#SOMETHING FEELS AMISS: musings. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azrielsdove · 4 months

Note

I had the idea late at night so idk if you don’t want to write that, i understand haha

Reader and azriel are mates and have been for a while, nesta and elain were made and feyre and rhys asked cassian and azriel to look after them. Reader was okay with it but elain showed her a different side then the others, where she is rude and is telling her az will be hers, reader tried to bring it up in private but no one believed her because elain is so nice in front of everyone. Elain starts to sit in readers place and stands next to az, so reader isn’t even going out anymore. Az has a lot of other missions as well and tells reader that he only loves her and elain means nothing to him, maybe elain overheard that. After a mission az gives rhys his reports and then fell asleep on the couch, elain lays down next to him but he is so out that he doesn’t even feel her, reader wants to see after az and sees that, when she is trying to leave, rhys finds her and she shows him everything that happened even the parts where elain was rude, reader then leaves for awhile to get away from everything and azriel just loses it. You could add more angst if you want but i would love for a happy end with az and reader maybe where is is also pregnant?

The Other Woman: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Spiraling thoughts

***

Elain Archeron was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

You understood the she had gone through incomprehensible trauma along with her sister, and you understood why Rhys would appoint Azriel and Cassian to help them. You had no issue allowing your mate to help the poor girl come back to life, accepting her new fate. No, that was not the problem.

The problem was that she was a nasty, two-faced, bitch.

The first time it happened you were completely taken aback, shocked by the words that had come from the otherwise soft-spoken female.

“He’s going to be mine, you know.”

You had stilled your movements, turning slowly to see her peeking out from the library doors. “Excuse me?” You asked, certain you had misunderstood.

She gave a sneering smile. “Azriel. I’m going to make him mine.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that had burst from you. “Okay then,” you said, moving to continue walking. You made a note to bring it up to your mate later, warn him that Elain may have gotten too attached.

Unfortunately the following days had been hectic, Azriel was sent on a dangerous mission for Rhys. You hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to him, and with the state he came back in you had no interest in adding anything else to his plate.

It happened again a few days later.

“Why would he stay with you when i’m here?” She asked, looking you up and down.

You raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry? What are you on about?”

She rolled her eyes. “Azriel, obviously. Why would he need you any longer? I’m certain I can satisfy him miles better than you can.”

“Mhm,” you mused, nodding at her wild claims. “Do you understand the mating bond?”

She made a noise of annoyance, crossing her arms in front of her. “I have a mate, and I can’t stand him. That ‘bond’ means nothing to me.”

“It means something to Az,” you said, staring her down. “What has he done that makes you think he’s interested?”

She gave a pretty smile, smoothing the skirts of her dress. “Feyre has Rhys, Nesta has Cassian. It only makes sense, does it not? Three sisters, three brothers. He’s smart enough to have already figured it out. The only thing standing in our way is you.”

You hummed at her delusions, turning to leave the room. “Have a nice night, Elain,” you said, acting as if she had just been talking about the weather. You refused to give her the satisfaction of upsetting you.

Some nights later you were sitting with Azriel as he caught up with his brothers, lost in thought while you sipped your wine. You heard a faint call of your name, turning to meet the concerned eyes of your husband. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked, scanning you over for anything amiss.

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“You’re thinking pretty hard there. Az was calling your name for ages,” Cassian laughed, but his eyes showed the same concern. You sighed, taking a bigger drink of your wine.

“I’ve just been dealing with something, that’s all,” you said, swirling the liquid in your glass nonchalantly. Azriel watched you closely, trying to read what was wrong.

“You can always tell us,” Rhys offered, tipping his glass your way.

You took a deep breath, looking down at your hands. “Have any of you ever had any issues with Elain?”

Three blank stares met yours.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” you muttered into your wine.

“What kind of problems?” Azriel pressed, worry in his expression.

“She’s just been, a little….rude to me.”

Silence.

And then loud laughter.

“Elain?” Cassian gasped out, pounding on the table. “Quiet, docile, Elain? Are you sure you aren’t confusing her with Nesta?” You shot him a nasty look, Rhys’ own chuckle drawing your attention to him.

“How has she been rude?” He asked, not hiding the smile on his face.

You looked down at the ground, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “Maybe i’m just reading into it. I thought she was jealous…that she was into Az.” You regretted even bringing the topic up as Cassian and Rhys broke out in more laughter.

“No way! Elain has a mate, remember? Why would she go after a married male?” You nodded at Cassian, acknowledging his words.

“Yea, i’m sure i’m just misunderstanding,” you mumbled, draining your glass in an instant. You stood, heading for the door.

“Aw now, we didn’t mean anything bad! It’s just such a shock that Elain would be trying to get Az!” Rhys called out behind you, trying to convince you to stay.

You looked back, eyes connecting with Azriel’s. “I’ll be up shortly,” he said, his unspoken words hanging in the air. He was not going to let his brothers get away with laughing at you. You gave him a small smile and continued out to your room, leaving him to deal with them.

***

Elain only grew worse after that. She started openly flirting with Azriel, laughing at anything he said and placing her hand playfully on his arm. He always pulled away from her, moving to stand by your side as a silent “Stop”.

She didn’t care.

Azriel spent the nights trying to convince you that Elain didn’t matter to him, that you were the only one for him. You wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, but the comments she made when no one else could hear were getting to you.

“You’re too ugly for him.”

“Don’t you think he would want someone younger? Are you even able to give him children at your ancient age?”

“I know he wants me. He looks at me when you aren’t paying attention.”

“You’re pathetic, you know. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can stand proudly at his side.”

Her words swam around your head, eating away at you. You were sinking down into yourself, drowning in self-doubt. What if she was right? What if Azriel really did deserve better?

You began spending more time locked away in your room, an attempt to avoid Elain’s nasty comments. You had no desire to see her throw herself at Azriel, and you didn’t think you could handle much more of her taunting. A rational part of you knew that this was ridiculous, your husband would never give her a second look. Another part of you was embarrassed that this young girl was so good at getting into your head, that she had rendered you a shell of yourself. The largest part of you, unfortunately, bought in to all she said and hid away in shame.

Azriel was getting progressively more worried about you.

“My love,” he murmured, stroking his hand through your hair as he held you close. “I have half a mind to tell Rhys to send her somewhere else. Why does she trouble you so?” He couldn’t understand how Elain had torn down his perfect wife, leaving this ghost in her place.

You buried your face farther into his chest, wishing you could just disappear. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

He sighed and held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You are the stars in the sky, the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze under my wings. Nothing, and no one, is comparable to you. Especially not Elain Archeron. You are all there is for me, you are my everything. My heart and my soul. She is nothing to me.”

Tears fell from your eyes and his words prompted you to look up, the love shining on his face washing over you. “I know, Az. I know it’s foolish to allow her to make me doubt us.” You ducked your head down, ashamed. “Though sometimes I still wonder if you should’ve been mated to someone more powerful.”

Azriel clicked his tongue at your age-old concern, a conversation the two of you had gone over many times. “You know as well as I do that that’s not true. You were the one cauldron-made for me. We were sworn to each other from the day of our creation. Do not ever forget that.” He slipped a hand under your chin, bringing you back up to look at him. He studied your face like it was a painting, like he needed to memorize everything he saw. His thumb came up and brushed away your tears as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “Elain will never be what you are.” He kissed you again and again, swallowing your fears with his adoration.

Neither of you noticed the form of the female standing outside the slightly open door.

***

Azriel was tired, shuffling through the house after yet another mission. He hated that he had been gone so often recently, especially with the issues you’ve been having with Elain. He was sick with worry over the whole situation, and was growing aggravated with Rhys’ lack of action. Even when Azriel had spoken to his brother himself, the High Lord still struggled to believe his quiet sister-in-law was being so horrible. Az even went to Feyre, who got upset that he would accuse her sister of such things.

He ran a hand over his face, making his way to the library to find you. He was disheartened when he opened the doors and found you weren’t there. He took a seat on one of the leather couches, deciding to just wait for you there. Azriel knew that you often came around this time to browse the books, and he was too tired to continue searching for you. He gave a gentle tug on the bond to alert you that he was home before tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

***

Elain was positively delighted to find the sleeping form of the Shadowsinger. She looked around quickly to make sure no one saw as she gently closed the doors to the library behind her. She wasted no time in curling up next to him on the couch, resting her head in his lap. She slowly dragged his arm over her waist, a wicked smile coming across her face. She knew you would be coming to find him, and what a sight you would see when you did.

***

The second Cassian dropped you at the House of Wind you were practically running through the halls. When you had felt the tug that meant Azriel was back, you demanded Cass bring you home in the middle of lunch. He grumbled about not being done as you packaged the food up for him, pulling him from the little restaurant. You were in much better spirits today, Elain hadn’t approached you in days. When Cass suggested going down to Velaris to eat you had jumped at the opportunity, excited to be in the happy bustle of people who lived there.

You slid to a stop in front of the library, one of his shadows twisting around your legs. “Hello,” you cooed, a smile on your face. The shadow started moving faster, almost as if it were upset. Worry took over your heart then, concern that Azriel had gotten hurt.

You threw open the library doors and stopped dead in your tracks. There, on the couch, was Azriel. Uninjured, asleep.

And curled up on his lap was Elain.

You stood there in pure horror, not noticing Cassian coming up behind you. “What?” He said, taking in the sight in front of you. You didn’t realize you were shaking in rage until he put his hands on your arms, trying to pull you away.

“Get off of me,” you ground out, ripping your arms out of his grasp. Cassian called your name, trying to stop the explosion that was about to happen. Your vision was red, the anger and pain of seeing the two of them cuddled up like lovers too much to handle. “I’m going to kill them.”

“You will not,” came a powerful voice, Rhys stepping in front of you. “My office. Now.” You wanted to spit at his feet and tell him to shove off, but one look at his eyes told you that wouldn’t end well. You huffed, allowing him to lead you away.

Unnoticed on the couch, Elain smiled.

***

“Why would you stop me?” You practically yelled, pacing back and forth in front of Rhys.

“You can’t murder my brother and sister-in-law in their sleep.” He said, as if this was a regular occurrence.

“That filthy bitch,” you swore, turning to face Rhys head on. “I tried to tell you who she truly was, and no one listened.” You glared at him, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Elain has never showed signs of what you spoke of. As horrible as it is, could it be that Azriel was a part of this?” He regretted the words before he was even done saying them.

“Why do you refuse to believe that she could be playing a dirty game behind your back? Behind everyone’s back? I had no reason to make up lies about her, Rhysand,” you spat out, power crackling at your fingertips.

He stood, coming to stand by your side. He pulled your hands into his, looking down at your glowing fingertips. “Show me,” he said, voice hardly above a whisper. You faltered, power fading away. You were embarrassed to let him see how badly she had affected you, but you knew he would not believe you otherwise.

“Okay,” you whispered, looking up into his eyes. You felt the strange sensation of Rhys entering your mind, pulling through all your memories with Elain. He listened to all the nasty things she said when no one else could hear, and felt the pain she caused you. When he was done he looked ashamed of himself, upset that he had brushed you off.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his hands from yours. “I should have trusted you.”

You nodded. “Yea, you should have.” Rhys looked at the ground, his hands in his pockets. “I want to go away for a while. Anywhere. I can’t stand to be around her any longer, and I certainly have no interest in speaking to him.” You couldn’t even say your mates name, the hurt cutting too deep in your chest.

“As you wish,” Rhys said, “I’ll meet you on the balcony in an hour.”

***

Azriel woke with a start. Something was very, very wrong. Starting with the female asleep next to him.

He didn’t stop himself from jumping up, nearly knocking her to the floor. Not that he cared. “What are you doing?!” He hissed between his teeth, angry that she would pull a stunt like this.

Elain smiled up at him prettily, stretching as if she had been asleep for hours. “I was just sleeping, Azriel.” He hated the way she spoke his name, as if it were a sensual demand. “Your sweet little mate didn’t come to you, did she?” She fake pouted, tucking a hand under her chin.

Azriel’s eyes flared, his shadows whipping through the room. He stepped closer to her, hauling her to her feet with a strong grip on her arm. “This game you’re playing is done. Speak to me or my wife again, and I will make sure it’s the last thing you do.” He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty at the fear in her eyes as he strode from the room, searching for you.

***

Rhys had taken you out to the cabin at your request. You wanted to be somewhere alone, but safe. “What should I tell him?” He asked as he headed to leave.

“Tell him to figure out what he wants before it’s too late.” Rhys nodded, looking you over once more. “If you need anything, i’m just a call away,” he quipped, tapping the side of his head before winnowing out of sight.

You sighed, sinking down into the plush sofa in front of the fireplace. You stared into the burning flames for what felt like hours, lost in your own mind. Azriel wouldn’t have lied to you, would he? Your mate has always been an honest male, had always loved you with everything he had. You found it hard to believe that he was messing around with Elain behind your back, regardless of what you saw. You knew how nasty she could be, and wouldn’t put it past her to pull something like this.

At the same time, the image of his arm draped lovingly around her was burned into your brain. You saw it over and over again, how well they complemented each other. The strong, dark Shadowsinger and the quiet, warm Archeron sister. Had the cauldron made a mistake? You couldn’t help but remember her words, ‘three brothers and three sisters.’ You and Azriel were mated decades before she was born, it could be plausible that the cauldron had made a mistake.

Yet the cauldron had also given Elain her own mate. It wouldn’t mess up twice, would it? Unless the cauldron had meant for you and Lucien to be mated, and Elain with Azriel. Perhaps something got crossed over and the pairings were mixed. Could all your years of joy and love with Azriel be wrong? You never felt anything was awry when you were with him, always feeling like you were truly meant to be.

You sighed and wrapped a blanket tight around you, willing it to keep away the lonely cold. You couldn’t imagine a life without Azriel by your side, and you didn’t know what you would do if that’s what he wanted.

***

“Where is she?!” Azriel bellowed through the halls of the House, shadows infiltrating every room and hallway. Rhys and Cass stood in front of him, trying to calm their brother. “I know you know! What kind of a game are you playing, hiding my own mate from me?!” He was angrier than he had ever been, angry at himself, at Elain, at Rhys. How could he have let Elain play him like that?

“I won’t tell you anything until you’ve calmed down,” Rhys stated, power rising to match Azriel’s.

“Calmed down? You expect me to calm down when that witch has been ruining my mates life, and now she’s disappeared and no one will tell me where she went?!” Azriel was seething, pacing angrily in the hall.

“I’d watch how you speak about my sister, Azriel.” He whirled around to see Feyre, eyes cool as she took in his agitated form.

“Your sister is a disgusting, selfish, spoiled brat! Someone tell me where my mate is before I tear this city apart!” He didn’t care that he was yelling at his High Lady, at his High Lord and brother. All he could see was red, and he was half a second away from leaving the House and looking for her on his own.

“Enough, Azriel,” Rhys commanded, bringing attention back to him. “Feyre, unfortunately it does seem true that Elain has been acting…undesirably.” There was a silence for a moment, her eyes widening as he shared the memories you showed him.

“Oh, Az,” she soothed, taking a step closer and reaching a hand out for him.

“Don’t touch me!” He shouted, pulling back from her. “I need to know where she is. I have to explain that what she saw was a dirty trick.” The anger was fading from his voice, despair taking over. What if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore? He wouldn’t be able to handle losing you over this.

“Az,” Rhys started, voice calm. “She asked to go away. You’re going to have to give her time to process what has happened.” He took a step towards his brother. “I am sorry I didn’t listen before. She showed me her memories, of everything Elain had said. She will be dealt with, I promise you. I should have never let it get this bad.”

Azriel knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but that didn’t stop him from lashing out. “Yea, you should’ve listened. When has she ever lied to you, Rhysand?” He shook his head. “Let me know if she contacts you,” was the last thing he said before storming off towards your shared room.

***

Some time had passed since you left Velaris, and the loneliness was threatening to overtake you. You had felt some tugs on the bond once Azriel realized you were gone, and had shut him out. You didn’t need him bothering you as you tried to figure out what to do. After pondering for days, you still had no idea what was true or not. You felt like you were losing your grip on reality, that you were sinking down into a pit of your own creation. You’d hardly moved from the couch since you arrived, staring into the endless flames.

A knock at the door startled you, but you no longer had the energy to truly care. You turned your head slowly to see Rhys walk in, eyes full of worry. “Have you moved at all?” He asked, taking in that the food he had left was untouched.

You shrugged.

Rhys came and sat next to you on the couch, looking you over. “He’s losing it without you,” he said softly, unsure what kind of mental state you were in.

Your eyes moved from the fire to him, stare blank. “I think you should come home. Being out here alone isn’t doing you any good. You’re withering away to nothing.”

Good. You’d rather disappear than live with the idea of Azriel and Elain. Rhys seemed to read this on your face, gingerly grabbing one of your hands in his own. “She’s been removed from the House. She’s not allowed out without Feyre or myself with her. She won’t hurt you anymore.”

You blinked. “What does Azriel think?” You asked, voice hoarse from no use.

“Az couldn’t care less about her. He’s worried about you.” There was a pleading in his eyes, begging you to come back with him.

“What if she was supposed to be cauldron-made for him?” Your voice was quiet, broken. You could feel the pain of your words as they hit Rhys, the shame of having ignored your attempts at warning him how Elain truly was.

“She isn’t. Even if you and Azriel were not mates, I have never met two people more suited for each other than you. It is clear that the love you hold is a special thing, something most won’t ever experience.” He tugs your hand closer. “Please. Come home.”

You didn’t know Rhys to lie to you, and your heart longed for Azriel. You couldn’t hide from this forever, regardless of how it turned out. “Okay,” you said, allowing him to pull you to your feet and winnow you back to Velaris.

