, thinking that if he answers your question you'd spare them.

You stop for a moment, tilting your head to the side. The heat from the flames on your left growing with every passing second as they spread to the other curtains on the second large window. “What are you saying?”

“Did you really think we didn’t know what you could do?" Stan almost laughs, but it comes out in a choking cough. "We knew. Your power is one of the rarest we’d ever seen. And Dr. Vogelbaum hoped that your son would have the same one, that your son would possess some quality that you had and the qualities that Soldier Boy had. The perfect weapon. The perfect supe." Stan croaks. "A supe that could adapt and walk away from death like you could. A supe that was perfectly under our control, different than Soldier Boy."

“Are you saying that Homelander is my son?” Your voice is dangerously low, no more than a snarl.

Stan swallows. “Yours and Soldier Boy.”

With those words, the bones in Stan’s feet snap loudly as they both are reduced to nothing, but crushed bone and flesh, never to be used ever again.

But his scream of pain is wiped out by the roaring in your ears as you realize what he's said, realize exactly what Vogelbaum did all those years ago, realize exactly why he asked you to come to the lab when you danced together at the premiere.

It was what you suspected, but that didn’t mean that you were any less ready to hear it. The wave of emotion that crashes over you squeezes your heart in your chest, because what kind of a monster would do that? What kind of person would take something like that from you or from anyone?

Anger, pain, shock, rage, and horror all war in your chest, grappling against your ribs, choking your next breath from your lungs, and make you feel as though your body is tearing itself apart.

You think about the hollow look in Homelander's dark eyes, remember what Hughie told you he was doing to Annie, what Hughie told you he had threatened to do, and remember what Butcher said that Homelander did to his wife. You remember how cocky and confident he was at the Twins home, how unaffected he was by the gore of the bodies on the upper levels, and remember the way he didn't seem to care that he was hurting Ben, that he killed Butcher, and then tried to kill you.

That monster is my son, is Ben's son. He's Rosemary’s brother-

You could feel the anxiety rising, threatening to rip your own heart out of your chest, but then it suddenly shifts to all encompassing rage. The entire room shakes with the force of your anger, spider cracks appearing in the drywall all around the room, the windows in the room shatter sending glass blowing outward onto the street sixty stories below the penthouse apartment, and the furniture begins to shift and slide along the floor restlessly as the flames flare bright red and orange and cause the wallpaper to curl black.

"How did you get my genetic material?" Your voice is eerily calm as you gaze at him, vision going red.

Stan looks up at you, painful tears in his eyes. "We couldn't do it when Ben was with you. He was so damn protective of you, if we tried to touch you with him around he would have torn us apart, so we had to wait for him to go shoot one of those stupid films overseas." He gasps. "Vogelbaum said that you wouldn't remember. Said that it would be just like a bad dream.

You freeze when he says that, the memory of the nightmare that had plagued you for decades flashing across your mind, every detail becoming crystal clear. The voice of Vogelbaum telling the nurses to hold you down, the smell of his breath, his face gazing down at you from between your legs with a sickening smile on his face, while you tried to clear your head, the sound of your own screams ripping from your throat as you tried to fight the drugs they pumped into your system to keep you quiet.

"Egg extraction was difficult." Stan coughs, blood appearing on his bottom lip. "You killed two nurses and two orderlies. Almost killed Vogelbaum."

"I should have." You spit savagely. "If he was here, I would make him suffer. How could you do that? How could you do something so inhuman-"

Your body doesn't feel like your own, your skin is too tight, your next breath catching in your lungs, and a shudder of absolute disgust shakes through your bones. You feel the urge to throw up, to expel whatever images you can, to purge yourself because it meant they had been inside you, touched you, defiled you in a way that they believed was justified. Disgust, shame, horror and pure uninhibited rage shift along your skin in waves crackling in the air around your body. Everything you know is a lie. Everything that you thought you knew about the past nothing more than shades of gray.

"In the name of science there is no boundary, no limit that cannot be surpassed." Stan tries to smile, but it comes off as a grimace and as soon as he opens his mouth, his entire front row of top teeth rip from his mouth and land on the glass table, flecking blood over the surface.

Stan sputters, choking on the blood, eyes widening in pain, but he continues, his voice sticking around the holes where his teeth once were. “Vogelbaum tried to tell you that night. Tried to get you to come to the lab but you refused. He wanted the subject to have a mother, a figure that he respected, a way of reigning him in-"

"You have taken everything from him!" You snarl grabbing Stan by the throat, raising him to your face. "You have denied him the right of family. You made him into something inhuman something unrecognizable-"

"We didn't do anything." Stan cannot hold on to your wrist, tries to raise his ruined hands to place them against you skin, but they only slide off leaving smears of his blood against your flesh. "You chose this. You did this to him. You denied him a mother. We tried to allow you into his life and you refused."

"Don't you dare turn this on me. What you did to my son is not my fault. You turned him into a monster because you wanted a puppet, a weapon you could control. What Homelander became is all you and Vogelbaum. It has nothing to do with me." You throw Stan back against the opposite wall. "You made damn sure of that."

He lands in a heap, tries to rise to his feet, but the ruined stumps no longer work so he props himself up against the wall, taking shallow breaths, blood trickles down the corner of his mouth.

