Fredrinn doesn't just steal you away, he steals your main's everything.
Let's see sum reactions shall we?
Lesley
Lesley doesn't have much patience to begin with, even if Fredrinn is someone she is close with. She's is overly protective over her summoner and it's best to not piss this deadly lady off.
" Don't even dare, I assume you're not stupid enough to realise the consequences. "
Aamon
The Duke feels the need to assist you in everything. He is being protective whilst not giving it to out for everyone. He even sometimes bothers his little brother to check on you.
" I shouldn't left you back there, I'm disappointed in myself. "
Thamuz
Better start praying because the Lord of the Abyss is actually angry. Hmp, this little mortal is quite brave, he's going to have fun. But better know, his patience is so thin.
" Tch, little mortal. Don't think of yourself so highly, (Name) only deserves the best, like me. "
Claude
" Ah, ah~ Only I can steal them away! "
Claude may seem like he wouldn't care in the slightest but oh boy he does, he cares so much that he'll turn the whole Los Pecados upside down to find you.
" Dex, seems like we forgot to take out the garbage. " was that so out of character? meh, enjoy Claude being a little...frisky? or should I say aggressive?
Selena
Selena might be a hooker, but as soon as you mess with her summoner in the wrong way, you'll see her other side. She has the anger of a cat and isn't scared of anything.
" Now, now~ Look how uncomfortable you're making them! We wouldn't want that now, would we? "
idk if you write for lesley but if you do,,, could u write lesley x reader that is absolutely a nervous wreck hcs
I gotcha 👍 as always, please keep your expectations on the floor/hj
Lesley x Nervous wreck!reader
🎹 She worries about you a lot
🎹Whenever you do something wrong, you just burt into a tearful string of apologies, and she asks you to take deep breaths with her and reassures you that its ok
🎹Makes you a lot of tea with calming herbs, and refuses to let you drink coffee or anything too caffienated
🎹Lets you sit on her lap while she plays soothing music on the piano
🎹She's very motherly in general, she'll brush your hair or read you books if you dont mind it
🎹You can come to her for advice on anything, just fair warning, she might hit you with some yoda type shit
🎹she has a lot of grounding exercises that she does with you when she can tell things are getting bad again
🎹She's willing to help you through anything, no matter how insignificant it may seem
Summary: You and your roommate Lesley didn’t really think through the timing of this hookup.
A/N: It’s about the yearning. It’s about the idiots in love.
Couple: Lesley Smith-Juniment/GN!AFAB!Reader (no mention of breasts, pronouns)
Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Oral sex (AFAB receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, mutual pining
Word Count: 3.3k
MASTERLIST
You hadn’t intended to end up in bed with your roommate, but once you were there, you realized that there hadn’t been anywhere else you’d rather be. There had just been something about him that night, with his cheeks tinged like blush roses and his laughter laced with the heavy scent of sweet liquor. His honey irises and sweet scent drew you towards him.
When you’d moved closer to him on the couch, Lesley had not protested the proximity. If anything, he’d moved closer, too. The two of you had spoken about how silly it was that it could still be so cold this time of year, despite the thermostat inside reading a healthy 25°C. You’d taken full advantage of whatever excuse or justification could be thought up, and when you’d run out, you relied only on knowing glances and roaming hands.
You couldn’t remember which of the two of you closed the gap first, but it didn’t seem to matter. Once your lips touched, you’d given up at keeping any sort of score. You were too busy running tongue over pink peach lips, summer sweet and sticky from the spirits. It only seemed sensical, that the liquor would bring you two together again, and again, and again.
When Lesley had broken the kiss, you’d almost protested. But then his hand had found yours, and his eyes had lowered to watch the way your fingertips danced with his before falling into place between the gaps. He’d inspected the way you two fit together like one of his many creations. He’d looked at you like he’d seen the pieces of himself coming together.
You couldn’t remember which of you had closed the gap the first time, but the second time had definitely been Lesley. It had been less prepared, hasty and naive in his excitement. His free hand that’d been too shy to touch you before clumsily clambered to your face, where he’d pulled you even closer.
As you’d struggled to find air between him and his enthusiasm, you’d realized that maybe it had just been your time to go, smothered with the love of Lesley Smith-Juniment. Thankfully, though, he’d disagreed. He’d selfishly wanted to take just a little bit more before he’d let you go again. You’d had no objections.
He’d led you down the hallway of the house you two shared, and you’d sworn you’d never seen it look like that before. You’d looked at the walls, adorned with hand-painted art of every beautiful thing that had ever reminded you of him, and you wondered if he’d also infused you into every part of his world. You’d realized that at some point between the first time you met and he awkwardly shook your hand and that moment, you’d fallen in love with the human embodiment of everything pure.
And, somehow, he’d chosen you, too.
So there you were, caught between silk sheets and a man whose softness the threads would envy. With every eager kiss he granted, you would reward with a smile or a chuckle that was quickly mirrored. The silence was notable, but not unwelcome. Truthfully, you were convinced that if you’d spoken, you might spook the poor doe-eyed boy away entirely.
But then his fingers found their way under the hem of your shirt and you weren’t able to stop yourself from calling his name.
