#but then he tripped over his own feet like a fool
Text
<the butterfly perched upon you>
slice of lifey vibes with trueform sukuna! youre like a servant-turned-girlfriend to him and dont mind me making it the clumsy girl trope sorry... lots of falling over and making a fool of yourself oops- mostly lighthearted, eventual romance, fluffy, very minor/implied smut. mentions of cannibalism, murder.
the warning of ooc sukuna goes without saying <3 hope u enjoy nonetheless <3
dividers by @/saradika, @/firefly-graphics and @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more
word count; 8.1k
how can someone be this useless?
its not uncommon that you trip over your own feet. the food you try to make always ends up charred and inedible. and anything that wounds up in your hands seem to either break or get misshapen. seriously, uraume considers you an eyesore.
very much like a stressed mother in law, they try to whip you up into shape to best please lord sukuna, but you can't do a thing right. goodness gracious.
there are only a handful of servants here at the lord's estate, mainly due to how he dislikes crowds and has a low tolerance for people in general, and will only accept a few for maintenance of his abode only. and yet, an awfully incapable and bumbling girl like you finds yourself at such a place. uraume wouldn't be surprised if lord sukuna lopped your head off one day, if he managed to catch sight of your silly mistakes.
the servants have very minimal contact with the lord. he's often out tormenting whomever challenges him on the battlefield, and even when he's home, none of you are brave enough to be loitering about in areas where he's currently present. uraume is the only one who usually speaks with him directly.
today, you've been reluctantly given the job of wiping down the floorboards of the engawa before the courtyard. you quite like this, because it's nice and sunny outside, and so you'll get to admire the butterflies while you work.
theres a pretty little pond with koi fish here as well, and you've been permitted to feed them some vegetable and seafood scraps, so you'll be doing that afterwards.
you've run up and down against the wooden flooring a couple of times with a rag, and soon enough, you get catch eye of a bright blue butterfly that flutters around the garden. you stand on the edge of the engawa, absorbed with the view. it's not everyday that you get to be here, after all. allegedly, this is lord sukuna's favourite spot to lounge about when he's home.
you get so distracted that you don't notice the intimidating presence behind you, even though he's a man whose aura bleeds all over the place, wherever he may be. sukuna looms over you and is silent as he ponders taking your head for annoying him by standing about in front of him like an airhead with an incredibly lacking sense of survival.
no, he shouldn't. he'd get more annoyed if your blood spilled over the floorboards, and he'd have to wait until the stench of your blood flees the area. however, before he can say a word of 'get lost', you manage to notice the shadow of the figure behind you.
you turn around and see him close up for the first time. a strange noise escapes your throat. you get so startled, your feet loses its balance, and you go backwards off the edge of the engawa. the dirty rag is thrown up in the air in a frenzy by accident as you try not to fall over.
thud! you're on your back on the garden floor. making haste, you frantically get into the position you were taught to get into by uraume, if you ever happened to come across lord sukuna by any chance. you kneel and lower your head until your forehead hits the ground.
and with such nice comedic timing, the dirty rag you'd thrown into the air falls directly onto the back of your head. you shut your eyes tightly and bite your lip in sheer embarrassment. you then realise that your humiliation is not what's really important right now. you might lose your life here.
perhaps you should apologise? are you even allowed to speak to him? what would you be apologising for, anyway? for breathing in the same direction as him? for not noticing him right away?
when uraume runs into the scene, what they witness is rather... unique. the useless servant girl on her knees and with a dirty rag on her head, trembling frantically. and lord sukuna, who seems to be viewing her with what seems to be mild amusement, and not annoyance.
"sukuna-sama... i apologise for any tardiness displayed by the servant. i didn't realise you would be coming here as soon as you came back."
usually, he enjoys a full meal before going out to the courtyard.
amongst your frantic thoughts, you almost tear up at the sound of that familiar voice. uraume-san! can they save you? i mean, sure, they only care about lord sukuna and him only, but surely they wouldn't want your blood to taint this perfect courtyard, right? especially when it's his favourite view!
"we shall accept any form of punishment you see fit for us."
we!? who's we?! you internally sob.
"it's fine."
a deeper voice responds. it's the first thing he's said since you noticed him.
"you can take her away. i'm going to stay here a while."
you hear the large man sit himself down.
"you. stand up and head back to your quarters."
you get up as quickly as you went down. the rag drops to the floor and you have to bend down to pick it up again with speed. you bow deeply again before following uraume out of the area. you can finally breathe again.
"consider yourself lucky. it seems sukuna-sama is in a pleasant mood today."
you later get scolded by uraume after you tearfully explained how you managed to get dirt all over your back and ended up with rag over your head.
meanwhile back in the courtyard, sukuna replays that scene of you in his head--of you turning around with eyes as wide as saucepans, something about you left an impression on him, and its not just because of way you made an absolute fool of yourself.
later, he comments to uraume about how you seemed a little different than the usual ones they pick to have as servants.
"shall i get rid of her? servants can always be replaced if you desire it, sukuna-sama."
"no, leave her. i was only curious."
uraume is left a little stunned. curious? over a mere servant girl? they are in no place to judge, but goodness, it's a rare thing for lord sukuna to be curious about somebody.
uraume has absolutely no qualms of disposing a person if they end up being no use to the lord. however, they never step out of line and act upon their own judgements alone. if there is someone who has piqued his interest, then uraume shall make sure that nothing interferes with their master's source of entertainment.
it's been a while again since you last saw lord sukuna. and you're quite thankful for it, after that humiliating first impression you gave him.
the days have been somewhat peaceful, with only the occasional grumbling from uraume, upset by your helplessness in preparing and cooking food, as usual. after multiple cuts and burns, they decided that you were not to come even a metre into the kitchen area.
that's fine by you, anyway. cleaning and sweeping while you hum your silly tunes is what you prefer.
night arrives with the moon hanging up brightly, like it always does. you think it's going to be another uneventful closure to the evening, but uraume soon appears at the servant's quarters, looking for you. they look a little uneasy. the very few other female servants whisper amongst themselves.
"sukuna-sama has requested for you. come with me."
oh...
you feeling like crying.
there is nothing that you can do. 'requested' so they may say, but everyone knows rejection means possible death. so you follow uraume outside.
walking with them in the corridor, every step feels like it's bringing you closer to disaster.
"uraume-san... what exactly is sukuna-sama requesting me for...?" you ask cautiously.
"i'm unaware know the details myself. but he's in the middle of a bath. perhaps there's a splatter of blood he can't reach on his back."
yes, but why has he chosen me out of all people?!
but you know better than to question such orders. your hands become clammy with sweat.
you reach the bath area too quickly for your liking, and uraume ushers you inside without further concern for your wellbeing. their only concern is hoping that you don't do anything to displease the lord.
lord sukuna sometimes has a tendency to act upon his own whims, but even uraume was surprised when he suddenly asked for the servant girl he met in the courtyard...
the warmth of the misty steam inside caresses your face gently and also makes your kimono stick to you uncomfortably... making you sweat even more.
lord sukuna is sitting in his oversized, wooden bathtub wordlessly, his back turned to you. splashes of crimson against his skin, just as uraume had said. you take a quiet, deep breath.
kneeling before him as per protocol, you bow your head, despite the floors being soggy with water.
"sukuna-sama. how may i assist you this evening?"
the eyes on the side of his distorted face dart down to look at you.
"it's fairly obvious, isn't it? wash the blood away."
"right away."
you stand up straight, and it was apparently too fast for your poor blood pressure, getting you dizzy momentarily. foolishly so, you still decide to take a few steps with haste on the wet, slippery floor. with a loud yelp, you slip and land on your bottom. you want to scream.
"i-i apologise..." you say tearfully, getting back up.
"...not a dull moment with you, as i figured." he uses a tone of mockery.
there's a hint of a chuckle in his voice, and you're only glad he's amused rather than annoyed at your stupidity. your backside hurts again. it hasn't even been that long since the bruises stopped hurting from the last time you fell over!
you grab a cloth to start scrubbing the man down, holding back your tears. the metallic scent is prominent, and your mind begins to wander about exactly whose blood you were currently wiping away into the bathwater. you try not to think about it too much.
it's not new information that lord sukuna kills mercilessly, and even feasts on humans should he feel like it. you've seen the types of "ingredients" uraume has used in the kitchen at times, and the blood that paints the bottom of the sink. these were all things you needed to get used to seeing and knowing as a servant at this estate.
you keep your face stern as you clean him down delicately, thoroughly. the damp, warm cloth runs along the muscles on his back, neck and shoulders. you squeeze out the blood and dip it back in clean water, before wiping again. he has a delightfully toned body, with many tattoos. and more muscles than you could ever count. you take note of the neck tattoos that resemble the lines on a butterfly's wings. it draws you in, but you have to make sure you don't get too distracted.
you notice there's some blood on his hand as well. you move towards it and clean it down, gentle in the way you go over each finger. you're holding hands with him inevitably as you have to lift it up, and this makes you realise how large this man is. your hand seems almost like a child's in comparison to his. there's something rather exhilarating, yet also terrifying about this size difference.
the hairs on the back of your head rise, for some reason. you notice how his big red eyes are boring into you from the edge of your vision. you feign ignorance and focus on cleaning.
time passes in haste as you finish wiping down the last spot of visible blood from the lord's body.
"all the blood has been cleaned away, sukuna-sama," you tell him.
"is that so?" he asks, looking down at his own body. "but there's a spot left over here," he objects, pointing to the side of his neck, vaguely.
"i- i'm sorry, i must have missed that area. i shall clean it immediately-"
you crane your neck to look towards where he was pointing, your face getting closer to his. the place he mentioned is clean. no blood in sight. you meet his eyes. his lips curl upwards, seemingly pleased.
"finally, you look this way," he says, capturing your gaze.
you freeze on the spot, face heating up.
"your... your neck seems clean... sukuna-sama," you respond quietly, unable to think of anything else to say.
"i was only teasing. was it not apparent?" he smirks at you, and you feel that your heart may burst any second now. from either fear or excitement. or both.
"pardon me. i should have noticed sooner," you say, moving your face away from his.
"...i digress. where's the fun in that? just remain gullible for me."
he flicks your forehead, making you whisper 'ouch!' under your breath.
"understood?"
"yes, my lord."
without further conversation, he stands up to his full height, the water droplets racing down against his skin. you hurriedly grab some towels for him... doing your best to avoid looking at his... ahem. when you hand over the towels, your eyes are shut tight. sukuna gives a deep chuckle.
"silly girl."
since the bath, lord sukuna has developed a tendency to call you over during unpredictable moments, and for unpredictable errands. then, he disappears again for a while. and merely moments before you get too comfortable without his presence around you, he returns to repeat it all over again.
recently, he's taken towards looking for you himself, rather than asking uraume about your whereabouts. it scares the other servants when he barges into their spaces, but he pays them little mind.
this afternoon, he finds you sweeping down the leaves away at the front of the estate, humming to your heart's content.
"i come to check what's making all that noisy ruckus... only to find out that it's you."
your whole body goes stiff at the voice, and you reflexively try to get on your knees, but he stops you.
"keep your head up," he commands you.
"your face is worth gazing at, after all," he adds, albeit under his breath.
the compliment doesn't even register into your head as you immediately stand back up, broom in hand. you thank him for the pardon.
"are you done with the sweeping, yet?" sukuna suddenly asks, looking around with his arms crossed. well-- one pair of them, at least.
"not yet, sukuna-sama. but only a little bit to go," you respond with honesty.
"come to my chambers with a plate of fruits and a knife with you, once you're done. don't take too long."
after that, he promptly takes his leave without further explanation. you stand still for a moment, as you always do. every interaction you have with him leaves you in a bit of a daze. often, you wonder if he's a part of your daydreams.
you shake your head and continue to sweep, silently, this time around. don't take too long, he had ordered.
after you're done with that, you make your way into the kitchen on your tiptoes. you wonder if uraume would believe you, if you were to tell them that you're entering upon sukuna's own request.
but once you make your appearance to the entrance of the kitchen, uraume is already there, ready with a tray with a plate of assorted fruits on it. and a knife sitting next to the plate. the sight of the sharp utensil makes you feel nervous, somewhat.
you take the tray without a word, and head towards the lord's chambers.
three sharp knocks.
"sukuna-sama. i've come with the items you sought for. may i come in?"
"you may."
you slide the door open, and sukuna is there, waiting on the tatami mat while holding a kiseru in his hand. once you enter, he sets it aside after one more puff.
"put it here," he points towards the empty space in front of him.
you place the tray down where he gestured towards, and then sit yourself in front of him. there's a moment of silence as you flicker your gaze from looking at him, to the fruit before you.
"well? what are you waiting for? prepare it for me."
oh, no. you had prayed with every ounce in your body, that he wouldn't request for such a thing, but of course it didn't work. now, you have to display your terrible cutting skills to the very head of this estate.
hands trembling, you reach out for the knife and pick up a peach from the plate. you make a cut towards the seed in the middle. then, you cut diagonally to get one slice out. sukuna opens up his hand, waiting for you to place it in the middle of his palm. you do so, and the piece looks so pathetically tiny that you almost feel ashamed.
"faster," he demands, with a small smile on his face.
you swallow thickly, and try to speed up your cutting. the pieces get more and more jagged and unsightly. but sukuna doesn't display any signs of anger or annoyance.
"such poor knife skills. no wonder uraume left you to do the cleaning only. is that really the best you can do?" he taunts you, laughing through his nose.
"i'm afraid so... i apologise for my lack of skills, sukuna-sama," you confess, trying not to make your lower lip wobble from the anxiety and dejection. did he bring you here just to mock the way you cut fruits?! your brows furrow in determination and you try harder.
after the peaches, you grab a persimmon. they're trickier to prepare, since you have to carefully peel the skin off them as well. you purse your lips.
things go somewhat smoothly at first, but then you start to slip up again. it's slippery, and the blade of the knife slices through your thumb.
"ah-" a small noise leaves your lips and you watch as a drop of your blood runs down your palm. sukuna matches your gaze and narrows his eyes at the same scene.
"such a helpless, troublesome woman."
he grabs your wrist and slowly brings your thumb to his mouth. your eyes widen, and you're speechless as you watch him run his tongue up the trail of your blood and then suck on the small incision on your thumb.
you're like a steaming kettle, with the way your blood rushes through your veins, temperature rising with how flustered you are. sukuna looks at you with your finger still in his mouth.
"su-sukuna-sama... you needn't do such a thing-"
a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his tongue swirl around your wound. he then releases it from his mouth, with a smirk, still holding onto your wrist.
you retract your hand suddenly, due to an indescribable feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. you then begin to fear that snatching your hand away like that might've offended him.
"my apologies, sukuna-sama! if you will excuse me-!"
you stand up and run, and he lets you scurry away, with the same sweet, arrogant grin on his face. down the hallway, he hears you trip over yourself before exiting. it makes him chuckle.
you're a fun way to pass time, when he's not slaughtering millions on the battlefield.
back in your own quarters, you lean yourself against a wall and pant, being out of breath. what had just happened? he... he licked the wound on your finger. and that did something to you. your insides feel all squirmy.
you look down at your thumb, only to realise that the cut has mysteriously disappeared.
after running away from sukuna abruptly like that, you had expected to uraume to chase you up and drag you to him, where you'd be executed for fleeing. but it never happens.
in fact, you haven't seen him again for a while. however this time around, his absence does nothing to keep you relaxed, as you're always on your toes, not knowing when he'd next make an appearance before you. you wonder what he will do to you next, when he does come back sooner or later.
before you can drown in those concerns of yours, uraume sends you outside to hang some laundry out in the sun. some white sheets, freshly washed. you struggle a bit, to carry the large bucket of sheets out to the yard.
the laundry line is a bit high, so you need to grab a small stool as well to successfully get the sheets over it. the wind is gentle, and the sunlight pours endlessly from the skies. truly a perfect day to dry the laundry outside.
the sheets are large, so you find it difficult to squeeze the moisture out by yourself, but you suppose they will eventually dry anyway, thanks to the nice weather. you smile as the cool breeze runs through you, making you feel pleasant.
from afar, sukuna observes this scenic view of you, surrounded by the pure white of the swaying sheets around you, smiling as the wind jostles your hair slightly and the sun accentuates your features rather beautifully.
he walks towards your light.
you're busy trying to hang another sheet on the second line this time. you wish the stool was a tad bit taller. this is rather challenging. even standing on top of it, you need to get on your tippy toes to reach properly. and it doesn't help that the water-weight makes the cloth heavier...
a large hand brushes aside the sheet that covers you from view, startling you. you nearly topple over, but a pair of strong arms catch you, keeping you standing upright.
"how ridiculous. don't you get tired of doing that every time?" he sighs. his second pair of arms are crossed, while the first pair hold you so warmly.
"i'm sorry..." you mumble, staring at him with wide eyes. it's like he appeared out of your thoughts. could this perhaps be a daydream of yours? he fixes your stance so that you can stand on the stool properly again. despite your height boost from this stool, sukuna is still a bit taller than you.
"it feels strange, having you meet me eye-to-eye like this..." sukuna comments, while staring down at you curiously.
and it does feel strange, being almost at his height. how close you feel to him now. maybe this offends him.
"i shall get down immediately," you tell him respectfully, trying to get off the stool. his arms come around again to keep you still.
"ack-!"
"tch. don't overreact. i didn't mean it that way," sukuna mutters, tutting at you.
you stand stiffly with your hands by your sides as he inspects you, anxious yet also excited to find out what his intentions are this time around. every touch he lands on you makes you skin jump, in an intoxicating way.
you focus your vision particularly on the odd looking side of his face. it looks like it has a strange texture. would it still be skin? you want to try and touch it. and... his extra eyes look cute. you gasp at yourself for having such disrespectful thoughts about him. all four of his eyes then focus on your face, as if to notice your gaze, and you feel as though your heart may leap out of your throat. there's a part of sukuna that makes you question whether he can read your mind or not.
"you're curious about this face of mine, are you?" he asks, while smiling.
your jaw hangs open in shock, and you don't know whether to tell him that he's correct or to apologise for your insolence.
"what a strange expression you're making," he chuckles, "so easy to read."
it's not that he can read minds, it's only because you're openly letting yourself known to him, whether you're aware of it or not. transparent, like a perfectly pristine and delicate glass cup. shall he leave his fingerprints on you? shall he leave some cracks in that fragile vessel of yours?
his hands come off your body, and you have to concentrate to keep your balance on the stool, no longer being able to rely on his hold to stand still.
"continue with your duties. i shall call for you later," sukuna states sternly, looking off at the sheets that still wave gently in the wind.
"you didn't squeeze out enough water. it's dripping," he points out the soaking wet ends of the sheets.
you practically jump off of the stool and get to work. in the meantime, the lord has disappeared again. you look into the distance to catch a glimpse of him if you can, but he's nowhere to be seen.
and he never got around to clarifying about what happened to his face. perhaps that's a clear sign to mean that he's not interested in talking about his past.
upon finishing the laundry in completion, you make your way to the kitchen, due to the time being close to serving the lord's evening meal.
the other servants and uraume included, are running around to prepare his dinner to perfection, as usual. for the most part, you're left with nothing to do at these times since none of them trust you with handling the food.
lord sukuna did say he was going to call for you later. you wonder if you'll be able to help bathe him again. or if this time, he'll make you do something different. you're plagued with such daydreams as the servants bustle about behind you.
by the time the busy period finalises, the moon hangs high up amongst the stars, and the darkness of night consumes all. and yet, he still hasn't requested for you at all. you suppose when he said he'd call for you later, he perhaps meant tomorrow or the day after. you never know with the lord. trying to navigate him is like trying to look through the murky depths of the ocean at night.
right when you were about to return to your quarters with everyone else, uraume suddenly approaches you.
"sukuna-sama wishes to see you. make your way to the courtyard now."
your stomach starts stirring once again.
the courtyard is beautiful, even at night. sukuna sits in the now moonlit area, drinking from a sake cup in a languid manner.
it takes courage to speak up behind him.
"did you wish to see me, my lord?"
sukuna turns slightly to the side to look at you, before facing the front again.
"...come. pour me another glass, will you?"
"certainly."
as you pour him more of the crystal clear wine, you have to stay vigilant in order to not accidentally splash any of the expensive liquid outside of the cup from your shaky hands.
tonight, the lord's gaze rests not on you, but on the moon above. you watch along with him. there is nothing but silence in the first few moments you have with him together.
"the moon is beautiful tonight," he finally says, while taking another sip of his sake.
is it normal for one to be envious of the moon? even so, thanks to the moon, you are able to see him bathed in its light, making him look almost ethereal.
"yes it is, sukuna-sama," you agree with him.
there's another momentary silence between the two of you, before you bring up a sudden question.
"...do you enjoy watching the moon often?"
"not often, but at times. it would get boring if i did it everyday."
like almost everything else in life.
"i see. that is most understandable."
the chirping of crickets is audible within the garden, and you pour him another glass of his sake after he finishes his previous cup.
you look up at the black canvas of a sky, littered with specks of white all across it. it's easy to get lost in the sight. and much more comfortable than looking at something like the sun, which could burn the delicate areas of your eyes. you begin to get immersed in the view, and your previous train of thoughts ebb away.
you don't notice the way sukuna has stopped gazing at the sky. he's watching you, instead.
"you must know by now... that i favour you more than the other servants," sukuna brings up carefully.
you stop staring up, and turn around slowly to blink at the man.
"...is- is that true, my lord?" you ask, wondering if he really means that. you don't want to get ahead of yourself.
his brows furrow. how dim-witted can you be?
"perhaps actions will speak better than words."
that phrase alone makes your heart feel like it could leap out of your throat.
"sit closer to me."
you swallow dryly, and shuffle closer to the larger man. he sets his cup down beside him, and brings you even closer to him. his hand holding your waist. sitting with him, hip to hip.
sukuna begins to lean his face down closer to yours. your hands grab your own kimono in tight fists, questioning the reality of this scene, feeling skittish yet also giddy, all at the same time.
"don't run away, this time. i won't allow it."
the way his breath ghosts over the skin of your face, how close his voice is to your ears, sends goosebumps all the way down to your legs. is he going to kiss you? can you handle that?
his lips reach yours, and the softness of them is unreal. this must be a dream. he tastes of the rice wine was sipping on before, and he's doused in the same moonlight as you are, and he's now kissing you. a mere servant.
your ears pound with your own heartbeat, and your hands grip onto your kimono so tightly that it's bound to leave wrinkles behind. they shake slightly. sukuna's large hand comes over one of them, and grabs your wrist delicately.
"relax", he's telling you.
and so, you share your first kiss with him, under the moonlight.
quite a bit of time has passed since that day.
you could say that nothing much has changed - you still have your duties as a servant, and the lord still leaves his home vacant for periods of time.
however, on days when he has returned...
you gently sway your legs that hang off the edge of the engawa, on the very same courtyard as that fateful night. sukuna lays his head on your lap, eyes closed and completely at rest, both sets of his arms relaxed as the breaths he takes are slow.
your hand is unable to stray far from the soft bed of his hair, fingers combing through the peach-coloured strands, nails raking against his scalp with the right amount of strength, the way he loves. he gives the occasional purr when you go over his favourite spots.
it's odd, when merely a few weeks ago, you had trouble initiating these harmless touches without explicitly asking for permission beforehand.
"sukuna-sama, may i touch your hair?"
"would it be alright if i could hold your hand, sukuna-sama?"
"may i press a kiss against your cheek, my lord?"
you giggle to yourself as you remember his response to your endless series of questions and requests.