But Stan doesn't stay on the floor long, you raise him up, his body glowing again bright purple as he slams back into the wall, arms outstretched, legs hanging limply beneath him as he gasps for breath.

"When Butcher's wife had her son, Vogelbaum was happy he got another chance. Happy that Ryan had a mother figure to rely on, but Ryan has not turned out anywhere near as powerful as your daughter.”

Your jaw tightens as you tilt your head, fear breaking through the rage and numbness that has begun to build beneath everything else.

"What did you just say?"

"It took us years to find her, but as soon as I saw her at the art show ten years ago I knew. She's the spitting image of Ben. So we put things in motion."

"What things?" You snarl, tightening your grip on his chest so tightly that you hear the cracking of his ribs.

"Her ability to keep powers for 24 hours is unmatched. She’s almost indestructible. Almost as indestructible as you. She was so helpful in our development of our Temp V.” He exhales in one breath sharply, wincing in pain.

"What?" Shock grips you tight, holding you in place.

They used Rosemary for that? For the shit that Hughie and Butcher shoot up?

"The scientists at Vought couldn't figure out a way to temporarily give someone powers." Stan gasps. "But her blood was just what we needed to understand it."

"You took her blood?" You roar, the furniture in the room flipping back towards the door, crashing against the walls.

"She gave it to us. When I approached her she was adamant about not telling you. You were so against being a hero again and having her do anything connected to Vought.” He smiles around the holes in his mouth. "She agreed to help us if it meant leaving you alone. But-" Stan swallows again, gasping out another breath that sounds like a wheeze. "We were always watching. Always have been watching. There is no where you can escape us, no where you can go to get away from us. You think you're free?" Blood trickles over his dark lips and down his chin, but he continues to smile. "You never will be. And when your granddaughter finally develops her powers, she won't be either. Vought is already prepared for her, nothing can stop it."

Your face hardens at his mention of Lou, anger flaring deep in your soul, rational part of your mind no longer in control. There was no semblance of the control you were so proud of left.

You didn't know who you were anymore. All you knew was that this man had taken something from you, stripped you of what you were so long ago, and he would pay. Because you'd be damned if he was going to take Lou away too. If he really had already gotten to Rosemary, you'd failed her, but you wouldn't fail Lou.

You take in a breath, but the cold numbness is quickly coming to pick away at the heat of your rage, filling your chest cavity. "You've always been a snake, slithering your way to the top, choking the other people who challenged you, slimy, pathetic. You were afraid of Ben all those years. Cowered in the fucking shadows from his rage, afraid to speak, afraid that he would be your end. You were wrong Stan. You should have feared me instead. Because I am the end of you."

"Y/n please-"

But his next words are lost in the blood curdling scream that rips from his throat as his body begins to cave in on itself, the snapping of bone and the smell of blood filling the room as his limbs flatten and shrink into his body, ribcage caves in to his torso, his head crunching down into his neck until the thing that was Stan Edgar is nothing more than a soccer ball sized lump of flesh and ground bone, dropping to the ground with a sickening wet thud.

The flames lick at the walls behind you, steadily curving around the room as you stand there. Stan's blood is soaked into your hair, dripping down your cheeks, but the heady copper smell is obscured by the smoke that floods the room.

Despite it all you can't hear the sound of the flames, can't hear the sounds of the city below, can't feel the heat of the fire, can't feel the stickiness of the blood as it coats your cheeks. There's a buzzing your ears, that comes after Stan's death. An uncontrollable shudder shakes your body as you stand there in the ruined room, the cold feeling unfurling from the center of your chest like the petals of a flower. You can't feel anything, not rage, not shame, and definitely not remorse.

Because everything you know is a lie, everything you knew about Homelander, and now everything you knew about Rosemary. And if she hid that from you, what else had she lied about?

************************************************************************

A/N: I did try to warn y'all. This chapter was a lot, and completely out of my comfort zone and I really miss writing the happy fluff 😭. But this chapter had to be done. And honestly… the reader's Homelander is showing. Somethings I think he may have inherited even though he was kept apart from her.

If you'd like to read something a little happier please try my series:

Take A Chance On Me

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist please let me know :)

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harmonicakai · 5 months

Text

As Long As You Care

Part 1 of the "Somebody Else" series

Pairing: Soobin x Reader, Yeonjun x Reader

Summary: From the moment he first met you, Soobin has had the biggest crush on you. The only thing standing in his way is his college roommate, Yeonjun, who you’ve been in love with ever since you were little.

Tropes: love triangle, unrequited love, fake dating, frat boy!yeonjun, nerd!soobin, roommates, college AU, childhood best friends

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: drinking, sexual tension (mdni!), curse words, yj is an asshole

A/N: TBH I feel like this is one of my weakest works so far, but I really like the concept and already have the whole thing planned out, so I will try and see completing it through <3

“If you could see that I'm the one who understands you Been here all along, So why can't you see? You belong with me" —You Belong With Me, Taylor Swift

“If you have a crush on Y/N, then go for it,” Yeonjun laughs, surprised that Soobin would even bother to get his permission, as if he wants your hand in marriage or something.