***

Azriel was waiting when Rhys flew you back to the House, eyes wide as he took in the state of you. When Rhys set you down you immediately stumbled, head light from the lack of eating and sleeping. Azriel caught you before you could hit the ground, an alarmed gaze shooting to Rhys. “We will talk later,” he said, “take her to your room. I’ll send for Madja to check her over soon.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and carried you to your room, tucking you into the bed. You sunk into the familiar smell of him, trying to force the spinning in your head to disappear. “My love,” Azriel murmured, brushing hair out of your face. “What have I done?”

You opened your eyes and took him in. Truthfully, he didn’t look much better than you. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and his face was unusually gaunt. The stress of this situation had clearly taken its toll on the both of you.

“Are you in love with her?” You asked, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

Azriel looked at you as if you had grown two heads.

“I’m sorry? In love with Elain? In hate with her is more like it.” You couldn’t deny the acid that dripped from his words, the anger the permeated the room.

“I saw you two. Asleep in the library.”

He scoffed. “I fell asleep waiting for you. She took it upon herself to take advantage of the situation.” He looked down at his hands, silver lining his eyes. “I never should have let it go this far.”

You sat up slowly, reaching out for him. Azriel moved quickly, gently laying you back down as he laid beside you. “Easy, my love. Your body is weak.” You hadn’t realized how bad you had gotten during your time at the cabin, suddenly feeling dizzy and sick.

“I’m so sorry, Az. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t handle it,” you sobbed, not even noticing the tears that had started falling.

“No, no. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I should’ve fought harder against her, tried harder to get Rhys to listen.” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb through your tears. You curled into his touch, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest.

You cried until your head was pounding, Azriel whispering sweet nothings into your ears. “I love you. Only you.” Your tears slowly stopped, until you felt confident enough to look up at him.

“I love you. I shouldn’t have doubted you,” you said, leaning up to kiss him.

A knock sounded at the door. Azriel jumped up to get it, letting Madja into the room. She began checking you over, tsking at the state of you. “I’ll give you something for dehydration, and you’ll need to start introducing food again. Start with soup, and work your way up. I have a sleep aid as well, I recommend you take it promptly.” She ran her hands over your arms and legs, ensuring all your bones were still in good shape. She did the same over your head, shoulders, and chest.

“Your heart sounds good, and your lungs are working well. You were lucky the High Lord came when he did, much more of letting yourself wither away and you’d have a significantly harder recovery ahead of you,” she chided, continuing her check of your body. Her hands swept over your abdomen before she paused, bringing them back up. “Ah,” she murmured, Azriel immediately on guard.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” He asked, gripping your hand a tad too tightly.

Madja shook her head. “No, nothing is wrong.” She looked up at you and cocked her head. “You are a lucky girl, you know. Not many pregnant fae could have refused food and drink for that long and still kept a reasonably healthy body and fetus.”

You stared at her.

She stared back.

Azriel stared at the both of you.

“What?” You finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

She smiled, pressing her hands against your abdomen again. “A baby. Healthy, winged, i’d say 12 or so weeks along?” 12 weeks? You did the math in your head, realizing with a start that around 12 weeks ago Elain started terrorizing you. That shortly after that her words began affecting you worse and worse, that you couldn’t understand why she was able to make you so upset.

Now you knew.

“A baby,” Azriel whispered, looking at you. Madja took that as her cue to leave, placing the medicine on your nightstand and slipping from the room. He pulled you into his arms, inhaling your scent deeply. Sure enough, there it was. A lighter, fresh scent hidden under yours. He must have missed it throughout the recent stress and his back-to-back missions.

“A baby,” you whispered back, more tears threatening to fall. “Our baby.”

You saw tears of his own in Azriel’s eyes as he leaned down to kiss you, whispering “baby” in between each kiss.

The ordeal with Elain behind you, you allowed yourself to slip off into sleep, dreams of your future with Azriel and your child playing in your mind.

***

I’m so sorry this took so long for me to finish! I got into a bit of a writing rut, but I hope this was what you wanted. Thank you so much for your request! <3

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #requests #the other woman

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 year

Text

rogue ink

Daemon Targaryen x f!reader

word count: 3.4k ▪︎ masterlist

themes/warnings: fluff, language, very brief mention of smut

The reader is devastated at the loss of her precious journal, worried that it might fall into the wrong hands. And who better else to discover it, but the Rogue Prince himself?

It was a small thing.

A small, leather-bound journal. Filled with accounts of your days and nights, your deepest thoughts, your pains. An unassuming object, sort of tattered from use.

And it had been missing for three days. The gods were not good.

You searched everywhere. Every corner of your chambers, in all the pouches you had especially sewn onto your dresses, practically every inch of the Red Keep which you have called home ever since your family was invited to King Viserys' court.

And yet it was nowhere to be found.

It was immediately noticeable to your inner circle that something was amiss, but you just shrugged it off. One person you did confide in, however, was Princess Rhaenyra herself. The two of you quickly grew close after her former companion, Alicent, was sent off to wed some wealthy, Southern lord.

"So what if it has gone missing? Perhaps you have simply misplaced it? Anyway, we could easily get you a new one, y/n."

Your head swiftly turned in her direction, "I appreciate your tone of confidence, Rhaenyra - "

She nodded, making a playful show of curtsying.

" - but... I've scrolled down personal matters in those pages. Especially when it concerns..."

She paused in her step. Hands clasped behind her, she leaned forward, "Ah. I see."

When it concerns Daemon. But it need not be said aloud.

Rhaenyra has been privy to some of your musings about her beloved uncle. Only the ones that you would ever let befall on another person's ears, that is. Some of it... well... would be more than enough to make any maiden blush.

"How could I forget?" Rhaenyra smiled, "You fancy Daemon." Then her face turns sly, "He fancies you too, you know. But of course, I know why you would be reluctant to engage with all of... that."

Your hand reaches up in an attempt to hide your face from shame, "Gods, what would happen if anyone at court were to find it? It would only be so easy to determine that the thing is my possession. I've written my father's and mother's names on it, and yours, and Daemon's..."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around your shoulders, keeping you steady, "This court of sycophants never runs out of fodder for their dull conversations. Your journal might be spoken of for a day or two, then they shall move on to something of lesser import."

You sighed deeply, a mask of calm appearing on your visage, though Rhaenyra knew better.

It will be alright. Another half-truth. This loss will soon be a trifling thing.

If only...

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Daemon Targaryen has been having quite the interesting time as of late.

The pages of your small, tattered journal feel light on his fingertips, but he might be inclined to say that the mere feel of the parchment is exhilarating.

These thoughts were yours. These secrets, these desires were yours.

Truthfully, he has not been completely shy about his admiration for you. His precious dove. His sweetling. You thought nothing of it, knowing full well how he is. The Rogue Prince has been known to possess countless paramours.

And you are damned if you would allow yourself to be one of his mere passing fancies. To be bedded one night and forgotten the next.

He once thought that his admiration is not well-received, until one morning, when he watched as an object fell out of your dress as you sprinted down the hallway, headed to only the gods knew where. You bumped into several ladies of the court, mumbling rushed apologies, only to be met with irate stares, but you went on without any mind to them.

Daemon failed to hide the smile that sprung from his lips. He quietly shifted to the spot where you dropped something, and that's when he saw it. Your journal.

It could only be yours. Who else would scroll down that thinly veiled warning on the first page, dedicated to any stranger who might deign to read it?

Daemon, of course, believed himself immune to such threats and he hurriedly found a secluded place to sit down and immerse himself in the woman who has managed to take sanctum in his mind.

And his heart, but the notorious prince would still be loath to admit that.

A few pages in, with amusement dancing his eyes, his chest felt warm at the image of you inking these thoughts onto the parchment.

Then came – “Once more, if you might be a nosy intruder, turn away now, or the very worst fortunes shall fall upon you. I swear this on both the old gods and the new.”

Perhaps I should stop. After all, she just might impale me with mine own Dark Sister if she found this in my possession. Daemon’s hand hesitated as he was about to turn the next page.

He had half a mind to close your journal, partially resolved at returning it to your chambers without you even having to notice its loss, but his eyes were quickly drawn to the following words…

“I finally saw Prince Daemon Targaryen this morning.”

How could Daemon stop his perusing at that moment? He read on with renewed interest, yearning to know more of what you think about him.

“By the gods, he is as beautiful as he is infuriating. I was made to be the cupbearer in today’s small council meeting, and the Rogue Prince strolled in, well in the middle of the discussion, without any mind as to the disturbance that his late arrival caused, if any. Not a care in the seven kingdoms. He paid absolutely no mind to me, standing there in the corner.

But I saw him.”

Daemon found himself rolling his eyes. Of course, he would give off the worst impression upon the first moment she glanced at him. But then again…

She thinks me beautiful. Vanity had allowed him to glaze over the part where you call him “infuriating”.

I suppose I shall have further use for your precious book, my sweetling.

And so the next few days were spent raking your journal for passages about him. Daemon knows full well that doing so can be deemed a violation of your privacy, but if he can use this to get closer to you, then this is something that simply must be allowed.

In his eyes, it may even be necessary. He needs this. Wants it, even. He wants to get under your skin, and these pages all but symbolize that very thing.

After all, Daemon swore that he shall only read the parts wherein he is concerned, and that is well within his right, is it not?

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“Daemon is indeed something to behold. Yes, my opinion still stands.

However, I am not certain what to make of him. Is he to be trusted? No. Bloody well not. Is he kind? That is not really a word anyone would use to define him.

But… there is something… something in his eyes. Daemon is much more than the rogue scoundrel that his moniker deems him to be. He is more than just ‘dangerous’ or ‘unpredictable’ or a potential ‘second Maegor’ (Truthfully, I find it hard to believe that last thing). Daemon is… more than that.

I just can’t find the words to encapsulate him. Perhaps words never can.”

The days pass quickly, and Daemon finds himself opening your journal now and again.

He cannot help it. The more he reads, the more he learns of you. But that is not the only reason. He is also discovering himself, as it turns out - an image of himself that he has not entertained before.

Not only The Rogue Prince, but a person of greater value than his notorious misdeeds. He believes that you see something in him that not even he can see himself.

Something more. Something… good.

Though his intentions prove to be not entirely innocent, as is the usual case. He comes upon one specific part, with your penmanship turning into a nervous scribble. It is as if you were wary that someone might be looking over your shoulder and deign to discover what salacious scrawls you have put down about the Rogue Prince.

Daemon’s eyes hurriedly glide over the ink, basking in what he reads.

“I must confess something.

I know it is quite unbecoming of a lady. Of a maiden. But in the last hour of the owl, I…

I…

Oh, gods. I pleasured myself to the thought of him.

You know. It can only be him. Daemon.”

“Seven fucking save me.” Daemon finds himself cursing with delight at what he just read. So his sweetling does want him in return. Oh, you cannot even imagine what I will do to you…

“We have grown quite close, him and I. Daemon is… Daemon is aflame. There can be no better word for him. He is fire incarnate, and I am not afraid of getting burned.

Or… I don’t want to be. I just. Want. Him.

I want to feel him. I want to feel his lips on mine. Not long ago, he leaned in close and his musk enveloped me. His lips very nearly grazed my cheek. Silly me could not come up with a witty response then and there. A shame. But can you blame me? All I could think about was snogging the fucking Rogue Prince himself!

Ha! Gods!

Perhaps I have gone insane.”

Daemon chuckles freely, alone in his chambers, your journal firmly between both hands. Any clueless onlooker would think it strange, as the Rogue Prince does not make a habit of exhibiting such behaviour. The pleasure in the tone of his laughter rings true and genuine.

If it becomes known that the reason for this is the Lady Y/n, then only a fool would dare deny the centre of their prince’s affections.

“But I cannot deny it.

I cannot have him. I shall not… he is… he does not seem willing to devote himself to just one lady. One wife. There is never a lack of gossip about the prince’s exploits in the Street of Silk, and a hundred other brothels besides.

His need cannot be sated it seems. I… surely, I will not be enough to sate it.

And I won’t allow myself to be one among many paramours.

If I am to love, I have to be chosen as the only one.

However…

Mother spare me.

However… I find myself imagining Daemon’s hands roaming freely across the planes of my skin, fondling my chest, his fingers drifting downward until they are buried in the heat of my soaked cunt.

When the castle is asleep, I find myself writhing in my sheets, thinking about the prince’s massive co – “

A knock echoes across the chambers. Daemon’s head shoots up immediately, irritation blooming across his face, but his cheeks remain flushed from what he just read.

Who the fuck is this?

His squire enters, a gangly young lad of six and ten. He bows hurriedly, and with a shaky voice, he implores, “My prince, you are being summoned by His Grace King Viserys to the small council meeting.”

Has that blasted formality come round again so soon? Daemon shrugs, turning back to the pages. Though he can hardly focus with the snivelling interruption still present in the room, who risks arousing his master’s anger when he speaks once more, “Forgive me, my prince, but I have been instructed to report with - ”

“Will you remove yourself from my sight willingly, or shall I do it for you?”

“M-my prince… I…” The squire nearly stumbles backwards at Daemon’s wroth.

“Leave. The small council will have the privilege of my presence in due course.”

And so, Daemon is again left alone, his squire’s rapid footsteps practically bolting out the doors.

Smirking, he greets your journal like an old friend. “Now, where was I?”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Your newly gifted journal boasts of a far more opulent appearance than its predecessor. Rhaenyra made sure that the Maesters bound only the finest parchment and leather for this very thing; the cover even has gold and red embossments, as well as inscriptions in High Valyrian.

You were reluctant to accept such a gift, but Rhaenyra was persistent. And everyone knows, there is no refusing the Realm’s Delight when she has her heart set on something.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to know of the whereabouts of your journal… well, your old journal now.

Nestled in your usual spot in the gardens, you turn your new journal over in your hands, admiring the handiwork of the Maesters.

The rear possesses the inscription - Isse otāpagon hen ñuha ojūdan udra, se isse ōños hen skoros pirtra hembar… - which Rhaenyra explained as roughly translating to - In remembrance of my rogue ink, and in joyous anticipation of what lies ahead…

You did not fail to notice the deliberate placement of the word rogue, which can only be Rhaenyra’s doing. Clever.

Rogue ink. Rogue Prince. Am I to call myself Lady Rogue now?

“My Lady.” His voice calls out, nearly startling the journal out of your hands. Oh fuck.

“Prince Daemon,” you swivel around to his voice, and sure enough, he leans against one of the tall hedges, studying you. Not a care in the seven kingdoms, as always.

“Good morrow, sweetling.” He saunters over, permanent smirk on his lips. “That is a lovely thing you have got there,” he says, gesturing to the new journal in your lap.

“Why yes, it is.” You lay it down beside you, and he promptly picks it up without even asking for your leave.

“Isse otāpagon hen ñuha ojūdan udra…” He reads, the High Valyrian sounding musical on his tongue. Far better than how you attempted to voice out the same words.

“Hmm.” He hands it over, and sits right next to you, stretching his long legs in front of him.

“Rogue ink.” He mumbles thoughtfully, glancing at you.

“It was Rhaenyra’s idea.” You say, your throat suddenly feeling dry, your heart racing from his proximity.

“Ah, yes. I was very sorry to hear of how you lost your journal. Rhaenyra said you were quite devastated.” Daemon lies plainly. His beloved niece never shared this with him, for she knows you would not approve.

“She did?”

“I do recall, yes.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat, choosing to let it pass. “Well, she was awfully kind in giving me this as a replacement. I could not thank her enough.”

Daemon smiles, casting his gaze downward, as if he is privy to a secret that is kept from you. Does the handsome bastard know something?

“It is a shame that I could not find it,” you sigh, “I am still perturbed by the thought of someone whose intentions are unsavoury, reading all that I have written.”

“Whatever would you do to them, were you to find out their identity, my sweetling?”

You shake your head slightly at the name he has given you. Anything to distract from the warmth spreading across your face. You lean in closer, suddenly, much to Daemon’s surprise, “Would you let me wield Dark Sister, so I might teach them a lesson?”

Daemon swallows, the sight of your darkened, mischievous expression spurring him on.

“I might,” he leans in, “but I am far too fond of myself to allow something like that to transpire. Besides,” his fingers languidly trace your jawline, “I have read that you are far too fond of me to do such a thing.”

Your stomach falls, the sensation so sudden that you simply freeze in place, with Daemon’s warm breath still fanning your face.

“You…”

Your face scrunches in a mixture of what can only be shock and anger and embarrassment. Daemon only finds it endearing. Adorable.

He starts, “Now, sweetling, try not to be cross - ”

You do not let him finish. You punch him in the shoulder, hard, making him lean away. Your legs seem to have a mind of their own, because you find yourself pacing quickly.

Gods, I just assaulted a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. More pacing. Who cares? It’s Daemon, and he deserves it.

The sound of his laughter echoes in the gardens, grating in your ears.

He stands, pulling something out of the pocket of his trousers, and presenting it to you. Your little, rogue journal.

Wrenching it from him, you can only ask, “You stole it from me?”

He looks appalled, “No, I would not do that. I found it. It might occur to you to thank me. Who knows what could have happened if anyone else besides me discovered your precious journal when you dropped it in a haste.”

“Thank you?” You stare him down, your left hand squeezing your journal firmly, threatening to destroy its very structure. “Why did it take so long for you to return it to me? Did you… did you…”

“Read it?” His eyes rake your face, over and over, enamoured by the passion he sees.

You say nothing. Of course he has.

“You must forgive my curiosity, sweetling. I could not help myself, plainly, to have some glimpse into your mind, into your heart… I simply… I had to.”

You soften a little at that. “Did you read everything?”

Daemon steps forward, overwhelming your space once more, “Not everything. Not quite.”

He gently pries the journal from your fist tucked beside you, and you watch as he flits through the pages as if it were his own. He whispers, “Only what you wrote about me.”

“Gods.” You desperately look toward the sky for some respite, not finding any.

He lands on the page he was searching for, a smile spreading across his face. “I am flattered, my lady, about how you envisioned us in what can only be… very compromising positions.”