"tch... quit asking me about every little thing. just do it. i'll let you know if i don't like it."
and from then on, you've been bravely placing your hands on him whenever you wanted. and he hasn't been displeased by you, as of yet.
you freely caress the side of his face that you would describe as... unique. you're always curious about the nature of it, even now. but you don't invasively ask questions. you wonder if you'll ever feel brave enough to, one day.
his larger eyes open up narrowly in an abrupt manner, and they squint at you. it makes you nervous, in the way that heart fluttering way. you never get used to the feeling of being under his intense gaze.
red, with ringed irises. you've started to enjoy this colour more ever since you started to meet his eyes more often. you stare back at him but, oh- he's closed them up again.
your hand continues to softly caress him.
sukuna remains mellow, not really falling asleep, but also not in a state of full alertness. your lap serves as a great pillow.
this continues, until suddenly your touches become slower and more distracted. and he can tell your attention has been divided to something else.
the dismayed lord cracks open one eye to check what might have served as a distraction to you.
a butterfly...?
your eyes follow the pretty blue creature, landing on the flora of the garden, in it's carefree nature. a small smile blooms on your face and your hand's movements dwindle, which should displease him. he could cleave the thing into little bits, and let its remains scatter the lush garden.
but, he doesn't. sukuna lets you indulge in these small moments of joy, simply because he's gotten rather softhearted. he doesn't enjoy seeing you get upset at him. though he has control over you as your lord, his hand can't extend all the way to your heart and mind.
(and may the world burst into flames if you ever end up disliking him.)
he recalls... you were also staring at a butterfly the day he first met you, weren't you? so distracted that you didn't notice his presence. he doesn't understand your affection for such a fragile creature.
but...he supposes that he's the same.
what came over him, that he wound up caring for a silly woman like you?
as if to reaffirm your concept of being 'silly', you suddenly give a small sneeze, facing away from the front. his head gets jostled in your lap, which makes him frown and sigh.
"my apologies, sukuna-sama... perhaps it was due to the pollen from the garden..." you give your excuse sheepishly.
well, no matter. he'll keep you with him for as long as he desires. perhaps he can use your butterfly-infatuation to his advantage.
not long after, once the sun dips over the horizon and the area becomes a little chilly, sukuna decides he wants to take a bath before the day comes to an end. and you'll be coming along, of course.
...by now, you've been with him in the bath area at least a dozen times before.
nevertheless, you never seem to get used to seeing him in his naked glory.
sukuna is sitting in his tub, and you're running a warm, wet cloth over his shoulders, scrubbing lazily. he was already quite clean enough today, in your opinion.
a feeling of deja vu hits when your gaze falls onto the tattoo on the back of his neck. you remember having such a thought before. though it's not the strongest resemblance, you see it regardless.
without much resistance, you give in to the desire, and bring your lips to the area to give him a small kiss. it takes him by slight surprise.
"the tattoo on your neck resembles the lines on a butterfly's wings, sukuna-sama. it looks elegant, and wonderful," you tell him.
...he is not displeased with that comparison, strangely enough.
"is that so? no wonder i've felt your stare on it multiple times before," sukuna responds.
you never realised that he'd caught onto that. were you always staring that prominently? you continue wiping him down with the warm cloth, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.
sukuna thinks for a moment.
"how about you join me in here, tonight?" he asks, out of the blue.
"p-pardon?!"
"quit acting so timid. go on, get yourself cleaned. i'm waiting."
you feel your face heat up at the thought of being... naked with him. anxiousness starts running through your body. you wonder if he really means it, or if he's trying to fluster you again. your lack of action causes him to raise an eyebrow.
"what, you don't want to?"
"no, no! i do, my lord! i'm just... a bit taken aback."
you spring into action. heart pounding as you shed your clothes. he doesn't turn his head or peek at you from where he sits, but your eyes dart to him to check anyways. you clean and rinse yourself adequately, with shaky hands.
"shall i lend a hand in scrubbing your back?" sukuna suddenly calls out. there is sarcasm in his tone.
"that wouldn't be necessary, my lord... i can do it myself..." you respond bashfully.
you only pray that you don't slip over on the way to the tub.
when you do eventually finish up, you walk carefully towards him. walking past where he sits, you reach the other side of the tub. you avoid his eyes as you enter at a slow pace, arms making an effort to cover your breasts. you're finally seated in the same tub as him. the water is steaming, and it's quite deep. still, you hang on to the edge and keep yourself a little distanced from sukuna.
"aw come on. it was mere moments ago that you kissed the back of my neck. so shy all of a sudden?"
"that- that was a different situation, sukuna-sama..."
"the only difference now is that we're both nude," he shrugs.
"nevermind that...the water looks a little deep for you," he says, almost mockingly so- "come. i'll let you on my lap."
you cannot tell whether he is only teasing, or if he actually wants you on his lap.
"quickly- don't run my patience thin."
you make your way towards him without further hesitation.
sitting on his lap, you find that he's oddly comfortable. an arm of his loops around your waist, holding you tight against him, as if to prevent you from running away.
the lord takes your hand and caresses it between his thick fingers. your back leans against his bare chest and abs as you relax yourself more. you wonder if the mouth on his stomach doesn't feel uncomfortable when you sit against it like this.
sukuna's extra arms begin to get more and more handsy with you. you feel his large palms on your breasts, squeezing the flesh gently. not that you find it unpleasant, but it makes you feel all squirmy and restless and hot. when he touches your chest like that, you can't help but turn your head slightly to give him a needy look. it makes him lean down and kiss you warmly.
his tongue explores your mouth in a thorough manner, encouraging a growing heat inside of you. you start gripping his hand harder, though you doubt he feels a thing from it.
when lord sukuna kisses you, you can't tell whether time is passing too quickly, or too slowly. you lose the ability to think of anything else, other than his soft lips and his rough tongue. and you believe that he's aware of this fact himself. why else could he be smiling against your lips like he is right now?
you don't know how long you'd kissed him for in that bathtub. but by the time you stepped out of it, your hands were wrinkly from the prolonged moisture.
and you came out with... feelings of unsatisfaction. rather than getting a little further than kissing, sukuna had stopped abruptly and told you with a smirk that he was ready to get back to his chambers now.
upon getting dressed again, you linger awkwardly around the man, wanting more but not knowing how to inform him of it. the lord looks at you keenly.
"well? aren't you going back to your chambers?" he asks with a sly undertone.
"...i would like to escort you to your room... my lord," you tell him, averting his gaze.
"oh? i don't recall needing an escort, when my room's right around the corner. but if you insist." you can't see what kind of expression he's wearing right now, but you imagine he's smiling at you teasingly. like he always does.
you trail behind him as he walks over to his chambers.
for sure, it doesn't take long until he reaches his room. sukuna slides open the door and makes his way to his large futon in the middle of the tatami floor. he makes himself comfortable, and lays on his side while you watch him from outside his room.
"you're still here. well? are you planning on tucking me into bed next?" he asks with his usual mockery, chuckling through his nose.
you frown cutely, feeling a deep sense of unfairness in the pit of your stomach.
"i was just about to leave, sukuna-sama," you respond a bit haughtily, getting bold with him.
"is that so. then run along," he ushers you, following that with a big yawn. your frown gets deeper.
you begin to slowly close his door, but then stop when it's only cracked open slightly. you brace yourself for the request you are about to make.
"sukuna-sama... could i sleep beside you, tonight?" you ask meekly.
his lips curl up similarly to that of a cheshire cat. finally, you're getting honest with him. he loves the feeling of having you run about in the palm of his hand.
"i thought you said you were going to leave?"
"please...?" you muster your best puppy eyes.
the lord smirks again, and eventually beckons you in with his index finger. you perk up, and step into his room with excitement, running into his futon like a dog, tail wagging from the happiness of being with its owner.
"you're like a silly mutt. foolish, but cute. i like the way you beg for my affection."
you're not sure on how to feel about being compared to a mutt, but you suppose it's not the worst comparison in the world.
"woof," you say quietly, shuffling closer to him. he laughs deeply at you. from your tight embrace with him, you feel the vibrations from his chuckling against his chest.
...there's always something hot or warm about sukuna.
his whole presence feels like a roaring fire at times, burning with his strength and charisma - the flames and temperature threatening to scald anyone around him.
but,
right here, when you're in his arms, the fire becomes tame. still an unrelenting and strong flame, but something more controlled and comfortable to be around.
you close your eyes with a smile, satisfied with this outcome.
"oi. i don't recall saying you could sleep yet."
that makes your eyes bolt open with confusion. sukuna furrows his brows and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together.
"you're in my futon, and all you can think about is sleeping? i don't know how to feel about that."
"oh... was there something else you wanted from me, sukuna-sama?"
he looks further displeased by your question and suddenly grabs both your wrists, pinning them above your head. you gasp, surprised by his sudden shift in mood.
"we should continue with where we left off, shouldn't we?"
another hand comes up to hold your neck gently for a moment, before he slides it down slowly to your chest, the warmth from his palm trailing with it, reaching your clothed breasts, making your head spin with arousal.
"were you not anticipating something like this? when you asked to stay the night beside me."
he leans down and presses his lips against the space just below your ear, making you shudder. he likes this reaction, and continues kissing down your neck.
"s-sukuna-sama..."
"what a lewd tone you're using with my name. i hope you're prepared for the consequences of that."
he overtakes your senses with another searing hot kiss. hands clawing away at your kimono. teasing touches to your chest. his flames are threatening to envelop you, producing yet another unique kind of heat.
but you've never welcomed anything else more in your life. you'd gladly burn to ashes if it means being so close to your lord, your light.
...it's safe to say that you woke up the next morning with more bruises and bite marks than the number of fingers you have on your hands. and the lord lays beside your exhausted frame, aimlessly curling a lock of your hair around his finger with a satisfied grin on his face.
during one quiet afternoon, uraume beckons you towards them.
"i've been ordered to dress you lavishly. come with me."
you follow them without question, wondering what the sudden occasion could be. lord sukuna has left for the battlefield once again, so he's been missing for a couple of days. is he due to come back this evening?
such hopes fill your mind.
you stand awkwardly as uraume fits a rather elegant and expensive, but beautiful looking kimono onto you. it feels odd. you could even say you feel a bit guilty; in what world would someone dress a servant so extravagantly? nonetheless, you accept the treatment with silence. you get lost in your own daydreams, while uraume prepares you for whatever's been arranged for you.
by the end of it all, they angle you to face the mirror properly, their hands placed on your shoulders.
"it's complete. feel free to take a look at yourself."
you turn your face to one side, and then the other, all while keeping your eyes on the mirror. you look... stunning.
"th-thank you..." you tell uraume, quite speechless.
"please withhold that gratitude for lord sukuna. he was the one that arranged for this, after all."
you're then told to wait at the courtyard, for the lord's return. tingles of excitement run through your veins, and reaches the tips of your fingers, at having your hopes confirmed. he's due to return tonight.
quite a bit of time passes. yet, no signs of him coming back yet. you swing your legs back and forth languidly over the engawa, looking up at the sky aimlessly. though you shouldn't be doing such a thing when you've been fitted with a lovely kimono, there's no one around to scold or stop you from your usual habits.
you sigh, wondering when he'll be back. your eyes wander around the garden, this time. under the moonlight, there's a singular butterfly that flutters about, appearing in good timing as if to help cure your boredom.
you step out onto the grass and approach it, lending out a finger towards it to see if it decides to land on your hand. it takes a bit of effort, but after some gentle movements and patience, it eventually stops to linger on your index finger for a while. it allows you to admire every ridge, and all the patterns on the wings in better detail. you wonder whether you'll ever get another opportunity to observe a butterfly so closely again in the future.
a few footsteps resound behind you, getting you startled. when your body moves slightly from the scare, the butterfly flees and seemingly disappears out of sight.
yet, right now, you have no room to feel disappointed by a mere butterfly.
sukuna is smirking at you from a distance, looking very pleased with the way you're dressed for him. he steps down and walks into the garden as well, approaching you languidly, one arm concealed under the sleeve of his kimono.
"welcome back, sukuna-sama. i've been awaiting for your return," you greet him, smiling.
"were you now? missed me that bad?" he asks, reaching out to caress your cheek.
"yes, my lord. i missed you so much. not a day goes by where i don't think about you."
"why, how sweet...perhaps you deserve a reward for your honesty."
"a reward...?" your eyes grow wide and you start getting embarrassingly overjoyed at the idea of a reward given to you by the lord himself.
"so eager. you seem like you're truly getting committed to playing the role of a mutt."
you try to change your expression in haste, but you end up looking more bashful than anything. sukuna laughs at another one of your strange expressions.
"i'm only teasing."
he then pulls his arm out of his sleeve, revealing something you never thought you'd see in his hands.
a hairpin... specifically, one with a large blue butterfly on it. embedded with pretty jewels, and shaped to perfection. it would've been something difficult to obtain. for someone who's always busy creating chaos, when would he have had the time to find such a thing amongst everything else?
"i thought you would enjoy having something like this. do you like it?"
"oh... like would be an understatement, sukuna-sama. i adore it. is it really for me?"
"who else could have it? don't ask foolish questions."
it could only ever belong to you.
he places the pin into your hair, graceful and elegant with his hands. it makes you feel overjoyed. heat rises to your cheeks and they hurt from how much you're smiling.
"not bad at all. it was worth obtaining."
your hand rises to where the hairpin is, and you touch it gently, letting your fingertips feel the texture of the pin and it's butterfly pattern.
"am i... am i pretty, my lord?" you ask sheepishly, looking up at him with your doe eyes.
he's smiling at you rather gently, his eyes mirroring your reflection within them as he gazes down at you in silence. his lack of a verbal response almost makes you nervous, however.
sukuna reaches out to hold your hand, and pulls you closer towards him. he's glad that nobody else is around, for he's certain they would've also felt so drawn to you, like he is right now.
he palms your cheek again, before letting his thumb brush over your lips delicately.
you never sever your gaze from him, continuing to await his reply.
"... you're beautiful,"
he finally relents.
sukuna then presses his lips against yours, underneath the moon's blessing. once again, and forevermore.
fin.
Masterlist
#sukuna x reader#jjk x reader#soft sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
April Fools?
Lando Norris x Hamilton!Reader
Summary: maybe telling your father the big news on April Fools’ Day was not the best idea
Lewis is lounging in his driver’s room, reviewing data from the last practice session, when there’s a tentative knock at the door.
“Come in,” he calls out, not looking up from his computer screen.
The door creaks open slowly and Lewis glances over to see you and your boyfriend shuffling awkwardly into the room, neither of you making eye contact with him.
“What’s this then?” Lewis says with an amused chuckle at your strange behavior. “You two look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”
You and Lando exchange a nervous glance but remain silent, shifting your weight uneasily.
Lewis sets down his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Well, out with it. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”
You open your mouth but no words come out. You look pleadingly at Lando who seems equally incapable of speech, his lips moving soundlessly.
“I haven’t got all day here,” Lewis raises an eyebrow. “One of you needs to start talking.”
You take a steadying breath and then the words come tumbling out in a rush.
“I’m pregnant!”
There’s a beat of silence as Lewis processes what you’ve said. Then he lets out a loud laugh, slapping his knee in amusement.
“Nice one! You two really had me going for a minute there. Very funny prank!”
Lando finally finds his voice, though it comes out as more of a terrified squeak. “She’s … she’s not joking. Y/N is pregnant. With my … with my baby.”
Lewis just keeps laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. “Oh come off it, you can drop the act now. I’m not falling for silly April Fools’ pranks!”
“Is … is it April Fools’ Day?” You ask hesitantly, a crease forming between your brows. “I didn’t even realize what day it was ...”
Lewis’ laughter slowly trails off as the serious expressions on your and Lando’s faces register. His eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you.
“You’re … you’re actually pregnant?” He asks slowly, needing confirmation one last time. “With Lando’s …”
Lando gulps audibly and gives the smallest of nods. “Y-yes sir.”
A rushing sound fills Lewis’ ears as the reality slams into him. His little girl, his baby, is having a baby of her own. With a driver no less — one of his competitors!
The room starts spinning dangerously.
“You …” Lewis growls, rounding on Lando with a look that could incinerate him on the spot. “You got my daughter pregnant?”
“I … I …” Lando squeaks, taking an unconscious step back.
“Start running,” Lewis rumbles in a tone of deadly calm. “You’ve got three seconds.”
Lando’s eyes widen in terror and he immediately turns to bolt out the door.
“One …” Lewis counts, rising to his feet with jerky movements.
“I’m too young to die!” Lando wails, throwing the door open and fleeing at a sprint down the hallway.
“Two …” Lewis continues menacingly, stalking after him with murder in his eyes.
“Dad, wait!” You cry out in a panic, but it’s too late.
“Three!” Lewis roars, now fully giving chase after a petrified Lando.
He tears down the corridor and out into the paddock area, drawing confused stares from crew members and team personnel.
“I’m too young to be a grandpa!” Lewis bellows at the top of his lungs, rapidly closing the gap on the fleeing Lando.
You hurry after them, catching up just as Lando races past a very confused group of mechanics, Lewis in hot pursuit.
“Don’t let him hurt me!” Lando screams as he dodges around equipment boxes.
The commotion has drawn the attention of the entire paddock by now. Cameras are out and clicking furiously as the most famous driver on the grid chases his terrified competitor in circles.
Finally, Lando trips over a stray tire and goes sprawling to the ground. Lewis is on him in an instant, grabbing him by the shirt front and hauling him up until they are nose to nose.
“Please … please don’t kill me,” Lando whimpers pathetically.
Lewis glares at the younger man for a long moment before his expression softens just a fraction. “I’ll let you live. On one condition.”
Lando nods frantically in agreement before Lewis has even named the condition.
“The baby gets my name. You two are naming it after me. No arguments.”
For a brief second, relief flashes across Lando’s face. Then his eyes go wide again in fear. “Ah well … you see … the thing is ...”
“Spit it out!” Lewis growls.
“Y/N … she wants to name the baby Nico. After Nico Rosberg.”
A muscle twitches dangerously in Lewis’ jaw and he drops Lando back to the ground in a heap.
“Oh, for fu-”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Lando’s desperate shrieks once again fill the air, echoing across the paddock. “Lewis, please, have mercy!”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lando norris#ln4#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#lando norris x female reader#lando norris x y/n#mclaren#lando norris one shot#lando norris drabble
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
*watching Hazbin Hotel and sees this deer man kicking his feet* I must have this in a fic!
Lovesick Alastor
Alastor X Reader
Warning ⚠
⚠ The tale of the Radio Demon falling in love. Blood, possessive, obsessive, yandere coded Alastor ⚠
Alastor had felt indifferent to romance for years.
What a silly thing! It was too stupid, dangerous, something that can turn you into a fool and get you killed.
Yes, he stayed cleared of it in life and in Hell.
That is until he got to know you.
You.
A lovely demon that is passionate in everything they do. A strong, powerful, and loving person who can be a bit of a klutz at times.
The first time he met you, you were dancing and singing to a song playing on the phonograph, the vinyl having a very energizing tune.
Rosie had sent him to you to try and start up a deal. You were starting up a shop nearby the colony and needed help getting your footing into the door. Your store was lacking in attention.
The perfect person to get a soul from.
Something held him back though. He just had to get to know the demon that tripped over their feet when spotting him.
"Falling for me already?", he joked.
But it was him who fell first.
You shined so brightly, how could he not?
Instead of having your soul the Radio Demon set out to have your heart.
Rosie was surprised that her friend did not make a deal and questioned him, curious with the change.
"Alastor, you never turn down a deal! Especially when this one is so easy.", she put down her tea cup, setting it down on the saucer.
"It's nothing to be concerned about, really. I just found something better.", he grinned and ate an appetizer.
"Hmm, alright. If you say so.", she let it drop for now.
Alastor paid a visit to your shop everyday.
He helped you renovate, pick out the best products for you to sell, and even had the pleasure to celebrate the first official opening.
Your shop was that of knick-knacks, it had things for customization. Mostly for anniversaries, birthdays, and celebration sorts. Doing things like engraving, embroidery, and carving.
One day you gave him a gift of his own.
"I wanted to thank you for all the help you've given me over the past few months.", you smiled and gently placed a small round box in his hand. "I hope you like it."
"Oh! And what is this?", he said and opened it, hearing music and a small smoke figures rising from the box to dance.
He noticed that the figure looked a lot like him and you, which got his dead heart to skip.
"This is wonderful."
Alastor looked up from the box and saw you beaming with joy.
"I'm so glad you like it!"
"No darling, I love it.", he corrected and took your hand. "If my guess is right, might I have the pleasure of courting you?"
"Only if you are true.", you squeezed his hand.
"Nothing but for you.", he lifted your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.
After that he quickly went to Rosie and almost kicked the door down.
"I have news!"
"Don't you kick my door!", his friend walked over to greet him.
The Radio Demon's smile was wide and he had an extra bounce in his step.
"I have news."
"You've said that already.", Rosie guided him over to her office.
After settling in, she sat down and patted the seat next to her. "Now, tell me what's got you so theatrical. Not that you aren't but this is more than usual."
"I can't sit now! I have to prepare!", the red dressed demon exclaimed. "I've begun courting someone and they've already given me a gift. I must return that tenfold! No! A hundred times more! A thousand! Millions!"
Rosie gasped and stood in shock.
"You? In love? I never thought I'd see the day!"
Alastor quickly turned towards the door. "I need to get them flowers!"
The woman quickly put a stop to his rambling.
"Now hold on old boy.", she sat him down. "Have you given thought to what they like the most? Surely you must have more ideas than just the old rose bouquet."
"Of course!", he laughed and pulled out a list from his chest pocket.
Once getting the all clear from his friend, and more ideas for gifts and actions, he took off to get something that would make you happy.
Alastor did everything and more.
Spoiling you with anything you could ever desire. Of course, this also caught the attention of his rival.
"When the fuck did this happen!?", Vox stared at the distorted screen.
It was a picture of the Radio Demon and a lovely looking thing on his arm.
"Don't know but its what Velvette found while scrolling.", Valentino said while cleaning his gun. "They don't look that entertaining."
The next day you found the underling of T.V. Overlord in your shop.
"Hello? Is there something you'd like to place an order on?", you asked walking over.
"Hello! My boss sent me here.", they handed a clipboard to you. "Please sign here for the package."
"Package? I didn't buy anything.", you said confused.
"Something was sent to you from my boss. This is just for confirmation that you received it.", they pushed it closer to you.
"Why?", you looked over the paper, not even taking the clipboard from the demon.
"Please just sign it.", they sighed.
"Dear? What's taking so long?", Alastor walked out of the back room, static growing louder once seeing the demon with the Vox-tech logo on his jacket. "Why are you here?"
"I'm j-just doing my job, sir.", the demon froze.
"Alastor.", you said, quickly getting the deer demon's attention. "I'll handle this. Don't you worry.", you smiled.
"Very well.", he quickly agreed and backed off, glaring at the demon. "Don't let this take long.", he threatened them.
You turned to the demon and smiled.
"I reject it, whatever it is."
Of course Vox wasn't happy with that.
Alastor was pissed.
How dare that piece of technologic crap try and get your attention. You were his, he had your affection first and it would also be your last. You would be with him forever and no one will take you.
So, to make sure this didn't happen again, the smiling demon sent back the Vox-tech worker back in a bloody box.
"Darling~", he hugged you from behind.
Both of you were in the back of your shop again, you were going over your stock.
"Come with me to this hotel I saw on the news. It looks quite entertaining!"
"I'd love to Alastor but you know I have to do my work.", you caressed the side of his face. "I'll let you know when I can visit as soon as I'm done with the set of rings."
"Rings?", he asked.
"Yes, there was this couple celebrating an anniversary and wanted their wedding rings engraved.", you smiled.
"Still together even after death? How romantic.", the deer commented. "I suppose I can wait for a bit longer. Though I do wish you could just drop everything."
"You know I can't.", you laughed and kissed his cheek.
Satisfied for now, the Radio Demon left for the hotel. Of course not everything was a smooth sailing but he managed to get everything settled for you to join him.