“Really? You don’t mind?” Soobin blinks back, unsure of whether or not his roommate is being serious. You’ve been friends with Yeonjun since you were little kids, so Soobin figured that running the idea of asking you out by him was surely the right thing to do.

“If you’re worried about whether me and her are more than friends, don’t be. If we were going to start dating, we would’ve when we were in high school. God knows it would’ve made our moms happy.”

“Would you help me then? You know her better than I do,” Soobin continues, eager for tips on how to properly woo you. “Do you know her favorite kind of flowers?”

“Can’t say I do,” Yeonjun shrugs. “Listen, Soob, Y/N is a hopeless romantic. And she’s never even had a boyfriend before. I’m sure whatever you come up with will exceed any and all of her expectations.”

Yeonjun’s excuses for why the moment doesn’t need to be special are precisely why Soobin wants to take so much care in planning things. It would be your first date, first boyfriend, first everything.

Well, except for your first kiss, which Yeonjun had graciously stolen back in middle school, years before he had even introduced you to Soobin. Both of you have asserted that it was only once, and simply for you to get it over with before a school dance in the hopes that your real crush would make a move.

Soobin would be lying to say he doesn’t get jealous of the two of you. Plus, Yeonjun is totally wrong. From what others have said, you’re extremely picky when it comes to guys.

“So, when are you going to ask her?” Yeonjun says, snapping Soobin out of his trance. “She’ll be here any minute if you wanna do it then.”

“She’s coming over now?” Soobin asks, his palms feeling infinitely more sweaty. He hasn’t had any time to do his hair or choose a good outfit, let alone run to the store and pick up any of the little presents he had planned on getting for you.

“We’re going to get breakfast. Some new café she’s been dying to try,” Yeonjun replies, his mouth full of a croissant. Soobin rolls his eyes. If the two of you are about to go out to eat, why the hell is he stuffing his face right now?

Soobin checks his watch. If he leaves now, he’ll surely make it back before the two of you return. “Can you make sure that you guys come here when you’re done?”

“I can make no promises,” Yeonjun sighs, staring at his reflection in the hallway mirror. He throws on a pair of sunglasses, his phone ringing to signal that he’s gotten a text, most likely from you. “Y/N is going to meet me outside. It’s now or never, dude.”

Soobin glances out the window and spots you standing in the courtyard, wearing a floral sundress that hugs you in all the right places. The sunlight shines down on your hair, leaving a glow that makes you look absolutely angelic. He swallows hard.

You’ve made yourself comfortable on a bench just outside, your feet propped up on the arm rest.

“It looks like she’s been waiting a while,” Soobin observes.

“Yeah, I know,” Yeonjun says nonchalantly.

“Shouldn’t you hurry up, then?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” Yeonjun scoffs. “Since you’re so concerned, I’ve got a date after this, okay? Well, if you can even call it that. Point is, I need to look good, and that takes time.”

“I guess I’ll just ask her another day, then,” Soobin sighs in defeat, backing away from the window. He knows better than to push Yeonjun. “Listen, will you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.” Yeonjun is still admiring himself, now unbuttoning even more of his shirt. He might as well go topless at this point, Soobin thinks to himself.

“Could you maybe mention me and see how Y/N reacts?” Soobin asks, adjusting his glasses.

“I will for 30,000 won,” Yeonjun deadpans, not even bothering to look Soobin’s way.

“Are you joking?”

“No. I don’t care if you guys date, but I certainly won’t be making it easy for you. She’s my friend. If you become her boyfriend and start taking her out, that’s less time she’ll be spending with me.” Sometimes, most of the time, Soobin really hates his roommate.

“You suck,” Soobin says, reaching into his wallet and handing over a few bills. “Here.”

“Pleasure doing business,” Yeonjun grins, pocketing the cash. A knock at the door startles both of them. “Why don’t you get that?”

Soobin heads for the door, knowing you’re on the other side of it. He mentally prepares himself, smoothing his hair into place and checking his breath.

When the door swings open, you’re surprised to see Yeonjun’s roommate staring at you.

“Uh, hi,” you greet him. Soobin holds his breath. You’re even more beautiful up close. “Is Yeonjun ready to go? I’ve been waiting downstairs, for like, ten minutes.”

“I don’t think so,” Soobin says, stepping aside to let you into the dorm’s common room. “You’re welcome to wait, though.”

“Thanks,” you reply, stepping in and spotting your best friend fussing with his hair. “Hi Junie!”

“Hi, Y/N,” Yeonjun smiles. He pulls you into a tight hug. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I didn’t see your texts. I just need a few more minutes, okay?”

Soobin knows his roommate is lying, but he’s not going to be the one to tell you that.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you say, making yourself comfortable on the couch. You turn your attention to Soobin, who you don’t really know much about. “How’s your morning going, Soobin?”

“It’s good. Great, actually! A little busy, but I like having things to do, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. What are you up to?”

“Mostly running errands. Then later I have to take some photos of today’s soccer game for the school newspaper, go to jazz band practice, and study for my econ midterm,” he rambles.

“Wow. That’s… a lot.” Your eyes widen, wondering how he manages to juggle that kind of schedule. Sure, you care about extracurriculars too, but never enough to risk burning yourself out.

“Soobin is a real nerd, Y/N. If you ever need a tutor for anything, he’s your guy,” Yeonjun calls from the bathroom.

