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darlingofvalyria · 1 year

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❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes. "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

"He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

"If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

"Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

"I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

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jadeleechsupportgroup · 3 months

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Laundry Day

floyd and jade learn how not to do laundry.

cw: none

also on ao3

note: this is a vignette from a collection for a full-length fic, but there are no spoilers in it and I like it as its own thing.

Floyd tapped the window of the washing machine with a suspicious expression. “Are you sure we’re doing this right?”

Jade was reading the instructions on the bottle of detergent. “I am mostly sure,” he replied. “I measured everything carefully.”

“Hmmm.” Floyd looked and sounded skeptical. “Are you sure we put enough bleach?”

“Again, mostly sure,” Jade replied. He hummed and set the detergent down. “I suppose we shall find out in due time.”

“Ehh, I don’t know about this thing.” Floyd was treating the washer as if it had challenged him to a staring contest.

Jade understood his skepticism to a point. Much to his personal embarrassment, they had never actually done laundry since moving ashore. At school the staff had handled it. But it could not be terribly difficult if most humans managed it on a regular basis.

What he found particularly fascinating was the way stains worked. A stain was all but impossible underwater, but they interacted with different fabrics in unpredictable ways. Blood, for example, needed to be rinsed in cold water immediately if there were any hope of eliminating it. Dirt and mud were more easily dislodged, while any sort of oil-based substance was much more difficult. He was already devising all kinds of experiments that would answer his questions.

“It will never dry anything if you continue opening the door,” Jade said when Floyd checked the contents of the dryer for the tenth time in almost as many minutes.

“It’s taking so looooong.” Floyd threw himself down on the floor with his limbs splayed out like a starfish. “I demand entertainment.”

“I have not connected the TV and such yet,” Jade answered, which elicited another groan of potentially fatal boredom from his twin. “Check the games cupboard.”

That certainly perked him up. Floyd got to his feet and went to rummage through their collection. He returned with Battleship and a glowing grin.

Jade cleared a space on the floor. Moving was an exhausting process, and he was beginning to think furniture was more trouble than it was worth. They set up the game, each of them trying - and failing - to fold their excessively long legs into a comfortable seating position. Floyd gave up and stretched out on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. Jade felt awkward doing the same and settled for keeping his legs off to the side and leaning on one hip.

“E5.”

“Miss.”

Jade placed a white peg on his side.

“Hmm…C4.”

Jade blinked. “Hit,” he replied and added the red peg to the bow of his destroyer. His gaze flicked upward to meet his brother’s with a slight edge.

Floyd giggled. “It’s your favorite stable plastic explosive.”

Jade sighed. “Am I so transparent?”

“Yes. C5.”

Another hit. Jade decided he really must learn to be more surreptitious about his preferences.

Floyd had decimated Jade’s fleet and was about to deal the final blow when there was a knock at the door. Jade went to answer it, grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs.

“Hello, Azul.”

Azul strode in. “Greetings.” He scanned the mess of the apartment with barely-concealed dismay. “How are things going?”

“We’re playing Battleship!” Floyd cried from his place on the floor. Then the dryer alarm sounded to announce that it was finished, so he rolled to his feet and went to open it. He removed an armload of clothes and carried them into the bedroom. There was a soft whoosh as he tossed everything on the mattress. Then he returned to move the next load from the washer to the dryer. “Play with us!”

Azul shut his eyes for an extra-long blink and willed himself not to react. “You should fold or hang up clothing immediately after removing it from the dryer,” he said flatly. “Otherwise it will be wrinkled.”

“Laterrrr,” Floyd whined.

“And Battleship is only a two-player game,” Azul continued as he removed his shoes to leave them by the door.

“Uhh, yeah, maybe if you don’t have six copies of it.” Floyd rolled his eyes and went to collect the other five.

Azul frowned at Jade. “Why?”

Jade shrugged. “Object permanence.”

Floyd cleared out their current game and swiftly assembled the playing field so that each of them had two boards. He took his spot on the floor again and gazed up at the others eagerly. “Come onnn.”

Jade gave a tiny, helpless shake of his head and went to join him. Azul followed with tangible reluctance.

“I offered to help you organize things,” he said tartly. “I have a schedule, you know.”

“Should’ve written a contract,” Floyd giggled. “Now you have no choice but to have fun.”

Azul resigned himself to it. He had an easier time sitting with his legs crossed on the floor than Jade, who kept changing his position every few minutes in a futile attempt at comfort.