And when you did he was ecstatic.
"Darling! I see you finished those rings!", he twirled you in a hug.
"I missed you too love.", you hugged back.
The hazbin crew was shocked seeing him so affectionate with you.
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Oh how rude of me!", Alastor set you down but still held you close. "This is my significant other!"
"The fuck! Is this why you kept saying no to my offers!?", Angel crossed his arms.
"They are not the only reason! You are disgusting!", the deer demon grinned.
"What offers?", you questioned.
"This fellow kept offering to warm my bed dear."
"Oh?"
The room got darker and the walls started to distort.
"Hold on!", a blonde jumped in. "There is no killing guests in the hotel!"
"Charlie! Get away from them!", a white haired woman ran over with a spear.
You rolled your eyes and stopped.
"Sorry.", you smiled. "Didn't mean to scare you, I wouldn't dream of ruining your carpets!"
The two calmed down.
Alastor laughed and pulled you away from the group. "Don't you worry my darling, I made sure to threaten the spider properly. Let me show you around! I have a room set up to your liking."
"What? When did you-?"
"Let's go!", he teleported you with him using his shadows.
Everyone stood confused in the lobby.
"When the fuck did he start dating? How crazy is that demon to accept?"
Meanwhile you and Alastor were in your own little world. He showed you your hotel room and conjured up a door to connect your rooms together.
"If its too much I can get rid of the door.", he said and turned to look back at you. "What do you think?"
"Its very sweet of you.", you yanked him down by his bowtie. "Why didn't you tell me about the first time that spider made a comment like that?", you said in a commanding tone.
Your deer chuckled and kissed you.
"Because I knew that you would get jealous and I love to see you get like this.", he pulled you by the waist and into a dip. "We both know that I'd never accept something like that. Especially if its not you."
"I won't go there.", you moved your hands to hold his face. "I know you don't like things like that."
"I appreciate it my love.", he pulled you back up. "Now, what else would you like to do?"
"They said no killing, right?", you asked.
"Yes, no sinning here in the hotel my dearest.", he went to lie down on your bed.
"I can give him a good scare though.", you smiled and laughed darkly, plotting out a scheme.
Alastor sighed dreamily, kicking his feet back and forth as he watched you set up a plan.
Yes, he had fallen but he doesn't regret it.
Not one bit.
From: Lovesick Alastor Headcanon
~Seline, the person.
Taglist@
@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @lbcreations-blog @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @+?
ML for Alastor🎙
#alastor x reader#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#x reader#alastor the radio demon#gn reader#the radio demon#fanfic#lovesick alastor#yandere coded#both reader and alastor#hazbin hotel vox#valentino hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel velvette#rosie hazbin hotel#charlie hazbin hotel#vaggie hazbin hotel#angel dust hazbin hotel#husk hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin fanfic#blood mention#blood#possessive and obsessive alastor
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Omg I just saw that u write for atsv!! So I was wondering if u could do one with a female reader x hobie where the readers quite reserved to everyone in public (maybe she’d been a spidey longer so she’s lost more people? Idk why she’d be reserved bc I cannot write for shot lmao) and people think she’s super cold but then they like?? Walk in, and she’s like open and warm with Hobie (it doesn’t matter if she’s loud or not) and they kinda just look at the scene in shock like wtf and Pav is sort of smug bc he knew all along and then it comes out that they’re dating?
It Sounds Nice coming from You.
Hobie Brown x Fem!Spidey Reader
“I totally called it.” “Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”
kisses him cause he my bf (-compulsive liar)
People whispered about you. Spider people and the general public alike. Your city spreading gossip, rumours and misinformation to try and figure out who you were, but that was a Spiderwoman affair, every one of them dealt with it.
But having people same as you talk in hushed tones, glancing at you as you walked past. That’s a new kind of feeling.
The Spider Society didn’t exactly favour you, per se. There was nothing inherently wrong with you either, so no reason to get rid of you. But you were just so silent. No one knew a thing about you.
You mostly kept to yourself around base, never really trying too hard to make friends, you were well known enough not to be questioned. A loyal fighter was what you were recognised for, not your personality, your abilities.
There were still some people that managed to creep their way in though, their hearts so full of love, you didn’t know how to refuse them.
So you conceded. You let them in, and begged to any deity that would listen not to take them from you.
—
Hobie knew you as someone who could listen. Who understood him rather than challenged his beliefs. Not that he had any, but that was the point.
Your lack of input made him feel accepted in going on tangents of why he thought the way he did. And you just sat, and listened. A kind heart and an open mind.
Which eventually led to him falling for that kind heart. Tripping over his own feet to please your silent self. To get those small smiles or amused huffs out of you.
The occasional time you spoke to him, under hushed breaths and fond tones. God, he couldn’t take it.
The way your accent forms over each and every word, how your voice was akin to honey malt, sweet and addicting. Only giving him small doses, but he was the only one who got those doses. Only him, and you, and the words you spoke or times you listened.
He knows that people thought you were cold, or unloving. And maybe you were at first, maybe he thought you were. But he figured you out fast. Where you couldn’t talk, you could touch. Brushing your hands over his arm to get his attention. Linking your hand through his and dragging him away from people you don’t want to be near, he would smile down at you and follow along like a lost puppy. How your brows would crease a certain way, or nose would scrunch a little when you found distaste in things. He was a fool for you.
Where you lacked in verbal communication, you strived in every other category. So when some Spider-people decided to come to him, urging him for answers about you.
Telling him that he wasn’t sure you even wanted to be here—, Hobie would shut down the conversation quicker than thought to be possible. Giving a simple “She’s just quiet.”, and ditching the moment the words are out of his mouth.
It’d worked—, for a while. Ignoring the demeaning or conspiratorial comments made about you by spider-people a-kind. But eventually it got the better of him. Having him borderline snarl at the people who would talk shit right in front of his, or your, face.
“She’s silent, ain’t she?”
“Yeah. Peter 48 said she was like that ‘cause she killed her parents, made ‘er real quiet.”
“Jesus christ. Wouldn’t surprise me, she’s a freak.”
“Dude—“ One of the two spiders, the first one, turned to Hobie. Spider-senses ringing. Hobie stated back at them, deadpan and unblinking. “Don’t.”
The younger spider paled, quickly trying to backtrack.
“Hey— Hobie. I— Didn’t mean it. Was just repeating what I heard, ykno—“
“Cut it, mate.”
He squeaked, head tilting down in respect, the other spider following.
“Stop spreading shit rumours like ‘at. It ain’t fun when you’re the subject. ‘S it?”
“No.”
“Mm.”
Hobie walked past them smoothly, brushing shoulders with the kid just to scare him a little more. When he was far enough away, he heard them start to whisper to one another. “Fuck man, that was close. He could tell Miguel, and then we’d be out.”
“Jesus..”
He felt rather accomplished that day.
—
It was days later where you were brought up around him again. He’d been texting you, the upper half of his body hanging from Miguel’s platform, his wicks shifting every time he moved.
Miguel and Lyla were talking amongst themselves, clicking through holograms and sorting things out for potential anomalies.
Jess, Pavitr and Gwen had walked into the room chatting, Pav and Gwen expressing their excitement rather loudly.
He glanced up at them from his phone, you were still typing.
immm gonna b homein ten just be patient >:(
I’m patient 🦑
u werent 2 seconds ago
I don’t subscribe to consistency.
Or this slandering talk
ur consistently lame
also why squid
I’m never lame. Also, he’s cute
hes not real
Don’t do this me
reeeeeal tasty tho
What is wrong with you.
numnnum crunchhhh crrcchhh numnum ( > _ <)
Inhumane.
mmmmmm yummyyyy
He can’t die, he’s immortal
The ‘Texting’ bubble popped up on his screen.
“Hey, Hobie!”
Pavitr was running up to him, looking from his lowered position below the elevated platform.
He slipped further down the platform, slumping slowly as he greeted Pavitr upside down.
“Pav, my guy!”
Pavitr bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling wide at his friend.
“What’chu doing up there?”
His eyes darted to Miguel and Lyla, ending their conversation.
Smirking, he whispered to Hobie, “With the grump.”
Hobie snickered, gaining a disapproving look from Jess.
“Textin’ [Name].”
Just then, the next message from you showed.
immortal ??? how consistent of him to live
He grinned, typing back quickly while Pavitr eyed him knowingly.
He’s a squid, he’s more fluid than anything
ihu
terrivle joke
No, you don’t
And it was great
wtvr >:P
Hobie grabbed the ledge of the platform and swung down, landing softly in front of Pavitr and pocketed his phone.
“Glad ya ‘ere. Those two can’t keep it quiet, aye?” He said, pointing back towards Lyla and Miguel.
“They do argue very often.”
“Nah, Lyla don’t argue, mate. Just the hardass.”
Pavitr snorted and Hobie softly punched his stomach in jest, earning one from Pav to the chest, and starting a round of playful punching. Pavitr laughed as Hobie brought him into a headlock, scrunching his fist over the shorter man’s hair and rubbing it in.
They let up when they heard Lyla teasing Miguel for something again, giggling to each other at his expense.
He threw an arm over his fluffy haired friend and leaned his weight on him. Pav smiled up at him once more, brighter now. Before he could speak, Gwen’s voice echoed through the barren room.
“Same reason as you, I’m guessing.”
Hobie turned his head towards her, dropping himself off Pav and standing up straight again. Smiling at her as she reached him, and went in to hug her briefly. When they disconnected, he spoke again.
“Yeah—, No clue then, mini-punk.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Neither big bad has said nothin’ to me yet.”
“Seriously, are we going to skip over that?”
“Maybe they’re waiting until [Name] is here!” Pavitr chimed in.
“What does mini-punk even mean!”
“Not exactly, Pavitr.”
Jess, who now was standing next to Miguel, spoke.
The trio turned to face the two elder spider-people.
“Huh?”
“We wanted to have a discussion with the three of you—.” Miguel put his hands on his hips, authority that Hobie only saw as a challenge emanating from his figure.
“—Away from [Name], she’s already been consulted.”
Hobies eyes narrowed, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifting to something a lot less unfriendly, and a lot more cautious.
Jess caught wind of the younger man’s tense stature and shuffled forward a step, not unwilling to intervene.
“Nothing too bad, just—,” He paused for a moment, the dense light from the reflective floors making the contours of his face pop.
Hobie watched with batted breath, posture only slightly relaxing from the statement. The crease in his brows begging to be drawn, yet his pokerface was something to be beat.
“,—Addressing her.. lack of communication.”
A shiver raked down the brit’s body, physically restraining himself from chewing this man out with a rebuttal.
“Wha’ ‘bout it?”
His gruff voice was a stark indicator of his annoyance.
“Well, ignoring the rumours following her—,”
Hobie, the usually rather sensical man, was getting more agitated by the minute.
“,—We’ve noticed a certain independence that she holds. Something not many others do.”
The punk quirked a brow.
“So?” Gwen was the one to talk now.
“That doesn’t seem very serious, ‘f you ask me.” She laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Something Pavitr seemed a tad scared to do. There was a lot of competition in the air right now, he wasn’t very competitive.
“Exactly, it’s not.”
Jess cut in, seeing how terribly Miguel started this conversation made her cringe.
“It’s not—, but,” She shook her head, hair falling prettily with every move. “,Her ‘independence’, has been more akin to ‘lack of teamwork’. In some cases.”
Gwen started to speak again, her eyebrows furrowed, just as Hobies now were. He was right about brewing with offence.
“So!—,” Jess cut her off before she could begin.
“So there’s no need for her to have distractions anymore. From now on, she will not be going on team missions. Just solo’s.”
“Wha—! You’re cutting her off?!”
“Gwen, it’s not like that.”
“Like hell it isnt! She’s a part of us!”
“Doesn’t this mean she’s going to be in more danger?” Pavitr spoke up, concerned.
“No— well, not unless—,”
“Unless!? You’ve gotta’ be kidding!” Gwen choked out.
“And what does ‘consulted’ mean! Did she agree to this?!—“
They continued to argue, Gwen and Pavitr advocating for your teamwork skills while Miguel and Jess had made up their mind.
“No communication,” He pinched the bridge of his nose “,Fuck off.” Hobie scoffed under his breath, turning to leave and storming out.
The voices of Miguel, Jess and his friends following him through the portal to you.
—
“You agreed to this?”
lIts not like they’re wrong, I just hold you all back.”
He huffed, exasperated. Not only were you putting yourself in danger, you were doing it alone. And letting some guy who has a borderline vendetta against teens be the call for it.
“Now, you know that’s not tr—“
His stern voice was cut off by the frown on your face quivering. A due sign of you nearing to cry.
“Oh, shit— C’mon dollface, c’mere.”
He sat down on your shared bed, scooting against the headboard and bringing you into his lap. A soothing hand ran over your back as you tried to reel in your embarrassment.
“I really didn’t mean to agree.”
Hobie sighed, pushing your head into his neck and watching how the rings adorning his fingers rose goosebumps in their path. “I know, sweet’eart.”
And he did know, the moment that it had been a meeting addressed solely with just Jess and Miguel, he knew that Peter had been excluded for a reason. That Miles had been sent after an anomaly as an unknowing distraction for Peter to chase after. He knew those two intimidated you. And the fear of parental disappointment was something they used on you—, young, sweet you. That only ever got hurt because she didn’t want her problems to hurt others, or herself.
You had opened up to him once. Told him what everyone twisted when they whispered sickening words. A story unlike the rumours crowding your reputation.
How no, you hadn’t killed your parents, or siblings, or whatever messed up thing people claimed of you.
You told him how you hadn’t been bitten yet. How, when your family was killed, you hadn’t had any powers. So you couldn’t save them. And it wasn’t even canon. Nothing could’ve stopped them from dying, but it didn’t have to happen. And that was the guilt that weighed on you. How no matter the hardships your parents put you through, a kid neglected of attention. You still would rather die a million times for them to live once.
And it’s all “would”, and never “can”.
Other spider-people don’t have to live with the fact their parents died for nothing. Was what you said. A messed up thought, no doubt. And one you felt guilty for. But the sole continuer of this sorrow-filled silence. Which has worked well enough to protect you so far, why is Hobie one to break that?
Because you love him, you guess.
His hands slid further down your back, resting on the curve of your waist in his lap.
His breathing soothed yours. The shuddering breaths you had been giving to stop your tears, also stopped.
“You wanna talk about your day instead, luv?”
“Yeah, thank you Hobie.”
“Love when you say my name, Babydoll. So pretty and sweet like that.”
Wrapping your hands around his lithe waist, you hummed. Beginning your recount of the day in the honeyed, reserved tone you’d always held.
—
Around half an hour had passed with Gwen arguing against Miguel before Peter showed up, Moles in tow.
“What’s all this about?” His slippers flopped when he walked and the baby carrier strapped to his chest shifted every time a sleeping MayDay squirmed to get comfortable.
“This—, This asshole!”
“Gwen.” Jess chastised her.
Gwen ignored it, pointing at Miguel accusingly. “—Kicked [Name] off the team!”
“Not kicked.”
“You said she wasn’t going with us anymore.”
Miles looked offended by the prospect. “Why?”
“She’s not kicked, she’s simply better off solo.”
“Oh, so it’s our fault then!”
“Gwendolyne.”
“All of you, stop.”
Peters voice ended the bickering, having learnt since fatherhood exactly how to use said voice. “We are not sending an 18 year old on solo mission against anomalies.”
“Since when did you have a say—“
“Miguel. You’re an idiot if you think i’m going to let that happen. That’s a kid.”
“She’s an adult.”
“When it’s convenient to you.”
Miguel pinched his nose bridge, growling under his breath. Jess spared a glance at him before wincing and backing down from the conversation.
“She doesn’t talk to people.”
“I’m sure she does, just not to you.” Gwen cut in.
“Yeah, her and Hobie talk a lot.” Miles prepped up on his toes. Pavitr smiled and hummed an agreement.
“Not that I’ve seen.”
Peter gave him another disapproving look. “Disregarding that. The fact you decided to not consult me on this decision is another reason that it’s not happening.”
“Consult? Like some council, please.” Miguel scoffed at him, rolling his eyes and turning to open a holographic tab.
“Yes, like some council. Someone’s gotta be the brains ‘round here.” The father joked, coddling MayDay as she cooed.
“I’m going to go inform [Name] the retraction of this decision.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Oops too late, portals open.”
“Can I come with?” Miles jogged after Peter, hopping quickly through the portal, Peter, Gwen and Pavitr following. Not without Gwen flipping Miguel off as she went. “We’ll sort something out, she can go duos with Hobie.” Jess put a hand on his shoulder, watching as he stared off to where the portal had previously been with a sided expression before sighing.
“Yeah..”
“That went great.” Lyla dragged, popping up on Miguel’s shoulder.
“I’m a second away from shutting you off.”
The AI blew a raspberry at her companion, and disappeared.
—
He had went off on a tangent about some movie he saw, or song he’d heard. Hobie honestly couldn’t remember, he was too focused on you. The way your voice sounded, how open you were being with him when every now and then you would respond to him. The hearts in his eyes were probably from how heavy his own was beating. Staring at you like a sinner to a prophet.
You had moved down from his lap, now curled against his side, head leaning on his shoulder and hand resting on his chest. At some point, the movie you had been watching before Hobie showed up was unpaused, and serving as background noise for his quiet rambling.
Both of you pressed under a blanket to beat the cold, and the darkness outside your window being killed off by the lights strung across your room. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this cozy, this utterly comfortable.
Sparks of colour strung out of nowhere, neither of them really seeing it at first, up until it spat out Miles. He stumbled forward a little and went to greet you before taking on the scene. You and Hobie cuddled up on a bed, blanket wrapped around you both, fire going, people singing. He was exaggerating the last parts, but it felt necessary for something so unexpected.
“Hey—, guys.” The awkward teen managed, before Peter walked through the portal with the other two in tow.
“Woah, no mean to interrupt.”
Peter put his hands up in surrender. Hobie snorted, it wasn’t like you were incapable of affection, It just seems he was the only one who got it.
“I totally called it.”
“Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”
He pouted, before giggling and waltzing over to sit next to the both of you. Flopping down on the bed and turning to watch the TV.
“Oh my god, I love this movie!”
“Favourite character?” You inquired. A collective raise of eyebrows was shown throughout the room.
Gwen shuffling over to sit down as well, a baffled look on her face.
“The horse.”
“Pff- Max?” Hobie snorted at Pav. Giving the still rather confused Miles - Peter duo a reassuring smile. And greeting Gwen with a fist bump, she smiled wearily at him before her smirk filled out and she punched his arm in congrats.
Pavitr nodded and laughed, gasping excitedly when the scene on the lake showed up. “Perfect timing.”
You glanced up at Hobie, Miles and Peter finding somewhere to sit as well, talking quietly amongst themselves.
He smiled at you, bringing you in closer while Pavitr sat smug.
The air of confusion slowly dissipated into something accepting, none but Pavitr had really expected you to be so.. Open. But they came to find they didn’t exactly mind it.
—
Everyone had left by now, the knowledge that you didn’t have to go on dangerous missions alone anymore leaving Hobie satisfied and you comforted.
“You doin’ right, babe?”
“Yeah, Hobes.”
You gripped his shirt a tad tighter and yawned, eyes drifting more shut as the minutes ticked down. “Wanna go t’ bed?”
“We’re in bed, dummy.”
He shot you a playful look.
“Don’ ge’ smart with me, young lady.”
You smiled at him before he made the decision to shuffle you both down in bed to get comfortable, switching off the lights by the outlet. He moved back to you, letting his whole body rest near yours, and letting you initiate any contact wanted.
A leg wrapped around his, and your arm still picking the fabric of his shirt.
“Sleep, sweethear’.”
“Mhmmph.”
Hobies breathe lulled you to sleep, white noise against your racing thoughts. He watched you fall, your trust in him to keep you safe was enough to make a man weak. He smiled, looking out your shared window at the city life below.
No crime, no anomaly or misshaped villain could possibly drag him away from you.
—
BAMBAMBAM 🦑‼️
#hobie my beloved#astv hobie#hobie spiderverse#hobie x you#hobie x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown#spider punk x reader#spider punk#across the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderverse x reader#pavitr my beloved#atsv gwen#miles 1610#peter b parker#miguel spiderverse#lyla spiderman 2099#jess atsv
4K notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I request Azriel and Plus Size reader where they’re both new to the mate bond and she overheard Azriel and Rhys’ conversation about the “Cauldron being wrong.” She left before she was able to hear Azriel call himself a fool for even believing it for a second, knowing that he’s already kissing the ground his own mate walks on. She starts comparing herself to Elain and then starts lashing out, going to Rita’s every night and avoiding Azriel whenever she sees him.
Cauldron Blessed | Azriel
Azriel (ACOTAR) x Plus Size Reader
Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image issues, angst, and eventual smut.
MASTERLIST - 1 and 2
'The Cauldron was wrong, so wrong.'
Those words played and replayed in my mind again and again, all day, every day, for the last week.
Wrong.
He said that the Cauldron was wrong- about us, about me.
Me, his mate- wrong.
It had been an accident, me overhearing them that night, a coincidence I had decided to come home early from my girl's night with Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie. Though with the Cauldron, there was no such thing as an accident, no such thing as coincidence.
I'd waded through the House of Wind, tipsy on wine and giggling softly to myself as I banged into the walls, thumping clumsily against the art pieces hanging and tripping over my own two feet. Giddy, I had been giddy, stumbling through the halls in search of him.
Azriel, my mate.
Only a few hours apart and I missed him, yearned for him, I felt the distance as if it spanned miles and the more I drank, the more I craved him. That's all I had been thinking of when I trekked through the empty halls, closer and closer to the lounge- just of my mate.
And that's when I heard it.
"The Cauldron works in mysterious ways," Rhysand's laugh drifted out to me in the corridor, and I came to an unsteady halt at the sound. "Feyre was my salvation; I didn't expect anything good to come to me Under the Mountain."
I smiled to myself, my hand coming to my mouth, shielding any sound that threatened to slip past- Az always teased that my lips loosened when I drank too much. Instead, I lean against the cold wall, warmth filling me as he gushed about my High Lady.
They were Cauldron blessed, that was clear to see.
"I think five hundred years of waiting for her was enough, brother," Cassian snorted, and I heard the faint sound of liquor pouring into a glass, wings rustling as one of the powerful males moved. "I know I never imagined my mate as a twenty-five-year-old human female, with a bite worse than mine."
I bit my lip as Cassian laughed, a loud, bellowing sound, so full of joy, so full of content, the mere memory of Nesta, human and utterly indomitable against him something that still brought him to his knees.
"The Cauldron must have a sense of humour," Rhysand teased, and I could practically envision Cassian rolling his eyes, a vulgar gesture thrown between the two males. "Connecting people in the most unexpected pairs, in the most unexpected ways."
"Like Elain and Lucien," Cass scoffs, loudly chugging back the remnant in his glass, "There's a pair I could never have foreseen, not in a thousand years."
"Proof that the Cauldron isn't always right," Azriel muses for the first time since I arrived, and my body almost croons at the sound- low and rough, moving over me as sure as if it were his hands. "She deserves better than any male friends with Tamlin, that's for sure."
She deserves better.
It was silly I knew, for the mere mention of her, the thought of her to make me feel nauseous, make my smile instantly fade, but I couldn't help it. It was hard for me to see a female as lovely as Elain Archeron and not feel inadequate by comparison.
Another who was blessed, so lovely that she had been gifted her seer abilities by the Cauldron itself as if her beauty and delicate demeanour weren't gift enough.
"Brave words, Az," Rhys whistled, and I had to force myself to blink away the picture-perfect image I had conjured of the middle Archerson sister, forcing myself to focus on their conversation instead. "Openly opposing the Cauldron."