“Ooh, okay. How are you at multivariable calculus?” you inquire. It’s the class you’ve been struggling with the most this semester.

“Math is unfortunately the one thing I’m bad at,” Soobin admits. He opens his mouth to keep talking, but Yeonjun’s finally returned, at last ready to go.

Soobin watches as Yeonjun’s hand finds yours, pulling you up off the couch before finding its way around your waist. “Let’s head out, babe.”

“Yay! Okay, well, bye, Soobin!” You wave, being pulled along. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Yeonjun drags you out the front door before Soobin can even say goodbye, the sweet scent of your perfume lingering in the air behind you.

Soobin waits a few minutes to make sure the two of you won’t be stopping back in before he faceplants onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. At this point, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever have the chance to tell you how he really feels with your “best” friend standing in the way.

—————-

Soobin’s heart nearly beats out of his chest the second he lays his eyes on you. You’re wearing the same sundress from earlier today, but this time without the slouchy cardigan draped over your shoulders, and your hair is thrown into a perfectly messy updo. To top it all off, you’ve got glitter dusted along your neck and collarbone, making you shimmer under the glow of the frat’s neon lights.

He wants nothing more than to lean down and kiss it all off of you. The only issue is that you’re surrounded by a ton of other partygoers who probably all want to do the same.

You’re the only reason he even bothered to come to this party and he might not even get the chance to talk to you. He may not have been of any help this morning, but at least Yeonjun was decent enough to text Soobin and let him know the two of you would be here tonight.

“Soob! I didn’t think you’d actually come!” Yeonjun’s voice startles him as he claps his roommate on the shoulders from behind, his hands still wet from swimming in the pool. Soobin jerks back, nearly spilling the contents of his red solo cup.

“She looks hot, doesn’t she?” Yeonjun continues, glancing past him to see you twirling your hair as you gently let another guy know he has no chance with you. Soobin hates it when he talks about you this way, even if it’s true. “Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet?”

“We haven’t even talked,” Soobin says, his voice barely reaching above the music’s blast. He stares down at his white sneakers, sticky from the spilled drinks and god knows what else is lining the frat’s linoleum floors. “Did you do what I asked you to, by the way?”

“Shit, sorry, man. I totally forgot. But you know what? Maybe we can change your luck,” Yeonjun smiles, feeling a bit sorry for his lovesick roommate. “Me and a few other people are gonna start a game of spin the bottle in the next room if you want to try and kiss her.”

It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. Except when you spin the bottle and it glides past him, landing instead on Yeonjun, Soobin’s heart plummets into his stomach.

You lean past him with a shy smile on your face, wrapping your arms around your best friend’s neck as he pulls you into the steamiest kiss Soobin has ever seen. It’s enough to make him wonder if maybe the two of you have done this more than just once.

Despite being over in seconds, it feels like hours to Soobin. To make matters worse, when you pull away, your lips wet with Yeonjun’s saliva, you wave at him with the most gorgeous smile in the world.

“Sorry, man,” Yeonjun whispers to Soobin, running a hand through his hair, messed up from where your fingers were just laced through it. “Maybe next round.”

If Soobin could fight, he would’ve certainly thrown a punch straight into his roommate’s jaw. But even though he towers over him by a few good inches, he knows that he’d be out like a light and wake up with a black eye that’ll truly never let him forget about this moment.

When it’s finally his turn, it lands on a girl just a few spots over from you and he does his best not to look disappointed. She’s pretty, for sure, but she’s not you. Soobin plants a quick kiss on her lips and the crowd groans.

“More!” an unfamiliar voice chants. The rest of the players join in, although all Soobin can pinpoint is the sound of you nearby, egging him on to make out with another girl.

He relents, enough alcohol in his system to finally let loose, pulling the girl into a fast, sloppy kiss. The crowd shifts to whooping and hollering, and he sees you giggling with one of your girl friends out of the corner of his eye.

It isn’t until the two of you watch as Yeonjun gropes that same friend seconds after the bottle lands on her that Soobin notices a shift in your mood. Your once everlasting smile has been replaced with a blank stare that unmistakably signals heartbreak.

Soobin would know. He was making the same face just a few minutes ago.

Eventually, the game fizzles out and everybody disperses back into the frat’s crowd, still going strong despite being hours in.

After wandering around the party for a while, Soobin spots you at the keg, frustratedly pouring yourself another beer. From the way you’re stumbling, he knows it’s probably not a good idea for you to actually drink it.

“Hey, wait,” he intervenes, grabbing the plastic cup out of your hand. “Y/N. Maybe you should slow down.”

“Fuck off,” you scoff before turning to see who’s interrupted your binge. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of Soobin, Yeonjun’s roommate. He usually never comes to these things and has only ever been really, really nice to you. “Soobin. I am so, so sorry. I’m just going through it right now.”

“I can see that. Do you want to get some fresh air?”

“Yes, please.” He loops his arm around yours and guides you outside, making sure that you don’t trip on any uneven steps or loose cans.

If it were Yeonjun, he’d carry you bridal style, letting you nuzzle your head into his shoulder until you reached your dorm room.