Jade looked around at the state of their new apartment while Floyd explained his ludicrously complicated house rules for Mega Battleship. It seemed impossible for them to own so many things. When he last spoke to their mother, she assured him that once they had everything put away, it would ease his anxieties. He did not like for things to be out of place. It would be too easy for someone to cover their tracks if they had broken in, if they were lying in wait for him-

Jade shook the thought out of his head with a twitch and reached his arm across to rub his other shoulder. It did not truly hurt anymore, but the thought continued to pester him.

“H10,” said Azul.

“Miss,” said Jade, glad that he had managed to get his thoughts back on track before either of them noticed. “D9.”

“Miss!” Floyd grinned. “J8.”

Jade sighed. “Hit. You have eliminated my submarine.”

“Knew it!”

“I mean this in the most polite way possible,” said Azul, “but how the hell are you so good at this game?”

Floyd shrugged. “I’m not. You two are just so obvious.”

They played through two rounds of it, then took a break to do some actual work. Azul and Jade set to patiently organizing things, putting things away, and hanging up the clothes Floyd had so eloquently discarded on the mattress. It was sitting directly on the floor, and Jade was seriously considering leaving it there, even though Floyd had threatened to build a tent over it and pretend they were camping every night.

“When will your furniture arrive?” Azul asked after a while.

Jade was spending a little too much time flattening the collars and lapels of every shirt and coat in the closet. “We have not purchased any yet,” he said. “I have not found anything to my liking.”

“Hmm,” Azul said. “And Floyd?”

“He finds everything to his liking.” Jade imagined that a room designed by Floyd with an unlimited budget would look patently ridiculous. In the same trip to a furniture store, Floyd had decided he wanted a bean bag chair, an inflatable couch, and a hot tub that would have cost several thousand dollars. (“In the bedroom?” “Uh, duh? Where else?”)

Jade was surprised to sense Azul coming suddenly toward him, leaving enough space for his comfort, save a hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder. He turned away from his anxious fingers, making no effort to hide his distress. There was no point in trying to conceal anything around Azul; his senses were as finely tuned as the eels’, and that aside, Jade trusted him.

“It’s alright,” Azul said simply. “I ensured those responsible were dealt with.” His eyes gleamed, and his jaw was firmly set. “Comprehensively.”

“Of course.” Jade let his gaze drop to the floor of the closet, where Floyd’s shoe collection was spilling over onto his side. “I know that, logically, the odds are quite low that it would happen again.”

Azul took hold of the hand that was once again rubbing his shoulder. Jade had not even realized he was doing it again. “It is also logical to feel lingering effects, Jade.”

Jade closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath that turned into a sigh.

“Food’s here,” Floyd yelled from the living room.

Jade hung up one more shirt before following Azul to the kitchen. They had little choice but to eat at the counter, but Floyd merrily unpacked the boxes of sushi and seafood and spread them out buffet-style. He pushed the box of sashimi in Jade’s direction and hoarded the spicy tuna rolls for himself. Azul and Jade picked at various items with their chopsticks since apparently they had not purchased any plates yet, either.

Floyd opened the next box and froze. “Uhh, who ordered this?”

Azul and Jade peeked at the contents. “Ah, that’s mine,” said Azul.

Floyd and Jade just stared at him as he separated a piece of grilled and glazed eel meat from the others and lifted it to his mouth. He seemed to enjoy it a little too much.

“What?” he asked with feigned innocence. “It’s good.”

Floyd made sure to stare at Azul with his most unhinged expression as he sucked down an entire octopus arm between the points of his teeth like a second tongue. “Serves you right,” Floyd said when Azul’s mouth twitched. “That could’ve been my grandmother. At least your fricken arms grow back.” Floyd paused, as if silently wondering whether this would still work in Azul’s human form.

“Don’t get any bright ideas,” Azul said, pointing the chopsticks at him.

The dryer alarm went off again. Floyd all but leapt up to go open it. When Jade looked at him curiously, Floyd just grinned. “It’s warm and soft,” he explained. When he opened the door, several strips of what looked like paper fluttered out of it with a puff of dryer lint. “Whoops.”

Azul thought nothing of it at first, but his attention snagged on something. They couldn’t have been receipts. Receipts that went through a wash-and-dry cycle turned into little annoying balls of wadded-up paper that shredded all over the place. “Floyd,” he said with intensifying alarm, “what is that?”

“Uh, my favorite blankie and pillowcases. Also the money.”

Azul all but choked. “Excuse me?”

Floyd shrugged. “I washed it. No big deal. You’re welcome.”

Azul tripped over his own feet as he staggered to the dryer. He snatched up the pieces of material and examined them with growing horror. “Floyd,” he said again, “what did you do?”