“Lesley…”
He paused, pulling back to look at you for what felt like the first time. You couldn’t be certain what he saw, but you could be sure that it was something beautiful. Because his lips barely parted to take in a sharp, quick breath that was immediately expended in kissing you again.
Deprived of oxygen and any lingering patience, the two of you got to work stripping the few physical layers that remained between you. Each inch of exposed skin felt like rediscovering yourself after a lifetime of waiting. He said nothing, but every so often he might murmur something that sounded like your name against your skin.
Curiously, once you were finally naked, Lesley didn’t touch you in a lewd manner. Everything about him remained so blissfully innocent, wrapping around your naked form and holding you tightly for a few moments that felt too brief. He drew his nose up your throat and over your chin, taking his time and utilizing every possible tactile signal to cherish you.
You hadn’t intended to fall into bed with Lesley, but he’d clearly been thinking of it as often as you had. There was no other way to explain the tenderness and care with which he touched you. The way drunken, whiskey and honey colored eyes watched your every reaction when his hands finally fell between your legs.
It felt a little bit like Heaven and a little bit sinful when his finger breached your opening, with precious precision but never any pain. He had no reservation or fear, just an unending desire to watch your mouth drop open to make way for lustful sounds of praise.
“You are so wonderful,” he whispered while he watched, and you wondered if he’d even meant to say it at all. But then he continued as his fingers found the place they’d sought, “I want to have you forever.”
And you wanted to tell him that he could have you whenever, forever, however he’d pleased. But you were too scared by the suddenness of the confession and the scent of sweet ethanol to allow yourself to take his words seriously.
You closed your eyes instead. You felt his warmth dissipate as he pulled away, and you thought to yourself that maybe you’d made a mistake in ignoring his honesty.
“Lesley, I—“
The words are cut off by the visceral reaction to his breath on your stomach. But he still paused, waiting for you to look down at him and tell him whether he should stop his descent or the affair altogether. His eyes are glassy with want and with an almost solemn wistfulness. Almost like he’d been looking at you like a dream that he’d only just remembered he would eventually have to wake up from.
You thought of the words you’d meant to say, the brief moment of doubt that had been immediately followed by an even more regrettable ardor to return the confession and join in his catharsis.
Deciding that a healthy compromise had never hurt anyone, you made up your mind.
“I want you, too,” you said, in place of the more honest but more terrifying, ‘I love you.’
But that strange, soft boy smiled at you from between your legs like he’d heard it all the same. His fingers remained gentle and persistent, gently cradling you both inside and out and pressing soothing kisses just above your pubic bone.
He took his time loving and lavishing you, drawing his tongue through the wetness he’d elicited so far and seemingly smiling at the taste of you. There wasn’t a single complaint nor concern as he explored the area well enough to be able to rebuild the scene in his mind whenever he wanted.
Eventually, he took time to create new would-be-memories by pressing his tongue against the small bundle of nerves above where his fingers continued their slow, methodical ministrations. It was odd, how something so calculated could feel so intimate. But it had. It felt like he’d taken to you like one of his equations and he’d returned all of the right answers.
Lesley broke you down in the best ways, and when your legs started to tense and cover his ears, he only pulled them closer with his free hand. Short, blunt fingernails dug into your skin to demonstrate that you were not the only one who sought to be consumed by the other.
You glanced down at him, lost in the throes of passion despite having barely been touched so far, and you wondered how it ever came to be that you were lucky enough to land — completely by accident — into Lesley’s bed. Into his hands and possibly his heart.
That was the last thing you could think before the cosmos collapsed, the tension in your stomach breaking free in the form of his name forced between broken moans. The most bittersweet release, the otherworldly euphoria that meant that you were one step closer to his leaving your body again.
When he pulled away, though, he still stubbornly refused to go far. His lips, still wet with you, left a trail of sloppy kisses up your stomach and over your sternum until he found a comfortable home against your collarbones just like he had before. His arms were more tired, but still just as insistent when they wrapped around you.
“I want you,” he mumbled against your neck, and you felt it in every part of you.
“Still?” you try to tease, but he is not joking when he responds, “Always.”
Your breath caught in your throat, lodged with your heart that had leapt from its place in its pursuit of his. You didn’t speak, choosing not to trust your traitorous mouth not to spill its secrets in case the dam broke. Instead, you took a page from Lesley’s book and let your body say what you were too afraid to.
There was no struggle between your bodies. Your hand wrapped around delicate, silken skin and was rewarded with a low, rolling groan. The kind of wanton sound that somehow seemed both out of place and perfectly at home on his tongue that still tasted like you.
But when he kissed you, you realized that he had made you sweeter somehow.
Although you felt a little bit guilty for not spoiling him as he had done for you, you were also sure he hadn’t minded when you guided him to your entrance. Like always, Lesley’s passion quickly evolved, and he’d escalated your motions exponentially every time he was given the opportunity.
For every inch you lifted your hips, he was ready to meet you halfway until he had nothing left to give and you had nowhere else for him to go. But that stubborn boy persisted in his pursuit to imprint on every inch of you. When his tongue wasn’t tangled with yours, it was marking any skin that you could hide beneath clothing.