“Enough, Daemon, please…” you bite your lip, as his hands drift across your stomach, settling low on your hips, pulling you flush against him.

The journal has been discarded by your feet, and Daemon only has eyes for you. His voice is genuine when he says, “You have written about me as if I were… someone else. Someone more.”

Your eyes catch how his tongue flicks across his lips. You start to give in, and say, “Daemon, I write only what I see.”

His lips are curled in their familiar roguish way, when he drifts even closer, tilting your face up at him with one hand.

“Daemon…”

“Sweetling… let me give you something to write about.”

In true Daemon fashion, he does not reign himself in.

His lips land on yours. The impact catches you by surprise, making you take a few steps back, and he promptly follows suit. Your bodies move in sync, until your back collides into one of the marble plinths.

His tongue pries your mouth open wide, snaking past your teeth in a frenzy. Without breaking the kiss, he takes your hands, and guides them to the back of his neck, so that you might hold him in turn. You do, burying your fingers in his silver tresses.

Your lips battle each other, and Daemon tilts your head back so that he might advance more. A low growl escapes his chest as his teeth carefully clamp down on your bottom lip, pulling at the flesh.

He pulls away, pleased at how swollen your lips have become due to his work, “If I were inclined to write as you do, the words would doubtlessly be a tribute to you, sweetling.”

You did not expect that.

Still reeling from the taste of his mouth, you finally smile, though wryly, “You could only be telling me what I wish to hear. Soften my anger at how you invaded my most intimate musings.”

He nods once, one hand reaching up to lean on the plinth above your head. His violet eyes bore into yours, burning with unmistakable desire.

“I could indeed.” He kisses you again, his lips briefly pressing against your own, with a gentleness that is quite unusual for the Rogue Prince. “But mayhaps I shall prove to be quite convincing.”

You take a deep breath, peering up at him in a haze. Your shaky nerves finally settle, and you drink him in. Your rogue muse. The object of your affection, as he now knows. “Prove it then. My new journal is in need of fresh accountings. What better thing to write about than the taste of your lips…”

Another kiss, and another.

“I am yours, sweetling.”

Been a while, loves! Hectic stuff + writing ruts can tend to cause such breaks, but I'm glad to be back and writing again ❤️

Yes, it seems that I sometimes take weeks (even months) to update series works. But then I'll get oneshot ideas, and they get done within a day (like this one). I can't explain it either 🙃

But anyway - series updates up... soon enough!

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen oneshot #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen imagine #matt smith

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athenaluthor · 3 months

Text

The Beginning

pairing- darth vader x reader

summary: A morning with his wife and son, what could go wrong? Vader's faith in Palpatine has finally begun to crack. Is this the beginning of the end?

warnings: SFW, Unburnt!Vader, Husband!Vader, Dad!Vader, Pregnant!Reader, fluff, Vader being a dad and lovesick husband, nameless son, slight child abuse(by Palpatine), mentions of Palpatine

Word count: 1.7k (unedited)

side note: any ideas for their kids' names?

masterlist

Vader creeps into the room quietly, not wanting to wake up the sleeping boy despite him being a heavy sleeper. His son's bedroom is warm and cozy, a stark difference from the imposing skyscrapers of Coruscant just outside the window. The sight that greets Vader tugs at his heartstrings.

His little boy lays sprawling on the bed, small blond curls poking out here and there, with small snores escaping him. Blankets are falling off the bed and his plushies lay messily on the floor, yet his son remains unbothered. He reckons the boy could sleep through anything. An invasion could take over Coruscant long before his son would wake.

The boy was such a deep sleeper it worried Vader at times. The force drains you a great amount especially during childhood, which is enough justification to have a chef curate meal plans for his son. Thankfully, Vader feels everything through the force. If something is ever amiss with his son or wife, he would know.

Vader sits down on the bed, hand instinctively reaching out to stroke his son's head. The boy is a carbon copy of him, from the hair, to the face and even the way he sounds, all reminds Vader of Anakin. The little boy's curls felt so soft between his fingers, a stark contrast to Vader's calluses.

Luckily for Vader, his son is far more well-mannered and kind than he ever will be. Courtesy of his wife, he supposes. The little boy is intelligent and cheeky like Anakin was, but he is far more empathetic and good-hearted. Only his wife, that kriffing angel of a woman, could turn his child into this beautiful and kind boy.

Suddenly, a sleepy voice snaps Vader out of his thoughts, “Papa?”

“Good morning. Did you sleep well,hmm?” replies Vader, smiling at the boy.

“Mmhm. No bad dreams.” Says his son in between big yawns and a stretch.

Vader takes this opportunity to pick the boy up and bring him onto his lap. Sleepy, the boy falls right back asleep with his head on Vader's shoulder and arms tightly wrapped around his neck. Vader melts each time the boy does this and today is no exception. Feeling his little boy's body melt onto his and the soft little breaths, it makes him want to stay like this for eternity.

Vader kisses the boy's head, breathing in the smell of his baby shampoo that seemed to fade each day the boy grows older.

Then, Vader wraps his arms around the boy and stands up to carry him. He adjusts the boy a little, making sure the boy is comfortable and wouldn't slip before moving out the door. The walk over to Vader's room does nothing to jolt the little boy whose sleep takes priority over everything else. His breathing is steady and Vader swears the boy is starting to snore softly.

“Snoring? Already?” Vader muses to himself.

Once there, Vader lays the boy on the bed and within seconds, the boy sprawls out on the bed. Vader supposes your parents bed is always much more comfortable than your own since his son seems so happy on his bed.

“He's sleepy.” says his wife, looking at their sleeping son as she steps out of the bathroom.

“He always is. The world is dead to him until he decides to wake.” Vader replies, smiling at he boy's antics.

Vader turns to look at his wife when she walks past him to the closet. Belly swollen, full of his child, Vader could barely take his eyes off her.

She waddles instead of walking now, careful with her steps in an attempt to not slip. These days, all she asks from him is a massage here and there. Vader can't complain. Soon, his wife will give birth to a second child. All she asks him to do in return is to bring her food and make her feel good.

Joining her in the closet, Vader merely leans against the doorframe and stares as she moves about the room. Picking her dress, jewelry and fussing about how the tones of her shoes didn't match everything else. He adores to see how she moves, the way her hair shifts as she does and the look on her face when she finds the right combination of clothes.

They eventually fall into their usual rhythm. A comfortable morning routine of getting dressed and ready before facing the chaos of the galaxy. In a way, it was reprieve from the stress of the Empire that is certainly suffocating.

Just as his wife finishes her hair and makeup, their son stumbles into the room sleepily. The little boy immediately catches the attention of his parents.

“Mama? Papa?” His little voice fills the room, all shaky and sad.

Without hesitation, Vader crosses the room from his side of the closet to the door where his son stands. Vader kneels down, face-to-face with his son. His son is all red-faced and full of sobs.

Vader wipes the boy's tears before picking him up. He looks at his wife, who looks just as concerned beside him. Seeing their boy like this tugs at their heartstrings greatly, considering their son is rarely reduced to tears like this.

Vader gently strokes the boy's back while his wife softly asks, “What's wrong, sweetheart?.

“Don’t want to see it again!” The boy lets out through his sobs. His wife softly brushes their son's curls out of his face, cooing at him, trying to help him calm down.

“See what, hmm?” Vader asks.

“The man! The old man! He's scary and he hurt me!”

At his son's reply, a chill washes down Vader's spine. A foreboding feeling washes over him like no other.

“Hurt you?” his wife asks.

The question only spurs on their son's tears. Now, he's buried his face in the crook of Vader's neck.

Vader doesn't take notice of the tears that are soaking his collar. Instead, his thoughts are light years away. Somehow he knows that the man his son talks about is none other than his master. In his guts, Vader knows Palpatine is responsible for this.

By noon, their son is much calmer. The sobs and tears are gone, leaving behind a very tired little boy.

Vader decides against leaving and opts to work from his study at home. The dining room is also set up for his assistants and officers to use while they work.

His wife stays with their son who refuses to leave his parents’ room. Though, Vader is sure his wife wouldn't have let their son leave in the first place because Vader wouldn't either.

When Vader left his bedroom earlier, he made sure breakfast had been served and both his wife and son were comfortable. Eventually the little boy fell asleep listening to his parents chatter.

Vader wanted to stay with them both, unwilling to leave his pregnant wife with a hysterical child. Ensuring the attendants and maids weren't far away from his wife, he also increases the guards around the house. The latter more for his sanity than their safety, truly.

Even then, it took his wife a ridiculous amount of convincing before Vader agreed to leave and attend to his work. Vader doesn't say it out loud but something still feels wrong and he can't put his finger on it.

The force feels quiet, too quiet in Vader's opinion. The quietness reminds him of the calm before a storm and he despises every part of it. As a child, he often had this feeling on Tatooine before the sandstorms would hit. Vader's mother, Shmi, would often be on the receiving end of his ranting.

Tonight, he decides, he will meditate on it. With enough focus, the force will show him everything he needs to know.

The dark side in Vader thrums in anticipation. Undoubtedly, it is digging its claws deeper and deeper into him today as anger takes over him. These days, Vader cares little for anything else except for his little family and the thought of anyone hurting them is enough to fuel his dark side.

Perhaps he should cast runes all over his home. Vader's knowledge of the dark side runs as deep as his knowledge of the Jedi. During his travels, Vader has found several Sith holocrons containing different rituals, spells and incantations previous Sith Lords had used. All were far more powerful than anything he'd seen in his Jedi days.

Suddenly, one of his wife's handmaid rushes in.

“L-lord Vader! My lady has requested you come quickly.” comes her voice.

The sight makes Vader want to burn down the entire galaxy. Their son's entire back is covered in force lightning marks. Unfortunately, easily recognisable to Vader as he had been on the receiving end of it for many years.

Now, Vader is entirely sure that Palpatine has done this. Even if indirectly, Vader is sure Palpatine is involved.

Thoughts course through Vader's mind, "Are there other Sith Lords he is unaware of? How and why could his master have done this?".

No wonder the little boy was so distraught. He had refused any attempts of taking a bath which were miracles at calming him down. Both Vader and his wife found it odd.

Now, Vader knows he was just in pain. Vader is reeling, he feels as if he's been plunged into the freezing ocean's depth. The sight of his son has his stomach lurching, "he's a child, he's only a child!" he angrily thinks to himself.

Vader's gaze turns to his wife who's distraught is palpable through the force and Vader moves to her side when she clutches her bump with a whimper. Vader helps her sit down as she nearly falls to her knees, groaning in pain.

Helping her calm down, he sits beside her and embraces her. Hand stroking her back until he breathing evens and the tension in her body subsides. Pulling away, Vader moves to gently stroke her cheek and wipes her tears away.

In tears, she heartbreakingly asks him “Why has this happened to him?”

Vader leans his head in until his forehead and hers are flush against each other, choosing not to answer. He tucks her hair behind her, letting her lean into his touch.

Vader's faith in the Emperor has always been constant and unbending. The galaxy is certainly well aware of Vader's loyalty in carrying out the Emperor's orders.

How could Palpatine have done this? Let him believe he could have another chance at a family and go after his child. Has this been the plan all along? Was he blind all this time?

Has Emperor Palpatine truly betrayed him?

banner by @cafekitsune

#anakin skywalker x reader #darth vader x reader #anakin skywalker #darth vader #hayden christensen #vader x reader #star wars #fluff #angst

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strawberryforks · 3 days

Text

better than hemingway // damian wayne x ironrot!reader

summary: you and your boyfriend have WEIRD sleep schedules, your nemesis is a bird, you’re a thief, and this is part one of a new series.

warnings: swearing, blood, violence, criminal activity (idk man, you’re not a good guy)

a/n: reader and damian are 18/19. requests are open <3 feel free to spam

word count: 1174

it’s pitch black in the apartment–all of the lights are off, and you, making your footsteps featherlight have no intentions of turning any of them back on. your boyfriend, who you’re certain is an insomniac is up at all hours of the night and the lightest sleeper you’ve ever met. it’s because of this that you two don’t usually sleep in the same bed. you were friends and roommates before you were anything more so aside from the occasional sleepover and exchange of clothes (damian has less sweaters then he started with, tee shirts too as you love to sleep in them) not much has changed. your room is still decorated with posters, flooring comprised solely of dirty clothes, empty water bottles, pins and stuffed animals, and his is still perfectly organised. you’re opposites and it shows. but in every way it counts? it doesn’t matter a bit. you creep through the hallway with your pastel pink slippers on. they’re fluffy and don’t click against the ground. you step over the creaky floorboards, having memorised them, and make it to the living room. your eyes have adjusted to the dark, so you look around, and when nothing is amiss, nudge the door open.

the bellman has retired for the night, so it’s up to you to let yourself out. and you do. after ducking into an alleyway you put on your suit and fish your phone from your bag before stashing it behind the green bin. “hey dae. esti called and needed me. i’m sleeping over.”

then, you send a text to esti, “hey girl. if damian calls you tell him we’re together. thanks in advance xoxo.”

god only knows why she was awake at 2am, but your phone dings and there’s a response almost immediately. “and if he shows up like last time?”

“spam me and tell him i went to pick something up at our fav 24 hour gas station. i’ll book it there and boom. anyways wth are you awake???”

“was bingeing supernatural. sue me.” (you couldn’t blame her)

“well try to get some sleep sometime. I’ll stop by tomorrow. for real. want anything?”

“would love a new necklace. not too memorable tho.”

“i was thinking icecream but sure. ly.”

you pocket your phone, sticking it into the most secure pocket in your suit. after glancing at the green bin to confirm that nothing’s visible–not your bag or damian’s sweater. your hands find purchase in the crevices between bricks, molten iron helps to stick your fingertips to the wall you scale. then , on the rooftop, the wind picks up. the night air is chilly, perfect foreshadowing for the crime you’re about to commit. no, you’re not going to steal ice cream. that’s tomorrows problem, a cone is only $3, and the woman who runs the shack is the sweetest ever. it’s more tempting to gift her things than to take from her.

you run across the roofs until you reach your destination. then, you lower yourself down to the ground and make quick work of the doorknob. “someone hasn’t been robbed before,” you muse, pins slotting around easily, latch clicking open. shouldering through, a grin splits your face as you look around. everything is dusty and allergies are a bitch, “ACHOO!” your sneeze startles a cat, and the tortie stretches out and walks over to you, angling to be pet. the pet flops down and when it isn’t given the expected attention–hisses and walks away.

after stuffing a few watches, some costume jewellery, a wooden beaded necklace, some first edition books (damian’s birthday was coming up and they would make great gifts so long as no one made a huge deal about them being missing), a map (it looked cool) and just about everything behind the glass wall you broke with a few well places thumps of your fist. finishing up your haul, he arrived.

just in time because what was a night without your nemesis making his incredibly irritating presence known.

robin. fucking robin.

he’s your nemesis. nope, you couldn’t get batman so there’s a teenage boy, nearly as unhinged as you are, tailing you and constantly foiling your plans. (you’re a teenager too, but still, it’s embarrassing) even this heist he interrupts and you weren’t even doing any real damage. this excursion was more for fun than anything and he was here to ruin it. “how many times are we going to have to do this?”

“well, until you give up, obviously, bird boy. and you’re a persistent little shit, so forever, probably?”

“or until i send you to arkham.”

you snort, “good luck with that.”

he unsheathed his sword and lunged. you rolled to the slide, dodging his blade but–the sack slung over your shoulder split, stolen items spilling out. he wasn't trying to cut you–just your score. goddamnit, you could be dense sometimes. robin picked a book up, “you enjoy austen, do you?”

you scoff, eyes wide as you look at his other hand. the other items are all over the ground, some underfoot but he managed to save the books from being damaged. good, because you wanted them for your boyfriend. “better than hemingway,” you throw a ninja star, one you’ve forged yourself, and send it sailing his way. robin sets the books down behind a desk and you take note of their precise location, scooping a handful of discarded loot into your pocket. esti was going to love that necklace. you stuffed it down the front of your suit, sliding across the floor and ducking under another swipe of his sword. something pierced your suit and you winced–it wasn’t even robin, just a fucking splinter of something you’d broken earlier. springing back up, you crafted another ball of iron and threw it his way, the molten liquid glowing orange. when it landed on the wood floor and began to smolder, you had your distraction. you decided to come back for the books later and robin attempted to smother the growing flames. “you should get that checked out,” he said, slapping an old sued jacket over the glowing orange and red. you looked down at your thigh, at the piece of glass sticking out of it. it was larger than you’d thought. “and check myself into the hospital so you can find me? no thanks.”

“or pull it out and die. either works for me” he slams the jacket into the flames again, in an attempt to smother them. as it’s working, you decide to make your leave, sprinting through the door and down the street.

you stop by the alleyway, grab your belongings and actually head to esti’s. she’ll patch you up and you’ve got something to pay her with–the necklace.

#robin x reader #dc robin #dcu #batfam #robin #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n

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mandos-mind-trick · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 1 - Leather

Summary: Tech wants to be a good boy for his mistress.

Pairing: Tech x reader

Warnings: Dom/sub, Dom!reader, sub!Tech, high heels, sort of a footjob, grinding, thigh riding, begging, Tech calls reader “Mistress”, gags, collars, oral (f receiving), implied established D/s relationship, implied discussion of safewords/consent beforehand, aftercare

A/N: Kicking Kinktober off with a bang with some sub!Tech. A lot of these will probably be shorter than my normal fics simply because they are mostly just focusing on smut. Some of them will have more complex stories, but most, like this one, are simply for the hoes 🥰

MASTERLIST

He looks so good.

You could sit and stare at him like this for hours.

He’s so pretty, all flushed and shy, those big brown eyes staring at you with nothing but trust behind his goggles. He’s so quiet and demure, a stark contrast to his usual nature. He was always ready to take control when something was amiss, and in conversation. He wasn’t afraid of speaking his mind.