Now it was Floyd’s turn to look at him like he was crazy. “Did you forget already? Just did what you asked.”

The bleached, worthless bills slipped from Azul’s quavering hands.

“Are you alright, Azul?” Jade asked from a safe distance.

Floyd, ignoring the unraveling of Azul’s temperament, removed the rest of the bundle from the dryer and walked it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of shattered dreams fluttering to the floor behind him. “I don’t know what you’re upset about,” he said indignantly. “You’re the one who said to launder the money.”

Jade was certain Azul was about to faint, if he did not explode first. His eyes bulged behind his glasses, and his voice came out in a soft, raspy, desperate scrape against his throat. “That is not what I meant.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #twst fanfiction #twst fic #rexii writes twst #rexii writes

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osleeplessflowero · 10 months

Text

💜 Reader has They/Them pronouns and their appearance is entirely up to you! ❌ The skeletons will not be entirely canon accurate and will have a few of my headcanons attached. I hope they're still enjoyable! Sequel to this oneshot. ❣️ Sanses belong to their respective owners. All I own is the writing. WORDS: 1,589

🌨️❄️ SNOW DAY! ☃️🧊

Snow gently falls from the sky, hitting the ground and covering it with a pure white, cold blanket. It fogs up the windows, freezing them. Trees have icicles on their branches.

Nightmare's garden has been covered up for the season, the roses and other flowers being kept alive inside a magical greenhouse.

A fireplace crackles in the main living room, its warmth filling the castle.

You sit up in your bed, sliding off of it and walking over to the window, rubbing your eyes to wake up a bit better before looking outside. Upon seeing the snow, you comically press your face up against the glass before excitedly walking to the door, sliding on some slippers of choice and exiting your room.

It's SNOWING!

You rush to Killer's door, tapping on it rapidly until he slides it open.

"you have really gotta stop doing that so early." He yawns, stretching and cracking his bones a little.

"You know you love seeing me in the morning." You smile smugly.

"hmmm.. i guess so."

You gasp, mocking offense. "You guess? You wound me, Killer, such a heartbreaker.."

He snickers, putting his hand up to his mouth.

You put the back of your hand against your forehead, leaning back dramatically. "Whatever could I do?"

"you could tell me why you woke me up this early again, for starters."

"Oh yeah-" You stand up straight again. "It's SNOWING outside!" You grin, bouncing slightly in place.

"..okay and?"

"Killer, it's SNOW- we could do all kinds of things out there- we could have snowball fights, we could build snowpeople, we could do a LOTTA things-"

"ehh, when you grow up surrounded by snow it loses a lot of its appeal."

"C'monnn, don't you wanna hang out with me? Doesn't have to be for too long, but I think it could be fun. Why not give it a chance?" You smile pleadingly, pressing your hands together. He looks you over, seemingly contemplating, before sighing and giving in.

"fine, but don't expect me to stay for too long."

"I'll take it." You smile warmly.

"what's goin' on over here?" Dust walks over, taking a sip of coffee.

You make grabby hands, and he shakes his head. "no, get your own. answer me."

"well, they wanna go out and spend some time in the snow today."

"yeah? how come?"

"Because it could be fun- and it means group bonding time."

"what's gotten you all motivated for group bonding stuff?"

"I dunno. I just wanna spend time with my favorite people all together. Is that so bad?"

Dust and Killer look at each other, before sighing and smiling at you.

"i guess one day couldn't hurt, right killer?" "yeah. only doing this for them though."

You smile smugly, before Horror's door opens.

"why are you all so loud so early."

"Good morning, Horror." You smile at him, and he smiles a little in return. "..mornin'. what's goin' on?"

"We're gonna go out and have a snow day. Wanna join us?" "do i have to stand next to them?" "No, you can stand wherever you want." "then i'm in."

"you wound us, horror." Killer pretends to wipe away a tear. "literally could not give less of a shit." Horror deadpans, before you motion for everyone to follow you to the kitchen.

You get some more coffee started, chatting with everyone about old missions and other things like that, pouring cups for everyone. You hear a large set of doors open and close, peeking your head out of the kitchen to see Nightmare approaching.

"Morning, Night." You smile at him. "Morning. What's going on?" "We're all just having coffee right now, but we're gonna go have some fun in the snow later." "Why would you wanna go out there if it's freezing? Humans are vulnerable to frostbite, and snow's annoying to get off of your clothes. Just gets them all wet, too." He scrunches up his face. "C'monnn, there's lots of fun to be had out there. Why don't you join us? You might like itttt." "If I agree will you stop pestering me about it?" "Yes." You blink innocently. "Fine. But only for a little while." He puts his hand on your head, messing up your hair before going into the kitchen to get some coffee for himself.