"Brave or stupid?" Cassian counters tauntingly, and I knew he was drunk just from how loud his voice was, practically bouncing off the walls. "You think the Cauldron makes mistakes?"
"I know it does," Azriel challenges and it was that voice, that sure, quiet demeanour that I adored and desired so fiercely. I inch closer to the door, grinning at the idea of popping out and scaring them- but then he says it.
Says the thing that makes me stop dead in my tracks, makes my heart stop dead in my chest.
"Look at me and Y/N," Azriel sighs, and there's no joy, or adoration or yearning in his voice in memory of me, not like Rhys or Cass- no, there's dread. "The Cauldron made us mates... the Cauldron was wrong, so wrong."
There's a loud crack that echoes through the room, and it's that sound, and the feel of sharp debris against my palm, that pulls me from my memories. I blink through the tears, looking down at the crumbling marble sink, the corner pieces breaking off into my hands.
I sob through my teeth at the sight, small cuts leaking stark red blood down my fingers as I bring my hands to my chest. I can't see the looking- glass before me, not through the haze of tears, tears so strong it's as if I were made of them.
As if they had become a part of me.
It was all I had done the past week, cry and cry and cry- and avoid Azriel.
Every morning I skip training and breakfast, feigning fatigue or a full stomach, just so I wouldn't see him there. Each afternoon I'd get lost in the stacks and stacks of books in the library, so vast and endless that Azriel never stood a chance of finding me in the maze.
And at night I'd find solace wherever I could find a drink- Rita's, taverns, the Music Quarter, anywhere. Anywhere but at home, anywhere that I didn't have to see him.
I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the sight of his face, even now the thought of his tilted smile, the beam of his soft hazel eyes, the touch of his scared hands and wild shadows, it made my whole body wrecked with sobs.
I couldn't bear any of it anymore- because none of it was real.
Every smile and touch, every kiss and moment where our bodies joined as one, where he confessed his love and devotion to me, it wasn't real. Azriel thought we were wrong, a mistake, a confusion, just wrong.
My hands shook as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, rougher than necessary, blood-smearing, but I was tired of tears, I was tired of crying, of feeling so unworthy. I was unworthy of him; he was beautiful inside and out and deserved so much better than me.
I sniffed as I lifted my gaze to the looking glass before me, and my heart hurt at the reflection, knowing that this was what Azriel saw, that this was why he knew the Cauldron was wrong. Every curve and roll and inch of flesh that I had, all of it, it was all wrong.
And I hated myself for it.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a step back and then another step, away from the reflection that taunted me, and mocked me, before forcing myself to look away. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat as I moved across the cold floor of my bathing suit, my body desperate for my bed.
And as I step over the door's threshold, and back into my old room in the House of Wind, I know it's not the same as when I had left it ten minutes ago.
He was here.
"Azriel," I gasped, halting at the sight of him- sat on the edge of my bed, his broad shoulders and powerful wings rising sharply at the sound of my voice, those hazel eyes meeting mine and filling with something honeyed and warm. "Wha- what are you doing here?"
He rises from the bed, elegant and still, his shadows dancing around him at the feel of my presence, the scent of my skin, and I shiver as he watches me, keen eyes gracing my stiff figure.
"Y/N," He sounds almost relieved as he says my name and my breath is caught in my lungs as I stay rooted to my spot, and he seems to sense my unease, as he doesn't move any closer to me. "You've been staying here for a week now; I missed you at home."
Home- the apartment we shared in town together, a cosy space that we had made our own.
Another thing I couldn't bear to face.
"I've been catching up with the girls," I say quietly, ripping my eyes from him and walking forward on numb legs. I tug at the hem of my nightshirt, his nightshirt I had stolen, feeling too bare before him and his eyes narrow at the movement. "It's just easier to sleep here when we have plans every day."
As spymaster it was Azriel's job to scrutinise, to observe and I felt every single part of that slot into place as he watched me now, watched as I moved toward the bed. I wasn't looking at him, I couldn't hold his stare- and he couldn't figure out why.
His shadows dance through the room, through the distance between us and I jolt, biting my lip when one brushes against my bare thigh- before scurrying back to Azriel in surprise. He inhales a sharp breath when his shadow whispers to him, telling him that something is wrong, I was wrong.
"I know you've been spending time with the girls," Azriel continues slowly, his voice tentative and soft as I move to the other side of the bed, furthest from where he stood. "I just feel like I haven't seen you at all... I miss you, sweetheart."
Sweetheart.
A sob threatened to rip from me at the name, so soft, so endearing on his lips and it took everything in me to not fall apart at that moment, to not crumble under the weight of it all. I shake my head, my back turned to him now and he watches as I tug back the duvet, my actions angry now.
"It's only been a week Azriel," I breathe through my clenched teeth, my tone so at odds with his and my body locking tighter at the sound of his impending footsteps. "Sometimes space can be good, it can be eye-opening, show us things we don't want to admit but know deep down."
My words hit him head-on, like a slap across the face- I don't need to see him to know it, I can tell just from the stillness in the room, the silence, so strong that even his shadows have withered.
I clench my eyes at the feeling, at the touch that strokes against my soul, him reaching out to me through the mating bond- and me slamming up every wall I have to keep him away.
"What does that mean?!"
I don't hear him until he's right behind me and when his large hand touches the small of my back, I jolt, stumbling into the bed to get away from it. I turn on shaking legs to face him, and I'm pressed into the mattress to keep the distance.
"What? Y/N-" His face pales, and I see the pain in his eyes, unlike anything I had ever witnessed from him before. It was raw, vulnerable as if five hundred years of existence couldn't hide the hurt, knowing that I had flinched from his touch, flinched from him.
A rejection- something he feared the most.
"Sweetheart, please, I don't understand," He shook his head, his beautiful face twisted into an agonised frown, and his voice trembled, weak, as weak as the hand that now reached for me, shaking as if scared to touch me. "Why won't you let me touch you? Why are you pulling away from me, why-"
He stops, and for a moment I think it's because of the tears steadily leaking down my face, the way my bottom lip trembles with the effort to hold myself together- but it's not. His nose flared, and the hazel in his eyes turned dark, narrowing down upon my hands.
"You're bleeding," He mumbles hoarsely and the pain in my chest triples when his scarred hands inch closer, my eyes fluttering shut the second he touches me, holding my palms in his and examining the small cuts. "What happened, sweetheart-"
"Don't! Don't- don't call me that, don't touch me," I croak out, my voice breaking and Azriel flinches at the cry in my voice, wings rustling when I yank my hands-free from his hold, as if his touch burned me. "Stop pretending, stop making me think you care, just-just stop."
"I don't understand, what do you mean pretending-" He pleads, his voice splintering, and I can see him thrumming with emotion, desperate to reach out to me, to hold me, but trying to respect what I had asked him. "I don't understand, help me understand what I did wrong-"
"I know how you feel about me, a-about us," I sob, my weak hands coming to my face, and I cry into them, so loud that nothing can muffle them, and I feel Azriel's' helplessness down the bond, still reaching for me, "It was cruel, to make me think-to make me think you loved me-"
"I do love you!" He snarls and my eyes snap open when I feel the familiar roughness of his hands against my wet cheeks, his grip unrelenting and needing as he draws me to him- and I don't have the strength to fight him. "Of course, I love you, why would you say that?"
His thumbs brush away the tears that won't stop leaking from my cheeks and somehow my fingers have found purchase in the material of his shirt, nails digging desperately, clutching him as tightly as he held me.
"You said it was wrong," I whisper, the words slurring in my throat, and I force my heavy eyes to his, force myself to look into those teary hazel eyes and confront him, with the burden I had been carrying alone this whole time. "You said that we were wrong, that the Cauldron was wrong."
His forehead creases, lines forming between the thick, dark brows as he peers down at me, and his hands don't release me, if anything they draw me closer.
And I see the moment realisation hits him, like ice-cold water seeping through his veins.
"I heard you talking to Rhys and Cass, you said we were proof," I gasp, feeling his shadows curl and wreath around my wrists and fingers, as if afraid to let go, as if trying to comfort me as I sniff. "You said we were proof that the Cauldron could be wrong, so wrong."
"I didn't mean you, Y/N, I would never mean you," He beseeches, his breath caressing my face, my lips and his eyes are so intense, so vibrant that I can't look away, "I didn't mean you, I meant me, I'm wrong!"
I suck in a harsh breath at his outburst and I feel it then- the self-deprecation, the vulnerability, the fear, it was all aimed at himself, it was all about him.
The silence stretches on as we stare at each other and my face must hold every ounce of my surprise and confusion, because he sighs, his forehead resting against mine. I see his wings sag behind him, as if defeated.
"I don't know how much you heard but I did not mean that the Cauldron was wrong to pair you with me," He mutters, his words unsteady, and my eyes flutter shut at his words, "I meant that the Cauldron was wrong to pair me with you- the Cauldron has blessed me but forsaken you."
"Azriel-" I gasped, and it was now my hand that lifted between us, my hand that cupped his stubbled cheek, forcing his eyes to mine. "That's not true, I'm not forsaken, I'm blessed, I'm Cauldron-blessed, Mother-blessed to have you-"
"Y/N you deserve the world, the sun and the moon and the stars," Azriel's voice breaks, a sob gurgling in his throat as he nestles against my palm, now wet with his tears. "I have spent five hundred years being unworthy of anything, and now that I have you, I will spend the next five hundred being unworthy of you."
He felt unworthy of me, he thought that he did not deserve me.
"Don't say that don't- you've given me the world and more," I shake my head, forcing every inch of surety and strength into my voice, "I love you, so much, so much that the thought of you thinking we were wrong, it killed me Az, because you're all I need."
He shakes his head against my hold, but his hands slip down my back, down my waist and to my hips and thighs, fingers digging into my flesh, holding onto my meat for leverage and pressing my soft body against his firm one for dear life.
"Not once did I ever think you were the problem, I thought it was me," His brow furrows deeper at my words, and I see the denial in his eyes, in his face, "I see a male who is beautiful inside and out, who is powerful and skilled, who has been a saviour to this Court in so many ways and I can't come close, I can't ever be equal to that Az."
"Y/N, no-" He growls, nails carving crescent moons into my flesh.
"I'm not a warrior like Nesta or a ruler like Feyre," I continue, and I open up the walls I erected to keep him out from my soul and mind, letting the mating bond flow freely again- to let him see all I had thought these few days. "I'm not beautiful like Elain... I'm not enough."
"You are everything," He hisses, and I can feel his overwhelming pain as sure as if it were my own as he graces over my feelings and thoughts- as he takes in every disgusting, horrific thing I had thought about myself, about my body. "You are everything and more to me, Y/N."
Power flashes through his eyes and then his head ducks toward me, capturing my lips in his.
Time seems to slow when his lips meet mine in a gentle collision, the kind of impact that steals the breath from my lungs, the kind I can't get enough of. Azriel grumbles at the taste of wine on my mouth, his tongue lapping at mine as if devouring the sweetness.
"Azriel," I sigh, like putty in his capable hands, and like always, he's skilled with how he handles my body, so easily turning us so my legs hit the mattress, my body weightless as he lifts me to sit on the edge.
"I have seen you navigate politics and arrogant High Lords in a way that has us all on our knees," He mutters against my lips, and I croon at the feel of his hands languishing up my thighs and hips, squeezing the flesh, his eyes dark with desire now.
His nose brushes against my cheek, so bare, as he kisses and trails his tongue along my jaw, moving down my neck and I can't do anything but moan softly as he lies me flat on my back, his powerful body towering over me, covering me wholly.
"I have seen you cut down soldiers triple your size as if they were little more than weeds in a field," His canines scrape against the racing pule-point at my neck and my eyes flutter, neck exposing for him and back arching when his hand cups my breast over my shirt.
He settles between my thighs, and he groans when his hard length brushes my wet core, the smell of arousal heavy in the air, the kind of stimulation that made us both dizzy with need. I arch my hips up to meet him, needing to feel something, anything from him.
"And I have seen males and females alike marvel at your beauty, at your body, desiring to see you without a scrap of clothing on," Azriel's voice turns furious, dark, as if the mere thought of someone else seeing me naked made him violent, honed to kill.
"Az, please," I mewl, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the muscles ripple under my touch, his shadows in a frenzy, caressing and dancing and wreathing around my body, feeding off every moan that escaped me. "I need you Az, please."
He presses long, wet kisses against my jugular and I sigh in relief when I feel his body shift, hips lifting and the sound of a belt clinking as he unhooks his slacks, freeing his hard length from within.
"I love you, sweetheart," His head lifts, face tight with sincerity and I can feel the thumping of his heart against mine, those intense eyes capturing me wholly. "I love all of you, I love all that you are-"
"Body," His fingers hook into my underwear, and I gasp as he tugs the wet material to the side, fingers brushing my clit.
"Mind," Our sounds meld as he rubs the tip of his cock against me, parting my folds, spreading my arousal from my entrance to my clit, and his breathing deepens as I whimper.
"And soul." He pushes into my entrance, stretching me just from the tip and automatically, my thighs clamp around his hips and my back arches at the feeling of him.
"I love you, Y/N," He pushes in until his long, thick length hits my cervix and my cunt is stretched thoroughly, throbbing around him. I trace my hands up his arms, nails scratching along every muscle, every strong, lean plane of him.
"I love you too, Azriel," I whisper back, and when my eyes flutter open, I see him above me and I know that nothing else, no one else could feel this right.
He doesn't move, merely staring down at me, his eyes burning like embers- feeling the thought as intensely as I did.
The Cauldron was right, so right.
----------------------------
@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen
Comment to be added to the tag-list >3
#acotar#acomaf#acowar#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel smut#cassian acotar#rhysand#acotar smut#smut#plus size reader#azriel x plus size reader#acotar fanfiction#sarah j maas#sjmaas#plus size smut#plus size y/n
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
genshin dragon men : calling him handsome
♡ pairing: zhongli, neuvillette x gn!reader
♡ a/n: this was originally supposed to also have wriothesley, dan heng, blade, and jing yuan, but i ran out of ideas. if you’d like to see something for them, please lemme know lol
———
zhongli — flattery, you swallow me.
the former archon is rather composed in nearly every waking moment you’ve seen him. he carries himself with an aura of calm confidence, whether he’s dealing with business on behalf of the wangsheng funeral parlor or spending his time leisurely alongside you.
he has a way with words; speaking oh so eloquently on a variety of topics.. from today’s weather to the latest tale of liyue’s history he’s been wanting to spew.
zhongli doesn’t get flustered often, if not at all. which makes sense for a man like him. having had many experiences in his six thousand years of life, it’s not really surprising.
but let’s just say that you’re feeling rather.. determined to see what blushing looks like on the funeral consultant. his stoic expressions do nothing to deter the handsomeness of his facial features, but you’re sure you can make him even prettier.
it’s like any other day in liyue harbor: bustling streets full of commerce, clear skies overhead, and calm waves from the sea.
zhongli had proposed to you earlier in the week that you spend a day with him. “i enjoy your company,” he had said without batting an eye and knowing that those words easily had your heart racing, “even if we are simply doing nothing at all.”
you have yet to see him so far, waiting beside a food stall and trying to catch sight of his presence amongst the crowd. you shift on your legs, moving to lean on the stall and crossing your arms. ah, there he is.
dressed in his usual attire of brown, gold, and black, he catches your eye quite easily and begins to approach you. his strides are long and he’s quick to almost reach the spot where you’re standing.
and here’s your chance!
before he can speak and greet you, you take a deep breath, flash up your own smile, and say right as he closes the distance in the most suave voice you can muster, “hi, handsome.”
you’re expecting a reaction of surprise from him, of course. he’s no stranger to compliments, but he’s not used to them as brazen and blunt as this—especially from you.
but you still certainly don’t him to stumble and nearly fall at your feet. zhongli’s footing stutters ever so slightly and he has to regain it as he stands in front of you, clearing his throat with eyes that seem to widen for only a couple of heartbeats.
and you were right: he looks even prettier with the faint pink dusting over his cheeks. it’s barely visible, but it’s there. and it’s there because of you.
frankly, he feels like a silly fool, fumbling like that. even though his current status is one of a mortal, he had stood boldfaced during countless events in the middle of wrath and destruction, and these mere words from you has him acting like some- some teenager!
zhongli clears his throat again, trying to confirm that he hadn’t misheard you. “pardon?” he coughs, amber eyes sparkling with curiosity and a hint of mirth.
your smile is the same as before, tugging at the corner of your lips subtly. “hi, handsome,” you repeat cheekily, speaking as if you just hadn’t witnessed him trip oh so elegantly. you straighten your form so you’re no longer leaning on the stall. “was wondering what was taking you so long.”
his eyes are watching you closely, and he seems to have regained his usual composure, even with the blush still lingering on his cheeks. “ah, i apologize,” he muses, “i failed to realize the time.”
and then, it’s his turn to flatter you. because the feeling is mutual, is it not? your boldness should be repaid. after all, flattery is an exchange that goes both ways.
zhongli grasps your hand within his gloved one, lifting it up to brush his soft lips over your knuckles with delicacy that makes your heart skip a beat.
“a beauty such as you should not have to wait.”
———
neuvillette — oh, how the water stirs.
the chief justice of fontaine is a man of an honorable reputation. your hear nothing but good—and sometimes mysterious—things from the people of the nation.
being an assistant of the iudex, however, does allow you to see other sides to him. while he is strict and stern, almost immovable, in the court, he is also kind and tender to those he seemed fit to receive such treatment from him. (the melusines are a prime example.)
whatever he seems to be doing though.. he nearly always wears almost an emotionless expression on his alluring features.
now, there are many words that you can use to describe neuvillette’s appearance with: ethereal, striking, breathtaking even. but the last thing you want is to overwhelm him and embarrass yourself.
so you’ll start small, you decide. a short and honest compliment because the iudex’s assistant is allowed to compliment him sometimes, right?
today’s routine is quite normal so far—you help sedene and any of the other melusines that have tasks around the palais memoria before preparing to greet neuvillette and help him out with his papers and any other duties.
you can tell he has arrived when everyone takes a look and hushes down; the entrance hall of the palais memoria is usually quiet in ambience but even more so with the chief justice now present.
“good morning, monsieur neuvillette,” you greet him as well as he approaches, and he gives you a polite smile in return, cane stamping on the floor gently.
he says your name softly and shakes his head. “ah, i’ve already told you before. you can simply call me neuvillette— i insist.”
you chuckle in response and nod. first name basis with who is essentially one of the most powerful beings of the nation is nothing short of nervewracking. you don’t let it get to you though, gesturing to the door. “ah, right. sorry. shall we head into your office?”
neuvillette nods and walks. you move to follow him, but there’s a sudden tugging on your clothing and you look to see sedene behind you.
the melusine giggles, perhaps in a knowing way. “monsieur neuvillette seems to be quite fond of you, if i must say!” she says in a hushed voice.
you flush, waving her statement off. “oh, sedene!” despite feeling slightly embarrassed, you’re flustered as well. eventually, you head into neuvillette’s office, hoping he doesn’t notice anything amiss.
you settle into routine easily; briefing him up on any upcoming trials and cases, smaller notifications from the people of fontaine, and of course—situating his seemingly endless stacks of paperwork.
after a while, neuvillette now seated at his desk, he emits a soft sigh and bids you thanks. “thank you. that’ll be all for now.” his ever glistening gaze rests on you. “i do wish you a pleasant rest of your day.”
okay, you can do it. it’ll be fine. just tell him he looks good and leave! why does it seem like his eyes are boring straight into you? they’re unreadable as ever, leaving you to simply wonder what will go through his head when you say what you want to say.
nonetheless, you take a quick, deep breath and go for it. “you look handsome today, neuvillette,” you tell him, a sincere smile tugging at your lips.
he doesn’t say anything, and the brief silence that hangs in the air is nearly startling as he simply continues to stare. you clear your throat quickly and look away. “well, you look handsome every day, but i just wanted to let you know now and well-”
you’re rambling, great. “um, i’ll be taking my leave now, monsieur!” you awkwardly dismiss yourself and hurry out of his office, missing at how the tips of his ear subtly burn with a different shade of color.
you don’t even bother glancing at a curious sedene as you usher your way out of the bulding. oh, archons! how are you going to face him now?
unbeknownst to you, all that is left is the hydro dragon in deep contemplation, papers still completely untouched since your departure.
it is only when sedene enters the room with her clipboard does he stir, and he blinks at her appearance. his brows furrow, still deep in pondering.
“monsieur neuvillette, is everything alright?”
there’s a pause. for a rare moment, the chief justice allows himself to be hesitant and genuinely curious aloud.
“sedene.. am i… handsome?”
(it’s safe to say that for the rest of the day, fontaine has nothing but a sunny sky.)
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin impact x gn reader#genshin impact x gender neutral reader#genshin x gn reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin x reader fluff#genshin impact fluff#zhongli x reader#zhongli x you#zhongli x gn reader#zhongli fluff#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x you#neuvillette x gn reader#neuvillette fluff#rain’s writing#my writing
915 notes
·
View notes
Note
May I please do the batboys with a fem reader who kinda dislikes their laugh, or smile?, like maybe when they smile they cover it with their hands!, or when they laugh they try holding it in or muffling it?.
Maybe turns away from them the first time they burst out laughing cause of embarrassment?
THANK YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE UR WRITING TAKE BREAKS AND CONTINUE THE GRIND (•̀ᴗ•́)و
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this request, work has been beating my ass lately 🤣 but I’m trying to get through as many requests I possibly can, after all I’m only one person running this thing. 🐿️🦦🫶
Dick would make it his life’s mission to get you to laugh after hearing it for the first time, despite the fact that it was hidden behind your hand, he still heard that wonderful laugh of yours.
He’d gladly make a fool out of himself if it meant catching a glimpse of a smile before you’d inevitably hide it away behind your hand.
His heart hurts when you do hide away your smile because he knows how pretty it is, he could feel it in the depths of his soul as it warmed whenever he heard your muffled laughter.
‘I think I caught a smile.’ He’d sing teasingly.
‘Not you didn’t.’ You’d say immeditly as your hand hid your mouth from him, smile immeditly fading away at the aspect of him seeing the smile you’ve always seemed to be embarrassed by. Dick’s smile melted off of his face upon hearing how defensive you got over him supposedly seeing you smile and sat next to you. ‘What’s wrong?’ He then asks.
‘Nothing’s wrong.’ You tell him sharply.
‘You dislike your smile don’t you.’ Dick says and from the look upon your face told him that he had been correct with his assumption as he reaches out to hold your free hand and squeezed. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of sweetheart but who am I to tell you how to feel about yourself.’ You didn’t say anything and Dick took this as his cue to continue. ‘What I will say however is that I think your laugh is sweet like candy, I just can’t get enough of it, even if it is muffled behind your hand. I will forever live to see the day where I get to see your cute smile beam at me just for doing something silly like trip over Hayley.’
You let out a small giggle upon remembering that day. Dick made dinner and almost landed face first in it because Hayley decided to make herself comfortable by lying down right by his feet. Dick beamed in excitement when he heard that small chuckle, but had to remind himself to stay on task if he were to get through to you. ‘See! Just like that! This is what ultimate that proves that I’ve done a good job in keeping you happy and all I’ve ever wanted to do since meeting you was keeping you happy and in my life.’ Dick finished as his face softened upon looking at you.
‘So please don’t ever think that your laugh is weird or that your smile is not a perfect one because to me they are perfect because it’s you’re smile and it’s you’re laugh.’ Dick then rests his forehead against yours and looks deep into your eyes. ‘Anything relating to you is perfect to me and I want to be the reason for them every single day of our lives, if that’s okay with you.’
Your smile came back in full force as you pressed your forehead further against his own, content and happy. ‘It’s more than okay with me Dickie bird, you didn’t need to ask.’ You reassured him as you both sat there in comfortable silence.