You tried not to overthink his mercy; you reminded yourself that he was kind and not conniving in his love. For a moment, you considered asking him to draw his signature with bruises across your neck for the whole world to see that you belonged to him, but then he began to move, and you were too devoted to memorizing that feeling to muddle it with any worries.
His hands caressed your face, feeling the heat at the apple of your cheeks with roaming thumbs. He held you in a way unlike anything you’d ever felt before, and you realized that you never wanted it to end. You realized too late, and your hands couldn’t catch his before your skin was exposed to the air that honestly did feel cold now that you knew the alternative.
“Hold me,” you begged, only to realize that your words had been premature.
His hands had found yours again among the strewn sheets. He clutched them for dear life, pressing the backs of your hands against the bed with everything he had in him. It wasn’t until then that Lesley met your eyes again, with an undercurrent of anxiety but an overwhelming reverence.
His hips moved slowly, drawing out each motion and moan. You took note of the veins in his neck calling out to your lips, and you tried to calm his pounding pulse with gentle brushes and butterfly kisses. The touches tickled, but his chuckle carried a heavy, somber feeling with it.
“Honestly…” he muttered once his little nudges guided you back to him. He lost the words for a second longer, watching you like he was already experiencing the nostalgia from how this would all end.
“Honestly, I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to let you go again,” he whispered.
So don’t, you challenge him with nothing but your stare. Again, it seems like he hears the words through the broken whimpers.
He felt the love flowing out from your fingertips that pressed into his hands. You felt guilty for holding him too tightly, for damaging those hands that did nothing but give. But you also knew he would understand how necessary it was.
The force behind each movement grew to overwhelming levels. Your legs that had been wrapped around his waist slipped and fell to the side, and he took advantage of the freedom it granted him. He held your legs just as delicately as he had everything else, but that time it was in strong contrast to the brutal crashing of hips.
The sounds and heady scent of sex filled the room, and you selfishly thought to yourself that some part of his room should belong to you. It was only fair, you reasoned, that he could give a pillow in exchange for your heart.
Lesley cut the thought off with another clumsy kiss, with teeth clacking together and his breath wetting your upper lip as he struggled to remain composed. He’d wanted to look you in the eyes again first.
Once he did though, he couldn’t stop what happened next. With your hands still in his, he bottomed out inside of you and held himself there. You watched the lights and euphoria dance along fluttering eyelids and dewy, pink cheeks, and were surprised to find yourself falling all the same.
The two of you fell like petals on the wind, unhurried and without anywhere else to go. Lesley managed to stay above you just long enough to watch the last of the display. He felt your body relax, but your hands held on, before he finally let himself let go.
He let go of your hands, but both of you used your newfound freedom to cling to each other in a different way. Lesley shifted so that he could look at the way you smiled when his fingers brushed over your still parted lips.
And you realized that maybe — just maybe — you had always intended to end up in his bed. And perhaps Lesley had intended for you to, too.
Lesley’s mothers were known for their intuition. Granted, their son had never really been very good at hiding secrets. His emotions had always been embroidered on his sleeve with rainbow-colored threads.
When the two of them had arrived at his house, to meet his new roommate for the first time and to celebrate a recent growth of his business, they had been expecting a few things. Awkward handshakes and insecure wayward glances; perhaps there might even be some stern warnings about the tender-hearted nature of their baby boy.
But it was clear upon arrival that any fear or concern about him was premature, and possibly entirely unnecessary.
Lesley’s mother watched him carefully as he cut the fruit in front of him. Each piece fell casually, with odd ends and disproportionate sizes. The inconsistency didn’t seem to bother him at all. He appeared downright serene, smiling without seemingly being aware that he’d taken on a new neutral expression.
She thought back, trying to find the last time she’d seen him look so… calm.
“You seem less stressed than my son. The one that I’m used to,” she commented.
The comment ripped him from his reverie, but he said nothing. Although, she noticed that he cleared his throat in a failed attempt to hide the way his cheeks turned pink and his breath came faster.
“Is work going well?” she asked.
Lesley quickly nodded, and his mother noted that he spoke faster and with a higher pitch when he had a secret to hide.
“Yeah, I just have more time now. I guess they weren’t lying when they said the more successful you are, the more boring your job becomes.”
Not much had changed since he was a boy. That was alright with her, though. She brushed his hair from his face to take in the sight of her son and all of his shifty glances. He was still smiling, albeit more nervously now.
“I don’t think any normal person would describe that exchange as ‘boring,’ but… I always knew you were at least a little bit exceptional,” she teased. He took the praise graciously, but was immediately surprised to hear the sounds of riotous laughter from the next room over.
The two of them leaned back to see their respective person, lost in the ruckus of their own voices. Lesley’s mother looked away approximately five seconds faster than her son, just so she could catch the way his eyes lit up at the sight of his roommate getting along with the more stubborn of his mothers.
“You seem to have found yourself someone nice to spend the time with.”
“Definitely,” Lesley whispered with an unmistakable fondness. A reverence that could only be described as the most powerful form of love.
But then he noticed the way his mother was looking at him, and pink cheeks turned hot until they matched the erratic slices of apples and peppers on the plate in front of him.