Right now he can’t speak at all.

You cross your legs, motioning him forward with a crook of your finger. He presses forward onto his hands and knees, crawling slowly towards you. He keeps his eyes glued to yours, big and brown and shining with trust behind his goggles.

You stretch your foot out, pressing it against his chest to stop him from getting closer. He sits back on his haunches, waiting patiently. You drag your foot up his chest, tilting his chin with the pointed toe of your stiletto. He swallows thickly, a small smirk lifting the corner of your lips.

You drag your shoe down his front, down the center of his chest and stomach until it rests against the bulge under his pants. He takes a breath as you press your foot against the leather shorts, putting pressure on his erection.

His breath catches, hands closing into fists at his sides as you press against the bulge. He lets out a quiet sound from behind the gag between his lips, eyes rolling as you slowly rub your foot up and down.

“That looks painful.” You muse, continuing to rub his bulge through his shorts.

He makes a quiet, muffled noise from behind the gag. He’s been hard since before you even started, the sizeable bulge visible as soon as he walked out in those tight leather shorts. They left little to the imagination, outlining his cock, and his tight ass.

A strangled squeal sounds beneath the gag as you put more pressure on the bulge, his abs flexing as he tries to breathe through the discomfort. You hold your foot there for a moment before you release him, setting your foot flat on the floor. You spread your legs, pussy visible through your sheer tights. His eyes drop to the junction between your thighs, to the wet spot darkening the fabric.

"Ah ah." You scold him, waving your finger. "Eyes up here."

He lifts his gaze back to yours, an apologetic look in them. You motion him forward once more, and he crawls forward until he's between your knees. You run a hand over the top of his head, mussing his curls. You slide your hands down to the strap of his gag, undoing it and dropping it to the side. You massage his jaw gently, trying to ease the ache you know he's feeling.

"My good boy." You praise, running your thumbs along his cheekbones.

"Always for you, Mistress." He says breathlessly, leaning into your touch.

“You’ve been such a good boy, I think you deserve a little relief.” You release his face, trailing your fingers up your thighs. “Would you like to ride my thigh?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes, Mistress. I would like that very much.”

You smile softly, hooking a finger in his collar, using it to guide him up. He moves with your guidance, hovering over one of your thighs. His hands settle on the back of your chair, using it to anchor himself as he angles his hips against your thigh. His hard bulge presses into your tight-clad thigh, the leather shorts creaking a bit as he settles.

He slowly begins rocking his hips, short, sharp movements against your thigh. You tense your muscles, holding your leg steady as he rocks against you. You turn your gaze up to his, staring into his eyes as he grinds against your thigh. His lips part in a breathy moan as your hands drop to his hips, squeezing the soft flesh.

“That’s it, baby.” You say, helping guide his movements.

You keep your eyes locked to his, pushing up onto your toes to apply more pressure to his bulge. He gasps, a choked moan slipping through his lips. He’s close, you can tell by the way he’s getting sloppy, by the way his hips jerk against your thigh.

“May I cum, Mistress?” He practically begs, his movements getting more and more desperate.

“You think you deserve it?” You ask, looking up into those pleading brown eyes.

He nods, his words stammering as he gets close to the edge. “Yes, Mistress. I-I’ve been a good boy.”

“You have.” You run your hands up his back. “You’ve been such a good boy. You can cum.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” He practically cries.

His eyes roll back as a groan of relief is torn from his lips, his hips jerking against your thigh a couple more times before he’s practically spasming. You praise him through his orgasm, his cock twitching against your thigh in his shorts. You can feel the warm spot starting to form from his cum, your hands stroking his back as he slowly comes down from his high.

“So pretty when you cum.” You say, easing him off your lap.

You help him down to the floor, grabbing the water bottle that’s set off to the side. You support him against your chest as you help him drink, gently carding your fingers through his hair.

“My good boy.” You say, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head. “Always so good for me.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You hold him there, gently easing him down from his high, and out of subspace. His body goes lax against you, getting heavier and heavier but you keep him steady, gently relaxing the tension from his muscles.

“You alright?” You ask, removing his collar and tossing it somewhere behind you.

He nods, still wrapped around you. “Yes.”

“Good.” You say, kissing his forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up in a nice, hot shower and then I’ll make us something to eat. How does that sound?”

He nods again, and you can feel his lips lifting in a smile. “That would be satisfactory.”

You can’t help but chuckle, kissing his forehead once more before you help him stand, guiding him to the fresher.

Ragu list:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot @mssbridgerton

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tbb tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #x reader #clone simping #kinktober 2023

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year

Text

Wound Dressings (Yandere Idol!Xiao/Reader)

a/n: happy lantern rite, everyone!!! here's xiao, hope anyone that wants to pull for him gets him <3 (CW: yandere, implied ptsd, mild violence, scaramouche is fricking foul as hell.)

unreliable synopsis: As the producer of 5wirl's beloved rapper, you found yourself stuck between Xiao and the nefarious fashion stylist/designer- Scaramouche-'s wars.

Alice's note: Producer Starlight, we need to talk. Right now. The CEO is waiting.

Yandere Idol Match-Up Masterlist

------

“Xiao, your face, it's burnt–”

“Don’t.” Xiao huffed. “Don’t come any closer. I’m fine.”

Anyone can tell 5wirl's rapper has a hard time getting close to people and you find that rather tragic. It’s a shame that Xiao chose to be distant when you find his rap music enthralling like no other, and you can tell he pours his soul into each lyric he writes. He sings desperately as though it's his last strip of breath left with voice cracks so raw and heartbreaking. While Venti sounds theatrical and clear, his will always be raspy and hauntingly unique. Every project he’s involved with sheds light on his authenticity, and you yearned for an opportunity to have him talk to you just as honestly.

However, you paid more heed to his need for emotional distance, not wanting to be nosy in this instance. You concentrated on advancing his career without meddling in his personal affairs, staying strictly business. It was not your place to know more and be some uneducated therapist.

At least, you had faith that you could maintain that belief until you noticed his sloppy bandaged cheek. Xiao stumbled forward, his hair untidy. You clenched your jaw. You grasped for his arm, feeling somewhat enraged. Instead of reacting, he simply awaited your inevitable worry.

“Who did this to you, Xiao?” You whispered angrily.

“A firework accident,” Xiao grunted. “My cousin can vouch for me. Yesterday’s lantern rite. Do not worry about me.”

“Is that so…”

You can’t muster the courage to question ADDICKTZ's Mister Zhongli, and that’s precisely why you know Xiao’s hiding a secret. Lying between his molars was not something he could do without a hitch.

Especially not to someone as observant as you.

“Does this have something to do with the stylist?”

While you technically shouldn’t risk your neck for a theory…

… It's better to route the problem immediately.

Xiao shamelessly ignored your question. In any case, you already knew the answer. This was just for confirmation’s sake. He would have stayed as stoic as always had you two been in a space that was any less secluded than the backrooms. No fan was aware of how much Xiao detested 5wirl's main stylist because none of his musings were made public.

Scaramouche, “The Wanderer.”

He’s a big name with a larger-than-life ego. Giving credit where it is due, Scaramouche is a fantastic model, but a patient stylist? He was not. He has an incurable habit of pushing everyone’s buttons that it's almost impressive. You've seen the way he yanked and pulled 5wirl like ragdolls, the only exception was Kazuha and Venti, but the latter to a lesser extent.

To no one’s surprise, Xiao does not like him.

Just a week ago, you've watched him perform “Fallen Leaves” uncomfortably on a Mondstadt Television (MTV) award show. An untrained eye is unlikely to notice how little footwork he displayed considering his constricted jeans. After the song ended, Xiao irritably loosened his belt and rolled his eyes. He didn't bow like the rest of 5wirl, instead, he left immediately without a word— that was something the fans certainly did not miss. To the common stan, it was "hot", to the wiser folks, it was a sign that something was amiss.

—

“He did it on purpose. The Wanderer wanted to prove a point,” these were the only words Xiao told you with bated breaths as he wrenched the buttons off his suffocating attire, popping and dropping them to the ground. He has little consideration for who might enter his room— not when he couldn’t breathe— not when he trusts that you’ll guard the door.

Once his chest was out and he could inhale with ease, a small smile was sighted adorning his face. He favored you with a victorious grin.

“And he failed.”

You’ve known that whenever he’s down, he tends to focus more on his skills. Thus you mistakenly thought this was just a matter of work. You didn’t realize at the time that he was fighting for something else.

It was a gorgeous smile. A rare eye candy enticing enough to make you wish he considered you a companion. But the frown that followed as you heard Scaramouche screeching outside erased whatever joy you felt as you stumbled to lock the door.

You scowled.

“Did he really fail when he still has you wrapped around his fingers?”

Xiao didn't answer. Instead, he pried your hand off and unlocked the door.

“As long as it’s not you, it doesn’t matter how far he takes his tantrums.”

—

You believe otherwise.

That incident stirred a cold war between Xiao and 5wirl’s lead stylist. Scaramouche used to just pepper vulgar phrases but now it appears in every other sentence. None of the fans knew thanks to the AKASHA Device Policy System of disabling screenshots on employee devices. What happens in Teyvat Productions, stays in Teyvat Productions. Scaramouche would have been fired from the company with a hollow public apology from the CEO if they had known even a glimpse of the snark he spews at every 5wirl employee.

”Did he do this?”

You cupped his cheek. Xiao didn't wince from the pain. It's all due to his extended Military Service training, you're sure of it. Thankfully, it doesn't look too bad. Curable, most definitely, but it doesn't change the fact someone attempted to hurt your employer.

“It’s… This is my burden to carry. It has nothing to do with you—”

“But I’m here for you, Xiao. You know I have a strong sixth sense, and something is wrong. You can tell me anything.”

Xiao leaned onto your palm, putting a hand above yours. He felt his chest tighten, but his face did not mark his anguish.

He may not show it visibly, but your touch broke him. On the souls of all his friends and the lives of his family, he can swear with every fiber of his being that this is as honest as he could be.

“He doesn't understand that I lost everything.” He did not look at you, but his sudden grip begged you to stay.

“–that I felt EVERYTHING.”

You stiffened, your spine shook at how concise but oddly oppressive those words were. His words were nothing to write home about, but the way his husky voice and slight growl loomed after a moment of silence was unforgettable.

Instinctively, you knew what this was about.

Bosacius.

You didn't want to pry so you knew little about him other than he accidentally died when he and Xiao were reservists. There is a mandatory Liyue and Inazuman law that stipulates that men must serve their country for about a year or two, no idol is exempted from that. According to speculations and a few hints in the lyrics Xiao composed, the idol likely watched his friend cover up a faulty grenade to save everyone in the vicinity. You did attempt to console him once, but Xiao is adamant that such comments would be an insult to Bosacius' Heroics. He “accepted” his death long before you became his producer. His soul is likely in a better place.

See where this is headed? It's not rocket science. Put “Scaramouche” and “fireworks” together and you’d get something foul. That damn multi-talented designer did something and now Xiao’s uncharacteristically more emotive.

Scaramouche likely used fireworks to reignite Xiao’s trauma.

Perhaps this line of thinking is uncouth, but this would serve as a great opening to finally get to know the person you work for on a deeper level. But for Scaramouche to unearth those memories for the sake of arguing… What a petty man.

“He wanted to “share” something that’s mine to protect,” Xiao muttered. "He insisted that giving them up to him will be a way to absolve my sins. But… I…”

He grunted.

“I don’t want to share them.” Xiao sneered. "Having them around is the last joy I have."

You feel as though the thing or person they’re fighting over is someone related to 5wirl, but you were too tired to listen to your muted intuition.

“Who is “them”?” You asked. “Would you be willing to tell me?”

He shook his head.

“I… can’t.”

“I see, that’s okay. It takes time to open up— Xiao?”

Xiao remained silent. He quickly seized the water bottle you were holding and chugged it down. As Xiao drank, you both moved in the direction of the fans while giving him your famous mask to cover the burn. His followers don't need to be aware of this.

But damn it. You’re tired of this back-and-forth pettiness.

You’ll have to step in.

——

However, your colleagues do not favor that idea.

“Are you certain you wanna approach him?” Venti’s producer frowned. “Knowing Scaramouche’s past… instability, I’m not sure if that’s the brightest idea you’ve come up with.”

It usually takes a long time for you to naturally get close to others but after careful observation, you've deduced that none of your fellow producers were unsavory people. In truth, they were simple to read, particularly Venti and Heizou's producers. As a result, you already knew this was going to happen; you just want to let them know out of respect.

“We never know unless we try,” Heizou’s producer spoke up, somewhat optimistic but with a twinge of demur. “You’re too depressed. Who knows? Maybe you can persuade him to stop. You’re Scara’s favorite, after all.”

Favorite is a bit of a stretch, but that man does tolerate your presence.

Kazuha’s producer chortled, “that kind of hypothetical is next to impossible.”

Heizou’s producer hummed the bridge to 5wirl’s song “Sweet Dream.” You knew your coworker didn't want to prove them right, but the lyrics to that song referred to failed plans– and that's enough information for you to infer that even they think deep down that the idea was stupid.

You closed your eyes. It truly wasn't your best plan— it's straight up walking to the lion’s den, but you have to try….

“… (Y/n)? Hello?”

You blinked. Ah, you've zoned out again.

“It's better than nothing,” you said. “I can't just let everyone here be constantly berated by that narcissist.”

“Even his assistant can be a pain in the neck too, you know?” Venti’s producer chimed in. “Ya better hope you're not dealing with both of them once you get there. You might start a house fire or something.”

There's no point in this conversation. Sighing, you reached for your bag, ready to leave.

“Hmm? Now, where are you going, my ge qin'ai de?”

Baizhu— 5wirl’s creative director— stood, leaning by the door frame. Based on his lax demeanor, you assumed he had just recently taken his medicine. The rest of the producers laughed awkwardly, not knowing whether they should let him in on your plans or not. He usually accepts all forms of communion, no matter how chaotic or personal it is. But this instance urged everyone that omitting some truths was the best option.

“(Y/n)’s on their way to buy some fabric,” Venti’s producer lied. “Scaramouche had been such a pain in the neck lately so, eh, we decided to be more proactive to avoid his stupid wrath.”

“Ahhh, I see! How lovely.” Baizhu laughed, but just as you were about to walk past him, he weakly grasped your arm.

"Far be it from me to pry into my producers’ personal affairs, but once you get there,” he bent down and whispered to your ear.

“Tell that charlatan and his assistant that this will be the last time they hurt one of my kids, understood?”

As you looked up at the creative director's snake eyes, a chill went up your spine. He didn't express it as a threat; rather, he said it as a certain truth. It seemed as though Director Baizhu was determined that this was Scaramouche's final transgression. You made a mental note of that.

Director Baizhu must’ve known something that you didn't.

“Yes, Director.”

“Wonderful,” Baizhu smiled, but his gaze looked distant.

“Be sure to buy wound dressings along the way.”

——

“No way. Nu-uh.”

“Please, I seriously need to talk to him—”

“Do you wanna get stabbed? Just trust me, bro, he doesn’t want to see anyone right now. He’s too busy dressing up that haunted doll of his.” Scaramouche’s assistant trembled burlesquely, putting more pressure on the door that separates you two. “Like, he’s so unhinged right now that– high-key? Working at KFC ain't sounding so bad.”

His assistant sighed, rolling their eyes. They appeared different compared to when you last saw them. Their hair’s significantly shorter and their fingers are red from sewing– and if your eyes weren't fooling you, they're a bit burnt…?

You squinted.

“Those marks… He overworked you last night, right? Forced you to use lighters to cut threads over scissors, didn’t he?”

They glared. Struck a nerve there.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe I am just reaching for straws here–” you admitted rather plainly. “But that doesn't change the fact that you don't like your boss, and I don't like him enough that I drove all the way to confront him. What say you to letting me give him a piece of my mind?”

That seemed to work. At least, for a second.

“No… No, I seriously can't.” His assistant shook their head, with more conviction this time. “I don't want a repeat of last time.”

“(Y/n), you’re here as well.”

You both turned to look behind you.

A man wearing a mask and sunglasses— clearly Xiao— stood just a breath away from touching your shoulder. You jolted.

How didn’t you notice that he was right behind you?

“Oh, he’s here too…” the assistant said. They didn’t sound particularly hostile when addressing Xiao. “Sir, you can’t just enter if it isn't urgent.”

“But it is urgent,” You lied. “Just let us in or at least have me go inside alone—”

Xiao gently squeezed your shoulder. The mulish look in his visage beckoned you that he didn't like that idea. You didn’t have time to question what he’s doing here. His opaque stubbornness made you completely forget that he was holding you longer than he usually does.

Time and time again, he’ll remind you that he didn’t want you near Scaramouche.

“Oh my God— bitch. How many times do I have to fucking— HE'S NOT ENTERTAINING GUESTS.” The assistant growled. “Please, just listen to me. I'm honestly saving you both the trouble of talking to that edgelord.”

“Please, this seriously wouldn't take long–”

“Are you deaf or just stupid? What part of not entertaining guests did you not understand?”

Speak of the devil.

The pretentious prick arrived– him and his damn ostentatiously designed hat. He shared your gaze immediately and you swore his face lit up. It was as if he was waiting for you for quite some time now, but you’re not confident in that hunch.

“Ah, it's you.”

You cleared your throat. “Good evening, sir Wanderer–”

He smirked.

“Long time no see, starlight,” Scaramouche said. “Your dog here sure kept dragging us apart from each other.”

Xiao raised an eyebrow. It was the first time he had heard someone call you by that nickname, and while it doesn’t show in his features, he was rather unnerved at how you casually let him call you by such an endearing nickname.

This only matters because Scaramouche rarely addresses anyone beneath him with respect, much less affection.

Xiao glared at him.

Scaramouche continued, “here to give me an answer?”

“No.” You didn't waste a second. “The answer is no. I don't want to be your model.”