Jason would always ask if he could see you smile.
‘No.’ You said from behind your hand.
‘Why not?’ Jason asks as he knelt before you, resting his hands on your knees, rubbing them reassuringly.
‘My smile is weird because my teeth aren’t straight or perfectly white, my laugh is ugly and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of anyone.’ You admitted as you saw how intently Jason looked at you, almost as though he could see through you and the hand covering your mouth, which only made you feel more insecure as you instinctively ran your tongue across the top row of your teeth.
‘That’s simply not true sweetheart, not one bit.’ Jason replied as he moved his hands to hold your face in his hands. ‘Who cares if your teeth aren’t straight or alabaster white, I certainly don’t because I don’t care what other people think about me and my appearance because the perfect appearance that people are preaching doesn’t exist. It’s fake, it’s manufactured and most of all it’s not natural.’ Jason finished as he kisses your forehead.
‘You shouldn’t have to compare yourself to things that aren’t real when the realest thing you could be in this moment is yourself.’ He utters against your forehead, pressing another kiss there for good measure before pulling away and smiled at you as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. ‘And yourself is the most perfect I’ve ever seen. I love your teeth, I love your laugh but most importantly I love you for you loved me at my lowest. So here I am doing the same for you because you’re deserving of my love and will always will be even when we’re old and grey.’
‘Jason.’ You whispered, finding no other words to say other than his name.
Jason smile widened as he cheekily pinched your cheek with his finger and thumb. ‘I mean it chipmunk or I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.’ He tells you. ‘And I’m more then willing to wait until your comfortable enough to show me that gorgeous smile of yours because your comfortability is always my top priority. So don’t feel pressured into doing so because for you I’d wait forever.’ He adds.
You leaned forward to rest your head against his shoulder and sighed in content. ‘Thank you Jason, this means a lot.’
Jason kisses your head as his hands began rubbing your back. ‘Anything for you chipmunk, anything for you.’
Damian at first wouldn’t understand why you would withhold your laughter or hide it behind your hand, seeing at it was a very normal thing for a person to do.
So whenever you attempted to to hide your mouth behind your hand, Damian grabs ahold of your worst and gently pulls it away from your face, but you immediately moved your head to the side in response to having the primary way of covering up your insecurities taken away.
‘Why do you do this?’ He says.
‘Do what?’ You responded.
‘This! You hide your smile and conceal your laugh behind your hand, why? Is it not a normal reaction to something you find humorous?’ Damian furrows his brows when he noticed a subtle shift in your expression.
‘Not when I do it.’ You murmured, starting to feel the strain in your neck from hiding your smile away from Damian for so long. ‘When I do it it’s…weird.’ You add.
‘Explain.’ Damian demanded, ready to make a mental list of people to pay a surprise visit to for making you feel insecure about your smile and laugh.
You sighed. ‘It’s just that I don’t like the way I smile or laugh, it’s embarrassing and I sound like a dying deal-‘
‘You don’t sound like a dying seal.’ Damian interrupts abruptly as you slowly move your head to face him directly, wondering whether you heard him right. ‘Your smile is nice and I like seeing you smile, it makes me happy to know that you’re happy.’ Damian began, keeping eye contact with you as he spoke. ‘Seeing you smile and laugh also made me realise that I will not tolerate you being anything but happy and I will try to keep making you happy for as long as I live.’ He finished with an air of determination.
You felt your lips twitch upwards in a smile but unlike the other times, you didn’t bother to hide it and Damian was grateful that you did because you did indeed have a very beautiful smile akin to the one he saw in his dreams.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc comics x reader#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagines#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson fluff#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne imagines#damian wayne x you#damian wayne fluff#nightwing fluff#nightwing imagines#nightwing imagine#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#nightwing x reader#red hood imagines#nightwing x you
656 notes
·
View notes
Text
Astarion is the type of partner that couldn't help but laugh when you've taken a spill. Especially if you've made a proper fool of yourself by, say, losing your footing after getting stuck in the mud, or simply tripping over your own feet when you're distracted. Which unfortunately happens more often than you'd like to admit.
But of cooourse, he makes sure you're alright first. You surely can't still see him hiding a wicked grin behind his fist as he approaches, and there's no way you notice the mirth in his voice when he says, "Oh, dear. Any grave injuries, darling?"
After confirmation that you are, in fact, uninjured (just prone. and a little embarrassed.), he lets you have it. To his credit, he's never cruel about it- usually only lets out a couple of those choppy little Ha-Ha!'s of his while you stare helplessly from where you're sprawled out.
(Except for that one time you slipped on a patch of ice and tumbled face-first into a snowbank. You'd been too busy complaining about the weather to look at the ground before you. Astarion could just tell you'd be eating shit any minute by the number of times you'd had to reach out and steady yourself on his shoulder. It was comedy gold. How you'd over-corrected yourself with a series of arm movements so wild that you knocked away his helping hands? The ridiculous noise you made on the way down? The helpless look on your face before you found yourself ass up to the sky? He laughed at you for a good two minutes as you struggled to pull yourself up and out of the snow and then laughed some more when you tried to throw a snowball at his head in retribution. He dodged it easily, of course. Smug bastard.)
You roll your eyes in response, though you've never really minded his teasing nature. It's always lovely to hear his laughter come out so genuinely, even if it sometimes comes at your own expense.
Your knight in shiny armor, he is, as he outstretches a hand to help you up. He's infuriatingly good at keeping his footing no matter the predicament you've gotten yourself into, so you never have to worry about taking him down with you when he hefts you up to your feet.
Astarion's face still holds his amusement as he steadies you, making a big show out of dusting away the dirt from the seat of your trousers even if you didn't land on your ass. He'll give you a couple of soothing pats there when he's done, his free hand holding onto your elbow to keep you upright. Or maybe just to keep you close.
"Careful, lover." His smile is more than affectionate now. For a moment you wonder if the way his hands move on to smooth out the collar of your tunic may be an unspoken apology for finding your blunders so amusing. But then, "One more hilarious display like that could prove to be your last."
You could kiss that sly grin right off his stupid, handsome face.
#bg3#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate 3#astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#bg3 tav#astarion headcanons#astarion fic#astarion blurb#The way i worded some of this doesn't sound right but i have to GO TO BED
627 notes
·
View notes
Text
Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | vi.
Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.
Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
The clinging of metal resonates in your ears as Coriolanus fumbles with your keys. You lean against him, half-asleep and barely able to hold yourself upright.
Coriolanus opens the door, his arm still around your waist.
You get a blurry glimpse of Walter’s bright eyes in the darkness. He meows when he sees you. You hear the faint pitter-patter of his paws, the sound of him circling you the way he always does when you come home.
You stagger forward, arms open to pick him up. Your feet tangle in your hastiness. Coriolanus catches you before you can trip and fall flat onto your face.
“I’ve got you,” he mumbles. You clutch the lapels of his crisp white shirt. The fabric wrinkles in your tight grip. You stare at his buttons, one undone revealing a hint of his bare chest and defined collarbone. Faintly, you ponder the fact that he’s always dressed so impeccably, not a hair out of place, not in a crinkle in his clothes. You hate that you’re messing up his nice outfit. Fingers sneak below your chin, angling your face skywards. The angular lines of Coriolanus’ handsome face twist and triple in your vision, his intense blue eyes shimmering like sapphires. He heaves out a deep sigh before lifting you from the floor. “I don’t think you can be trusted to walk on your own, angel.” He casts an inquisitive glance about the place. “Your mom isn’t here?”
You rest your head against his chest.
“She’s never here. By myself. Always by myself.”
His warm breath tickles your scalp, his deep, silky baritone caressing your eardrums. “Hey, you aren’t by yourself now. I’m here.”
You relax in his arms, his soothing words engulfing you in a blanket of comfort. It’s true. For once, you aren’t alone tonight.
He carries you across the room until reaching another door. He releases your limp frame over something soft and warm. Something familiar.
You weakly pat around yourself and realize you’re on your bed.
A weary whine escapes your mouth.
“Feed Walter…”
When you try to get up, the blonde shoves you back down. He meets no resistance from you, your body completely bereft of energy to protest. You slump against the sheets.
“The cat, right?” he asks, cupping your cheek. You respond with a feeble nod. “I’ll do it. Just sleep, okay?” He bends and brushes his lips over your forehead. Relief fills you at this small assurance. You weren’t supposed to be gone the entire day. He must be starving. Your head sinks into the pillows. Your eyes rise to the ceiling as you recount the events of the night. A surge of embarrassment pierces through your drunken haze. Tonight was such a disaster. You made a fool of yourself. You couldn’t blend with the others. You left early.
Hell, you couldn’t even stand up to walk yourself back home.
As every moment replays inside your mind, tears gather in your eyes. The thin lid you placed over your emotions crumbles.
You cross your arms over your face, loud, ugly sobs wracking your frame.
“What’s wrong?”
You gasp at the suddenness of Coriolanus’ presence. You peer up at him. His broad, lanky frame is looming over you, his weight making the mattress dip. His brow is knitted in concern. Stray platinum locks hang over his forehead.
Chest heaving, you swallow your tears.
“I’m sorry,” you say, sniffling.
His large hands wrap around your cheeks, his thumb tracing the damp, hot trails beneath your eyes.
“Don’t apologize. Just talk to me,” he whispers.
His gentle tone paired with your alcohol-induced daze pluck confessions from your tongue.
“I’m nineteen and I haven’t done anything,” you bashfully admit. A strangled sob leaps from your throat. “I’m a loser.”
He wipes the fresh tears that spill down your cheeks.
“You’re not a loser.”
“Yes, I am.”
He scrutinizes you. Your heart skips a beat as his heated focus scatters goosebumps on your flesh. He leans closer. The smell of roses mixed with something spicier coats your senses. As his lids sink to half-mast, his face inching terrifyingly close, you note how long and thick his lashes are.
You’re still outlining each of them when his soft lips collide with yours. A tentative brush at first. A gentle press; a silent question. One whose answer never comes, shock melting the words sizzling your throat. He deepens the kiss, humming against your tongue. Your head spins. Your skin tingles. For long minutes, he explores your mouth as you lie beneath him, too stunned to do anything but remain still.
You sink in disbelief.
A boy is kissing you. No…a man.
And that man is Coriolanus Snow.
The information struggles to break past the muddied veil around your thoughts.
It’s something you pondered about for so many years. How it felt like to be kissed. To be held. To be desired.
Yet none of it feels like you imagined.
In your vivid daydreams or the romance books you’re so fond of, there never was this cold, overwhelming surge of dread coursing through you.
This peculiar feeling of wrong you can’t shake.
When he frees your lips, you gawk up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.
A haughty smirk decorates his plump mouth as he cups your cheek.
“Here, now you’ve kissed someone,” he rasps.
He astonishes you by planting another kiss on your lips. This one’s rougher, hungrier. His hands travel lower. He fondles your soft flesh, groaning against your mouth. His mouth wanders to your jaw, trailing passionate pecks all the way down to your neck. You writhe against the sheets, a strange warmth blooming in your core.
He pushes up your dress slowly until it bunches around your waist. Cool air bounces across your skin and you shiver. His hands sweep over your trembling flesh. You hold your breath as he drops more kisses across your navel, getting closer and closer to your center.
His fingers hook in the flimsy fabric of your panties, shoving them down your legs.
A flash of awareness crosses your mind.
“Coriolanus, what are you…” Ignoring your slurred pleas, he buries his head between your thighs. You stiffen as his mouth latches to your core. He flicks his tongue over your folds. Your chest seizes at the cold feeling. Your back curves as he suckles your soft bud, his hands clutching your thighs tightly. He draws sluggish circles with his tongue, his blue eyes glued to your face the entire time. “Don’t,” you whimper. Your breathless pleas only seem to make things worse. He devours your cunt with even more fervor, bruises forming beneath his steely grip. Broken moans spill from your tongue. Your stomach coils, tension building in your lower belly. You peer down at the blond head bobbing between your legs. Your chest tightens, hot puffs of air rushing from your mouth. You grab fistfuls of his golden mane, feebly pushing his head, wrestling the mounting waves of heat sweeping through your body.
You chew on your lip as the room sways around you.
“You have such a pretty little cunt, angel,” he praises. Your cheeks heat at the lewd praise. He moves his tongue over your sensitive tangle of nerves, slow and greedy, collecting every drop of your arousal.
You jolt and toss your head back as the pleasure hits its peak. Your hips cant on their own to meet Coriolanus’ ravenous lips. He unleashes a throaty moan when you come against him, your nectar dripping on his mouth and chin.
You’re still catching your breath as you see him loom over you through your hazy vision.
“You’re so beautiful,” he lauds, reaching between your bodies to unbutton his dress pants. He’s quick to do it, revealing his erect length, already red and leaking at the tip.
A lump forms in your throat.
“Wait, Coriolanus-”
Your words are stifled by the firm, torrid press of his lips against yours. You taste your own essence and your forehead creases. You turn your head but his fingers frame your jaw, pulling you in for another rough, bruising kiss. His tip prods at your dripping entrance. Your heart leaps. Your eyes snap open. Your hands spread over his chest, attempting to shove him with every bit of strength left in you.
He doesn’t budge. Your stomach sinks.
You gasp as he grabs your wrists and slams them besides your head. His thick head pierces your walls, spreading your tender lips apart. A sharp cry tumbles from your tongue. It already feels like too much, like you’ll tear at the center if he keeps going. Your chest heaves, tears swimming under your lashes. He grunts as he drives his cock further inside you, the agonizing stretch drawing a ragged moan from you. Your nails bury in the skin of your palm.
“I’m scared,” you stammer between disjointed exhales, your mouth quaking.
He shushes you, dropping soft pecks along your neck. He fills you to the brim, impaling you on his cock. You choke on your air, your vision flickering.
Strangled whimpers leave you as he drags out of you slowly before burying himself balls deep inside you again. Your lashes bat rapidly, your chest lifting.
His lanky frame pins you to the mattress, his scorching breath seeping through the thin material of the dress.
The bed rattles when he begins to move inside you at a steady pace. Every single snap of his hips into yours is slow and deep, making your toes curl and clouding your sight.
The two of you become a mess of tangled limbs over the damp sheets.
“It hurts,” you sob, nearly passing out when you glance down and catch a glimpse of blood over his glistening length before it disappears between your slick walls.
“Oh angel, you fit so perfectly around me,” he whispers lewdly, kissing away your tears. He briefly releases your wrist to unbutton his vest and the top buttons of his shirt, exposing more of his chiseled chest.
His breaths grow labored, matching yours.
He ruts into you, his muscles straining beneath his clothes and sweat pearling on his forehead.
The air around you is sweltering as you suffocate under his body.
Tears skip down your cheeks, your core burning with the sudden, repeated intrusion.
Your hot exhales mingle with his, his chest brushing against yours as you feel every vein and ridge of his thick cock with every sharp thrust.
“Too much…” you mumble, a tide of helplessness flooding your insides.
He grips under your thigh, finding a different angle that has your eyes rolling back. A lopsided smile blooms on his lips as you shiver beneath him.
“But you’re taking it so well,” he says, his hoarse baritone bleeding lust. He bends to plant a soft kiss in the crook of your neck. “So just lay down and be my good girl. Okay, angel?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, quickening his cadence and shoving your body into the mattress. His pupils are inflated with desire, swallowing most of the blue in his eyes. His dark gaze clings to your panting frame, soaking every second of twisted pleasure coalescing with sinful agony.
The wet, lewd echo of skin along skin swells in the room.
Your attention strays to the door, your head twisting. You blink, befuddled by the muffled sounds reaching your ears.
Persistent scratching and screeching erupt on the other side of the door. It takes you a while to understand what you’re hearing.
Walter. He’s making a ruckus that could wake the dead outside of your bedroom.
A fresh surge of tears spill down your cheeks. Coriolanus draws your focus back to him, his fingers firmly corralling your jaw.
You swallow thickly, taken aback when your gaze lifts and you hardly recognize him. His blue eyes shimmer in the darkness, alight with lust and a hint of something you can’t place. The blood in your veins curdles, your insides lurching.
“Fuck…the way you squeeze my cock,” he purrs. He bends to sweep his lips over your bruised cheek. “I don’t think I can stop, not when you feel like this around me, angel.”
Your lip wobbles as you blink away tears, a shaky sob pouring from your mouth.
For what seems like hours, the blond is unrelenting. Fear seizes your chest as you bear through it in the cage of his embrace.
Eventually, his body stiffens against yours, his hips stuttering. He unleashes a deep breath and releases himself inside you. Warmth fills you, his spent overflowing your cunt and leaking down your inner thigh.
He collapses on top of you, cradling your body against his. His soft cock rests against your belly as he nuzzles your neck. You look up at the ceiling, focusing on the patterns of the wallpaper as a wave of ice settles in your veins.
Coriolanus drifts to sleep quickly, pulling you against him as he shifts onto his side.
Meanwhile, you lie awake, your body still pulsing with pain, your muscles still knotted with fear. Your tears have dried out. No feeling lingers in your body.
You’re numb, empty. After a while, sleep claims you too. Your eyes shut as you surrender to Coriolanus’ tight embrace.
You awake to the sunlight’s crude assault on your senses, warmth blistering your bare skin and a bright glow searing your eyes.
Though you feel his arms around you, you don’t find the nerve to look back. Your breaths are quiet and slow as you will yourself not to move.
You steal a glance at your disheveled appearance in the floor length mirror on the other side of the room. Your chest clenches. Your dress is still hiked up, exposing the darkening bruises on your lower body. Your blood turns to ice as you find the dried up evidence of what Coriolanus did on your thighs. Your hair is a mess, the elegant updo from last night completely destroyed.
Despite your stillness, you feel him stir against you. You bristle.
“Good morning, angel,” he rasps, his lips pressing into your shoulder.
When you pry his arms off you and sit up, your face scrunches in discomfort. Your limbs ache in protest. You lean back against the headboard and pull down the dress.
You take a second to collect a quivering gulp of air. You then start climbing off the bed. Coriolanus’ hand clasps around your arm before you can stand. Your mouth parts in shock. He yanks you back on the bed and places a hand on each side of you, effectively preventing any escape.
“Is something wrong?” he asks
“Why would anything be wrong?” you mumble.
His fingers creep under your chin, angling your face in a way that forces your gazes to meet.
“You’re not looking at me.”
You swallow the lump in your throat.
“You’re almost naked.”
He smirks, half-lidded gaze swinging to your chest, where the dress has slid to expose your bare upper body. “So are you.”
The sly remark has a well of shame pool inside you. You tug on the sleeve of the dress to cover more of yourself and clear your throat.
“Last night…”
“Yeah, things got a little intense, didn’t they?”
You bring your knees to your chest, shying away when his fingers skim over your arm.
“That’s one way to put it…”
You stare at the rumpled sheets, the tiny blood stain on them beckoning your focus.
The day before you hadn’t even kissed a boy. Now you’ve done…way more than that. The thought alone makes your head throb, tossing your mind into disarray. All of it happened so quickly. Most of it is still a blur.
Confusion cocoons your thoughts. An errant one however slips through. A certainty amidst the haze.
“Coriolanus,” you call.
“Yes?”
“I wasn’t really…ready for that.”
He casts you a puzzled look, a slight frown on his face.
“I didn’t hear a ‘no’” He heaves out a long sigh as he soaks in your conflicted expression, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for getting carried away.” His voice mellows, soft as honey. “Did I hurt you?”
You melt at his tone, a bit floored by the concern etched on his face.
“A little.” A lot, your mind loudly whispers though you don’t utter the words. “I just never…”
He bends to plant a feathery kiss on your forehead. His eyes dive into yours. You note how dizzyingly beautiful they look in the morning. Though you’ve never laid eyes on the ocean, you imagine it must be as blue and bottomless as Coriolanus Snow’s eyes.
He seizes your hand and brushes his lips against the back of it.
“I know, angel. I’ll be more gentle next time. I’ve just been holding back for so long and you were a vision last night.” He beams at you. His fingertips roam over your ankle before he softly suggests, “How about we go have breakfast, you and I, spend the day together?”
“Spend the day together?” you muse aloud.
He pivots your head towards the window which offers you a view of the vibrant city, already awake and bustling with activity.
“Come on. A day like this is too beautiful to waste.”
Your attention returns to Coriolanus. His expression is bright and hopeful. A contrast to the hollowness inside your chest. The longer you look at him, the less you wish to disappoint him.
Belated words roll off your tongue in a wobbly string.
“I-I need to take a shower first.”
He fondles your cheek.
“Then go on. I’ll wait for you here,” he says cheerfully.
#dark!coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#hunger games#tbosas fanfiction#dark!coriolanus snow x reader
422 notes
·
View notes
Text
how the universe loves
sigewinne has noticed that wriothesley is in love. irrevocably so.
wriothesley ♡ gn!reader
warnings: lovesick wriothesley, kinda awkward wriothesley, sickly sweet pining
notes: another day another lovesick-ification of a big buff man
wriothesley is hopeless.
he stumbles over his own two feet, his words coming out in a slurred, jumbled mess as he stares at you with wide, pale blue eyes. as if he's afraid he'll miss the sight of you, as if sight alone is not enough.
"so, [name],"—he nearly trips over a slab of cobble—"how are you liking the underworld?"
"i've been here before, duke," you say with an amused expression. "but it's nice. you have a pretty good system here!"
when it comes to you, the duke has a terrible habit of making an utter fool of himself—it's in the way he leans awkwardly against a nearby pole, trying to act cool while the tips of his ears turn red. so painfully red.
"right." wriothesley nods, his voice coming out strained as he watches your gaze drift off into the scenery, soaking in the sights that are now so familiar to him.
as you glance around, wriothesley follows your gaze, taking the time to evaluate the parts of the fortress that you behold, measuring its acceptability based on whether or not it brings a pleasant expression to your face. in the end, however, his icy eyes (that melt only for you) return to you.
he stares at them like, sigewinne struggles to find the word, her hand coming to scratch at her head as she racks her brain for ideas. human emotions are so difficult—they make complex structures out of simple foundations, because although sigewinne knows that what she is seeing is love, that word alone doesn't seem like enough.
when wriothesley looks at you, which he often does, it feels as though he cannot see anything else. when wriothesley looks at you, it feels as if he's looking at a dream, his expression becoming mellow, the scars from his being, etched into his soul, suddenly washing away with the colossal presence of your existence.
you erase parts of him—parts of him that carry the worst of his past, parts of him that have witnessed dread and misery and anguish—and you reinvent him into something airy, something dreamy. something lovely, sigewinne muses. it's like he's reincarnated every time you look at him, every time you do so much as perceive him.
sigewinne thinks that the duke's eyes are wed to you. she's noticed how, whenever you glance at him, his breathing stops. he holds his breath as if he's trying to trap the air you exist in, forcing it to permeate into his lungs, melding it into the tissues of his being.
when you look away, he sighs. the air escapes him, and he's desperate to grasp it, to seize your existence and make it a part of him.
"i really liked the entrance to the fortress," you say, not realizing the weight of your words, "the area where we got to see the water was beautiful."
wriothesley chuckles. "is that so? perhaps i'll recreate it somewhere here then." he gestures around the fortress, feigning ignorance to the machinery and the people who are unaware of his newfound plans.
"but it feels safe right now," you add, smiling, "maybe it's better not to see the water."
"of course," he replies, ignoring the grandiose ideas he had. he was going to rebuild the entire place, starting with the outer walls before transforming the entire fortress into an underwater observatory.
would you find it even prettier then?
"miss sigewinne,"—you give her a gentle smile—"how have you been?"
she jumps up, returning your smile with a giant grin. "great! thank you for all of the tea you've been sending us, mx [name]!"
"yes, that's right." wriothesley nods approvingly. "the tea is wonderful."
"his grace loves every type of tea you send, mx [name]! he always saves them for really, really good days!"