You fist pump, going back as well.

After a few more minutes of conversation, you go back to your room to find much warmer clothes for yourself, knowing that since they're skeletons they don't feel the cold. You, however, are not immune to frostbite, and need protection.

Once you've properly bundled up, you walk out of your room and go into Killer's.

"Rate the fit-" "gimme a 360."

You spin around in a circle before striking a pose.

"9/10, should've went with a little more red." "You would say that." You snicker, walking out with him. He holds your hand as you walk, much less to keep up and more just because he wanted to.

You reach the living room where the other three are waiting by the fire for you, greeting them and heading out.

Snow crunches under your shoes as you walk, feeling it hit your head and making your cheeks a little flushed.

Killer walks casually beside Dust, who has his hands in his pockets. Horror lets some snow fall on his hand silently for a bit. Nightmare just walks next to you, a neutral look on his face.

You try to think of what to do first, then get an idea and smile deviously.

While the others are distracted, you reach down and pick up some snow, forming it into a ball and holding your hands behind your back.

"Oh Killerrrr.. I have a gift for you." "is it the gift of your undying love and affection for me?" He puts his hands on his cheeks, shooting you a wink. "Killer, you already know that I love you. But that's not it. THIS IS-"

You hit him right in the face with a snowball, then run for dear life.

"ohohoho, you are SO GONNA GET IT-" He runs after you, forming a snowball himself. You let out a scream, but in truth, you're not actually scared. It's one of excitement.

Nightmare shakes his head, watching in slight amusement.

"you gonna get in on that, boss?" Dust asks, standing beside him. "Absolutely not. I'd rather not have snow hurled at my face." "they seem to be having a lot of fun th-"

Dust gets hit in the face with a snowball. Followed by a "SORRY DUST-" in the distance.

"sorry to cut this short, boss, but this is a declaration of war-" "Go on."

He runs off, picking up snow in both hands and making two snowballs, chasing you both down. Horror looks at Nightmare, Nightmare sharing a look back, before Horror just leaves him to himself and joins the fight.

Walls are built, alliances made, betrayals were common.

You had a blast, aiming another snowball at Killer and throwing it before he ducks..and it hits Nightmare.

You feel yourself tense, the others stare at him. Killer looks like he's about to burst out laughing, Dust puts his hand to his teeth, and Horror..honestly doesn't care.

"Now look what you've done." "Nightmare, I-" "YOU DARE DECLARE WAR ON THE KING OF NEGATIVITY?"

He charges at you with a malicious grin, you playfully screaming and running as the others join in an all-out battle. You feel proud that you managed to get him to join in on the fun this time.

Once you all tire yourselves out, you focus your attention on snowpeople building. (After you take the time to go inside and get some extra parts to decorate them, that is.)

You make yours a silly fellow, a rather gentlemanly specimen indeed. You then make a much smaller gentleman to keep him company.

Killer makes sure to sculpt his properly, adding the classic carrot nose and a few pieces of clothing like a hat and scarf.

Dust..okay that's a pile of snow with his name written on it. Doesn't count.

Horror makes a bigger snowperson, carefully crafting details onto it, making small patterns in the snow with his sharp fingers. You give him some assistance, suggesting what to add to certain parts.

Nightmare adjusts yours when you aren't looking, sprucing it up a little and fixing its hat when it begins to slide off.

"Okay, I think it's time to go back inside. Their face is getting a bit too flushed. I wouldn't want to risk frostbite."

"Aww, okay. We should do this again if it snows tomorrow. Maybe we could go ice skating that time- I bet I could skate better than youu-" "Sure, we'll go with that." "You doubt my skills?" "I do doubt your skills."

You scoff, nudging Nightmare's shoulder as you all walk back. He simply grins at you.

You change out of your wet clothes, putting on some warm pajamas and going to sit in the living room with everyone. Nightmare sits to your right at the end of the couch, Killer on your left. Dust sits in a recliner, and Horror sits in front of you on the floor. You lean a bit on Nightmare as a movie starts, tracing lines on Horror's skull with your hand and taking an occasional sip of hot chocolate.

After a few jokes and discussions, you feel yourself getting tired, falling asleep right in the same spot. Feeling perfectly comfortable with your favorite skellies around.

#sleeplessflower's oneshots #bad sanses x reader #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans x reader #killer sans x reader #horror sans x reader #gender neutral reader #undertale x reader #Spotify

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