Xiao’s eyes widened. He immediately shielded you, but Scara merely tilted his head to maintain his gaze.

“Model?” Xiao spat coldly. “So that’s the card you're playing, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche’s grin widened, “move your head away, insect.”

He doesn’t deserve to see you.

Without much thought, you bit your lip. You weren’t expecting much of a reaction if you told Xiao that Scaramouche wanted to hire you before. He tried scouting you months before he started harassing Xiao. Telling him about it slipped past your mind.

Scaramouche frowned, his eyes gauging his assistant’s reaction, “still, what a shame… With your face, you would've been a fine addition to my runway, Mx. (Y/n).”

“… Huh, so you do know my name.”

“Course I do. Xiao follows anyone who says (Y/n) around like a damn shit-for-brains dog. I’m not stupid enough to miss his owner’s name.”

Xiao made a sound you couldn't quite describe. It bordered on both a whimper and a threat.

You scrunched at the title, “that’s not true.”

“Then that only speaks volumes to how good of a stalker he is,” He clapped. "Bravo, I'm impressed. For once."

Scaramouche scoffed yet there was a genuine smile on his face. Swiftly, he approached you and had his assistant not held Xiao back, the famous designer wouldn’t have had the opportunity to grab your hand and gently kiss it out of nowhere.

You felt absolutely nothing from this gesture. Instead, you unconsciously fixed your eyes on Xiao.

And he’s most certainly pissed.

“You deserve to be working for me instead, puppet,” he muttered. “Honestly, I can’t see why you’re working for him— he's barely aesthetically pleasing. A lower-rate beauty. Do you even give a damn about your skin-care routine, worm? You look like shit. Go back to the fucking military. Muscles are required there, but looks? Not expected.”

Out of the blue, the designer gently cupped your face– your faces now an inch apart as he fixes stray strands of your hair. Strangely enough, you can't feel his breath. His face may be close, but his attention did not belong to you. You can tell from a mile away you’re being used.

As to what you’re being used for? You can’t tell.

Suddenly, Scaramouche’s assistant cleared their throat.

“Hey starlight, can you come outside with me for a sec?” They said.

The assistant held up their phone. You heard Xiao shakily exhale as you pulled away from the stylist.

“Director Baizhu’s calling.”

—-

“Director? Is something the matter?”

“Ah yes, did you buy the wound dressings?”

You did your best to hide your scoff.

Seriously, right now?

“Yes, right now.”

Oh. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Scaramouche’s assistant— whom you were borrowing a phone from— laughed softly, bemused. They led you to The Wanderer’s garden for some “privacy”, and yet their ears seemed cleaner than most. You didn’t mind them listening to some "tea." It’s better than being alone in unfamiliar territory.

“Trust me, dear. You’ll need it later.” Baizhu’s laughter echoed.

…

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

“Answer me first, did you buy some?”

“No.”

“Poor choice. You’ll never know when there’s an emergency that calls for it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

Something is off.

Baizhu sighed, “nevermind. So, how was your shopping trip? What fabric have you brought, send me the hex code.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, qin'ai de?”

“You called because you wanted to distract me, didn’t you?”

…

You were hoping that you wouldn’t hear his laughter from the other line.

“Oh, Xiao. I’ve tried.”

Slowly, you hung up and lowered the phone down to your thigh.

No… It can’t be.

You started sprinting back to where you came from.

“H-Hey, wait! You still have my phone!—”

You need to go.

NOW.

You already knew what was happening, but at that moment you slipped out a prayer to any Archon that might listen.

Please… Please don’t be right…

—-

… But then again, when has your sixth sense ever failed you?

Xiao’s stony expression crumbled and his more livid countenance shone through. You were too far to cinch his right arm from throwing a punch in the designer’s direction–

But he managed to surprise you by using his left fist instead.

“You will sooner die than lay a hand on them— not even their fucking hair.”

“Y-You—!!!”

Scaramouche was already littered with bruises when you got there, his hanfu torn and his hate discarded and stomped on with abandon.

You trembled at the sight, knees nearly buckling down.

You were too late.

They both appeared unaware of your ghostly presence behind. In a single fast motion, you witnessed your beloved idol punch Scaramouche in the ribs. You winced as a crack reverberated throughout the room before Scaramouche inhaled sharply. The thing that most alarmed you, though, was the sound of Xiao's curt yet stern chuckle, which was a dead giveaway that he wasn't going to stop until the designer was rendered immobilized. Scaramouche made an effort to stand up from the ground using his fist as support, but Xiao quickly grabbed him by the collar like a mother cat would a difficult child.

“Weak,” Xiao spoke. “Why did you even dare to provoke me when you can barely defend yourself? You’re not worthy of calling (Y/n) by any other name.”

“Y-You fucking jealous dumbass. Your career is over once I’m through with you!” Scaramouche coughed up, blood spitting out from his mouth and onto Xiao’s clenched hand. “You fucking worm— I could just release the CCTV recordings and—”

“You won’t be able to retrieve any recordings,” Xiao said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

He dropped Scaramouche and knelt to his level.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to beg Xiao to stop.

But you can’t recognize him, and the words died in your throat.

“You won’t find a single clip.”

Scaramouche’s face softened into a look of dismissive defeat. However, his stony yet smug expression resurfaced.

“Ah, so Tighnari’s in on this too,” Scaramouche laughed, slowly devolving into a mildly hysterical fit. “Of course, of course! You already have Baizhu’s go signal so it’s not surprising you got that genius’ approval too. Only natural that a weak person like you have so many accomplices to back up your obsession—”

“And you?”

“H-hah. And what?”

Xiao dragged him closer.

“Where are YOUR friends, Kunikuzushi?”

…

Xiao breathed in, closing his eyes.

“I am not like you. I am not an easy target simply because I often act alone.”

In a stroke of luck, Scaramouche turned his gaze away— and saw you at the door instead.

Positively mortified.

“D-Don’t—” Scaramouche coughed. “—talk big… H-Ha… Look behind you, insect.”

Once he did, Xiao stiffened.

No, no, no— why are you here?

… Why did you get back inside?

That wasn’t part of the plan— didn’t Baizhu call you?

“(Y-Y/n), I…”

You weren’t supposed to see this.

He took a step forward, you instinctively took two steps back. You cursed yourself internally for letting your fear get the best of you when you knew that despite Scaramouche’s broken nose and bloody lips, it was Xiao who needed your help the most.

His heart dropped.

“Producer, this is…”

His throat dried up.

Why is it so draining for him to open himself up to you?

“D-Did you see that, starlight?” Scaramouche droned. Even when he's losing blood, his silver tongue quips a retort.

“Did you see the monster you were working for?”

“Xiao” pivoted his heels, frowning even now as the mutilated man lost consciousness below him. You could barely recognize Scaramouche from all that blood. “Xiao” took a step closer to you. You couldn't move. Your feet were rooted to your spot.

Fortunately, he moved on auto-pilot, grabbing you by the arm and carefully swerving past Scaramouche’s assistant to head outside.

He didn’t give you a chance to ponder over Scaramouche’s words.

For a moment, neither of you said a thing as you stood at the front gate. It felt like an eternity before you mustered the courage to speak up.

“… You’re bleeding.”

Why aren't you comforting his hand? Please hold his hand gently. Please hold him.

Another voice screamed inside his head, one that sounded similar to Scaramouche.

Can't you see that expression on their face? That's fear. That's betrayal. The person you love thinks you're a monster, Xiao.

“... I bought some wound dressings. They’re inside my car.”

—

“Be sure to buy wound dressings along the way.”

—

Instead of feeling relief, you shivered at how convenient it was for him to keep some in his vehicle. Director Baizhu’s mind echoed in your head almost like an apparition.

In other words: this was premeditated.

And you don’t know what to make of that information.

“(Y/n).”

“Y-Yes?”

You zoned out that you didn’t realize you were already in front of “Xiao”’s car, still holding the assistant’s phone.

He squeezed your hand lightly.

“Don’t leave me.”

His voice cracked.

“Please.”

After a moment of brief silence, you gave him a hesitant frown.

… Your intuition tells you that no matter what you answer, the outcome won’t change.

You squeezed his hand back. If you didn’t, Archons know he would’ve fallen apart.

“I’m staying.”

In a sense, you think you finally understood Xiao better. It’s just as he said yesterday: he lost everything and he felt everything. This overprotective and downright possessive nature must’ve stemmed from what had happened when he was a reservist. He can’t bear to lose another person. While it may sound nice to know he does think of you as someone important, you wish you realized this about him sooner.

Xiao has a crush on you.

He smiled.

It was a gorgeous smile. A rare eye candy enticing enough to make you glad he considered you a companion.

… But why do you feel terrified?

“Thank you. Allow me to protect you from him— from anyone from now on. Just call out my name.”

You could only fake a laugh in response.

‘Xiao, what an awful liar you are. Lying between your molars was still not something you could do without a hitch.

So do not speak as if you haven't been doing that since the very beginning.’

ANSYTEA: Thank you for joining the 1k idol event, starlight anon!!!!

#tag: yan!1k idol event #yandere xiao x reader #yancore #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #tw yandere #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x you #genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao x you #genshin impact xiao #yandere xiao #starlight anon

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obae-me · 1 year

Note

if it's alright, can i request the demon brothers (separately, if not all of them just lucifer, leviathan, and belphegor are okay!) with an insomniac s/o who paces around the house of lamentation at night? thank you so much! i love your writing, and i thought the coffee order post was really cute! be well and take care <3

Of course! As someone with insomnia, I know this all too well. I'm glad you liked my little coffee post! This'll be so cute, thanks for the ask!

Their eyes opened... Sitting up in bed, they sigh, irritation waking their body more than it already had been. The ends of their fingers twitch against their covers. Another restless night. Not that they were surprised. They barely got a good night's sleep back in their own world. Of course, their demonic roommates tried to give them different remedies to help them sleep, but they weren't foolproof, it seemed.

So they stood, folding the covers away from them with an easy flourish, since it was a motion they knew all too well. Their toes curled against the cold floor to their room before they moved, covering themselves with a robe they'd been gifted. It was more to keep themselves warm. They didn't bother tying the string against them, letting the back billow behind them as they suddenly left their room.

Whenever they found themselves unable to sleep, they'd come out here to wander. The House was always so quiet at this time...it settled a soft sort of peace in them. Maybe it was partially to blame for their insomnia, unable to fully rest until they'd done their nightly patrol. But who knows what causes the human mind to stay awake? These halls and rooms were usually so noisy, facing a different series of calamities and chaos at any given moment. Now all the demons were asleep, even those who did their best to stay up all night. It was almost as if the human could feel their deep breaths as they passed by the bedrooms.

Then they found themselves checking the main rooms. The dining room, the music room, the library. They took in the vast emptiness, recalling all the fun times they'd had in these walls. Although certain rooms with certain memories called to them more than others. Special moments alone with the demon they loved.

Lucifer

He has a rather uncanny sixth sense. Most can chalk it up to being the eldest brother of six other unruly demons. Anytime someone is awake or something feels off, it usually sends an something akin to an alert through the back of his skull. He sat up in bed, looking around his room, trying to get a feeling for what might've woken him up. Unable to hear anything from his room, he decided to leave the comfort of his bed and check the House just in case.

As if guided by an unseen force, he seemed to head right into the direction he needed to go. The music room doors were slightly ajar. Although there seemed to be nothing amiss, he could feel the presence of someone inside. So he slipped in, quiet as a shadow, folding his arms but allowing his tired and irritated mind to mellow as the one he spotted was none other than his beloved human.

They were looking through the many records he kept in here, careful to avoid the ones he'd gone out of his way to mark as cursed. Although it seemed to him that they had no intention to play any, just simply looking through them to keep themselves occupied.

He could've walked in without making a sound, but he let the hinges of the door creek enough to signal his presence. They looked behind their shoulder just as he wrapped his arms around them from behind. "Can't sleep?" He mused, a sleepy slur to his voice. Moments like these, when they were alone and exhaustion was more prevalent than his sin were special ones indeed.

"When can I ever?" They sighed heavily, clearly frustrated and tired, but leaning against him.

They felt him lean down, his usually taut and stern shoulders slouching. His chin rested on atop their head. It was a sharp little bone, but MC couldn't help but sigh contently anyway. His voice was low and soft as he spoke. "How many times I have told you now to come get me during nights like this?" During the day, such a phrase might've come across like a scold, but it only sounded sincere. "My doors are always open for you, my dear."

"I never want to bother you. You get such little sleep as it is already..."

Lucifer turned MC around in his arms, looking into their eyes. "Sleep is not as crucial to demons as it is to humans. Besides," he ran his fingers through their hair, "I would sleep much better knowing you were getting rest." The back of his knuckles then brushed against their cheekbone. "Why don't you come join me in my room tonight? I'll put on a record and hold you till you fall asleep. I'll put you to bed, and you'll dream sweetly. I promise."

His way of caring for them is very soft, a fairly stark contrast to the Lucifer the rest of the world knows. Soft melodies, soft kisses, soft blankets, soft wings, soft spoken words. He will ensure they sleep peacefully throughout the rest of the night with him.

Mammon

He's known about the insomnia thing since MC first started living with them. And for reasons he couldn't trace (obviously not the crush he had on them for forever) it drove him insane. But now that they were officially together, it worried him even worse. Humans needed sleep! He can't stand how they look when they're dead tired. Plus, he's responsible for their wellbeing! Has been since day one! He doesn't blame them at all for keeping him up, but they do. He can't get them out of his mind. Although he thinks about them all the time in general.

So, he finally gets up, feeling the need to go to their room and check on them. And maaaaaybe convince them to let him share the bed tonight. For safety reasons, ya'know? Although he always feels a little guilty asking even as greed. He knows he's not the easiest to sleep next to. Of course, checking their room, he found it empty. He should've known.

He knows there's a few places they might've wandered to. So, he begins his search, poking his head into a few rooms as he looks around for them. Eventually, he catches a little flash of light under the common room doors. He grasps the handles and pulls the doors open as quietly as he can, although for someone like him, it's hard to be fully silent.

MC turns their head as soon as the doors open. They're simply sitting on the couch, legs crossed under them, flicking through tv channels with the sound all the way on mute. They settle the remote by them. "Hey," they frown. "Did I wake you up?"

"Couldn't even sleep in the first place," he sighed, shaking his head. "I should'a known you were up." He closed the doors behind him, approaching the human with one hand on his hip. "How come you never come get me, huh?" His voice has the tendency to come off as abrasive, especially when he's emotional. He caught his own tone and the way it made his human frown. He internally beat himself up, calming down, coming over to sit beside them on the couch. "You're not a bother, ya know," he assures them, pulling them into his arms, letting them rest against his chest. "Would it kill ya to depend on me sometimes?"

"Its not that, Mammon. I just know there's not much we can do about it. It's just something I have to deal with." They leaned against him, letting him hold them. He was so warm. They feel his lips press up against the top of their head, his legs trying to wrap around them like he can't ever get enough of their touch.

"Well, then we deal with it together, yeah?" He speaks softly, quietly, the rough growl to his voice completely gone. "Isn't that what people do when they love each other? If you can't sleep, I'll stay up with ya, so you're not alone."

Even if he can't help them, even if it feels useless, he'll do the thing he does best. He'll stay by their side no matter what. If they end up staying up all night watching movies, so be it. If they eventually both fall asleep cuddled up on the couch due to pure exhaustion? That's okay too.

Levi

He's a night owl anyway. There are plenty of nights where he doesn't get sleep just because he's gaming. He knows MC has a hard time sleeping, so he always assures them that at least they have a late-night buddy. Nights when they're in separate rooms, they message each other often. Of course, he adores talking to them, because he loves them after all, but he always smiles a little when they stop messaging him, because he knows that means they've fallen asleep. Although, there are nights like tonight when they keep replying, meaning that they were being denied their rest.

Eventually, it gets so late, it makes Levi nervous. He knows that MC is going to be exhausted tomorrow. So he pauses his games and seeks out his Henry. Although, he'll admit, it took him a while to find them. He checked all the main rooms! He wasn't expecting to finally find them in the house's bathroom. W-wait, it's not what you're thinking of!

They were fully clothed, sitting in the bathtub, playing a game on their phone that they downloaded together. They hadn't noticed him come in yet. He almost...felt guilty, watching them like this, but he couldn't help it. He smiles a little as he observes their focused face, the little ways they react to things in game. Wait, wait, wait, he's here for a different reason, focus! He makes himself known as he approaches them.

"Oh, you're awake," they smile at him. "I thought when you stopped responding to my messages, it meant you'd finally fallen asleep."

He shakes his head. "I- I was looking for you," he admitted. "You- you weren't in your room."

They quickly looked apologetic. "Sorry, I felt a bit restless. I guess I wandered around till I wound up here. I think it reminded me of being with you."

The words they say hit him like a critical attack, his heart melting, but of course, a little bit of envy stirred in his heart. "Then- then why didn't you come to my room instead? Is this tub so much nicer than mine?"

They appeared a bit surprised but then looked at him with soft eyes. "Like I said, I thought you were asleep. I didn't want to wake you up."

"Why not?" He suddenly exclaimed a little, acting out in a little bit of boldness as he climbed into the tub with them, hovering over them with his hands pressed into the porcelain by their head. Although he got himself flustered, deciding to wrap their arms around them instead, resting his head against their chest. "You could- could come in whenever, and climb in next to me, just like this... Is my room not good enough? Isn't that the sort of thing normie couples do?"

"Levi, I never said that. I love you and your room." MC feels Levi's heart almost jolt as they say that. It doesn't matter how long they've been together now, it always flusters him.

"Then...let's go to my room," Levi insists.

He's hardly ever so confident, but his sin mixed with the anxiety towards the human he loves gets him to do amazing things. He wants to be the best partner MC can ever have, sweeping them off their feet like a character in a romance anime. More than that though, he just wants them to feel safe and rested...and he wants to be that haven for them...because they're his safe space too.