"oh?" you echo. "if that's the case, i'll be sure to send more!"
wriothesley coughs into his fist, and sigewinne huffs proudly to herself.
the duke should thank me later! she thinks.
wriothesley is terribly, terribly in love.
"your grace," sigewinne calls, her eyebrows furrowed with concern. "you can't keep skipping out on your meals and drinking caffeine! it's not good for you health! please, take the day off!"
"sorry, miss sigewinne," wriothesley replies, his voice groggy with fatigue and his hand coming up to massage his temples. "i'll rest right after i finish these papers."
the nurse frowns. "you said that last time."
"this will be the last time," wriothesley assures. "please don't worry too much, miss sigewinne."
you make that difficult to do, she thinks exasperatedly. wriothesley fiddles with his pen, his frame hunched over his wooden desk as he forces his head towards the documents.
when sigewinne traces his gaze, however, she notices that he's not looking at the papers at all. he's staring, fervently so, at the entrance to his office. he's waiting for something, sigewinne deduces, but what?
it finally clicks.
mx [name] has been out on commissions! sigewinne realizes, her eyes darting back and forth between the door and the duke. his grace must be waiting for their letter!
sigewinne clears her throat. "have you heard from mx [name], your grace?"
at the mere mention of your name, wriothesley's head shoots up. there's an indescribable look in his eyes, as if he had just struck a star and resonated it deep within himself.
he opens his mouth to speak, but the star sinks deep into his throat. his words die.
still, sigewinne presses on. "i heard they're in liyue right now. perhaps that's why there are no letters coming in?"
the duke crumbles into himself, as if all the stress in his body were escaping in between his loosened muscles and eased brow, its prominent furrow now replaced with a relieved expression.
"is that so?" he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "that's good, really good."
"i'm glad to hear that, your grace," sigewinne states. "now, off to get some rest!"
he sighs, but a smile still creeps onto his face. "alright, miss sigewinne. thank you."
when a letter for wriothesley arrives a couple days later, sigewinne knows. she knows, because the duke's mood has become significantly better. his complexion is brighter, his eye circles beginning to fade as he works flawlessly away at the various documents lining his desk.
if she squints, she can see a certain vibrant, messy paper resting permanently by his hand. it remains there as if it were stuck in time, as if it were glued to the side of his wrist.
there's a stamp on it.
it's a stamp from liyue.
sigewinne hums a sweet tune to herself before strolling leisurely out of the duke's office.
wriothesley is smitten.
sometimes, sigewinne feels embarrassed for him. because when your name is mentioned—or at least, when something that sounds like your name is said—the duke's entire body jolts up. he glances around with those wide, wedded eyes of his, and he slouches once he realizes it's a mere illusion.
the cycle repeats.
whenever the duke knows you're coming, he spends two minutes longer staring at himself in the mirror. sigewinne knows this because any sticker placed on him gets removed in an instant. this includes any stickers on his gauntlets—which the duke usually lets slide until it truly becomes a hindrance.
and he brews tea. lots of tea. and then he puts an odd number of sugar cubes into the cups, even though he usually only takes two. and then he sets the cups down on either side of his office table, his hands fidgeting with the handle as if he's waiting for you to barge through the door and take the cup of tea on the other side of his desk.
it's as if his entire existence revolves around you. as if he orbits you, following the same trajectory and path and never leaving your side, an irreversible distance between you two. but the distance is so small, it feels as if he can leave orbit any minute.
and catch your presence, once and for all.
"your grace," sigewinne says, standing by the doorway. "mx [name] is coming in an hour."
wriothesley laces his fingers, his elbows resting on his desk as he stares intently at the cup of tea in front of him.
"oh. is that so?"
"yes. i think the tea your grace has prepared for them will have cooled by then."
"that is a good point, miss sigewinne. thank you for letting me know."
he pushes the tea to the side—which leaves sigewinne speechless—before returning to the various documents lining his desk. he refuses to drink in your absence.
the tea cools. and sure enough, an hour later, you barge through the grandiose, golden doors of his office.
"duke!" you exclaim, hauling a sack of goods from your travels. "what's up!"
he stands up immediately. wriothesley takes long, quick strides over to your side, his hand outstretched in order to take the large bag from you, his eyes filled to the brim with indescribable emotion.
if sigewinne had to describe it—the look in his eyes—she'd say that his irises swirl with a fervent warmth unbefitting of a duke. the glaciers of his eyes fragment, revealing bits and pieces of vulnerability, of adoration as he stares at you and soaks in your every word as if it were a wild song.
and his irises reflect your figure, your face, your smile. his pupils behold you, taking in everything and keeping nothing, as wriothesley clutches tightly onto the bag of your rewards, his attention fixated wholly on you.
his ears follow you across the mountains of liyue and the plains of mondstadt while his eyes follow the flutter of your lashes, the curl of your lips.
"the lantern rite was gorgeous," you say quickly, your words rising with excitement, "and the final night with the mingxiao lantern—that was incredible!"
"really?" wriothesley says, almost breathlessly.
"yeah, and not to mention the ludi harpastum of mondstadt..."
when wriothesley listens to you, sigewinne notices the way he leans in a little. the distance between his orbit and your existence becomes smaller and smaller, until only slips of candlelight separate the two of you, until the only thing that exists in this makeshift solar system is you and him.
sigewinne is a spectator. she witnesses, in full, the way wriothesley attunes himself to you. he trails after you, basking in the sound of your voice and the way it rises whenever you get excited. he follows you closely, narrowing the proximity, grasping at your atmosphere.
one of these days, he's going to change the trajectory of his life. he's going to make it so his orbit collides with yours, so the two of you will no longer be separated by space, by anything.
he's smitten—so, so smitten.
he stares at them like, sigewinne finally finds a word. like they're enchanted. like they're a dream.
smiling contentedly to herself, sigewinne slips through the grandiose doors of the duke's office, leaving the two planets alone. drifting aimlessly in the galaxy, crafting a solar system of their own.
wriothesley is in love.
#wriothesley x you#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x y/n#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#wriothesley#genshin
761 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere! boyfriend x fem reader
Malik is the sweetest guy you've ever come across and his charisma doesn't even come at a cost. You've never met anyone, no matter the gender, that was as attentive and humorous as him. Malik could care less if he's making himself look like a fool as long as he's graced with the presence of your heartwarming smile. His humor consists of material you'd only ever expect to hear out of the mouth of a teenage boy which is what makes his jokes so much funnier.
He doesn't need an international holiday in order to spoil you with stuffed animals, sweets and handwritten letters, he already gifts you all those things for the simple fact that he wants to. Malik is always showing up to your shared apartment with a bouquet of flowers in hand as he feels like the worst man to ever walk the Earth if he does otherwise.
Letting you pay for yourself is something he'll never allow you to do, as long as he's with you of course. He can't exactly stop you from doing so if he's not physically next to you (rare occurrence)but he has his own way of handling that issue. He'll notice if you seemed to have purchased something with your own money while he wasn't around, and immediately reach into his pocket in an effort to pay you back.
"You look so pretty, baby. Is that a new lipgloss?" "Yeah it is, I bought it when we were at the market the other day!" "Oh yeah? How much was it, baby? I'll give you your money back, just let me know if you want something next time, okay? I don't care if I look like I'm busy with something else, I have all the time in the world when it comes to you."
While we're on the topic of time I think this is the perfect moment to mention the fact that Malik is extremely possessive over not only you but also your time. Nothing gets him more upset than when the two of you are out together at a public setting and your friends attempt at pulling all of your attention away from him. In reality, your friends are simply making conversation with you and they actually make several attempts at including him in the conversation. This, however, doesn't matter to Malik one bit, he can see right through their 'good people' personas.
Malik practically battles with other people when it comes to having your full attention on him. It's not even a case where you're not appreciating how greatly he treats you, no. He is the one who is urging himself to be the absolute best for you before someone attempts at lifting you off of your feet and away from him. He finds it incredibly comedic when others attempt at acting as if they could ever understand or know you as well as he does. There have been many instances where he's gotten you the perfect gift and he just can't help but look on at the other party attendees with pity, as they all now know that you won't be as satisfied with their presents.
Is Malik a possessive boyfriend (soon to be husband)? Yes. Although, this doesn't mean he won't allow you to have girl trips/sleepovers. If you're having a girls trip in an area with a completely different time zone, this will not prevent Malik from staying up as late and early as he needs in order to call and wish you a good morning.
He will keep you on the phone for extremely extended amounts of time (not that you mind). Your friends could try their absolute hardest at being irritated towards his constant need to be near you and to call you but they just can't. Malik is so sickeningly sweet to you that they'd be seen as bitter people that are just jealous due to the fact they've never been as loved and cared for as you are now.
Malik didn't exactly grow up in the most accepting house hold, even as a child, he felt as though he was constantly walking on eggshells with his parents. His parents were raised with extremely aggressive religious views that would quite obviously intimidate the average person, this caused him to be raised in an environment where even cartoons most people deemed as 'kid friendly' were forbidden. Anything that wasn't blatantly religious was seen as unholy, his parents wanted him to uphold the stereotypical attitude of toxic manhood that even him doing simple acts of skincare were seen as something to 'look out for'.
This extremely damaged environment he was raised in just may be the reason as to why he doesn't speak to his family anymore and why he loves so ferociously, like a rabid animal. I don't know though, it's not like I make the rules or anything.
He absolutely adores doing anything and everything romantic with you, especially within the comfort of your own home. When the holidays roll around, there's nothing he loves more than brewing up two cups of iced coffee, sporting matching onesies, baking Christmas cookies and lighting up the fire place as the moon shines into your shared bedroom window.
Well, there is one thing he loves more than all of that.
That's you.
Edit: credit to @cafekitsune for the divider ♡
#yandere headcanons#yandere oc#yandere oc x y/n#yandere x you#yandere oneshot#yandere#yandere oc x reader#obsessive love#yandere oc x you#obsessive yandere#yancore#yandere male#male x reader#male yandere#male yandere x reader#male oc
853 notes
·
View notes
Text
Only You: Azriel x Reader
Warnings: Smut, Knife-play, Blood, 18+
***
You stumbled down the halls, the bottle of alcohol in your hand sloshing around. You hummed to yourself as you took another deep drink. “Stupid,” you cursed, chiding yourself. You pushed further down the hallway, aiming for the stairs to the training ring. You slowly made your way up them, sticking the bottle into the sand after taking a final swig. “Idiot,” you muttered, tripping over your feet on the way to the weapons. You picked up two daggers, relishing in the feel of the smooth hilts against your hands. These will do.
You moved over to the throwing board, imagining your own face on it. “He will never want you,” you sneered, a taunt to yourself. You threw the first knife, landing it in the perfect middle despite your drunken state. “Ridiculous,” you said as the next blade embedded itself into the wood. You walked up to it, pulling the daggers out with a little more force than required. You were seething with embarrassment and anger at yourself, the sobering feelings ruining the perfectly drunken state you had created.
You continued throwing and retrieving the daggers for a while, letting the cool night air clear your head. Your anger leaked out with every “thunk” in the wood, the blades allowing you to channel your emotions. You plucked them out of the board once more, walking back to your spot as your mind replayed the events of the night.
You had made a fool of yourself at dinner. You knew it had pissed him off, the point of your game. You smiled at the thought, throwing a dagger again. You were fed up with his little act about Elain. While nothing had ever happened between the two of you, he was yours. Or at least, he used to be.
You had hit your tipping point tonight, watching him so delicately help her. Delicate, as if. That was not a word you typically used to describe him. The second dagger flew from your hand, landing perfectly with its sister. You paced over to them again, the repetitive act soothing your hurt. You spun the blade in your hand, feeling the cool metal against your skin. It took all of your self control to not squeeze your fingers around it.
Truth be told, it was his own fault you acted like you did. If he had just pulled his head out of his ass, (or Elain’s ass, whichever you prefer), he would have seen the frustration he was causing you. You wouldn’t have had to make a scene just to get his attention. A smile ghosted on your lips as recalled the red in his face at your words. You raised your hand to throw the dagger again, heart stopping when a cold fist wrapped around your wrist.
“Playing with yourself, are we?”
You knew he intended the double meaning in his words, that he wanted your cheeks to flush. You turned your head towards him, a sickly sweet smile on your face.
“Azriel. What a pleasure.”
He scoffed, the hold he had on you tightening. “What kind of game are you playing, hmm?” He leaned down, his breath ghosting over your ear. “If you wanted me to fuck you that bad, you could’ve just asked.”
Your blood ran cold at his words, at his tone. You had never heard that deep rasp of his voice before. You hated the fire it ignited in you. “You think rather highly of yourself.”
His nose traced along your neck, inhaling deeply. “Do I? Your scent tells me otherwise.”
You ignored the heat pooling in your core, his hard body pressed against your back. “I know how to appreciate an attractive male. It’s unfortunate that body is attached to you.” You shot back, twisting to face him. He held strong to your wrist, a darkness in his eyes you’d never seen.
“What was it you said at dinner? To ‘just screw her already and get over it?’.” He stepped closer to you, chest pressed against yours. “Did you mean her, or were you talking about yourself?”
Your breath hitched at his words, at the way he was looking at you. His gaze was roaming over your body, like you were a dessert he was barely holding himself back from. “Don’t be stupid. Why would I want you?” You knew your words were a lie, and by the look on his face he knew it too.
His other hand slid down to grab your other wrist, slipping both of the daggers out of your grasp. He pressed the flat of one of them under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m tired of this attitude.” He snarled, the cool metal sending a chill through you.
In a flash of silver he had sliced the other dagger down the front of your dinner dress, the fabric falling away from your body. He traced the blade down your chest, your stomach, catching on the waistband of your underwear. Your body was burning under the cold daggers, mind clouded by desire.
“Not so snarky now, are we?” He teased, dragging the blade under your chin down to cut the center of your bra. His shadows swirled up, sliding the destroyed garment off of your shoulders. He hummed in appreciation, using the dagger to circle just outside of your nipples. Your breathing was heavy, an incessant need tugging in your mind.
The dagger on your underwear moved to the sides of the lace, a quick slice happening on both of your hips. You gasped as you felt the blade dig ever so slightly on your left side, drawing blood. The lace fell to the ground, leaving you fully exposed to the Shadowsinger. He ran a thumb over your hip, slowly bringing it up to his mouth. You could’ve finished then, watching him suck your blood off his finger, eyes locked onto yours. “Az,” you murmured, transfixed on his actions.
“I like you like this. Letting me do whatever I want to you.” He brought one of the blades up to your lips, nicking the skin on your bottom one. You felt the blood trickle down your chin, eyes wide with desire. He leaned closer to you, dropping one dagger on the ground to cup your chin with his hand. “So obedient.” He hummed, tongue darting out to lick over your bleeding lip. You couldn’t help the light moan at the feeling of him licking up the blood that had fallen, an act that shouldn’t be as sexy as it was.
Your eyes fluttered closed as he sucked on your bottom lip, tongue running over the wound he had made. You felt his shadows wrap around your thighs, your arms, your stomach. You felt them nudge your legs apart, pressing you closer to him. You needed him to touch you, to kiss you. You tried to move your mouth down just enough so he could, a sharp bite on your lip stopping your actions. “Don’t be greedy now. Not when i’ve waited so long to have you like this.”
His words were accompanied with a harsh slap in between your legs from the flat of the blade. He held the cold metal against your heat, enjoying the desperate moan that fell from you. He trailed the dagger down, circling the soft skin on your inner thigh. You hissed when he dug the tip into you, the pain and pleasure overwhelming. He dropped the dagger with the other when he was done, pushing your head down to force you to look.
You took in the crude “A” on your thigh, inches away from your center. He had marked you. His fingers were tracing the initial now, spreading the blood around like it was paint. He trailed those fingers up your body, bringing your face back up to his. “Beautiful.” He sighed, looking at you like he could see what no one else could.
“Azriel,” you said, “please.” He smiled, one arm wrapping around your waist and holding you close.
“Please what?”
“Touch me.”
You had hardly finished speaking the words when one of his shadows swirled up, vibrating and circling against your clit. You gave a shout, knees buckling. You dug your nails into the shirt he wore, holding yourself up as his shadow worked you. He watched you as you gave into the pleasure it was giving you, observing the way your eyes rolled back in your head at the sensation. “Az,” you breathed, wanting him to touch you.
“Not yet, pet. Let my shadow undo you for me.” He stroked his hand down the side of your face gently, almost lovingly. The shadow working you increased the vibrating and circling, your back arching into him. Your legs were shaking and you were already embarrassingly close to falling over the edge. Azriel held your head up so he could watch the pleasure take over your features, reveling in the sight he finally got to take in.
You gave a loud, gasping moan as his shadow pushed you over the edge, working you harshly through your orgasm. Your nails dug into his shirt so hard it tore, not that you noticed. The shadow didn’t let up as it pushed you through, a silent scream on your lips. “Az, Az, Az” You gasped out, his name a beg.
“It wants you to go again. Can you do that for me?” He asked, lips close to your ear. You shook against him, the pleasure too much. “Let it take care of you.” He whispered, pressing a kiss just under your ear. Your mind was blank with pleasure as the shadow worked you towards another orgasm, not giving you a break after the first one.
“Az, I cant, I cant-“ You breathed out, words cut off by a scream as your second orgasm washed over you. He let out an approving hum, calling his shadows away from you. You collapsed against him, gasping for air. He pulled you into his arms, carrying you to the edge of the training ring. He propped you up on one of the low stone walls lining the edge, one arm tight around you. You looked behind you just a hair, dizzy from how far away the bottom of the mountain was.
“I’m going to fuck you here, and you’re going to scream for me. I want my name to echo around the mountains around us. Do you understand?” His words brought your attention back up to him, breath catching at the hardness he ground against you. “Answer me,” he growled out, kissing and sucking down your neck.
“Y-yes. I understand,” you moaned out, lost in the bliss from his lips.
“Good,” he said, finally pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss was harsh, punishing. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, licking and sucking every inch of it. His hand fell down to circle your abused clit, a whimper coming out of you. “Be a good girl for me, give us another one, yea?” He asked, kissing you between each word. You nodded against his touch, words failing you. He dragged one finger down to your opening, thumb moving to continue the assault on your clit. He pushed ever so gently into you, exploring the area.
“Az,” you moaned out, “please don’t tease.” He laughed but obliged, pushing his finger deep inside of you. Your head rolled back at the feeling, how good just one of his fingers felt inside you. Azriel groaned at how wet you were for him, how welcoming you felt. He slid another finger in, curling them perfectly inside. You moaned his name, encouraging his actions. He kissed you again, swallowing the moans coming from you. His fingers sped up, hitting you in a way that made you know you were seconds from another orgasm.
His thumb gave another circle, his fingers thrusting and curling inside you, his lips working yours to the point of bruising. You cried out against him, body tensing as your third orgasm washed over you. This one was even more intense than the first two, breathing stopping as the pleasure took control. He continued his movements through it, only stopping once your body relaxed back into his. “Such a perfect girl for me, aren’t you?” He said appreciatively, undoing the lacing on his pants.
Your jaw dropped as he pulled himself out, the length and girth like nothing you’ve seen before. He pumped himself a few times, thumb spreading the bead of precum on his tip. Your mouth watered, imagining how he would taste. He caught your thoughts, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Next time,” he promised, lining himself up with you. “I need to be inside you now.”
You brought your eyes back up to him, tangling your arms around his neck. The arm around your waist tightened, pressing your body against his. He slid himself through your slick one, two, three times before slowly pushing in. The first inch of him had your eyes rolling back in your head, the pleasure already more than you had ever experienced. He pushed in inch by inch, stretching you in ways you didn’t know were possible. You arched against him, breath catching when he bottomed out. The two of you sat still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size.
“Azriel,” you breathed, “Move.”
He pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting fully back into you, your head falling back with a scream. He kissed and sucked the exposed skin of your throat, hand gripping onto your hair. He groaned against your skin, the sound adding another layer of pleasure to you. You weren’t going to last long after three orgasms, body screaming for him to give you another.
You forced the feeling down, wanting to finish with him. You brought your head down to his, pulling him close for a kiss. You relished in the way he moaned your name against your lips, lost in the pleasure of you. “That’s it,” you hummed, reaching a hand out to stroke his wing lightly. He growled at the feeling, thrusts coming harder and sloppier.
“I won’t last long if you keep that up,” he warned, soft moans interrupting his words as you ran your fingers over the most sensitive parts of his wings.
“Good,” you breathed out, arching your hips up to meet his. “I want you to cum in me.”
He let out a delicious groan at your words, his lips capturing yours again. The hand on your waist was digging into your skin so hard you hoped there’d be bruises tomorrow, a reminder of his desire. You felt that familiar tightening in your abdomen again, preparing for your fourth orgasm to take you. You pushed into each thrust he grave, fingers working his wings until he shook against you.
He roared into your mouth, thrusting as deep as possible inside you when he came. You allowed your own release as he pulsed inside of you, screaming his name just how he wanted. He rode you through the end of your orgasm, never wanting those screams to stop.
He slowed as the pleasure ebbed away, standing still against you. He kissed your swollen lips sweetly, a hand coming up to brush the tears of pleasure away. “It’s always been you,” he whispered, a new vulnerability in his eyes. “I never wanted anyone else. I’ve only ever dreamed of this with you.”
You were overwhelmed with emotion at his words, unable to believe the male you had wanted for so long felt the same way. “I just assumed…” you trailed off, leaving the implication of your words in the air. He nodded, pulling out of you slowly. You whined at the loss of him as he tucked himself back in his pants, pulling his torn shirt off to wrap around your bare body. He cradled you into his arms, carrying you back inside.
“I know. I did too good a job at hiding it.” He said, pushing the door open to his room. He laid you on his bed, moving to draw a warm bath for your sore body. He came back, pulling you into his arms again. “I thought you didn’t feel the same, until you yelled at me tonight. I saw the look in your eye, the same jealousy I had felt every time you laughed too hard with Cass or blushed at Rhys’ words.” He placed you into the warm water, an appreciative moan coming from you as it soothed your body. He pulled his clothes off, sliding into the warmth behind you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, the other wetting your hair so he could wash it. “I realized you felt the same, and that I was a fool for letting this go on so long.” He massaged a sweet smelling shampoo into your hair, your eyes falling closed at the sensation.
“I saw you up there, throwing those daggers in that tight little dress. Any restraint I had snapped.” He explained, soothing fingers running through your hair. “I wasn’t too harsh, was I?” He asked, the hand on your waist falling to brush the “A” he carved onto your thigh.
“No,” you shook your head, “never too harsh.” You had enjoyed every second of his control over you, mind already beginning to dream of the next time. Azriel sensed the thought on you, laughing lowly as he rinsed your hair.
“My insatiable girl.” He mused, massaging the conditioner a little too sensually into your hair. You rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile that clung to your lips. “You’re mine now, yea?” He asked, his breath tickling the back of your neck. You nodded, leaning further into his touch. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear.
“If you ever allude to me wanting someone else, i’ll fuck you right in front of them.”
***
pleaseee let me know your thoughts on this one!!!! <3
503 notes
·
View notes
Text
Some soft scara for the soul 🫶
Clumsy !reader who’s always tripping over her own two feet. she keeps her eyes up and doesn’t bother to look at the ground below her. most of the time it costs her her footing, and she falls face first to the floor more times then she can count. It really gives Scaramouche a scare, every time he’s unable to grab you just before you hit the ground, he winces. though to make up for it, he is always quick to come to your care. dropping beside you and helping you stand back up. his hand reaching for the bandages in his pocket that he keeps spare just for this occasion.
He cleans the dirt from your knees, and like his mother did when he was a child, kisses the scraps on your palms to try and take away the pain. they’re always fresh wounds when he does it, and it’s stings when his lips make contact, but the worried look in his eyes every time he patches you up makes you refrain from commenting.