“You can have some of mine,” Soobin says, handing over his drink as you steady yourself against the porch’s railing. “It’s just Sprite.”

You nod and gulp the entire cup of soda down, the bubbles tickling your dry throat.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” Soobin continues, catching you off guard. You turn to stare at him, eyes wide before you fix your expression to something more nonchalant.

“No, I’m not.” He looks back at you with a frown, letting you know that he’s seen just enough tonight to not believe any of what you’re saying. Soobin doesn’t seem like the kind of person you’d want to lie to, anyway.

“Fine, maybe just a little bit,” you admit, crossing your arms in defeat. “I mean, in general, how are girls like me supposed to compete with girls like her?”

“Lots of guys would kill to be with a girl like you. She’s just more… straightforward.” You can tell he can’t actually come up with a better explanation for why his roommate isn’t into you.

“I kissed him the way I’ve been wanting to for years now. I don’t know how much more straightforward I can get. You know, last week, I asked if there was anything going on between the two of them and he told me she wasn’t his type?”

“Who isn’t Yeonjun’s type?” Soobin laughs awkwardly, regret immediately settling on his face as he realizes he probably shouldn’t have said that. He’s right and you know it, though.

“Please tell me they aren’t making out right now,” you change the subject, hoping and praying that the answer is no.

Soobin glances over his shoulder back into the party to see Yeonjun and your friend entangled, his hands gripping her hips as she grinds into him. “He’s… certainly doing something to her.”

“Wow. Okay, that’s all I needed to hear.” You walk past Soobin to stare at Yeonjun and your friend all over each other. It’s a horrifying scene, but for some reason, you can’t tear your eyes away. “You know, I’d hate to see how he is with a girl he’s actually into. Men really suck sometimes.”

“Y/N, look at me,” Soobin says, his voice the steadiest its been all night.

“Huh?” you ask in confusion. Soobin turns you back around, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. It trembles against your cheek as he leans in close to you.

“We can get back at him,” he whispers, both of your heart rates rising by the second. His breath is hot against your ear. “If you want to.”

You can’t believe the words that have just come out of his mouth. Choi Soobin, Yeonjun’s sweet roommate who has only ever spoken to you in the most polite and platonic way, is offering to help you make your best friend jealous.

Your silence makes him backtrack, the panic in his voice evident. He really has no clue what’s gotten into him. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was just joking! I didn’t actually mean—”

“Let’s do it,” you say, cutting him off. Before he can protest, you’re pulling him back into the frat house and onto the middle of the dance floor, right next to Yeonjun.

Soobin can barely believe this is happening right now, and if his arms weren’t wrapped around your waist, he’d pinch himself.

Usually, you keep to yourself at parties, kindly entertaining men’s advances, but never giving them the satisfaction of dancing with you. Tonight, you’re breaking all of your own self-imposed rules with the guy you least expected to.

“Kiss me,” you say into his ear, loud enough to fight the music’s volume, but quiet enough for Yeonjun not to hear. Soobin looks at you with sheer panic on his face and you know immediately that he’s incapable of making the first move.

At least that’s what you think before he crashes his lips onto yours. Despite watching him awkwardly make out with someone else earlier, he’s surprisingly good at kissing. There’s a hunger to the way he grabs your waist and pulls you closer that makes you smile into him.

As you feel his soft hair beneath your fingertips, you almost forget why you’re kissing him in the first place. When you finally separate, you turn to see Yeonjun staring at the two of you, a sly grin on his face that makes you question if you’ve made the right decision.

—————-

“That was so humiliating,” you groan, trudging down the sidewalk. Soobin trails you like a puppy dog. “He was happy for us. So much for making him jealous. You know, maybe we should just call this whole thing off now.”

“No!” Soobin panics. “I, uh, I have an idea.”

“Which is?” you say, stopping to look at him. You can tell by the way he stares blankly at you that he doesn’t actually have an answer.

“Well… if we keep this up, then Yeonjun will see how great of a girlfriend you are and he’ll want you for himself! Really, we’ve just gotta give it more time.”

Your head aches, but Soobin does make a little bit of sense. “Fine, okay. How long are you willing to put up with me for?”

Soobin knows he can’t say forever. “Why don’t we try until the end of the semester? If he doesn’t confess his love to you by then, then we’ll stage a break up.”

“Sounds like a deal,” you say, reaching out your hand to shake. Soobin hesitates. “I don’t have cooties, you know. Besides, your tongue was kind of just down my throat back there.”

“Right, sorry,” Soobin says, taking your hand into his. It’s much bigger than you expected, nearly covering yours in its entirety. “Deal.”

“Come on,” you say, continuing your trek back to your dorm. “Let’s go.”

“My room is the other way,” he attempts to remind you. You don’t even bother to look back at him, wanting to get out of the cold and into your bed.

“We’re going to mine. Yeonjun is never going to believe we’re together if he catches you in your own bed tonight.”