Satan

He often stays up rather late, reading books or planning pranks for Lucifer till the wee hours of the morning. Of course, now he can add worrying for his partner to his list of reasons. He knows they don't mean to keep him up with worry, but he can't help it. He's done his research on insomnia and he knows the type of toll it can take on a human body. Add that to his circus of a family, and it's a wonder MC can function at all.

He's also done his best to read and research ways to help a restless mind. He's made potions and teas and charms, found magical items and spells to help. Sometimes his experiments hinder more than help, so for the time being, he let's nature take it's course. But he knows that in doing so, MC probably can't rest at all.

At some point, he realizes he can't focus on the words of the pages of his books, so he puts it down. At this rate, he won't be able to relax either. So, he goes to find them, rubbing the back of his head in irritation when he can't seem to spot them. Eventually, he opens the library doors, a little surprised to see his adored human inside. He should've known.

They're sitting in one of the lounge chairs, a book in their lap, sleepy circles under their eyes. They lift their head to look at him, having just enough energy to smile when they spot him. "Still up?" They ask him.

"That's a funny question coming from you," he huffs, although the harshness of his comment is lessened by the color coming to his cheeks. Something about the way they look at him always seems to make him feel this way. Once his heart settles, he comes over to the chair, shaking his head at them. "I know you can't sleep, but you should still give your mind a break." Before they can speak, he takes the open book from their hands, keeping their placed saved with his thumb between the pages.

They quickly sigh and give him a little look. "I know, but I go insane just laying there. It's like torture."

His eyelashes flutter as his eyes glimmer with an idea. "How about we go with a happy-medium then?" He asks, taking their hand, giving it a squeeze, pulling them up from their seat and taking their place, before guiding them into his lap. He hears them huff in a spot of stubbornness before they rest against him, their head on his shoulder. "I'll read to you so you can rest your eyes." He brushes a thumb against their cheek. "If you fall asleep, I'll be here with you, but if not, let's enjoy this story together."

They both find comfort in each other's company. MC feels lulled by Satan's voice, and the mentioned demon finds his breathing slow with MC being so relaxed around him. Satan didn't account for the fact that he might fall asleep first, but he does. He never fully remembers just how calm his human makes him. If MC manages to fall asleep too, they rest together throughout the night. If MC still can't sleep, at least the torturous silence is gone, listening to the soft sounds of Satan's breath.

Asmo

He takes this more seriously than almost all his other brothers, which shocks everyone in the House. There are many easy jokes to be had about 'sleepless nights' while he's the Avatar of Lust, and while he does make a few passing remarks about it, that's not what he's focused on.

It doesn't matter if demons and angels don't need sleep quite like humans do, he knows how important sleep is even for beings like him! Taking care of his body is essential to his beauty! He loves to feel good in every sense of the word, and being groggy and exhausted and dizzy from lack of sleep is a horrible state to be in. He can't stand thinking that his beloved feels like that more often than not.

On nights like these when they sleep in separate rooms, he finds it hard to sleep. Yes, he's become rather addicted to the warmth of their body, but that's not the main problem. What if they're not sleeping again?! Oh, his poor darling, spending another day with exhausted dry eyes and a frazzled look about them... Before he realizes it, he's out of his own bed to at least check on them.

When he doesn't find them in their room at this hour, he knows they're restless... So, he searches for them, checking every nook and cranny of the house till he discovers them in the living room.

"Oh, hun," Asmo sighs in relief and a bit of sympathy as he eyes them essentially wandering around the room in circles.

They turn at his voice and smile faintly. "Asmo, what're you doing here? Couldn't sleep either?"

"I went to check on you, but you weren't in your room." There's a small pout to his lips as he comes over and immediately pecks a kiss to their cheek. The chill night air throughout the house has left their skin cold. He frowns at that.

"Sorry," the human apologizes, looking at the dark empty space of the living room. "I couldn't sleep and ended up wandering in here..." They suddenly smile a little brighter. "I guess I was thinking about the party you threw in here the other day."

The demon hums and wraps his arm around his love, swaying a little on their feet. "It was such a fun time! We all outdid ourselves so much we all fell asleep next to each other, even you."

"If only it were always that easy," they sigh.

Asmo's face falls slightly, but then lifts into a reassuring grin. "Come relax with me...even if you can't fall asleep, I know it will reinvigorate you a little. I can give you a massage if you'd like, or we can just snuggle till the morning! What do you say, darling?"

He might not know how to fully help, but he's an expert in self care. He'll pamper MC as much as he needs to to make them relaxed. Even if they can't sleep, he's determined to ensure they don't look or feel so drained...and he can't deny he loves their company.

Beel

He was up getting a late night snack, as you might imagine. And since the kitchen is so close to MC's room, he always feels like he has to check in on them. Just to be sure they're okay. Okay, and maybe to see their precious sleeping face, but mostly because of safety. He sleeps better at night knowing they're doing alright. Plus, since he knows the human has the tendency to have sleepless nights, he checks in on them to see if they're resting.

He frowns a bit when he finds their bedroom empty. He'd go find them after he grabbed the two of them some snacks. Although, his search was luckily cut short. The human was already in the kitchen, wandering aimlessly, chuckling at some of the empty shelves and irritated messages left on sticky-notes, obviously not in here for food.

"There you are," Beel smiled a bit.

They turned to look up at him with a smile. "I was wondering when you'd come down to get a snack," they explained.

That made Beel frown a bit. "Have you been in here long?"

"A little bit, yeah..." But the human came over to wrap their arms around him, assuring him that it was fine.

"You know you can always come get me, don't you? I don't like the thought of you waiting awake alone..." He rubs their back soothingly, wishing that he could just...crush their problems for them.

"I know, I know."

He scooped them up into his arms, holding them close. He loves hugging them so much, it's always so hard to let go. He always wants more. But for now, he'd pick them up and settle them in a seat or even on the kitchen counter even though he knows Lucifer hates that, moving around the kitchen to get snacks. "I'll find you something that might make you sleepy." He manages to control himself as he makes them some tea or hot chocolate, making him a large portion as well. He hands it to them and stands in front of them, rubbing their cheek before they drink. "I always find it easier to sleep with a full and warm stomach, maybe this will help."

"Thank you, Beel," the human grins as they drink, laughing lightly at Beel's thrilled noises as he downs his mug. "It's good."

"Very good. Everything always tastes better when I'm with you." His eyes seem to sparkle a little bit before he kisses their forehead. "Do you want to go back to your room or mine?"

He'll let them choose what they want before he picks them up and takes them to bed. He'll hold them close and keep them warm. And if they can't sleep, he'll keep bringing them snacks for them to both munch on so they feel better.

Belphie

Perhaps it's just a Sloth perk, but he can always tell when someone is asleep or awake. Especially if it's someone he cares about. Sure he likes his own sleep, but he likes making others get rest too. He sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes, almost irritated with the human for making him feel restless too, but he knows it's not their fault. He wishes they would come to him during these times though. He's Sloth, but more than that, he's their love, surely he can help them sleep whether he utilizes his Sin or not.

At least he doesn't have to hunt around the house for them. He has a feeling he knows where they are. It's where they almost always are when they can't sleep. The observatory.

When he gets there, he finds them on their back on the ground, staring up at the stars. He-- being the little brat that he is-- sneaks over until he pops up in front of them, making them jump. He gets them every time, you would think they'd learn by now. "Belphie..." They whine.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes, although he only half-means it. He rests beside them, letting them rest his head on the pillow he always carries with him. "I could feel your restlessness from my room."

"Sorry," they sigh, an exhausted breath leaving their lungs.

He turns on his side, pulling them close, curling into them. He glances at them softly though his bangs. "Don't be, it's not your fault you have a silly brain."

The human huffs a little. "My brain's not silly."

"It's what's keeping you up, isn't it?" He teases lightly. He rubs their head, like he's trying to get their mind to calm down. His cheeky smile falls a bit as he looks a little more serious. "Why didn't you come get me tonight? You know I love to help you fall asleep."

The human opens their mouth and then closes it, looking away back up at the stars for a little bit. "It's because you get too grumpy when I wake you up."

The demon huffs and makes a buzzer sound. "Try again."

MC sighs and closes their eyes. "I don't know. I guess I wanted to try to function on my own this time...I can't depend on magic for the rest of my life. This isn't your problem to fix."

There's a silence that settles over the both of them for a while. Then he seems to tug on them tighter. They can feel his nose burrow into the back of their neck. "Maybe it's not my problem, but that doesn't mean I can't do what I want. And what I want is to have sweet dreams with you every night. I won't use my sin if you don't want me to, but you can still come get me, even if it's just to cuddle."

He'll make it sound like it's for totally selfish spoiled reasons, but deep inside he can't sleep comfortably anymore unless he knows MC is safe... He'll take them back to their room even if he has to drag them there. He'll tuck them in tightly and snuggle up next to them. He doesn't mean to use his Sin, but sleepiness comes more naturally with him around. Even if they can't fall fully asleep, Belphie can feel his soul settle a little more at ease even just hearing them breathe softer.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imgaines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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theregencywriter · 1 year

Text

(4) A Gentlemen's Pursuit - Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

an- this isnt as long as the others but i thought i'd post anyways! if you have any requests for oneshots/hc/drabbles lmk! <3

My dear readers,

It is with a heavy heart that I pen this missive, for the events that unfolded at the recent ball have left tongues wagging and speculation running rampant. Alas, it seems that our beloved Y/N, who had been the object of much attention and admiration throughout the evening, abruptly departed the festivities, leaving behind a trail of questions in her wake. Eyewitness accounts suggest that Y/N received some distressing news, causing her to cut short her time at the ball. The specifics of this news remain shrouded in mystery, with whispers circulating amongst the ton, each tale more tantalizing than the last. What could have transpired to prompt such a sudden departure, one can only wonder?

Yet, it is not only Y/N's hasty exit that has raised eyebrows. Reports have also reached my ears of her supposed unladylike behaviour upon returning to the Bridgerton household. Whispers of heated exchanges, slammed doors, and raised voices permeate the air, painting a picture of an impassioned and distraught soul. What could have unfolded within the hallowed halls of the Bridgerton residence to elicit such a reaction from our dear Y/N? Were there words exchanged that wounded her delicate sensibilities? Or could it be that the distressing news she received earlier in the evening continued to haunt her, leading to an outpouring of emotions behind closed doors?

I dare not delve further into conjecture, dear readers, for the truth lies hidden beneath layers of secrecy. However, let us remember that even the most poised and esteemed individuals can find themselves subject to the tumultuous currents of life, facing challenges that test their composure and resilience.

Only time will reveal the true nature of the events that unfolded, and I, Lady Whistledown, shall remain ever watchful, seeking the whispers that will shed light on the mysteries surrounding Y/N's distressing departure and the subsequent display of emotions within the Bridgerton household.

Yours in speculation,

Lady Whistledown

-----

In the quiet sanctuary of the Bridgerton household's study, Colin, Benedict, and Anthony gathered, their minds still reeling from the events of the ball. Their conversation circled around the Y/N’s departure, their thoughts consumed by the lingering questions left in her wake.

"I can't make sense of it," Benedict mused, his brows furrowed in concern. "She left so abruptly, and the butler informed us she retired to her room to sleep. But something feels amiss."

Anthony, the ever-protective older brother, leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the crackling fireplace. "I couldn't help but notice her unease throughout the evening. Perhaps she received troubling news that compelled her to leave in such haste." Colin, the eternal optimist, interjected with a glimmer of hope in his voice. "Let us not jump to conclusions, my brothers. Y/N may simply be in need of some solitude, a chance to collect her thoughts. We should give her the space she requires."

Just as their conversation reached an impasse, a soft whisper drifted from the doorway, catching their attention. "Colin."

The three brothers turned in unison, their eyes widening at the sight of Y/N’s head peeking through the almost closed door, her eyes puffy from tears and her expression filled with a mix of vulnerability and strength. Colin sprang from his seat, crossing the room in quick strides to stand before Y/N. His voice was filled with both relief and concern. "Y/N, what happened? Why did you leave without a word?"

As Colin opened the door further, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight before him. Y/N stood there, clad in his shirt and breeches, an ensemble that clearly did not belong to her. Confusion etched across his face, he couldn't help but voice his bewilderment." Y/N, what on earth are you doing?" Colin asked, his voice laced with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Y/N's gaze met Colin's, her expression filled with determination. "I'm running away," she confessed, her voice quivering ever so slightly with an obvious attempt to mask her nervousness. Colin's eyes widened further, his mind struggling to process Y/N's revelation. "Running away? But why? And why in my clothes?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving Colin's. "I am set to marry, Colin, to a stranger. My stepmother is set to give a surprise visit tomorrow to oversee the affair, I have no other way." Colin's brow furrowed as he tried to grasp the magnitude of the situation. He reached out, gently touching Y/N's arm, a mixture of concern and disbelief in his voice. "Y/N, running away is a drastic step. Are you certain this is the right path for you?"

Y/N paused, then nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. "I've thought it through, Colin. I can't stay here any longer, not with the weight on my shoulders. I need to find my own path, free from the expectations and confines of this society." Colin's gaze softened, his concern for Y/N evident in his eyes. "You know I would do anything for you, Y/N. But this? I am not sure of it. However do you plan on getting away?”

Y/N's lips curved into a bittersweet smile, a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “You've always been my confidant and my rock since we first met, and I trust you to be there for me even when I'm far away. But for now I need you to tell me where the stables are." Benedict and Anthony, noticing the intense conversation shared in hushed whispers between Colin and Y/N but only able to hear a few words of such, grew curious and exchanged concerned glances. Sensing their presence, Colin turned to face his brothers, his expression guarded.

"What's going on here?" Benedict inquired, his voice filled with worry. "Why are you both sneaking off to the stable?" Colin hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal. He knew that Y/N's decision to leave was deeply personal, but he also understood the concern of his brothers. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady yet tinged with sadness.

"Y/N requires assistance outside." He shut the door on his way out, leaving the two brothers left curious. Colin guided y/n out to the garden, unaware of Anthony’s gaze through the window, as he followed them quickly. Before Colin could respond, Anthony seemingly emerged from the shadows. His eyes bore a mix of concern and determination, his voice resolute as he addressed Y/N.

"Y/N, I can't allow you to leave without at least attempting to resolve this situation," Anthony said, his voice steady yet filled with a touch of desperation. "If you promise to stay, I will do everything in my power to end the engagement that has caused you such distress." Y/N's eyes widened, surprise evident on her face. She looked from Anthony to Colin and Benedict who had followed him out, emotions swirling within her. After a moment of contemplation, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I will stay, Anthony, but only if you truly commit to ending the engagement and allowing me the freedom to choose my own path." Anthony's expression softened, a mixture of relief and determination shining in his eyes. "I promise, Y/N. I will do whatever it takes to ensure your happiness, even if it means facing the consequences of breaking the engagement."

As they made their way back to the house, a shared sense of relief filled the air, melting away the tension that had been present just a few moments earlier. Laughter spilled from their lips, echoing through the quiet night as they walked arm in arm. Y/N, dressed in Colin's shirt and breeches, couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of her attire. Colin and Anthony bid her goodnight, offering words of reassurance and support, while Benedict lingered behind. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he leaned closer to Y/N and whispered, "You know, Y/N, I think you're mad in the best possible way. And that's precisely what makes you extraordinary." They shared a knowing smile before Benedict turned and joined his brothers, leaving Y/N with a renewed sense of confidence and the knowledge that she had found true allies within the Bridgerton family.

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fioreofthemarch · 3 months

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for you, anytime

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time Pairing: Link/Sheik Words: 1610 This oneshot was written for @zelinkcommunity's Loftwing Letters 2024 and is a gift for midnightbunnyy on AO3. Please enjoy!

Looking back, the first hint that something was amiss should have been how easy Link found it to trust Sheik.

His secretive new ally kept his face entirely covered, save for a bright red eye that was almost smiling, if not the gravity of the words he spoke. When evil rules all, an awakening voice from the Sacred Realm will call…

Sheik’s voice, stern yet calm, gave Link the feeling that not only was saving Hyrule possible, it was their destiny. So it did not bother him that this stranger seemed to know exactly how to defeat the evil Ganondorf and find Princess Zelda, nor did it bother him that Sheik’s idea of goodbye was throwing down a deku nut and disappearing in the haze left behind. The first time it happened Link could only smile at the spectacle.

How like him, he thought.

Beyond providing Link with some philosophical musings, Sheik was a man of few words. Still, he was welcome company. The Hyrule to which Link had awoken had changed almost beyond recognition; crushed under the heel of its new King, the land was scoured and the people were scarce. The times that Sheik appeared to teach Link a new song on his ocarina were the only chance he actually had to speak to anyone.

“Are you feeling better today?” he asked after they had met in the raging underbelly of Death Mountain to play a bolero of fire.

“Pardon?”

“A few days ago at the Forest Temple, when you taught me the minuet. You had a cold.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You were sneezing.”

“Sneezing? I…” Sheik paused, as understanding crossed what little of his face Link could see. “I remember now. Yes, I am better. Thank you Link.”

“Well, that’s good to hear—“

Snap! Down came the deku nut and Sheik was gone.

It wasn’t exactly a conversation, but it was a start. Link next found Sheik deep in the icy caverns of Zora’s Domain — frozen thanks to Ganondorf’s meddling — but his hopes of further discussion were quickly dashed.

Sheik’s usual poise was gone. He sat on a large block of ice, slumped and clutching his golden harp to his chest. He explained that Zora’s Domain was lost, except for its princess who had gone in search of the Water Temple to destroy the monster within. He drew his harp forth, preparing with some melancholy to teach Link another song.

“Time passes, people move,” he sighed. “Like a river’s flow, it never ends, does it? A childish mind will turn to noble ambition. Y-young—“

“Young love will become deep affection,” Link murmured. “The clear water reflects growth.”