“Definitely nice… to... have a roommate, I mean.”
“Hmmm,” his mother mused with a knowing, scrunched up smile.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she assured her son, “I’m glad you’re happy.”
She paused when she noticed she’d lost his attention once more. She followed his eyes through the open door to see the others again.
His mother laughed as she took the knife from the hopeless boy to her left.
“And I am glad that your roommate is nice.”
“Yeah,” he said as the happiness spilled from his mouth in the form of a giggle, “Me too.”
Lesley’s mothers were known for their intuition. That was exactly why when they left later that afternoon, they were both exhausted and excited by the events of the day. It had been a good visit. They were proud of their son and the company that he kept.
But still, they found themselves caught in a different set of feelings only halfway related to the young couple they left behind. The two that were awkwardly standing just a little too close on the porch as they waved his mothers off.
“Seeing those two together brings back a lot of memories, huh?” his mother said, suddenly reminded of the days where the two of them had done the very same.
Both of the women recalled with perfect clarity the way that they both would hold hands under dinner tables and sneak kisses in poorly lit hallways.
“Yeah, it does,” her wife replied.
“I remember the days when that’s what we were,” she giggled.
Then, together, they both whispered in unison the word they looked back on fondly.
“Roommates.”
“They’ll laugh about it, too. One day,” her wife chuckled before interlocking fingers over the center console. They watched the couple disappear in the rear view, and one of them swore that she’d seen her son take his roommate’s hand too.
She almost said something about it, but like old married couples tend to do, her wife interrupted the thought with another astute observation.
“Our son… he’s not the brightest, is he?” she asked.
“No, poor thing is like a golden retriever,” Lesley’s mother answered a little too quickly. The two of them snickered at their shared secret; their knowing of the reason behind their son’s smitten smile.
They were both known for their intuition.
So they knew they were right when they agreed, “He’ll get there, though.”
Hello!! How are you doing? I hope you are doing just well and fine <3
I am so sorry if I made you uncomfortable with this request and please don't feel pressured to do it.
I was wondering if you could do a yandere headcanons for genderbend Lesley, Fanny, Hanabi, Irithel, Masha, Selena and Valentina? (You can do more if you'd like, and obviously you can also do less I wouldn't mind either way☺️)
Again you don't have to do this and I hope you have a good day/night!!~
notes: yandere themes, genderbent character(s), gn reader
Do not like the DAMN post, reblog and comment instead. That's how Tumblr works if you don't know.
Lesley is a observer, nearly nothing can escape from his hawk-like eyes. His eyes are constantly on you, watching your every move, expression... He can be affectionate if you decide to obey him. Lesley can and will kill anyone he sees as a treat to both of your relationship, he's merciless deep down.
Fanny is strong, everyday he trains himself to the death, to be able to protect you better of course! He has quite a well-built body and the stamina of a monster. It's nearly impossible to outrun him...would you try to run away? With Fanny, he has two personalities, a lovesick puppy with you and a ruthless monsters to others who he sees as a treat.
Hanabi is a nightmare to deal with, he can pop off from every corner. Nothing seems to be impossible for him when it comes to you, his one and only. Hanabi is strict when it comes to his rules and expects you to obey them, however, he's not afraid to be a little rough with you. In the end he'd continue the relationship like nothing happened.
Irithel has a strong sense of protection when it comes to you, his mate. He often leaves Leo with you for that matter. He makes sure that you're well fed and warm, he cares whenever you're unhappy or not, being sad can make you sick y'know. He loves to get cozy with you, go on, lay on his chest. Irithel will try his hardest to not squeeze you here and there. It's pure adoration.
Masha can sometimes be overwhelming, he can't help it when he constantly worries over you. He is your shadow and he'll always be, if any treat, he'll be your shield. Masha uses the cold weather to his advantage, he's running warm and he knows it, he knows how you're inching to nuzzle him for warmth. Once you snuggled into him, Masha will trap you into his chest for as long as he likes, you really don't have a say in this.
Selena is a tease, a huge one at this point. He's just obsessed with you, not just you of course, the little things about you... The expressions you give him, ah aren't you just the cutest! Selena basically worshiphs you, his honey-like words are to fall for, he loves running his hands down your body, to him you're perfect. He can get quite dangerous if provoked, I suggest you to not get onto his bad side.
Don't even test Valentine, you'd only make a fool of yourself. He knows every possibility you can think and do, he observed you from the start and is still doing that. He knows every little things about you that you don't. Why don't you just be good and come sit on his lap? There's a glint in his eyes the way he wraps his arms tight around your waist.
hi! i saw your summoner au stuff n i have some thoughts abt it, i guess i'll call it a brainrot?
im planning to get granger and main him simply because he's attractive and i love him and i wonder how he'd react and what he'd think. as for my other mains, im pretty sure angela and floryn would be chill with it. im not sure about lesley i dunno much about her character.
Sure, Floryn and Angela would be pretty chill about it, since they're both supports. But Lesley, oh her. She is jealous. Not only that, all she can see is red. Lesley holds her place with pride and possession, she isn't willing to give up what she earned with hard-work.