—————-

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bloom-into-blue · 2 months

Text

𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕌𝕡 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕖𝕒𝕥

summary: your girlfriend's performing tonight with her band, and you're more than excited to see zoya in action! what kind of action you'll actually get, however, is something else entirely.

contents: drummer!zoya x fem!reader, established relationship, reader wears a skirt and makeup, fing.ering, some light degradation, some spanking (all of these reader receiving), cunn.ilingus (zoya receiving), a hint of body worship (zoya receiving).

word count: 3.3k

author's note: zoya being a drummer in official material just made things easier because funny story, this is based very loosely on real events. i was at a battle of bands once and met a really hot drummer, complimented her playing and she hugged me. i later got shoved into a wall when a metal band began playing and the front of the crowd became a mosh pit.

you feel so out of place here.

zoya’s band is performing tonight at a bar, and obviously, any self-respecting girlfriend would go to their girlfriend's concert, right? it's only natural! you've even gone as far as to make a banner in dark cloth with bai yi’s, eleven’s, serpent’s and zoya's names spray-painted on it, though anyone can tell there's favoritism when zoya's name is bigger than the others and there's messy hearts around it. whatever, you're happy to show support for the band, but you're also very much devoted to your pookie (that absolutely loathes being called pookie, hence why you do it).

…all that said though, you're still by yourself in the crowd in a place you're not used to, dressed in a relatively short skirt and a blouse that leaves your shoulders exposed. it was supposed to be something to tease zoya, get her to smirk and say, “oh, you just couldn't wait ‘til we got back home?”

now though, there's a breeze that makes you shiver and you're attracting less desirable attention. now there's less excitement and more desire for zoya to just whisk you away. all this skin you're showing is meant for zoya and zoya alone!

it seems like whatever god is out there is rather merciful though, because suddenly there's a hand that grips your wrist and pulls you away. at first you turn around in shock, already on edge, before you recognize your girlfriend's tall form and her silky, silver hair. just like that, you're smiling eagerly while you let zoya guide you to the backstage section only musicians are allowed.

the second you're behind the stage, zoya's glaring at you with furrowed brows. “c'mon princess, you should've texted me. it's obvious from miles away that you're uncomfortable,” she scolds while still gripping onto your wrist, her touch a bit more gentle now that it's just the two of you.

“s-sorry, i didn't know if you'd be able to answer,” you try to explain, suddenly feeling sheepish before her.

despite still being somewhat worried about you though, zoya sighs softly before a bright grin rises to her face, and suddenly her hands dart behind your thighs and she lifts you up like you weight nothing, which prompts you to let out a shocked little squeal. “z-zoya!” you exclaim, clearly flustered.

“what? i'm just happy to see my girl here, cheering for me!” she counters eagerly, and suddenly you're reminded of why you spent so much time working on that banner and wanted to remain in the crowd: so zoya could see it and see that cocky yet thrilled expression of hers.

the way she smiles is too much for you, and with a fond grin, you lean down while she's still lifting you up with those strong hands, then kiss zoya's lips so tenderly you'd think she's made of porcelain. of course, zoya's happy to kiss back, though she keeps it chaste because god knows she won't be letting you go if you deepen the kiss even a tiny bit.

“gonna be cheering for me in the crowd?” zoya whispers against your lips and you just know her lipstick left marks over your own. “or do you wanna stay near the stage? we can be even closer that way.”

“won't you get in trouble for sneaking me backstage though?”

“eh, who cares. i'm not letting my girl stay where she doesn't wanna.” as she speaks, one of her thumbs gently strokes the spot where your thigh meets your ass, and while normally that would drive you crazy, all it does is melt your heart.

“hm… if you're sure, babe. i'd rather stay near the stage.”

“consider it done.”

you kiss her on the cheek, both to show her your appreciation and to leave a mark of your own on zoya. “you're a darling.”

behind the two of you the unmistakable noise of bai yi fake gagging can be heard while eleven tells her off with a little laugh, meanwhile serpent signals that their band is up now. zoya pouts at being called away, though she goes right back to grinning at you with that usual, wolfish smirk of hers. she gives your ass a gentle pat, something that makes your cheeks burn, then sets you back down down and adjusts her own clothes.

“wish me luck, doll.”

as she leaves, you throw her a kiss silently, then smile brightly when she catches it and kisses her hand in response, walking backwards so her blue eyes stay glued to yours until she's properly on stage.

gah, you love her to bits.

“now, this group's a bit of a newer integration, but you may have heard of ‘em, so give it up for… path to nowhere!” the announcer shouts into a microphone before handing it to serpent, and the crowd goes wild while she sets it up on a stand.

instead of wasting any time, all that sounds is zoya slamming her drumsticks together as she shouts, “one, two, three, four!”

the crowd's already lively and raring even though less than a minute has gone by, aided by the punk sound of your girlfriend's band, to the point where they're already moshing with serpent’s voice as their background, and suddenly you're glad zoya read your comfort levels and pulled you to a more secluded area where you can hear them play just fine. it allows your focus to go entirely towards your girlfriend.

specifically, you can see the way zoya's jacket doesn't quite cover her tattoed shoulders and biceps, how she's already somewhat transpired as she grins from how excited everyone is. each hit she gives her drums resounds and vibrates across the place, you can quite literally feel the beat through your entire body as it reaches your heart, and yet it's still little compared to the way it throbs every time zoya glances your way between each roll against her snare drum.

she sends a wink your way once the first song is over, and you happily lift the banner for her to see, something that makes zoya laugh upon seeing her name dwarf the others. you're the only one who knows why zoya's laughing.