“How did you know what I was going to say?” Sheik’s red eye met his, cold as the ice of the caverns.

“I just did. I…” Link searched for the right words. “We know each other, don’t we? I mean other than meeting like this.”

Sheik withdrew, reaching yet again for a deku nut to flee with. Link surged forward, grabbing his shoulder. “Wait, answer me!”

“No. Not now. Find the Princess, Link,” Sheik instructed, pulling away. “I need time to think.”

Reluctantly, Link agreed, and allowed Sheik to teach him the song; a serenade so sweet it made him want to cry. This time, Sheik departed not with a flash but a bow.

“I’ll see you again,” he said.

To Link, it seemed like an apology.

---

Once the beast within the Water Temple was vanquished, and yet another friend had ascended as a Sage, Sheik met Link on the shores of Lake Hylia. The clear waters sparkled under the high sun as they sat together on the bank, eating a fish that Link had caught and roasted over a fire.

In order to eat, Sheik had dropped the cowl covering his face, unveiling it for the first time. He was younger than Link had imagined, with unblemished skin and a smattering of fine whiskers on his jaw. But most surprising was the way Sheik smiled when he talked.

“A fine carp, a good catch,” he said lightly.

“Compliments to the chef?” Link asked. At this Sheik just rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, I do not know why you feel we have met before,” he said as he picked over a few fish bones. “Perhaps in a past life, we fought a great evil together. That sort of thing leaves a mark on the soul. Trust me.”

“I do trust you."

Sheik looked at him for a long moment, and then laughed. The sound of it caught Link off-guard; it had a melodic lilt, like his harp.

“Don’t let your fiancé hear you say that,” Sheik said. I don’t have a fiancé Link was about to say, when Sheik leaned across and kissed his cheek, running a gentle hand through his hair at the same time.

“Thank you for this respite, Hero,” he whispered. Then, before Link could even think how to respond, Sheik was dousing the fire and the afternoon was over.

---

With no clear next destination, Link travelled in a daze from Lake Hylia to Kakariko Village, hoping to hire a room at the inn and stare at the ceiling until he understood his twin feelings of joy and confusion. Except he could do no such thing, because when he arrived the inn was on fire, along with the rest of the town.

In the midst of it all, as townsfolk scrambled for safety, Sheik stood tall and at the ready by the entrance to the town’s well.

“Get back,” he called to Link. At that moment the well cover blew clean off, and all hell (or something much worse) broke loose.

A terrible shadow swarmed overhead. It swooped, angling directly for Sheik and knocked him to the ground. Link’s legs had a mind of their own, positioning him between the shadow and Sheik. He raised his shield, but the force of its blow was so great it sucked the air from his lungs. Just as his consciousness faded he was… standing again. By the well.

“Get back, Link!” Sheik said. The well exploded. The shadow roared. This time it went straight for him, burrowing into his heart, and he felt himself fall and hit— the bricks, as the shadow slammed him into a nearby building. The shadow struck again, throwing Link backward and— into the well itself, falling and falling with no way to—

“Get back, Link, please!” Sheik cried.

What was happening? Why was he stuck at the well, at this one moment, being hit again and again and being told to—

“Get back!” Sheik shouted, angry now.

Again the shadow burst forth, knocking Link down harder than all times before. Pain welled in his chest. Then, above him, he saw Sheik take the ocarina from his bag and begin to play. In his last moments of awareness, Link realised he knew the melody: it was a lullaby, once beloved by the Princess of Hyrule.

---

Looking back, all that had come before now made sense, but Link needed time to be sure. He had braved the Shadow Temple and conquered the Spirit Temple before he was ready to confront Sheik.

They met once again in the Temple of Time, where it had all begun. Sheik explained to him the legends of the Triforce, saying that Ganondorf had caused it to split into three when he stole it from the Sacred Realm. All this only strengthened Link’s resolve.

“You hold the final piece,” Link said. “You are the seventh sage.”

“I—“ Sheik blinked at him. “Yes. How did you know?”

Link took a deep breath. “From the moment we met, you seemed familiar. Then I began to remember things you had forgotten, and finish your sentences.” He took the Ocarina of Time from his bag and held it between them. “Then you used this to save my life in Kakariko Village. You turned back time, more than once. There’s only one person in Hyrule who could do that.”

Sheik’s eyes welled with tears. He bowed his head.

“Zelda,” Link said, kind as he could. “I’m not angry. It is Zelda, right?”

Sheik had bowed, but it was the Princess who raised her head. “Yes, it is. You don’t know how happy it makes me to say that.”

Link handed the ocarina to her. “How many times did you use it?”

With a shrug, “I lost count after fifty.”

Fifty? “I died that many times?!”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Zelda said, laughing. “You’re as brave as you are reckless.” Then her face fell. “This is the furthest we’ve ever made it. Each time you fall, I have to send us back to the moment you arrive in the future. At this point, I don’t even know if defeating Ganondorf is possible.”

She unravelled her long braid, shaking out her golden hair with a sigh. Her eyes seemed a little softer now, the red shade fading to green. This was who she had wanted to be all this time, Link thought.

“I’m sorry I can’t remember it all,” Link said, realising unhappily that Zelda likely could. “When I face Ganondorf, I’ll make it count.”

Zelda placed a hand on his cheek and smiled a soft, sad smile. “I know you will.”

She knelt down to kiss his cheek, but Link turned his head and caught her lips with his own; a short, whisper of a kiss, one hopeful of more to follow once peace had returned.

“I’ll see you again?” Zelda asked.

“I’ll see you again,” Link affirmed.

This time around, whether or not this was the last time around, it was nothing short of a vow.

#tloz #oot #ocarina of time #link #sheik #link x sheik #what is the ship name for link x sheik #loftwing letters 2024 #time travel stories make my BRAIN HURT #happy valentines day #<3

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brutalmasks · 16 days

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alright, BUT it just occurred to me that bunny mask would likely be so flabbergasted by the concept of robin in the dc verse. like just imagine that she just got done with killing her fourth criminal of the day or whatever number she may be on, and she can feel someone following her and whenever she turns around, it's literally a pre-teen in a costume. LIKE JSJSJS no shade towards robin, of course, because i love all of the incarnations of the character,, but i feel as if bunny mask would literally take one look at them and be like ' oh... i didn't realize this city was so desperate for heroes that they started to recruit children. i guess i came here at just the right time, after all ' and she doesn't even say that in an insulting way.

i just think bunny genuinely wouldn't understand the whole concept of it at first, and might even be a little disturbed that they have pitted this poor kid against pretty dangerous people, so she's just like ' yeah uhhh i know you want to stop me and everything but GO HOME ' LMAOO and she will threaten them with escorting them back home herself if they don't leave, like,, bunny mask is such a mom without even realizing it 💀 though regardless, the last thing that she would want is for them to get hurt and she absolutely REFUSES to fight anyone below the age of 16 okok because at least they're only like two years away from being an adult jsjsj and even then, bunny mask will hold back against them severely + will constantly be telling them that she really doesn't want to be fighting with them right now. she does not want to cause anymore misery in a place that is already so plagued by it, after all, and children are arguably the most innocent people in society,, so, if they do try to seriously engage with her at any point, i could just imagine her trying to put them in air jail or something rather than fight them because there ain't no way she's doing this LOLLL

but yeahhh,, that's just my two cents about the situation. and i feel like if/when she learned that robin was ' employed ' by batman, she wouldn't be mad at him. bunny mask would just be very disappointed™ and somehow that might be even worse than her being mad at you jsjsj

#SOMETHING FEELS AMISS: musings.#LET ME TEACH YOU: headcanons.#now cue bunny mask taking them on fun adventures with her because again she is such a mom without even realizing it LOL #though i know most of the robins would disagree with the way she does things bc of batmans no killing rule #though just because she and them would disagree with each other doesn't necessarily mean they can't be civil #and bunny would DEFINITELY be wanting to take them to do ' kid ' things rather than go out and fight criminals all night LOL #it is a lotttt less dangerous in comparison

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veintrry · 1 year

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how he messes with you.

kaeya &/x gn!reader, fluff, teasing, just joking around together, can be rom or platonic, kinda implicitive at the end. I ACCIDENTSLLY WROTW A WHOLE SCENARIO FFS

an: im finally writing something for kaeya for the first time finally holy crap. TO KAEYA STANS, ILY, MARRY ME, MÍ BELLEZAS <3 🫶

i know that without a doubt of my mind he surprises you with his body temperature. You could be minding your business, but know that you are NEVER safe. If he sees an opportunity he will attack. A hand will crawl up your back, and he'll make sure you feel his fingers lightly touching your skin, leaving feathery sensations. However, that is only a warning as for what is to come, because he always. Always. Immediately plants his hand flat against you, just to snicker as he looks at your reaction to his ice cold hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. It seems my hand moved on its own."

The man is flirty, WE KNOW!! MOVE ON!! What about when you flirt back? I've been a true believer in the fact that he'd be taken aback at first only to begin a competition between you two as to who can say the cheesiest stuff or get flustered. Sometimes it gets to a point you guys literally call each other the corniest shit, "Honey bun" "Pookie bear" just in hopes of getting the other to throw in the towel, but it never works.

"Oh, you're making me melt, dear."

"Is that so? Then I should keep you in my arms so you don't collapse."

"Can you do this anywhere but here." Diluc hates having to witness your interactions all the time, he has the most scrutinising astounded face one could make.

> Catching him off-guard isn't exactly impossible, you've realise the way to do it isn't just intentionally being flirty, but giving him genuine compliments and kind gestures out of sheer will. Though he pretends like it has no affect on him, throwing you another sugar coated line of his, "I didn't know you felt so passionately about me, I'm glad. I'll do my best to match you then, hm."

I'm putting this in for my sake; flustered kaeya is a masterpiece. I think if the day comes when you get to see that man unable to gather himself is the day you know the Anemo Archon truly has bestowed upon you the best luck. Maybe the kind act of paying that bards bill served good purpose.

Kaeya's face would be a beauty to look at. It always is, but right now you wish you had a Kamera so you could keep this expression of his saved with you forever. Eye wide, as his icy glacial orb hold your figure in their reflection. His mouth agape, you can see how his mind is attempting to scramble for words, something to say- anything. There's a mix of an orange and red hue coating his cheeks, but the tips of his ears are on flames and you're glad that he ties his hair back because you get to see just how he looks. For the first time, Kaeya breaks eye contact, averting his gaze anywhere else as he coughs into his hand before turning it into a nervous chuckle. He attempts to use his hand as a cover for his face as he swallows thickly, attempting to collect himself. As if you'd allow that.

Grabbing the wrist of the hand that hides his flawless expression from you, you peer over to him and he stares at you, focused, his mouth pursed into a thin line as though he was upset with you despite not putting up a fight when you stepped closer. You gleam as you notice the small details of his face, his lashes fluttering softly, his eye lids narrowing onto you, the hair that frames his face failing to hide his emotions. You chuckle, "What a pretty muse you are.".

That seems to snap him out of it. He turns back into a coughing fit, before facing you again, that seductively menacing grin on his face again, but something is amiss; his eye tells a different tale, one that contradicts his confident stance. "Oh? I'm your muse, am I? If that's the case then how about we take this elsewhere and I'll offer you some inspiration."

#kaeya genshin impact #kaeya headcanons #kaeya fluff #kaeya x reader #kaeya x gender neutral reader #kaeya x y/n #kaeyagenshinimpact #kaeya being kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #diluc suffering

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v3nusxsky · 1 year

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Talent show | fluff

*A/n~ I take full responsibility for this fic like it's my prompt to myself this time. In just vibing living in my own writing bubble I am absolutely loving you loving my fics and al the sweet comments I'm getting. Thank you for healing my broken heart doves*

Prompt~ y/n writes a song (can I be him - James Arthur) about Larissa. Morticia finds it and gives it to Larissa to sing at the talent show. Y/n is in the crowd when she hears her song and realises it's time to come clean.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Therapy isn't always laying on a sofa spilling your guts to a stranger. No. For you it was more of a creative approach. For you, music was your therapy. Listening but also creating. You find you often express your feelings better in this form rather than actually trying to speak. If you tried you'd stutter and fail. Despite your natural talent for music, you choose to keep any of your compositions completely private. In fact, all the songs you composed lay in a thick black note book. This book came everywhere with you. After all you never know when inspiration would hit. Or when you'd need that release.

Recently your work had been focused on someone in particular. Your muse being the stunning tall blonde girl who was Morticia Addams roommate. Despite rooming with the most popular girl at Nevermore Academy, Larissa was focused on her studies, she was kind and caring and extremely intelligent. Shes just perfect. You always looked forward to the lessons you shared with her. Although you never spoke too much other than work related things. Your shy nature gave off the wrong impression to your crush.

On this particular day, your notebook had vanished from your desk. You had only turned to grab your bag and it was gone. Panic flooded through you as you panicked and searched the area. Only then was it exactly where you'd left it. Extremely odd. You quickly examined it and was relieved that nothing was amiss. If only you knew what had happened then maybe we wouldn't be telling this story.

Nevermore Academy decided to hold a talent show. Not something you were planning on attending due to the crowds of people. Lots of people means lots of noise and that was something you didn't enjoy. But morticia was bragging about her entry with her roommate. That is what got your attention. Larissa. Curiosity got a hold of you as you listened in. So Morticia was going to be doing some kind of gothic one women show and had convinced Miss Weems that she needed a person to sing as a part. Larissa singing? Not something you imagined but it was good to know she had an interest in music. Could she get anymore perfect?

And that is how you got where you are right now. Sat in a crowed hall watching act after act. Desperately waiting for Morticia and Larissa to head on stage. Your companion for the night was Morticia's boyfriend, Gomez Addams. He was nice enough despite his almost sickening love for the gothic girl. You could tell they would be raven king and queen again this year. Nevermore's most popular couple.

Finally the principle announced their act and you sat up straighter in your seat. Morticia started off strong. After all she was good at doing drama. Her whole Nevermore experience was filled to the brim with drama. Always somehow managing to be the thick of everything. It was only when some notes filled the hall that you stiffened. Those notes seemingly too familiar. You tried to rack your brain on how and where you knew then from. It was only when you saw the now shifted Larissa Weems and heard the family wording of your song that you realised.

Your notebook disappeared in a lesson that you shared with Morticia, Morticia's insistence that Larissa help her and even the seating arrangements. Gomez shifted slightly indicating his discomfort. He clearly knew what Morticia had planned.

"You walked into the room and now my heart has been stolen

You took me back in time to when I was unbroken

Now you're all I want

And I knew it from the very first moment

'Cause a light came on when I heard that song and I want you to sing it again

I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me

Like it was a private show, I know you never saw me

When the lights come on and I'm on my own

Will you be there to sing it again?

Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories

Can I be her?"

Her voice was honestly making your song sound so much better than it had in your head when it was created. The girl it's about was singing it. No idea she's the muse.

"I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me

Like it was a private show, but I know you never saw me

When the lights come on and I'm on my own

Will you be there to sing it again?

Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories?

Can I be the one

Can I be the one"

If only she knew she was indeed the one. Your one and only muse. But why would she notice the shy girl who hardly spoke. The girl who more often that not was scribbling into a black notebook. You waited on bated breath for the results of the show. And to no surprise Larissa and Morticia gained first place. You couldn't help but feel pride amongst the fear and upset of Morticia taking your song. Your song helped gain first place and everyone seemed to love it. Not only was music your therapy, but others were enjoying your creation.

Larissa made her way to you in order to avoid any spot light.

"Y/n you came!"she exclaimed coming up to hug you in her excitement. You stiffened at the contact which spurred the taller girl into a flurry of apologies.

"I'm sorry y/n. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I just I'm so happy you came" she explained in a hurried tone.

She thought you were uncomfortable? If only she knew how much you craved to be in her embrace. It was all just too much for you. Which is why you took her hand and lead her to the quad. The air helping calm the nerves you felt.

"Y/n? Are you okay? I'm sorry I really didn't mean to offend you. I just I really like you and I know your probably not even into girls god I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I'm so sorry please don't hate me" she mumbled in a rush her words blurring together as she raced to get it all out.

"I swear that every word you sing, you wrote them for me

Like it was a private show, but I know you never saw me

When the lights come on and I'm on my own

Will you be there to sing it again?

Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories?" You sung out to her effectively stopping her rambling.

"You sing beautifully y/n, really you do. But I'm confused why are you singing Morticia's song?" The confusion evident and her puzzled expression making you want to laugh. She was truly an adorable idiot sometimes.

"A few days ago my notebook went missing..." you trailed off only to have Larissa fill the gap, "your black one you take everywhere? Look it's even here now? So you found it?" You nodded and took a breath. "I found it a few minutes later. Now you can imagine my shock when I hear my song sang by this angelic voice. And then it all made sense." You could tell by the way she was looking at you, she'd not made the connection just yet.

"Larissa, Morticia took it. She took my song and gave it to you, then made sure I'd be here tonight to hear you sing it" you explained and watched as realisation fell onto her facial expressions. "But why?" She queried. "Because I - it's about you" you blurted out in a panic. "Me?" You nodded looking anywhere but the taller girl. This was not how you planned to tell her. You weren't ready to tell her yet, but Morticia had other plans and you were struggling to be upset with her.

"You're my muse Larissa. I want to be the one you are with. You didn't make me uncomfortable earlier I just wasn't expecting you to want to hug me. I don't like crowded space and already on edge I'm sorry I made you feel that. I understand my feelings are rather out there and a girl like you wouldn't want a girl like me." You trailed off wondering why you gave away so much information.

"I want to be your one too" she whispered back to you before coming closer to place an innocent kiss to your cheek. You blushed instantly at the action. This had to be a dream no way could she return your feelings. "You write beautifully darling" the pet name gaining another blush from you, "it was a wonderful song. I'm sorry that Morticia took it. I had no idea." She reassured. "It was only beautiful because you sang it so perfectly." You complimented her back smiling at the fact she was now also blushing.