His voice is so soft too. something along the lines of “oh my sweet girl, where does it hurt?” while he’s tending to your injuries. telling you to watch where you’re walking so you don’t litter your pretty skin with scratches. It keeps him on his toes, and he hates it…but at the same time can’t help but like it. like how he gets to care for you whenever your trip over. being able to hold your hand and run his thumb over your knuckles in a silent effort to try and comfort you. he knows that it does nothing, but he still tries.
Clumsy !reader who does it again. her head in the clouds and too distracted by the world around her to notice the small crack in the pavement. and before you or Scara knew what was happening, your foot gets caught and you end up tumbling to the floor. The hard concrete showing little kindness to your sudden greeting, going far as to knock the wind from your lungs and leaving you short of breath. you whimper in pain, unable to balance your landing. the loose stones from the road dig into your flesh uncomfortably, only adding onto your misery.
Scara knew he should have kept you closer, a closer eye on his surroundings so maybe he could have prevented this. and though it’s really not the big deal he makes it out to be, he’s still upset. He quickly discards the bag he was holding somewhere behind him before dropping right beside you, one hand on your back while the other softly pulls you up by the arm. He’s cooing reassurances into your ear, soft murmurs of ‘you’re alright, my love’ and ‘it’s okay, don’t be upset.’ as he helps you up to your feet.
Your little fall had for some reason grabbed the attention of a few by passers, but they don’t stare for long because Scaramouche is quick to scare them off with a small, angry glare. and while it successfully does the job, it’s doesn’t stop the small tears of embarrassment flooding your eyes. to have people watch you make a fool of yourself, in public no less, is just so humiliating that you can’t help but cower into your boyfriends side to try and hide yourself. It’s not the time to be flustered, but he can’t help but swoon at your cuteness. he’s able to quickly snap out of it though, and leads you over towards a bench, sitting you down before taking place beside you.
Your palms are scraped, small drops of blood escaping from your open scratch. It makes you frown, these dark red stains on your brand new sweater will one hundred percent be a pain to wash out. Scaramouche watches as you eye your sleeve, and takes notice of your annoyance, placing his hand on your thigh and running smooth circles on your skin to try soothing you. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one.” he whispers, and nudges closer towards you, where the warmth radiating from him body mends with your own. he’d like to be as close as possible, and if you say anything about his neediness, he already has a plan to blame the cold.
“There’s no need for that.” you shake your head, making no complaints when he takes ahold of your hand and brings it towards his chest, where a handkerchief he pulled out from his pocket starts to wipe at your wound. His eyes dart continuously from your palm to your face, where he watches you bite your lip in discomfort when he accidentally presses down a bit too hard. he curses himself, and lightens his touch as to not hurt you further, the last thing he ever wanted to do. Scaramouche apologises, a small ‘sorry, baby.’ he whispers to you, and pulls your hand up to his lips where he places small kisses along your wrist.
Anyways, just clumsy !reader always tripping over her feet, and scara who’s always there to pick her back up again.
#scummy scara :(#🍃 — drabbles ☆彡#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#yandere scaramouche#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#x female reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
a cuckoo in the nest
(Aka the Fae!Tim fic that I decided not to finish and thus am dumping on Tumblr)
The creature that the Unseelie Queen forces on Bruce is disguised as a human child. Worse, it resembles Bruce’s two current children. Skin on the lighter side, lighter than either of his kids, black hair, blue eyes, and a light sweater and sweatpants combination that either Dick or Jason might wear. It is quite the contrast to the wild fey flashing too-bright teeth at Bruce.
“You will welcome it into your home,” the Unseelie Queen commands. “You will treat it as you would your own son. You will do nothing to indicate that it is anything but a human boy.”
One gnarled claw curls around the creature’s shoulder. The creature’s expression remains eerily blank. Another point in favor of its otherworldliness. A normal human child would show some reaction to the Unseelie Queen’s possessive presence. This creature stays perfectly still.
“In return…” the Unseelie Queen crooks one finger of her free hand in a come here motion and a figure stumbles out of the dark trees surrounding their little clearing.
It is Jason. Injured beyond belief, blue eyes red and weeping. Bruce’s knee jerks, but he forces himself to remain within the small summoning circle. A thin line of salt and iron protecting him from the Unseelie Queen’s unfathomable powers.
“You get your son back.” She presents Jason to Bruce like she’s selling a prize horse at an auction. One hand on the back of his neck. “Alive and well. As he was before his death. The memory of his death will remain, but dulled. That is my bargain, Batman.”
Bruce is not fool enough to give the Unseelie Queen his real name, nor is he stupid enough to lie to her. Using his nighttime alter ego presents the perfect compromise. Batman is not his real name, nor is it a lie. So it is Batman’s black gauntlets that curl into fists as Bruce considers the Unseelie Queen’s deal.
It is the height of stupidity to take a creature he does not know the abilities of into Wayne Manor, and pretend it is his son. Given what he knows of the Unseelie Queen, such a creature could cause unfathomable damage to his family, to Gotham. This is a bet of Bruce’s own intelligence against a fey hundreds of times older than Bruce. He could very well end up losing both of his sons this time.
“B,” Jason sobs. “Wha’s goin’ on?”
But the alternative is to walk away from a chance to have Jason back. This is not the universe where Bruce is capable of such an act. At least with the Unseelie Queen’s bargain, Bruce has a chance to limit any potential harm. Perhaps he can even outsmart the creature and prevent all damage whatsoever. If she had asked him to kill someone, or something more direct, Bruce wouldn’t stand a chance.
Bruce uncurls his fists slowly. “I accept.”
With those two words, both the creature and Jason are invited into the circle. The creature steps forward calmly, Nike sneakers passing over the salt and iron easily. Its arms are flat by its sides, and its head comes up to Bruce’s chest. If it were human, it would be around the same age that Jason was when Bruce caught him stealing the Batmobile’s tires. A blatant attempt at emotional manipulation on the Unseelie Queen’s part.
Jason is shoved forwards by the Unseelie Queen. He trips over his own feet, but Bruce is there to catch him this time, to gently fold him in his arms and check him over for injuries.
“I’m getting you home,” Bruce promises.
And if he has to bring home the Unseelie Queen’s little spy as well to make it happen, then that is a price Bruce is more than willing to pay to have his family whole again.
~
Tim finally has the chance to be part of a family again, and it is the best family he could have imagined. He can scarcely believe his luck as Mr. Wayne–Batman, for now–leads Tim and Jason (who doesn’t look so good) into the Batcave. Tim is so caught up trying not to gape in awe at everything that he misses the hushed conversation that Mr. Wayne has with his butler, and the slightly louder, much longer conversation he has with his eldest son. The original Robin is standing all of five meters away from Tim! He’s going to be Tim’s older brother!
A lifetime ago, when Tim was still fully human, with parents and the last name Drake, he’d been obsessed with Batman and Robin. Had followed them around pitch black rooftops, through the streets buzzing with neon lights and vices, just to get a glimpse of his heroes. Discovered Robin’s true identity shortly before Bruce Wayne adopted Jason Todd, and a new Robin came to roost in Gotham’s skyscrapers.
Then Janet and Jack Drake gave their only child to the Unseelie Queen in exchange for money and power, and Tim lost his name, and his home, and his entire world.
“What is your name?” Mr. Wayne interrupts Tim’s memories. He looms in front of Tim in an empty Batcave. Mr. Pennyworth and both Robins are long gone. It is only Tim, in his ill-fitting human clothes, and Batman.
Tim knew this question was coming. Mr. Wayne must think that Tim is a human child, and that asking for his name is a simple exchange of pleasantries. He cannot know that Tim is no longer fully human, and his name is no longer free to give or take, nor his own anymore. Luckily, Tim prepared a response. He does not want to lie to Batman, after all, but as much as he wishes he could trust Mr. Wayne with his name, he knows better.
“What do you want to be called?” Mr. Wayne amends, when Tim fails to answer fast enough.
Carefully, Tim purses his lips and whistles. Hoo-ooh. A sharp ho followed by a lower, longer oo sound. The call of a common cuckoo. Hoo-ooh. Hoo-ooh.
Mr. Wayne frowns in response. Tim panics briefly–did he not get the call right? He practiced so much!–and tries again, a little faster. Hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh, hoo-ooh. Please accept me. I know I’m an unwanted interloper, an imposter. Please accept me anyway.
“Do you have a name in English?” Mr. Wayne asks. He repeats the question in a few more languages. Tim recognizes the Spanish and Russian, but he’s not sure what the others are. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Tim nods frantically. He swallows with difficulty, and then whispers: “Tim.”
It is not a lie, and it is common enough that hopefully Tim can remain anonymous. He is a common cuckoo bird, after all, not even remarkable in his imposition.
“Well, Tim,” Mr. Wayne says, voice dropping to an ominous growl, “I will uphold my end of the bargain. But do not think for a second that I can be tricked into trusting you. And if you give me even the slightest indication that you intend to hurt a member of my family in any way, I will not hesitate to take you down. Do you understand?”
Tim has not cried in years, not since his parents gave him away. But tonight a peculiar wetness pricks at the corners of his eyes as he nods. “Yes, Mr. Wayne, sir,” he says quickly. “I understand.”
It isn’t as though Mr. Wayne is wrong. Tim is an interloper, here to trick Mr. Wayne and his family into caring about Tim. All Mr. Wayne did was make it clear that he will continue to pretend that Tim is part of his family and that he will not be tricked. There’s no reason for Tim to get emotional about it.
It’s just that Tim hoped, if just for a moment, that it wouldn’t be pretend.
The Wayne family, aside from Mr. Wayne himself, is very easily tricked. Mr. Pennyworth (“call me Alfred, Master Tim”) lets Tim follow him around even though he won’t let Tim help with chores no matter how much he insists that he can do it. Tim is fine with that, really. For now it is better to be tolerated, if not liked, than not to be tolerated at all. He has noticed that even Mr. Wayne defers to Alfred in household matters, so it is good to have the real head of household somewhat in his corner.
Most days, Tim sits on the kitchen counter while Alfred cooks, and awkwardly attempts to answer questions about his previous life. It is mixed, as far as conversations go. The questions are very stressful for Tim, who is never sure how much he should say, but smelling and eating human food after so long without it still brings tears to his eyes.
Simmering tomato floats through the air as Alfred adds a pinch of rosemary to his soup. Tim’s mouth waters, and he swallows before talking.
“I had a really long argument with a rosemary plant, once,” Tim recalls ruefully. “It was dumb. But I was so desperate for human food that I’d’ve said just about anything.”
The rosemary plant refused, in the end. Everyone was too scared of the Unseelie Queen to help Tim.
Alfred stirs his pot carefully. “You had an argument…with the rosemary plant?” He clarifies neutrally.
“Yep.” Tim’s legs swing back and forth a bit faster. “I told you, it was really dumb. I would’ve tried with the mushrooms, but they’re mean and scary, really scary. And old.”
Some of the mushrooms are even older than the Unseelie Queen, which makes them even scarier. Except that the Unseelie Queen has Tim’s name, and the mushrooms do not.
Tim blushes all of a sudden, mindful of his audience. “I didn’t mean being old makes them scary,” he mumbles, furious at himself. He is supposed to be trying to get Alfred to like him, and instead he insults him! What is wrong with him?
“It is quite alright, dear boy,” Alfred says. “I assure you no offense was taken. Now, what is it you were saying about being desperate for human food?”
Mr. Grayson (“call me Dick, everyone else does!”) is the easiest to trick into caring about Tim. He is actually not sure what he did to pull it off. Dick stays at Wayne Manor most weekends, and the first time he comes over, before Tim has a chance to enact any of his thirty-four “Trick Robin Into Liking Me” plans, Dick asks if he wants to get ice cream. Tim accepts eagerly, and Dick smiles so brightly that Tim nearly forgets about Mr. Wayne scowling in the background. After that, Dick always makes a point to seek him out. Tim is pretty sure he makes a bumbling mess of himself every conversation, but somehow Dick keeps laughing it off and taking Tim out for another slightly reckless and exceedingly enjoyable excursion.
Jason is a bit harder to trick. He is still healing mentally and emotionally from his death, so he’s off-duty as Robin. Since school is out for the summer, this means he spends most of his time curled up in the library. Tim once hovered behind him for hours, trying to work up the courage to start a conversation, when Jason turned and snapped what so aggressively that Tim immediately ran away.
In general, he is surly, defensive, angry, and reluctant to accept affection from his real family, much less Tim. Eight plans to trick Jason into caring about him are complete failures that end in Tim further earning Jason’s ire. Another fourteen plans are thrown out before Tim can enact them, after the humiliation of the eight failures.
Eventually, Tim turns to Dick for help. Dick has alluded to a rough start with Jason, which sounds fake to Tim. Dick was Robin, how could anyone not like him? But maybe he can give Tim advice.
It is a sweltering Saturday in late July when Dick pulls away from Wayne Manor in some type of fancy car with Tim in the co-pilot seat.
“I need advice,” Tim says nervously as Bristol’s mansions flash by. Tim did his best not to look at the Drakes’ manor. He succeeded in not looking, but he wondered whether his parents started staying in Gotham more often once Tim was gone, and the question won’t leave him alone.
“What’s up?” Dick asks easily. He lazes in the driver’s seat, two fingers on the steering wheel. It is this nonchalance which convinces Tim to go through with his question.
Tim’s hands tap out some pattern on his forearms and elbows. “How do I get Jason to like me?”
Dick curls his right hand around the wheel and glances at Tim quickly. Tim still struggles reading expressions, so he has absolutely no idea what’s going through Dick’s mind. Maybe he’s thinking that there’s no way that Jason will ever like him. Maybe Dick doesn’t like Tim. Maybe he’s only acting like he cares about Tim because he’s so nice.
“Jason doesn’t…” Dick sighs. “Not like you. He’s just going through a lot right now. On top of the stuff with his birth mother, he also, well, you know.”
“Died,” Tim supplies.
Dick’s shoulders inch towards his ears. Veins in his forearm pop as the hand on the wheel tightens. “Yeah. So, just, give him some time, yeah?”
But Tim doesn’t have time. He has until the end of the summer, approximately two more months. To the fae the end of summer is not a specific day, but rather a sensation. Decay on the doorsteps, rot in the wind. Hot breezes melting into simmering afternoons. The crisp crackle of a leaf underfoot.
If he cannot trick every member of the Wayne family into loving him by the end of summer, he must return to the Unseelie Queen, this time forever. That was her bargain. This is Tim’s one chance to escape her.
Tim looks out his window at the cold, unfeeling mansions and nods miserably. “Okay.”
Jason does not like the new kid. Everything about him is just slightly off. He walks like he’s surprised that his feet come back down. He talks like he’s describing a dream and expects everyone else to understand. He’s constantly watching Jason silently with those eerie, unblinking eyes of his. Despite living in the same house as Batman, Tim is quieter still, always popping up unannounced and thrusting a trinket or a book at Jason.
This isn’t even getting into the part where Jason knows he died but doesn’t quite remember it and keeps having nightmares he doesn’t understand. He vaguely recalls a forest that wasn’t a forest and a hand that wasn’t a hand, curling around his shoulder. Bruce won’t stop treating Jason like glass and Dick still looks weepy sometimes, but neither will let Jason out as Robin. All three are letting Jason get away with everything except the things he actually wants to do. It’s infuriating.
In other words, the summer is off to a great start.
“Bets on the new kid,” Jason says. He’s in the middle of making himself peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, because he is the only one that Alfred allows in the kitchen.
Dick is draped dramatically across the counter, because according to him it’s so tragic how Jason never wants to do anything fun. Jason hit him over the head with a spatula in response. Dick whined about that, so Jason hit him even harder.
“What are we betting on?” Dick asks.
Jason half-shrugs. “Like…he’s clearly not human. What is he?”
Dick sits up on the counter. “Yeah, he keeps talking about talking to plants.”
“And plants are always a little bigger and shinier after he leaves the room,” Jason adds.
“Maybe he’s got some relation to Ivy,” Dick suggests.
This entire conversation would not be necessary if Bruce would just cough up the answer. But he responds to every question about Tim with some variation of “hmmm” or “I cannot say.” Jason even sucked up his pride and asked Barbara, but she doesn’t know what’s up with the new kid either. Jason suspects that Bruce promised Tim he wouldn’t tell, because–
“Have you seen his reaction to food though?” Jason asks rhetorically. “It’s like he’s so shocked he’s being fed.”
And he lets that hang, because maybe it’s true, and not a joke.
Dick scratches his chin. “And he says ‘human’ like he’s not one.”
“Okay.” Jason sets his mixing bowl down on the counter Dick claimed as his seat. “My theory: he’s a metahuman whose parents–or guardians–or whoever was in charge of him–treated as less than human, and he made B promise not to say ‘cause he doesn’t know we ain’t shit like his parents yet.”
“I mean.” Dick scoots off the counter when Jason comes swinging with the baking tray. He attempts to help Jason spread the parchment paper until Jason glares at him. “He thinks you hate him.”
Jason freezes in the middle of scooping a handful of cookie batter into the tray. Guilt curdles, expired milk and broken egg shells, in his stomach. “I don’t.”
“I know.”
Dick doesn’t mention the part about Jason dying, because he’s ultra sensitive to that sort of thing. Jason has debated making extra jokes about his death just to force Dick to get used to it, but he hasn’t gone through with it. He’s never seen Dick cry like he did when Jason came back. They haven’t talked about it, because Jason is allergic to big emotions and Dick is nothing but an oversized bundle of big emotions. But it lingers in the back of Jason’s mind, everytime Dick pretends that everything is fine. You mourned me. It’s so obvious, said like that. Of course he mourned Jason. But it’s not an experience Jason ever expected to live through.
Not even Jason knows how he came back to life. He suspects Bruce had something to do with it, but Bruce won’t say. The continuous silence from him is driving Jason to insanity where the Joker and dying failed.
“Fair tidings.” Tim’s head pops up by Jason’s shoulder and he forcibly suppresses a surprised reaction. Another weird-ism of Tim’s: what sort of American kid says fair tidings? “Can I help?”
“No,” Jason snaps immediately, curling one arm around the batter bowl.
Dick makes a noise, and Jason winces. He didn’t mean to snap at the kid. It’s just that everything about Tim sets off sirens in Jason’s head. And usually by the time Jason is ready to invite the kid in, he’s run off.
“Fine,” Jason grunts. He shoves the bowl at Tim. “We’re making cookies.”
Tim stares at the bowl with owlish eyes, and Jason clamps down on the urge to yell at the kid again.
“Hey, Timmy,” Dick says faux-casually. “I never asked. You got a last name?”
Tim’s head snaps up. “Why do you want to know?”
Jesus, he sounds one wrong word from breaking into tears. Jason exchanges a glance with Dick, who is taken aback by the uncharacteristic bout of aggression from the weird kid, and reluctantly decides to intervene.
“It’s ‘cause we wanna get to know the baby bro better,” Jason says gruffly. “Ya know. Bondin’ and shhhh, uh, stuff.”
Tim’s blue eyes widen into twin moons. “You want to be my big brother?”
The naked hope in his voice is really not helping with Jason’s guilt.
“Yeah.” Jason throws down a few more lumps of cookie dough a bit more forcefully than required. “Ain’t no way B is returning you to the kid store.”
Actually, he’s only seen Bruce interact with Tim once, and it was super awkward. But he’s pretty confident that Bruce wouldn’t take in a kid if he didn’t want that kid to be his kid.
Dick is smiling dopily, so Jason is pretty sure he said enough right words in the right order. “So?” Dick prompts. “Got a last name, baby bird?”
Tim’s hands float to his elbows and start tapping out an unknown pattern. “It’s, uh. Drake.”
“Tim Drake,” Jason tests out, and neither he nor Dick miss the way that Tim does his best impression of a wooden plank at the sound of his name. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“Dunno.” Dick snaps his fingers and points at Tim. “Wait! You’re our neighbor!”
Tim gives Dick his weird blank stare, so Dick points at Jason instead. “The Drakes are our neighbors,” he explains. “The parents were always out of the country for vacation or something, but I remember they had a little kid tag along with them once or twice. What happened?”
“Bruh.” Jason shoves the tray in the oven with his bare hands, because he isn’t a wuss and he’s also not stupid enough to touch the burning hot metal with bare hands. “They supervillains or something?”
Tim shakes his head. His hands press flat against his legs. “They sold me.”
He says it so flatly that Jason exchanges another look with Dick just to make sure he heard right. But Dick’s jaw drops in outrage, so clearly they heard the same thing.
“How? When? To who?” Dick’s eyes narrow. He’s dropping into protective big brother mode. Jason has had the dubious pleasure of experiencing it first-hand a few times. “Does B know about this?”
But Tim shakes his head again. “I can’t say.”
“Are they threatening you?” Jason jumps in, pretending his tone isn’t leaning in the same big brother direction as Dick’s is. “You know B has Supes on speed-dial, right? Ain’t no one in the world who can get away with threatening you now that B’s got you.”
Tim shakes his head a third time, and Jason really has no idea if Tim actually means no or if he’s just moving his head.
Dick and Jason exchange another worried look, but this time Jason isn’t sure what Dick is thinking. Mostly because Tim just gave them about a thousand more questions in the process of answering one.
365 notes
·
View notes
Text
How would they. . .
tie your shoelaces!?
ft. satoru, suguru, higuruma, maki, yuta and itadori
Gojo… would tease you as he kneels towards your shoes, acting like he hadn't been waiting for this moment his entire life. “Always so careless, heh. What would you do without your great and responsible Satoru?” Slap him on the head and maybe he'll stop. Would lightly squeeze your calf as he stood up.
✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩
Suguru… would make you feel like royalty, you never have to worry about shoelaces around this man. The second he noticed the ties loosening, he would kneel with a single mission in mind. You would feel his hands from your knees to your shoes, caressing them gently. If you had your leg exposed, he would press a soft kiss to your skin when he is done. :((
⠀⠀ ⋆ ✧*̣̩⋆̩☽⋆゜
Higuruma… would take off your shoes for you after a date, your foot resting on his thigh as he enjoyed the closeness. The gesture itself is a little clumsy, but he has only the best intentions in mind. You can probably hear his joints creak as he squats tbh. The sight of a man like him, suit and broad shoulders, kneeling before you is enough to make your face heat up.
˚₊✩‧₊ ✧
Maki... she would notice in the same second if it was a little loose, but wouldn't mention it out of embarrassment. (She can't let you know that you occupy her mind with even the smallest things, can she!?). When you almost trip over it, she takes matters into her own hands and abruptly kneels towards your shoes, growling and gently scolding you for your carelessness. Just don't mention her burning face or she won't be able to look at you for the rest of the day.
⠀ ੈ♡˳·˖✶
YUTA... respectful king. Another one that you never have to worry about your shoelaces when he's around. In fact, he loves tying them up and taking them off for you, whether it's before or after a date. The gesture makes him feel all warm inside (he giggles like a teenage girl in love internally). If your feet are sore, he will offer to give you a sweet massage. we stan the king.
࿐ ࿔*:･ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
ITADORI... doesn't know how to tie. Who this man thinks he's fooling, probably only wears velcro shoes and flip-flops for their practicality. Another king who would notice the second the knot came undone. Offer to tie it for you, it probably wouldn't look very good and you'd have to do it all over again later, but it's the thought that counts. He's the type who would wait for you to tie your shoes no matter how long it takes, and if your feet were hurt he would lend you his or even carry you.
autor notes: help i hope this is good my brain is fried idk anymore, probably there's some grammar mistake sorry
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo satoru x reader#higuruma x reader#maki zenin x reader#yuta okkotsu x reader#itadori yuuji x reader#suguru x reader#jjk fluff#jjk hcs
370 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Curveball Part 1 | Bob Floyd x OC
Summary: When Bob started coaching a tee ball team with Bradley, he was surprised to find how much he enjoyed it. But the last thing he expected was to fall in love with Molly, the beautiful and exciting aunt of one of the players on the team. Bob is hooked after one look at her, but he's afraid that he could never be enough.