Granger is neutral about you getting him and making him your new main, you have to be patient, Granger isnt one to let his guard down real quick. However, your sweet-almost honey like- words does make his cheeks pink.
Now, what will happen when these two marksman meet? Bullet shower. What did you expect, some calm talking? Lesley won't give up without a fight, and Granger isn't one to run away from a fight. Lesley's hands are tight around her father's sniper, you see her veins popping off(did I write that right?). You have to get between them or they won't stop until the other one is on the ground or both of them in matter.
Floryn and Angela would be on your side, immediately rushing to stop the two marksmans at each other's throat.
" Please stop fighting! You two will injure each other if that continues! "
Fuck I gotta start actually writing these, sorry ive been pretty busy working on my storyline for @theredonexx as of late. Check it out if you want ig lol
Also why do I have so many Lesley requests? You guys aren't even trying to hide your mommy issues huh?/hj
Summary: Reader has been acting weird lately and Lesley makes a much needed wellness check.
A/N: Anyway... Watch Hot Air. It’s on YouTube if I recall correctly.
Couple: Lesley/GN!Reader
Category: Hurt/Comfort
Content Warning: Depression, self-hatred, medication use (unidentified)
Word Count: 3.3k
MASTERLIST
The clock on the wall hasn’t ticked in days, and as much as I wanted to say it was a metaphor for my current state of mind, I knew that it was only because the batteries died and I was too tired to change them.
Tired. More like lazy. Whatever word they’re using to describe the abysmal apathy that swallowed the space around me like an ever present shadow. It would only take a few minutes to remedy the problem — to drown out the ambient buzzing of the refrigerator filled with half-rotten food.
Lazy. More like ungrateful. Unwilling to recognize how lucky I am to even have a roof over my head. To have access to water and clothes just to avoid showering because my thoughts are amplified by the water.
The clock on the wall hasn’t ticked in days.
So why do I keep looking at it, expecting it to give me an answer to questions it was never designed to anticipate?
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in like I’ve always been told to do. But I couldn’t even do that right. I blew out the air too quickly and with quivering lips. I think I was trying to cry, but I couldn’t tell you why. No tears fell.
It was probably for the best, anyway. It was certainly a good representation of how I felt.
Empty. Empty like the apartment that I hadn’t left in time to see the sunlight in at least a week. Maybe two, but who’s counting anyway? My friends had long given up on contacting me when I get like this. They knew it was a fruitless effort. Unless they really would rather spend their little bit of free time playing babysitter and maid while I tried to get myself together.
It was best for me to be alone. Wallowing in self-pity until the options became so bleak that I had no other choice than to get up. Until something forced me from the indentation shaped like my unrecognizable body.
Something good. Something so unbelievably, impossibly wonderful that I might be able to believe that the world wasn’t all bad all the time.
Or, I don’t know, maybe just a stray cat batting at the window to say hello. Maybe that would be enough.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound that shook the dust of my mind was so in tune with my thoughts that I actually looked to the window first. But when there were no patting paws, I turned my attention to the much more sensible location: my front door.
When I found my way there on shaky legs, I paused. It was days like this I really wished that I had a peephole. But I didn’t, so I just stood there, weighing whether it was worth the gamble. There were only a few people who could be on the other side, and only a handful of them were people I cared about enough to pretend to be happy.
The rest were people I never wanted to see me like this.
“(Y/n)? It’s Lesley.”
Just like that, my heart leapt back to life from its hiding place somewhere in my stomach.
“Your neighbors told me you were home. Not like, in a creepy way, or anything. I just happened to pass them and they recognized me and mentioned you were home when I... You know, never mind. It doesn’t matter, but—“
The door swung opened and stopped his thought, replacing it with my own.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry to surprise you, I just I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” he said. He spoke so quickly that his last words were muttered without a breath, “I wanted to see you.”
The two of us just stared at each other, lost and equally nervous judging by the way he wrung his hands together. And, despite how hard I tried, I couldn’t come up with any reason to kick him out.
Even though I knew I should. Even though I’d promised myself that he would be the last one to see me like this.
“Oh… Okay,” I muttered.
I took a step back and kicked the bag of trash that sat uselessly beside my door. It wasn’t its fault; it was just waiting to be taken out. But the walk down the hall to the trash chute felt a lot longer when I could barely make myself put on socks.
Lesley didn’t seem to mind, though. He took his time, stepping carefully as he meandered through the crowded, disastrous space.
“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess in here. And I don’t even have any makeup on or anything,” I mumbled.
It succeeded in dragging his eyes away from the mess of the room and back to the mess of me. Even just the cursory glances made my skin crawl. It wasn’t his fault, though. I had just forgotten what it felt like to be seen by something kind.
“That’s okay,” he said with a smile and a shrug, “I can handle mess.”
And no matter how badly I wanted to correct him, to explain that I was not like any other mess he’d ever seen before, I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not when his smile looked so heartbreakingly genuine. So perfectly out of place for my life.
So I didn’t correct him, but I did feel obligated to explain myself, albeit with a shitty explanation.
“It’s been tough lately with work and everything. My chores just... piled up.”
With one sweep of the room, he turned back with a slightly cautious, “Can I help?”