it's nice, the little things like that between you and your girlfriend.

before you know it, zoya's band is done and the next band is up, though you keep the handmade banner held up high when zoya and the others meet you back beside the stage.

you hear bai yi asking if they blew your mind, eleven thanking you for the banner, serpent eagerly running to hug you as thanks for the support.

they're all a bit too late for you to process them though, because zoya's arms are wrapped around your form in a tight embrace and obviously, ever the loving girlfriend, you wrap your arms around her all the same. she's warm, a tad sweaty and her breathing’s a bit labored from getting too into her playing, and you still find zoya to be the hottest woman to ever step foot on this planet. hell, her panting might be turning you on.

she surprises you by leaning in and whispering into your ear, “let's get out of here already, yeah? i don't have to stay here anymore and honestly, i need to fucking ravage you.”

your eyes immediately go wide and you pull away to stare at her like a deer in the headlights, yet zoya's smirking at you and staring right back like she didn't just threaten you with a good time, as surprised as you were. “got all worked up?” you whisper with a little smile, letting your hands rest on the slight curve of her hip while hers are far more adventurous.

“of course i fuckin’ did. did you forget what you're wearing or somethin’?” zoya grumbles back, and for a moment you had, you had genuinely forgotten you wanted to get a rise out of her with this short skirt that barely even reaches the middle of your thigh. still, her hands moving to hold your hips are a wonderful reminder of one of your main goals tonight.

“what about the rest of the bands though? i even made this-”

“come to my place and hang it above my bed.”

you find it hard to object to zoya's solid argument.

amongst the band’s objections and curious questions, zoya simply leads you away and out of the bar, the two of you giggling like you're drunk despite having drunk no alcohol at all, simply because zoya makes you feel giddy and she enjoys teasing you about it.

the two of you call an uber to go to zoya's apartment, but the second you're inside, your girlfriend decides she's done holding back. the second she's done giving her direction and without a care or worry, zoya crashes her lips into yours and her hands travel down your thighs to dig her fingers into the flesh there. you let out a muffled gasp against her eager mouth, happy to part your lips so zoya can push her tongue inside and claim you like she obviously wants to. her hands go further under your skirt now, groping at the round flesh of your ass, and zoya just about growls against your lips. you don't realize it, but this woman's been thinking about pulling you into a corner and pushing at least two fingers inside you the second she saw you in the crowd of that bar.

the car door presses against your back uncomfortably though, distracting you from zoya's eager hands, and so it's a blessing when the uber driver awkwardly announces that you've arrived at your destination.

zoya simply shoves some cash at him and barks for him to keep the change before eagerly unlocking the door behind you and lifting you like she had done before, something that once more prompts a shocked gasp out of you. she carries you while leaving hungry, almost clumsy kisses across your neck and jawline, to the point where you have to be on the lookout to avoid bumping into anything while zoya leaves her lipstick all across your shoulders.

the heat of the moment doesn't die down when you finally reach the door to zoya's apartment, where she finally lets you down to reluctantly open it as fast as humanly possible. in the blink of an eye, you drag her into the apartment and she matches your energy, instantly closing the door behind you and pushing you against the hard surface.

“you think you're so clever,” she grunts before pausing to nibble and suck right onto your pulse point and leaving a dark hickey there. “thought i’d pounce you the second i saw you.”

you would've been right, but she's never going to say that part out loud.

“you're mine, doll. if anyone's gonna see all this skin, they better know i'm the one that's got you covered in marks.”

“i-i’m all yours,” is all you can whine under your breath, already feeling like your mind is entirely blank even though all zoya's done is kiss and grope you. it's just that easy for her to turn your body into her plaything.

“atta girl. all mine,” zoya praises with a smug smirk before she pulls off her jacket and unbuckles her belt a second later. your eyes brighten up like you're seeing a christmas present, and it's almost second nature to fall onto your knees before your girlfriend, something that makes her chuckle. “eager, aren't you? that's a good slut.”

you don't answer zoya aloud, but instead lean forward to press sloppy kisses over her abs, and the sigh she lets out when she takes in the sight makes you clench your thighs. you continue to press your lips against her taut skin, covering her in messy lipstick marks while making your way down her navel. a silent glance upward, a request for permission to continue, and zoya bites her lip while tangling her fingers across your hair. “show me what that tongue can do,” she doesn't say, but commands.

eager, you pull her pants and boxers down until her cunt is exposed, because you know she likes fucking you while clothed, and you dive to drive your tongue between her drenched lips like a starved man. “fuck, that's it,” you hear her grunt while giving her clit a few licks for good measure, then press your mouth against the edge of her entrance, collecting all the slick zoya's making just because of you, and that thought alone drives you crazy.

you don't get to bask in that thought for long though.

zoya's grip on your hair tightens a second later, and you whimper before leaving your tongue flat, knowing that's just a warning before she's rutting against your tongue and guiding you by your hair into whatever side she so desires. “good god, such a pretty mouth,” she grumbles between labored breaths, and you're more than happy to let her use your tongue to her heart's content. her clit keeps brushing against you, bringing out grunts and groans out of zoya like she's losing her grip on reality. between the way she looks down at you like she owns you, eyes clouded from the pleasure, makes you clench your thighs while your cunt squeezes around nothing.