Warnings: Fluff, eventually 18+
Length: 4800 words
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)
Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!
The first time Bob saw Molly, he almost tripped over his own feet. She was laughing, the beautiful sound carrying across the field as she walked with her nephew, Everett. When she looked up and met Bob's eyes, her smile grew.
"Hi, Coach Bob!" Everett called out with a wave of his hand. He was a sweet kid, one of Bob's favorites from the Tiny Eagles tee ball team.
And then Bob's lips parted in awe as Molly raised her hand to wave as well. "Hey there, Coach Bob." And then she winked at him as her teasing voice filled his ears and made his heart thud.
The closer she got, the more stunning she looked, and her eyes remained on his. He was staring. He realized that much. But he supposed it didn't matter if he made a fool of himself, because there was no way she'd be looking at him for much longer anyway.
Molly looked a lot like her sister, and Bob started blushing profusely at that thought. Because Bradley definitely had a thing for Everett's mom. The "Team Mom". Bob liked Molly's sister plenty, but he never had a hard time looking away from her. He never once thought about how the shape of her body looked like it would fit nicely with his, snuggled up on the couch.
"Bob. Hey, Bob. Robert. Coach Bob!"
"What?!" Bob asked, suddenly broken free from the spell Molly managed to put him under from twenty feet away. Bradley was waving a hand in his direction and snapping his fingers.
"You okay? You're not listening to me."
"I'm fine," Bob mumbled, stealing another quick glance her way as she knelt in front of Everett and helped him change his shoes.
But Bob knew he was in trouble, because Bradley could tell exactly who he was looking at. And the smirk the other man gave him had Bob keeping his eyes to himself for the rest of tee ball practice.
-------------------------
The second time Bob saw Molly was much, much worse. She was wearing a little sundress. And this time he really did trip over his own feet. Bob watched as she bent to hug her nephew, and the way the fabric of the front of her dress met her body erased all normal thoughts from his mind. They were replaced with thoughts of Molly and her dress on Bob's bed. And on Bob's couch. And on Bob's bathroom floor. And in the bed of Bob's truck.
It was mortifying, feeling this attracted to a woman he'd seen twice and had never talked to. And likely never would talk to. But then she looked up at him as he adjusted his cap, and her smile was too much when it was aimed right at him like that. She probably had a boyfriend. She probably had ten boyfriends. Maybe a hundred. Ones that undoubtedly worshipped the ground she walked on.
Oh no. She was walking closer. Bob panicked. He blew his whistle to start practice, even though it was five minutes too early. The parents were looking at him, confused. Bradley turned to him and asked, "It's time? Already?"
"Yep," Bob said, walking briskly away from Molly and picking up one of the balls. "Let's get started."
But then it got even worse. After practice, Bradley offered to give Everett a piggyback ride up to Molly's car. And this time, when she looked at him, Bob just started walking toward her. Like he was in some sort of trance. And the closer he got to her, the more she smiled. Like she already knew he was thinking about her collection of boyfriends and wanting to become one of them.
"Hey, Coach Bob," she said, and he shivered.
"Hi," he managed a little awkwardly. "Are you Everett's aunt?"
"Molly," she replied without hesitation, holding out her hand. He took it in his bigger one, and then she was in his personal space. He had to let go before he started sweating.
"Nice to meet you," he mumbled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bradley pick Everett up, giving him and Molly plenty of space. But Bob was feeling like his only lifeline had been yanked away.
"So, how long have you been coaching tee ball?" Molly asked, and Bob fell into step next to her as she walked toward her car.
"Oh, this is my first season." That was an easy question. He wasn't so sure he'd be able to answer anything past a first grade comprehension level right now, and that was sad, because he had a master's degree in aeronautics.
"What got you into it?" she asked, looking at him with a smile. "You have kids of your own?"
"No," he said, shaking his head. Bob liked kids. He loved them. But he'd never been serious enough with anyone to even bring up the possibility of having his own. "My niece, Piper, is on the team, and she's autistic. She's more comfortable when she's around people who are familiar to her, so I'm kind of doing this for my sister."
Now she was looking at him like he had just saved a cat from a tree and helped an old lady cross the street at the same time. "That's so sweet," she gushed, and Bob stood a little taller. Sweet was in his wheelhouse. If Molly liked sweet, then maybe Bob stood a chance. "Everett talks about Piper all the time. I think my sister wants them to have a playdate."
Bob briefly wondered if he could sneak in and take Piper in place of his sister, just in the hope that maybe Molly would be there too.
"What do you do when you're not being Coach Bob?" she asked before he had to think of something intelligent to say. Bob could hear Bradley and Everett laughing somewhere behind him as he slowly walked with Molly.
"I'm a naval aviator," he said, always unsure about how to talk about work. "A weapons systems officer. I guess when I'm not Coach Bob, I'm Lieutenant Floyd."
Molly bit her lip and looked up at him, and now he could only think about her mouth. "So you have three names. Coach Bob, Uncle Bob, and Lieutenant Floyd. Which one do you prefer?"
His mouth felt dry as he tried to swallow. The way she was looking at him like he was interesting and attractive made him blurt out what he was thinking. "I would answer to any of them if you were the one saying it." He would also like to answer to Molly's boyfriend, at least in his fantasies.
"Okay, Uncle Bob," she said with a bright laugh, and he laughed too. "This is my car." She unlocked a blue Honda, and Bob opened the driver's door for her.
When he noticed that Bradley and Everett were still messing around in the grass, Bob asked, "Do you like baseball?"
"I like men in baseball pants," Molly said matter-of-factly. And now Bob was definitely sweating, standing there in his white baseball pants while she looked up at him with the most innocent gaze.
He could tell he was blushing as he adjusted his glasses and looked at the ground. But Molly saved him from having to respond when she asked, "I take it you like baseball? Or do you only dig tee ball?"
"Oh, I love baseball. I play centerfield in a recreational league at work," he said, meeting her eyes again.
Molly's lips parted in slow motion, and Bob started to feel a little dizzy as she asked, "Does that mean you wear the pants all the time?"
He swallowed hard, unable to formulate a sensible sentence. "Uh..." He managed to pull it together as her eyes dipped down his body like she was impressed by what she saw. "All summer."
"God bless June, July and August," she muttered, and Bob just knew he was dreaming now. This wasn't real. "What are the main differences between tee ball and baseball?" she asked standing a little closer to him as Bradley finally made it up to the car with Everett.
"Well, the field is bigger," Bob said, fighting the urge to run his finger along her full lower lip. "And, my bat is bigger, too," he added, and a wide smile broke out on her face.
Bradley snorted, and then Bob realized what he had said. He started to panic. Molly's eyes dipped down to the front of Bob's snug, white pants, and he thought he was probably going to die.
But she grinned at him and said, "I'll bet it is, Bob."
Bradley finished buckling Everett in, closed the car door and casually said, "Bob's bat is actually the biggest size allowed, according to league regulations. Have a great night, Molly. See you later, Bob."
And then he was strolling toward his Bronco, leaving Bob with Molly. Bob was ready to have a panic attack, but she was just laughing like she was really enjoying this.
"I need to go into witness protection now," he said softly, shaking his head in mortification.
Molly laughed harder, and then Bob's whole body lit up as she placed her hand on his abs and patted him. "Oh, Lieutenant Floyd, you are adorable," she said, smiling up at him and letting her hand drop to her side. "I need to get Ev home, but thanks for walking us to the car. And thanks for the laugh and the baseball pants."
Her eyes glittered with amusement as she climbed into her car, and Bob mumbled some sort of goodbye as he gently closed the door for her. She and Everett both waved as they drove away, and Bob stared after the blue car until it was out of sight.
"Bob!" Bradley called from his open window. Bob sighed, really not wanting to go over there, but if he didn't, Bradley would just become unrelenting.
"What's up?" Bob asked, leaning against the side of the Bronco and trying to act natural. But he could tell he was blushing while Bradley smirked. "I noticed Molly when she came to practice last time, too. Are you going to make fun of me for having a crush on her?"
Bradley started laughing. "Not at all. She's really nice. And Everett said his Aunt Molly is single."
"Is she really?" Bob asked softly as a grin spread across his face. This information was absolutely shocking. He'd never have believed it. But he could trust Bradley and Everett on this one.
"Yep. The kid is a wealth of information."
"Wow," Bob mumbled, turning and heading toward his truck. Then it really dawned on him. Molly had flirted with him.
----------------------------
Bob's thoughts were consumed by Molly. Her sundress. Her laugh. Her blue car. Her hand on his body.
Once again, his crush on her was pretty ridiculous. One conversation. They'd had one conversation, and Bob was head over heels for her. Every game day and every evening at practice, he crossed his fingers that she would show up again. But it had been a bit since he had seen her, and he was feeling a little disheartened.
But Bob could see how Bradley lit up every time he was around Molly's sister, so he had a hard time begrudging his friend and co-coach that level of happiness.
After the game on Saturday, the team was still undefeated, and Bob was doing a little recap with Bradley.
"Great job, head coach," Bradley told him, shaking his arm and making him smile. "Undefeated after three games."
Bob nodded, really proud of the two of them. "I think you're a better coach than you're giving yourself credit for. The kids love you."
Bradley smiled at Everett and his mom. "I'm having fun."
Bob followed his gaze and mumbled, "Do you know if Molly's coming to another practice or anything?"
"You want me to ask Team Mom if she'll invite her sister again?"
Bob sucked in an excited breath. "Would you? I mean... I'll probably just chicken out again, but I want to ask her for her phone number next time I see her."
Bradley clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, you should. According to her sister, Molly thinks you're hot."
"You're kidding me," Bob whispered. "You must be."
Bradley just shook his head. "Not kidding. Molly's a bit of a spitfire. You think you can handle that?"
Bob walked away without answering. Because he really, honestly wasn't sure.
-----------------------
"Any chance you'd want to get pizza after practice on Thursday night?" Bradley asked Bob in the locker room on Tuesday afternoon.
Bob shrugged. "Sure." He tried to watch what he ate, but a few slices of pizza would be okay.
"Great. Ev and Team Mom are going, too. So is Molly."
Bob dropped his deodorant onto the floor. "Molly's going?"
Bradley grunted as he got dressed. "Yeah. Don't tell me you're not into her anymore. I had to work some behind the scenes magic for this."
Bob almost laughed in his face. Not into her anymore? It would be impossible to lose interest in Molly. Bob had tried to stop thinking about her, because there was just no way he'd be able to keep her interest. Even if she liked the way he looked and somehow found him funny, she'd be done with him after about a week. Two at most.
"I...am still interested," Bob said, drawing in a shaky breath and picking up his deodorant.
"Great," Bradley said with a smile. "She can't wait to see you."
Those words echoed in Bob's head until Thursday. And by that point, he was so nervous, he wasn't sure he'd even be able to eat any pizza without getting sick. But then Molly was there. She came for tee ball practice, and she looked beautiful. Way out of his league.
Panic was setting in again as practice ended. Molly kept looking his way, and Bob could practically feel her gaze on him.
"Just relax," Bradley told him. "If she didn't want to see you, she wouldn't be here right now."
Bob took a steadying breath and acknowledged that Bradley was probably correct. His cheeks felt warm as he walked toward her, and he had to clear his throat twice, but he managed to get the words out. "Hi, Molly." Because once again, up close, she had him forgetting his own middle name.
"Hey, Coach Bob," Molly replied with a grin. "Wanna ride with me? I'll bring you back later to get your car." She was looking up at him expectantly. She asked him to ride to the restaurant with her.
He just nodded, and when she turned toward the parking lot, he followed her. "Nice pants," she said over her shoulder with a smirk. Bob had worn them on purpose. And now he was smiling.
"Thanks," he said, and when he opened the driver's side door for Molly, she looked up at him, stunned.
"Wow," she whispered. "You're really a gentleman."
And then she kissed his cheek before she sank down into the driver's seat. Bob closed the door and then floated around to the other side of the car. Soft lips. Soft, perfect lips. On his skin. On his cheek.
When he slipped in next to her, his long legs a little awkward in her small car, she was looking at his lips. Bob was either completely delusional, or Molly was attracted to him, too. She leaned in a little closer to him before pulling back and starting her car.
Loud music blared, making Bob jump as she reached for the volume knob. "Sorry," she muttered with an apologetic look. "I don't usually have any passengers."
Bob glanced at her backseat and saw a booster seat for Everett and several first aid kits. Then she wrapped her arm around the back of his seat while she backed out of the parking spot, leaning closer to him. Molly pulled out of the parking lot, and she was a truly terrible driver. If Bob hadn't been broken of motion sickness during flight training a decade ago, he'd probably be hanging out the window, begging for mercy.
When he glanced her way, she looked a little nervous. He wondered why as he tried to think of something to talk about.
"Why do you have so many first aid kits?"
Molly smiled as she said, "I'm an emergency room nurse. I'm very good at fixing up little injuries here and there. Comes in handy to have supplies with me."
Then it struck Bob that he knew next to nothing about Molly other than the fact that he was insanely attracted to her and that she loved her sister and nephew.
"Where do you work?" he asked.
"Regional," she replied. "I used to work at Midway, but um... I moved to Castle Park when my sister got divorced. Her ex fucking sucks, and I knew she was going to need a hand with Everett."
So she was smart, selfless, giving and caring. Bob was in trouble.
"Not that she would ever explicitly ask for help. Do you have any older siblings?"
"Two," he replied, mesmerized by the way she could talk so calmly while she drove so horribly.
"Then you get it. They're obnoxious. Headstrong. Control freaks. But I mean, she's also my favorite person in the world. Besides Everett. God, I love that kid. Oh no, I missed the turn," she muttered, looking to her left as she switched lanes again and cut someone off. "Oops. Anyway, yeah, so I live in Castle Park now, but I used to live near the beach. Closer to you Naval officer type guys. Oof, some of them are not as sweet as you, Uncle Bob. Met a few unmentionables near Coronado. Oh okay, there's the pizza place," she said, rambling on as she pulled into the restaurant parking lot and found somewhere to park. "So yeah. That's me in a nutshell," she told him as she put the car in park and turned the key. Molly turned to face him, and her smile was too much to handle up close. "I'm a twenty nine year old orphaned Sagittarius who can provide medical care on the go. I'm terrible at cooking, I like staying up way too late, I always google the endings of movies before I watch them, and up until recently, I've had terrible taste in men. Anything else you want to know, Coach Cute Glasses?"
Bob shook his head slightly. "You're amazing." He knew he was blushing, but he didn't really care anymore. Molly called him Coach Cute Glasses. No man in the world could listen to her talk, sit this close to her, have her call his glasses cute...and not blush. It was impossible.
Molly giggled. "It looks crowded. Let's go get a table."
Bob was instantly out of the car, and he made it to her side in time to close her door for her. She looked up at him with an expression Bob thought probably mirrored his own. "You need to stop being so sweet, Bob."
"I don't think I know how," he replied, and he could feel Molly lacing her fingers with his.
"Well, fuck around and find out. This is your last warning, Lieutenant Floyd," she told him, gently tugging on his arm and leading him toward the front doors. "Sweet guys get phone numbers and get kissed on the lips."
Bob's head was swimming. A kiss on the lips. He wanted to be sweet. He wanted to earn that kind of reward. He reached out and pulled the restaurant door open and held it for Molly.
"After you," he muttered, and he watched her shake her head.
"You're unbelievable," she whispered, wrapping one sure hand gently around the back of Bob's neck and guiding his lips closer to hers while she stood on her toes. "Unbelievably adorable."
Then her lips met Bob's as her body pressed against his. The kiss was too good. Perfect. He didn't touch her, but she touched him, letting her fingers slide into his hair while her other hand rested on his chest.
When Molly pulled her lips away, Bob chased them, practically begging for more. And with a smile and another soft brush of her lips against his, Bob was completely done for.
----------------------------
Bob was completely out of his depth. Molly had kissed him. Right outside of this hole in the wall pizza place which was packed with people. Now she was holding his hand again while she sweet talked the high school aged kid who was seating everyone into giving up the last table.
The kid was blushing the same color Bob probably was. "You have a party of five? That's a table for four," he muttered.
"We don't mind squeezing in," she said with a smile that would probably send that kid into heart palpitations.
But next thing Bob knew, he was pulling out a chair for her and sliding into the seat next to her. "That was pretty smooth," he said with a laugh as the kid left the menus and walked away still blushing.
"You liked that?" Molly asked, cocking her head to the side and looking at Bob. "I know a lot of moves, Coach Bob. All of them are smooth."
Bob's cock twitched at her words, and he had to grab a menu and pretend like he still knew how to read.
Flirting. Flirting. He was sure he'd never mastered this skill. He didn't even know how to fake it. But Molly wasn't looking at him with annoyance when it took him probably a full minute to respond. She was just smiling softly and glancing between him and the menu in front of her.
"You know," he said softly, "you're so pretty, you don't even need to be smooth. It's very overwhelming the way you put them together."
"Bob," she gasped softly, and he finally met her eyes. "Please, Bob. I can't with how fucking sweet you are."
Molly leaned in, so close to him, and Bob thought maybe he was going to be awarded another kiss. But her soft laughter filled his ears instead. "And the baseball pants? A girl can only handle so much."
She reached out and gently adjusted his glasses before letting her hand come to rest on his shoulder. And then Bob was thankfully saved from having to think of a response, because her sister showed up with Bradley and Everett.
"Over here!" Molly called, and she popped up out of her chair. When she sat down again, she let her hand trail down Bob's arm as she called for Everett to come sit on her lap. "Ev can take turns sitting on our laps, and I get him first!"
Bob could barely manage to make conversation with Molly sitting next to him, laughing with her nephew. He liked this too much, and he was still having a hard time thinking of something to say. Her leg was bumping his as Everett asked, "Hey, Coach Bob, do you like the Phillies, too?"
Molly turned to hear his answer, just as interested as Everett was. "I'm a Colorado Rockies fan," Bob replied, smiling at Everett.
"No offense, but I'm happy my mom likes Coach Bradley, because the Phillies are cooler than the Rockies."
Molly was silently holding in her laughter as Everett climbed off of her lap in favor of Bradley's. "Yeah, I'm happy about that, too," she whispered to Bob, eyes playful. "Wouldn't want to have to fight my own sister."
Bob sat in shock for a moment as the pizza was dropped off at the table. He let everyone else grab for slices, waiting to go last, but Molly dropped a piece onto his plate before grabbing one for herself.
"Thank you," Bob told her, once again distracted as she bit into her own slice. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and Bob decided it was more satisfying to watch Molly eat a slice of pizza than to eat one himself. She kept stealing glances at him while she ate, and Bob hastily bit into his dinner. At least he didn't have to talk right now.
But as the meal ended and the check was dropped off, Bob quickly pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He didn't mind paying for everyone as he rarely went out, but Bradley tossed his credit card across the table. "Split it," he told Bob while he returned to coloring with Everett.
"I can get it," Molly said, frantically digging around in her purse that looked like it was full of receipts, mints and pens.
"No," Bob said. "It's my pleasure." But Molly abandoned her purse and reached for his wallet instead.
"No, no, I can't let you pay," she groaned, leaning on his body while he kept his wallet out of her reach. "Bob!" she said, sounding scandalized. But Bob could feel her breasts pressing against his arm as she practically crawled onto his lap. She was bringing all of his feelings to the surface. She was just too exciting to be around.
He laughed as he said, "Why don't you want me to pay? I'm happy to do it."
She eased back into her own seat and crossed her arms. "I'm not used to guys being courteous. It's doing things to me, Uncle Bob."
It was only fair since she was doing things to him. She pouted playfully and glared at him out of the corner of his eye. Then the waitress took Bob's credit card as well as Bradley's and went to split the bill in half.
Bob pressed his lips together and turned to Molly, saying, "You know, you could at least say thank you." Then he draped his arm across the back of Molly's chair, just waiting to see what she would say.
Molly turned to face him again, her gaze lingering on his mouth. Bradley and Everett were suddenly heading for the door, and her sister was hustling along behind them.
Bob was basically alone with Molly now, and his cock twitched as she bit her lip and said, "Thanks, Lieutenant Floyd."
When she immediately stood, Bob had the fleeting thought that he should probably remain seated for another minute, because Molly was really winding him up. But when she glanced back at him as she walked away, Bob was on his feet and holding the door for her and walking along next to her back to her car.
He wanted Molly to touch him again, but he really wasn't sure he knew how to touch her the way she would like. He was dying for another kiss, but if she expected him to do much more than that, he was going to be lost.
Molly leaned back against her car and looked up at him in the darkness of the parking lot. Bob was a few inches away, close enough to feel her warmth as the night cooled off.
Her voice was soft, somewhere between teasing and seductive. "Are you thinking about kissing me, Bob?"
He shivered, thinking about doing everything to her. "D-Do you want me to?"
"You didn't answer my question."
Bob figured he didn't have anything to lose by being honest right now. "Yes. I'm thinking about kissing you, Molly. How would you expect me to think about anything else?"
She moaned softly which had Bob stumbling toward her as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the lips. Her whole body was right there, and she wasn't being shy about touching him. So he let his hands rest gently on her waist, at just the right spot that was neither too high nor too low.
Her lips were soft on his, but when she tasted him with her tongue before nibbling his lower lip between hers, he squeezed her waist.
"Mmm." The soft hum at the back of her throat had him thinking the filthiest things, and Bob was scared she'd be able to feel him where she was snug up against him. When she nudged his glasses with her nose, she giggled against his lips. "I like your glasses."
Molly's body fit perfectly with his, and when Bob realized he had her pressed between his body and her car, he released her lips and took a step backwards. The rise and fall of her chest as she said, "I'll drive you back to your car," had him hypnotized. But Bob managed to open her door and gently close it after she was inside. He was able to make his way around to the passenger side and get in without too much effort.
"Let me see your phone," Molly said softly. Bob fumbled with it but managed to hand it to her. She entered her phone number and saved it, and Bob looked at her name there on his phone screen while she drove away from the restaurant.
He was never going to recover.
----------------------------
Omg!!! I love Bob and Molly so much! I hope you're all caught up with Batting Practice to best enjoy this fic as a dessert to round out your meal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone when bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!
PART 2
@theamuz
@thedroneranger
@cherrycola27
@katiedid-3
@bradshawsbitch
@je-suis-prest-rachel
@callsign-magnolia
@avaleineandafryingpan
@t-nd-rfoot
@wkndwlff
@eddiemunsonreader
@wintercap89
@the-fever-of-mankind
@yanna-banana
@lovingperfectionsblog
@daisydont-lie
@sappy-seresin
@birdy-bat-writes
@cutelittlefakejourneys
@cottagecori
@fandom-princess-forevermore
@sotalife
@shrimping-for-all
@xoxabs88xox
@rileyanntoinette
@mannsachds
@midnightmagpiemama
@greatszu
@zetasaturno99
@lovingrobertfloyd
@chicomonks
@taytaylala12
@captain-fandomwriter58
@grxcisxhy-wp
@hobireasns
@wolfquake23
@ohgodnotagainn
@toobouquet
@paintlavillered
@roostette
@seitmai
@tigermoon3
@noonenuts
@amiets2
#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd fic#bob fluff#bob floyd#bob floyd fanfiction#bob floyd x oc#robert bob floyd#robert floyd fic#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#the curveball#roosterforme#batting practice
646 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
marlenem5
A piece of paradise
humans4vampires
still in my twilight phase, sorry
booptasticbadonkadonk
Mr.Pineapple and Me
ebonyhaired
𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱
dafinhoo
...De Passagem!