The kind of cautious that reminded me how much of a burden it was to be friends with me. The cautious that sounded a lot like disappointment and disgust. The cautious I’d spent most of my young adult life running away from. The kind that only had one right answer.
“No, it’s fine. I can do it myself.”
“But I’m here now. I can do stuff, too.”
He tried to make it sound like a joke, but all I heard was every person who’d ever resented me. His smile was still there, but my brain was too busy interpreting it as condescension to hear anything else.
“It’s not your job to take care of me,” I shot back, laced with poison and loathing that he didn’t deserve.
Having already witnessed what would happen if he made a joke, lovable, foolish Lesley countered with another.
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
His lips twisted into an unsure pucker at the reply. I could only imagine what he was considering while he was gone in his thoughts. He was probably weighing all of the options he had. Trying to decide if my venom was enough to abandon his pursuits altogether.
Whatever it was, he made up his mind a little too quickly for my liking.
“Fine,” he said, raising two hands in defeat while he stepped closer to the exit.
I couldn’t blame him. I would leave, too, if I was on the receiving end of my harsh words. It wasn’t worth it to dirty his hands when the problem had an obvious solution. It wasn’t up to him to convince me to be better; I should’ve done it on my own already.
I was just being stubborn. Lazy. Stupid.
But right when I thought he would leave, he took a step away from the door.
A step closer to me.
My whole body tensed at the proximity while simultaneously leaning towards him and seeking out even just the briefest touch. Anything to remind me that I was, in fact, still here and capable of being touched.
Still worthy of being touched by anything, much less something as pure as him.
Then, like he could read my mind, Lesley opened his arms.
“Can I at least get a hug for the road?” he asked.
He sounded so full of love and life that I wondered how I’d ever found someone so different from myself. Because there was just no getting around the way the sun shined brighter and the wind changed direction to have more of a chance to touch him.
Someone good. Too good for me.
But how could I say no when he wouldn’t put his arms down no matter how long I stared? How could I not when the alternative was to disappoint him even more than I already had?
“Fine,” I replied with the same amount of defeat as he had shown.
Still stuck on the thought that he was making a mistake in letting me touch him. Convinced that I would taint him with dread and destruction.
When his arms wrapped around me, though, it didn’t feel like pain. It didn’t feel like anything at first. His touch was so light that I almost didn’t register it. So, I waited a few seconds more before leaning into him, trying to find his heartbeat through his sweater.
Lesley pulled me closer, then, with his hands spreading over my back like he could feel how badly every inch of me craved his recognition. He didn’t stop, drawing comforting swirls and circles up my shoulders and neck until he got to the terrible, tangled mess of my hair.
He didn’t run his fingers through it, probably acutely aware of the sting that would accompany the movement, but he didn’t shy away completely. With one comforting palm, Lesley stroked the top of my head, using it as an excuse to guide my head closer until my ear was pressed against him.
From there I listened to the gentle thrum of a heart that felt tortured but strong. Tired but trying.
It sounded a lot like mine.
“That feels nice,” I mumbled, half hoping he wouldn’t hear. Afraid that an acknowledgment might make him stop.
My fears were justified, too, because that’s immediately what he did. His hands that held me so carefully pulled me away so that he could look me in the eye.
So I would see how excited he was when he asked, “Can I brush it?”
The thought alone made me wince, fully expecting him to be too harsh and too quick in his detangling. But he just looked so happy that I decided the pain would be worth it.
“If you want to,” I asked, careful to emphasize the word ‘want’.
But Lesley was already taking off towards the bathroom, expertly dodging all the obstacles in his path.
He did even better on the return trip, dragging me with him to the couch and tossing pillows on the ground for me to sit on. It was so chaotic and childlike and very unlike him that for just one second, I forgot that I was supposed to be sad.
And I laughed.
It sounded foreign and wrong and wonderful. It felt like gears turning for the first time after years of building up rust. But then it burned out, just like a candle in a vacuum using up the last of the oxygen for its own self-interest.
I didn’t talk while he worked. Instead, I stared out at all the things I needed to do. My own apartment felt so suffocating, like it was nothing but an endless list of chores that I would never accomplish. Not that it was extraordinary or unique— they were the same things everyone else had to do.
I was just lazy. Ungrateful. Stupid.
“Hey, I don’t mean to pry or anything it’s just...”
Lesley’s voice broke through the thoughts again like static on a record. It would’ve been a welcome distraction if not for the unease clear in his tone.
It seemed like he was waiting for a response, but my throat felt too tight to let any through. After a few more seconds of silence, he spoke again. Lowly, calmly, and careful.
“I saw your prescription bottle in the bathroom, and it looked... empty.”
The words spread through me like fire. My skin burned with blood that had been long settled. It was humiliating enough for him to have seen my bathroom, much less the scattered empty bottles evidencing just how horrible I was.
“Yeah, I meant to do that today, but I got busy,” I said with a laugh to disguise the lie.
Lesley didn’t mention it. He didn’t even ask any other clarifying questions.
Instead, he happily offered, “I can get it for you.”
“No, it’s fine, I can do it,” I urged just like before.
Except this time Lesley responded with an equally rigid resolve, “So can I.”