“gonna cum soon. you better be a good little whore and take it all,” she grunts while still riding your mouth, pushing down against her entrance. you moan against her and push your tongue inside while nosing her clit to try and make her reach her peak. obviously, you're more than happy to comply with her request.

the second zoya creams into your mouth, it's hard to not let out a pleased moan, for you love the way she tastes against you. she trembles above you with a loud groan, her grip tight and borderline desperate on your hair, though that simply makes you moan louder into her drenched folds.

when she's done though, her grip loosens, and you see the softness in her gaze when those lovely blue eyes look down at you. “good girl,” she whispers while gently stroking your hair with a shaky hand.

you pull away from her, smiling brightly at zoya. “i live to serve,” you murmur softly, something that brings a chuckle out of her.

“alright now, i'm pretty sure i've got a promise to keep,” zoya says before taking you by the wrists and pushing your front against the nearest wall, her chest pressed against your back as she holds you there.

“z-zoya,” you gasp out, only to let out a breathless sigh when your girlfriend's hands start to travel across your body in ways she couldn't allow before. one of zoya's hands goes up your blouse and under your bra to toy with your breast and pinch the nipple, something that brings little moans out of you, much to her delight. the other hand meanwhile lifts your skirt from behind and two of her fingers instantly start brushing against your clothed cunt, the fabric already ruined from how turned on you are from eating her out.

“all this for me?” zoya rasps into your ear and smirks to herself when all you let out in response is a needy whine. between her hand playing with your tits and the fingers that don't quite go inside you, she's making every fiber of your being ache to just let her claim you already.

suddenly though, the hand playing with your chest darts away, and before you can ask zoya what’s wrong, she brings it down onto your ass cheek with a loud smack. instantly, you cry out at the sensation, caught off-guard… though you arch your back a bit a mere moment later, allowing zoya full access to your body.

“you don't get to tease me, dressing up like this for one of my shows,” she scolds before giving your ass another smack; the skin is already turning red. “you've got no idea what it was like, seeing you like this and having to hold back just ‘cause i've got a show.”

“i-i’m sorry-” you begin with a shaky voice, only for your words to morph into a sharp moan as she smacks your other ass cheek with the hand that was teasing your drenched in your own slick.

“i'll make you understand what will happen if you dress like this again.”

christ, this just makes you want to do it again as soon as possible.

zoya then pulls your soaked underwear out of the way until your panties fall to your ankles, and without waiting for a single instant, pushes three whole fingers into you while still sporting that smug smirk of hers, which only widens at the loud moan she drags out of you. “just like that, yeah. keep making noises like that while i'm the one that fucks you.”

you obey without complaints, something she makes not just easy but inevitable. zoya's fingers fill you up as she pumps into you at an already unbearable pace. the way she pants and growls into your ear only makes you clench around her fingers more, which makes her chuckle lowly against you and in return your cunt flutters around her, trapping you in an endless cycle. her fingers move in and out, already accustomed to your walls like it's her second nature, and it only takes her a moment before her fingers curl up against your g-spot and ram into it like she's trying to bully it.

“zoya, fuck, p-please,” you gasp between wanton moans, focusing on the way her body presses against yours while her fingers go in and out of you.

zoya laughs, though the sound is eclipsed by the wet noises coming from below and the moans coming from above. “please what, babe? c'mon, you're a big girl, so use your words.”

it's hard to speak at all right now, but somehow you manage. “c-close. please lemme cum,” you plead, then squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the pleasure she makes you drown in.

“just like that, yeah. that's my slut,” she says as her free hand darts to your front and starts rubbing your clit with two fingers. instantly, your eyes go wide and the volume of your moans grows, feeling breathless under the assault of her fingers that fuck you from all possible angles. you can't think, you can barely even see beyond the stars she brings to your vision, yet zoya remains relentless as she fingers you.

the only warning you give her is a sharp gasp before you cry out and let your head fall forward, a sudden stream of cum shooting out from between your legs that coats her hands and some of her floor as well.

“goddamn,” you hear her whisper in shock, awe and even pride, though it's almost impossible to think through your orgasm. she helps you ride your high while slowing the pace of her fingers, until she finally stops and slowly pulls away to hold you from behind in a tender hug.

“you were beautiful there, babe,” she whispers, gently pushing your hair away to leave gentle kisses at the back of your neck. this woman behaves like a beast more often than not, but zoya still treats you like fragile porcelain when she's done making you see white. it's something that only makes you love her more and more.

with tired breaths, you smile back and close your eyes, enjoying the way her lips feel against you. “you were awesome too,” you praise, “both here… and on the stage.”

the soft laugh she lets out against your skin makes goosebumps rise where she breathes. “damn right i was. i gotta be cool onstage when i know my girlfriend's watching.”

the next morning, when you wake up in your girlfriend's bed with your head tucked comfortably under her chin and soft snores coming from zoya, a glance upwards makes a wide grin rise to your face.

the banner you made for her and the rest of the band hangs there, above the bed, proudly.

#ptn x reader #ptn women x reader #path to nowhere #path to nowhere zoya #ptn zoya smut #ptn zoya x reader smut #zoya smut #path to nowhere smut

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