It was hard to be annoyed with him when his hands continued to work through knots with an impossible amount of tenderness considering the tangles.
In a way, I felt like his hands were a metaphor for his heart, which also worked with a precision and purity that seemed almost too good to be human.
“I don’t mind,” he whispered, sounding ashamed of the edge he’d taken before, “I need to go to the store anyway.”
“Okay...” I mumbled back, wondering if it was because I felt obligated or because I was worried any other answer would hurt him even more.
Interestingly, that thought started a dangerous precedent. Even after Lesley left, it carried me through my apartment with a renewed sense of purpose. I was burning through my to-do list, motivated only by the thought of making him proud.
And while I couldn’t tackle it all—not even close— I did push all the trash into more manageable piles. And at least one of those piles finally made it to the chute.
But still, that wasn’t the most impressive thing by far. That honor was reserved for my very first shower in at least a week. I was a little embarrassed by how excited the thought of him coming back made me.
Because really, it was pathetic, right? He shouldn’t be impressed because I finally took a few small steps to be a normal, functional human being.
It was my fault it got this bad. It wasn’t revolutionary that I got myself back up.
Just before I’d resigned myself to the misery I had just started to crawl away from, the sound of the key I’d lent him jiggling in a knob alerted me of Lesley’s return. I stood frozen in place like a deer in headlights, waiting for his reason.
“Oh! You showered!” he shouted. He scrambled to hold onto several bags while also shutting the door. Once he accomplished the latter, he continued, “That means I can do your hair again!”
I swore my heart stopped in response. It was the only logical reaction to seeing something so undeniably adorable.
“Let me just put these groceries away first!”
Then I remembered to be confused by the bags lining his arms. I rushed over to help him, but he had already made his way over to my now mostly-clear table.
“Groceries?”
He knew why I was asking. I wasn’t just stating the obvious; I was probing to see any sign of pity.
But surprisingly, I found none when he replied, “I hope you don’t mind. I thought it might be fun to cook us a meal and I got carried away.”
My confusion manifested as an automatic assent of “No, it’s fine.”
... which Lesley was more than happy to capitalize on.
“Great!” he called, already busy unpacking the items and working through the dishes I’d managed to clean.
Embarrassed, I ran over to clean the rest. But Lesley wasn’t ready to let me do it by myself. That seemed to be the trend of the day.
I wasn’t going to complain this time. Especially not when a task I was certain would take an hour was over in less than ten minutes.
The rest of the time was spent listening to him talk about strange vegan ingredients he assured me would taste better than they smelled. And even though I winced and pinched my nose in a show of feigned disgust, it was really only because I loved the way he couldn’t keep a straight face. His lips bounced between pouts and smiles the whole time.
Eventually, mine started to follow suit. My lips weren’t as quick as him to turn up, but they did. They slowly gained their ability to stretch and curve just like they had a lifetime ago.
Then I couldn’t stop smiling. I smiled until my cheeks hurt and then some. I kept it going past the point of indulgence.
I let myself feel guilty for feeling happy and then I kept doing it, anyway, purely out of spite.
It would have to end eventually. I knew that. But I enjoyed every second I had. Lesley and I spent hours just like that, moving trash piles and clothes. It felt so substantial. Like we were moving mountains rather than garbage. Everything felt that way with him.
Easier. Better. Fun.
When we found ourselves changing the sheets on my bed, we quickly realized we’d drained our reserves. Thankfully we had just enough to finish... and throw ourselves onto clean linen.
Lesley laughed as I wiggled underneath the sheets. The sound granted me enough confidence to drag him in with me.
He didn’t fight my hands. He let them guide him to the spot next to me. From there, he felt comfortable resting his hand on my hip.
“You must be tired,” he whispered like the sound might wake me further, “I get the feeling you haven’t had a good night of sleep in a while.”
With a pathetic, nervous chuckle I answered a very sarcastic, “What gave me away?”
But there was no need to be nervous. Not with him. That sweet, impossible man was just waiting for an excuse to pull my body against his.
“Well, let’s take a nap then,” he offered with a warmth in his voice that rivaled the heat radiating from his body.
It only took a few seconds before my eyelids felt too heavy to open. Still, I couldn’t rest. My brain was buzzing with thoughts that needed to come out one way or another. Whether it was with words or gestures, I had to share them. To free myself of the weight so that my heart could beat unencumbered again.
“Hey, Lesley?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” I whispered. And even though I heard the words crackling, I forced them out, anyway. Even when tears started to fall, I tried to say the things he deserved to hear. “Things have just been really hard lately and I just really appreciate—"
He needed to know how important this was to me. How much it meant that he came here, surely expecting better company, and took care of me. That he took it upon himself to make sure that I felt human again.
That idea did come out in a way, but it wasn't with words. It was through choked sobs that soaked his shirt.
Lesley didn’t shy away from the tears, though. If anything, he pulled me closer, hushing me with soft sounds murmured against my hair.
“Shhh, I know,” he whispered, “I’m here.”
For the first time in a long time, that statement felt honest.
But I still felt obligated to apologize for everything about me.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Lesley didn’t let the words go unnoticed like I’d hoped. He held me tighter, steeling his words to fight even the strongest self-doubt.
“Don’t be. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.”
He meant it to be comforting, but the thought was so ridiculous that I had to laugh. A scratchy, unusual sound that would take some getting used to again. I didn’t mind, though. Not when it made the tears feel lighter.
“You’re so weird," I muttered through it all.
Lesley returned the laughter wholeheartedly, and I thought to myself that it was ridiculous how much better I felt knowing that I could make him smile.
I knew it wouldn’t last forever; that pulling yourself out of a hole takes a lot of time and hard work (and in my case, the prescription I’d been missing). The happiness I felt in that moment was fleeting, but it was enough.
Enough to make me feel like I deserved to feel okay again.
To believe that I was, and always had been, enough.
“You’ll just have to get used to it, I guess,” he joked with his hands holding me as close as they could. It was because of that simple gesture that I knew he definitely wasn’t joking anymore when he whispered, “You’re stuck with me.”
Request: Reader owns a small local flower shop and meets a man who looks angry and defeated, storming up to ask "Can you please tell me which of these flowers says 'Fuck you?'" - @andiebeaword
Couple: Lesley Smith-Juniment/Reader Category: Fluff/Comfort
Content Warning: None!
Word Count: 900
MASTERLIST
He enters your shop on a Saturday morning. You know the matter is serious because there are very few reasons to be upset on the first morning of a long weekend. There are even fewer reasons to be as upset as he is.
And he is upset, you think, but it’s hard to tell as he storms to the counter in the least intimidating manner known to man. The first indication of his rage is still hidden behind eyes that burn with flickering flecks that match the greenery around you. They swim in pools of molasses and honey that haven’t quite mixed all the way together yet.
His breath was running so ragged and hot that he couldn’t quite speak, but when you try to ask him a question, you two speak at the same time.
“Can I help y—“
“I need to kno—“
You pause to let him finish, but he’s huffing and puffing again from trying to speak before he was ready. The red tinge on his face seemed to stretch down below his precariously buttoned shirt that appears to have been thrown on in a hurry.
“Sorry,” he sighs, his hand raising and falling as even that effort seemed too much. But then he continues, bold faced and confident in his convictions, “Can you please tell me which of these flowers says ‘Fuck you?’”
It is, surprisingly, not the first time you’ve heard the question. It is, however, the first time that it’s been asked by someone as precious as him. You could tell by the way the word fuck struggled between his teeth that he didn’t say it often. It was yet another testament to his seriousness, and you decided it was time for you to return his fervor with your own.
“Monkshood,” you say softly, trying to suppress the giggle that’s slithering up your throat.
You see the relief wash over him when you do nothing else to mock him. His hands that had balled up with tension resorted to shaking with open palms, instead.
“What does it mean?” he asks.
You feel obliged to answer, but also don’t want to. You could tell him about the history of wolfsbane being used to kill monsters and men, but it seems silly in this context. Because in front of you was a beautiful man with tears hidden in his eyes that still glowed with an impossible concoction of colors.
“Do you really want to buy them any flowers at all?” you ask, instead.
He seems confused. His head drops to the side and you notice for the first time the way his skin had finally faded back to what was almost certainly its normal shade. Your eyes fell to each of the freckles that adorned his neck and you wondered who found it in them to hurt such a calm and kind creature. The kind that took a knife and turned it into flowers.
He’s still waiting for an explanation. You pause for a moment longer, trying to smile but not finding the strength.
“Haven’t they already taken enough from beautiful things?”
It’s his turn to freeze, but only for a second. The coldness is quickly thawed and replaced with the familiar shades of pink and red that you had almost just started to miss. The blush on his face seems like nothing compared to the warmth you feel inside as you watch him look down at his hands while the realization dawns on him.
“Yeah,” he mutters, quiet in a way that tells you the enormity of what he is feeling. With one long, powerful exhale, he announces his conclusion like a final answer. “Yeah, you’re right.”
That strange man stops once more, like he has just noticed where he is and the usual nature of transactions taken place there. He is embarrassed yet again, and is now almost entirely unable to meet your eye. Because you, the florist, have done nothing but coddle him and call him beautiful. Even at the expense of your own occupation.
“Now I feel bad,” he says through a laugh. You are happy to hear the sound, but sad to hear what follows. Small and shrunken, he mumbles, “I wasted your time.”
But you have a different interpretation. Because just seconds ago, you heard him laugh, and it hardly seemed like a waste. The only question became how to tell him that without sounding as odd or off putting as he really should have been coming in only half-breathing with obscenities.
Subtlety, you decide, is the best route for a man as unsure as he seems. Subtlety and flowers.
“Not a waste,” you hum as your fingers fiddle through flowers behind the desk.
As you draw a red carnation out, you peer into the layers of petals crinkled in on themselves and wish you could hold him as closely. But you decide that for now, the smile that blossoms over his face is enough to hold you over.
He takes the flower from your extended hand and giggles, an honest and sweet sounding expression of only the purest form of joy. He holds it with a similarly childlike enthusiasm that makes you promise yourself to explain to him what the flower means one day.
One day, you think before immediately changing your mind. There is no reason to wait. He is already halfway out the door before you call to him, sharing a smile and one last laugh.