"Y/n, can I kiss you please?" She whispered coming impossibly close. You nodded and then you felt her hand come up to cup your cheek as if you were the most fragile human and then her lips pressed against yours ever so lightly. Butterflies exploded in your stomach as you kissed her back. Only when you pull apart do you become aware that it's no longer just the two of you. If the half hushed whispers of morticia and Gomez are much to go by. "I told you they would be fine look see I was right Mon Cherie."

Word count~ 1714

*A/n~ I just love James Arthur also please make sure you're all drinking and taking care of yourselves*

#fanfic #larissa weems #larissa x reader #wednesday netflix #gwendoline christie #larissa x you #anon request #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems

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paragonrobits · 6 months

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thinking a lot about the angst and hurt/comfort potential in Finn, as he gets older and starts going into the same depressive spirals he canonically has pretty often (see: the fruit witch incident and him being pretty quick to start sadly musing on whether Jake, Marceline and Bubblegum even ARE his friends or care about him at all in What Was Missing, or his recurring tendency to just shut down all his sad feelings and aggressively put any bad memory into a Vault so he never has to think about anything bad) and following Jake's death, without Jake to serve as a lightening presence in his life, Finn starts to quietly spiral inward in a way that has him...

not DISTANCING himself from Bubblegum and Marceline (canonically his closest friends in the world, and he is arguably the closest person TO them, and the person that can moderate their respective view points when the two of them start having issues Getting each other), but he starts having doubts about himself and their friendship, so he very quietly is smiling and nodding and in the inside screaming about how of COURSE they don't REALLY need him or want him in their lives, why would they

its a quiet kind of spiraling. He doesn't say things out loud, and that's his problem. He doesn't tell them much, and increasingly starts showing up less and less; Jake would have noticed him starting to have one of his moments and curtailed it right away, but PB and Marceline, as much as they love him, need to be in proximity to him to notice when something is amiss, and its hard to do that when he is going out of his way to conceal his feelings.

He starts doubting himself, and with that concludes that either he's not as close to them as he thought he was, or starts wondering if they just used him and are now discarding him like a broken sword that can't do its job anymore, or otherwise goes into a mentality of 'I don't deserve to be around them because I'm a fuckup and a failure'

In this state of mind, he doesn't think about the good he's done. He doesn't think about all the times he stopped the Lich, or how he dragged Ice King back into a mental space where he could form genuine connections. He doesn't think about how his name is a by-word for heroism, or that PB doesn't trust ANYONE and she trusts him with her life and family. He got Marceline to dare to trust in people even though its so much scarier than keeping a deliberate distance, because he wanted to be her friend and didn't care how dangerous or scary she was-

But he can't see this now. All he sees are the failures. He couldn't save Jake. He couldn't save Billy. And he still feels like he could have done more to help Simon with... everything. Maybe if he'd done it better Jake would still be alive, Betty wouldn't have to fuse with Golb, maybe maybe maybe he's just no good at anything.

PB and Marceline care about him; likely more than they care about anyone else. They trust him with their secrets, their lives, and their goals. They believe in him and the sincere uncomplicated good and desire to help people that they admire but can't entirely bear to do for themselves. But the thing is about it that they're busy besides, and not very demonstrative people at the best of times, and he's not good at noticing the small details.

Maybe he thinks he just doesn't belong anywhere, and most especially not with them; not people as accomplished and cool and just plain good as PB and Marceline. And more and more, the more he's around them, he starts interpreting PB's poor communication skills as lack of interest or even contempt, or Marceline's veiled ways of expressing herself as genuine indifference. They care about him, but he can't see it. He thinks, why WOULD they care about me?

Maye he starts thinking he really is just a joke or a knight to them; a tool that's breaking down and long past its utility point, a tired gimmick that isn't fun anymore so they're moving on to more interesting things.

It's not something he's angry about, or lashes out towards them. He thinks they're objectively right, in his little mental assumptions; he can't help but think of himself as ugly. Misshapen, brutish. He feels shameful and awkward around him, and he withdraws away, a bit at a time.

So the question is raised: what happens when PB and Marceline work this out, or have it directly confronted by some kind of situation that highlights it for them? When something happens so that Finn can't do anything but admit how ugly he feels around them, that all he can think about are his personal failures, or that they just don't want him around anymore.

Or perhaps they come to realize that Finn thinks maybe he should just fade away, be forgotten by a world that doesn't need or want something like him anymore.

#adventure time #finn mertens #queued #princess bubblegum #marceline #marceline abadeer

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aquagirl1978 · 1 year

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Hello! Thank you for opening these requests! This is so exciting! 🥰

May I please ask for Mitsuhide + Kisses #13 + 🌶 (or SFW, wherever the muse takes you)

Thank you so much!

~ Bryndolyn

Thank you so much for this request @bestbryn! What a great prompt for the kitsune - don't blame me for where this went, blame the muse.

Devotion - Mitsuhide Akechi x Reader (Ikemen Sengoku)

A/N: Part of my New Year, New Celebration event

Pairing: Mitsuhide Akechi x Reader

Prompt: kissing their bruises and scars

Tags: NSFW; Minors - DNI (for spicy situations)

You had been waiting for this night for what felt like forever.

In reality, it was less than 10 days. Nowhere near forever. But everyday spent without your love felt painfully slow.

So naturally, your heart sang for joy when you learned Mitsuhide would be returning to your bed that evening. You spent a ridiculous amount of time over which kimono to wear and which hair clip complimented it best.

But it was all for naught.

Hideyoshi had stopped by your room. You knew as soon as he opened his mouth that something was amiss.

Mitsuhide, he said, had already returned and was resting in his room. Surprised, you questioned why he did not come to see you first. Hideyoshi was unable to meet your gaze, and mumbled something about the mission not going as planned. He bowed his head and left your room.

In that moment, you were annoyed by his evasiveness, thinking it was cruel to not tell you what happened. But in hindsight, you realized he was being kind by preparing you.

As soon as Hideyoshi left, you rushed through a maze of hallways until you found yourself breathless before a familiar door.

“Mitsuhide?” you called, knocking softly.

When you received no answer, you gently pushed open the door. His room was dark, with just enough light shining through to see the outline of a figure lying under the covers on the bed.

“Little mouse, you shouldn’t be here.”

His voice was unrecognizable; hoarse and laced with exhaustion, you could tell even those few words took great effort to spit out. His words did not send you away as they wanted, but rather called you to him.

Perching yourself on the edge of his futon, you took his hand in yours and brought it to your lips, brushing a gentle kiss along his knuckles. When his hand trembled, you noticed there were marks on his fingers – they were thin and already starting to heal, but the bright pink color betrayed their age.

Turning his hand over in yours, your heart ached when you saw more of the same marks on his palms. Dipping your head to his hand, you left featherlight kisses, your lips just ghosting his tender skin.

When you pulled back, you heard him make a noise. “Did that hurt?” you asked softly.

“No, on the contrary…” You raised a silent brow at him, but when he nodded slightly, you let out a long, pleased sigh.

Lifting his arm, you carefully pushed down the loose sleeve of his kimono, baring his bruised arm to you. After letting out an audible gasp, you brought your lips to his arms, leaving a trail of gentle kisses on his tender skin.

Upon reaching his shoulder, you gently tugged at the collar of his robes, the fabric freely falling from his skin, revealing patches of pale purple bruises.

Placing a chaste kiss to his collarbone, you enjoyed feeling the hitch in his breath. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, amber burning faint but steady. He smiled at you, tangling his long fingers in your hair, guiding your head towards his, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. His tongue parted your lips, sweeping the inside of your mouth, sending sweet tingles throughout your body.

He pulled back, his golden eyes hungry and ready to devour you, his voice husky and encouraging.

“Little mouse, I appreciate your gentle touch. But, it’s just a scratch. I’m not broken.”

Tagging: @violettduchess @alixennial @redheadkitty11 @lordsisterxotome @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @ikehoe @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @lucyw260 @bellerose-arcana @scorchieart @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @tele86 @nightfoxqueen

#new year new celebration #ikemen series #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #mitsuhide akechi #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen mitsuhide #ikemen fanfic #ikesen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

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hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend · 15 days

Text

Mayncient Day 2: Meeting

I've had this since I first came up with Anthea and figure what better time to share it than now! So anyway enjoy these two.

word count: 2,650 warnings: none, though recommend you have finished at least ShB before reading. Can be read on Ao3 here

They take a deep breath, closing their eyes, the design in their mind, a blossom with no more than eight white petals at a time with edges in varying colors and a simple dark green stem with the standard leaf pattern from prior flowers. It should be easy, a no brainer, Anthea has made much more creative ideas before on a whim, dionaea muscipula the first to come to mind. They place their fingers in the cool soil feeling the flow of aether disperse from their fingertips, smiling at the thought of just how it might look, mind wandering to what they should make next, something that’s evocative of mankind. Anthea’s eyes fly open with a gasp as they remember how much concentration is the key to getting things right. “Oh no,” they sigh, running their hands down their face, “Maybe it’ll all be fine. It’ll all work out still.”

Anthea splays their fingers slowly, peeking to see that a flower has formed, which does little to alleviate the nerves rolling in their stomach. Little by little they drop their hands until a grey toned flower stands proud before them, Huh, interesting, they think reaching a hand out, snapping it back quickly when the flower shifts into a pure white. They let out a yelp, leaning in closer with delicate fingers tracing and counting the petals. Seven outer ones, six smaller ones surrounding a bulb like center that seems to have the faintest of yellow coloring. The stem devoid of leaves as they all sit at the base, formed like a sharp feather, and all of it a soft glowing white. “Well I don’t think I could have ever imagined the likes of you,” they muse, tilting their head in search of anything else odd about it.

Anthea jumps when the door opens, hand hitting their chest as their mentor walks in, pulling his white mask and black hood down, shaking out chin length dark brown hair. He smiles at them making his aged tawny skin glow and red undertone brown eyes light up, “Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you, Anthea.” He walks closer eagerly searching behind them, “Have you completed your first batch of them yet?”

Anthea shakes their head, “Uhm something went a little amiss.” They step aside letting their mentor see just what was made. He holds his chin, brow furrowing as he looks back at the approved design and then the created flower. “Truly I don’t know what happened and I know things must get approved by the bureau first but-.”

“Well not everything gets approval first, Anthea,” he picks the pot up hoping to get a better look at the under petals, “Sometimes ideas are made on a whim, we just have to document it and send the design through. From there we determine if it gets studied or if we must erase it.”

“Oh. Right, yes. Silly me,” they say, giving a small hum, “What do you think they’ll say about this one?”

He smirks, “I think they might let it through considering they allowed for your carnivorous plant to be studied.” He sets the plant down crossing his arms, “Why does it glow all over like that?” They shrug, their mentor giving a small hum before shaking away his thoughts, “See to it you get it logged and to the bureau within the next day or two.”

They nod, watching as he turns to leave allowing for their attention to fall right back onto their creation, “Well you certainly are an interesting one. I hope they keep you because I want to know what secrets you’re hiding.”

The Bureau of Architecture feels busier than normal and all too crowded as Anthea makes their way to the check in line, shoulder impacting with someone rushing out the door, making them lose their balance to land against another’s chest while they cling onto the black sack containing their creation. Their arms reach out to steady Anthea with a small and quiet laugh, Anthea’s hood falling back enough to reveal their dark teal hair. Anthea blushes under the white and silver mask, righting themselves, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall on you like that. You’re not hurt are you?”

The stranger chuckles, letting loose some strands of lavender hair from the shadow of the hood onto a matching white mask, “I am quite alright, so there is no need to be sorry.”

The voice puts Anthea at ease, “Good, well I mean, I’m glad you’re not hurt that is.”

The stranger tilts his head in a quick assessment, “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Hm, oh no. No, no I’m fine, thank you.” They look over to the growing line with a small groan, “I should go. Gotta check in and even with an appointment and being early you know how they can be.”

They smile at one another, both giving a light laugh and bringing attention to the person standing close that Anthea now realizes was there the whole time with an eye roll and crossing of their arms, Oh no….I think it was them I may have fallen on by that reaction. Anthea readies an apology before being cut off from the one with lavender hair as they give a slight bow, “Of course.” The two quickly make their way towards the elevator leaving a further embarrassed Anthea to shuffle away to the check in line.

They glance back over their shoulder watching as the elevator doors close, letting out a sigh, “And this is why I don’t like coming to the city.” Anthea shakes their head, gasping midway and quickly opening the bag just enough to see the flower still intact. “Whew. Well thankfully you are safe,” they whisper moving along in the line. By the time they sit down to wait for another to lead them upstairs they can’t help but check on the flower every so often knowing it’ll be at least another twenty minutes even if they had five minutes to spare on their check in time. They watch as people go about the day and overhears talk of the Convocation’s latest events, all of which bores them to some manner and they wish more than anything they could be done with this nonsense and back to Elpis to further their research and continue to try and make their original intent.

“Anthea!” Someone calls out, as they jump to their feet. The escort locks eyes with them, “Anthea?” They nod with a soft smile, “Good. Follow me.” The two ride the elevator up five floors and enter into a wide office space, with some scattered desks in the center of the room, and private offices with glass windows enclosing them. They’re led to one such office, their escort not even deigning to introduce them before rushing back off. There’s two white masked people which Anthea finds odd and odder still; one sits at the desk while the other stands above them watching as they write something down with the same posture as the person they saw downstairs.

The one standing looks up at their entrance, “You may have a seat, we’re almost done here.” They nod, lowering their head as they slide into the chair directly across from the judge of their latest creation. “Ah there we go,” the standing one says, picking up the paper and examining it for a brief moment, “I shall leave you to your work now. Thank you for your assistance.” They leave the office sliding the thin curtains closed and shutting the door.

The person sitting across from them exhales removing their mask and hood revealing lavender hair that goes just past the shoulders braided loosely, paired with sparkling amethyst eyes that keep Anthea entranced until he smiles softening the angles of his fair, lightly sun-kissed face. Their brain is already spouting out ideas on flora that could be made based around him like a tree that can produce soft small flowers that come but once a year and stay until the winds of change decorate the world with their petals or a tree with branches that hang low enough to provide shade and safety from the world around them while always having a small creek or river that sings in the same manner as his laughter probably sounds, around his smile with flowers that follow the sun so they always glow with a halo, the shades of purples in his eyes that could lend themselves to a variety of petal gradients, simply put: He’s one of the most beautiful people they’d seen. “You‘re free to remove your mask if you’d like.” Anthea stiffens recognizing the man’s voice as the same one from the stranger she thinks (and hopes) fell into, Of course of all the people…. He gives a nod at their sudden rigidity, “Do you wish to begin, then?”

“Hm,” Anthea blinks a few times while the words he says gain meaning in their brain, “Oh right. Yes, sorry. Uhm….” They look down in their lap at the plant bag and stack of papers beneath it, deciding to put the plant between them with shaky hands hoping it can mask the blush they’re sure can be seen through the one they already wear. “Apologies, normally I just send paperwork in or someone else takes it for me, rarely do I ever make the trip myself, but I felt it necessary this time around.” They take a breath, sifting through the papers to try and focus on the unneeded task of making sure their proper order, before looking up to see the new centerpiece does wonders to block the distraction his all too pretty face can cause. Anthea clears their throat, “Right, well, my name is Anthea and I am here to submit new flora for approval to be studied on Elpis.”

“Wonderful,” he says cheerfully, peeking around to meet their eyes, “I’ve seen the design and have been most curious about the finished product.”

His hands reach out to open the bag, Anthea quickly shooing them away, “Well see here’s the issue, mister…,” they look around the desk hoping to find a name plate before-.

“Hythlodaeus,” he smiles, folding his hands in front of him politely, “Pleasure to meet you, Anthea.”

“Same to you,” they respond quickly, looking down at their paperwork once more, I swear he’s purposely trying to show off his face which is wholly unfair. “The issue, Hythlodaeus, is that this particular flora wasn’t approved prior. It just….happened. I didn’t mean to make something so far from the design already approved, so I’m hoping for a retro approval and subsequent approval to allow Elpis to study it.”

“Hmm, I see.” He looks to their lap, “Might I see what you have written so that I can prepare myself.”

“I could uhm also just show you.”

He laughs, “I do try to be prepared for my appointments, Anthea, and I read that the last time something like this occurred you brought in a carnivorous plant of some kind.”

“No one’s going to let that one go are they,” they grumble.

“Afraid not, but you can understand my slight hesitation in just simply opening the bag now.” They mumble their agreement, handing over the stack of papers. Hythlodaeus looks at them quietly, face unreadable with each turning of a page, until finally, “Well, well not only is it safe but it also holds much more intrigue than your last submission. A flower that is all the color white! How remarkable!”

Anthea smiles, sitting straighter with the praise, “Yes, here let me show you.” They open the bag letting it fall into a puddle around the pot to reveal the soft white glow of the flower. Hythlodaeus’ eyes go wide taking in the blossom, pulling the pot closer to spin it around. “I don’t know why it glows like that. I think maybe it’s meant to be a plant to light the way at night.”

“So it only glows in darkened areas?”

“Well-. Huh,” they purse their lips, fingers holding onto their chin delicately.

He looks away from the flower at them with a small smile, “You’ve yet to observe it in sunlight?” Anthea shakes their head, Hythlodaeus’ smile growing, “Then might I suggest we go and see together? It is a wonderful day out.”

Anthea looks up with wide eyes, “If you find it to be of importance to your decision then, yes.”

He stands, placing his mask back on before putting the pot in the bag once more, “Follow me. There’s a lovely little terrace two floors up.” Anthea follows one step behind, head down, “Is everything alright, Anthea?” He asks once they’ve entered the elevator, making their heart flutter when he uses their name.

They nod, “Yes, I’m just lost in thought it seems.”

“A researcher like you, I find that unsurprising,” he chuckles. He weaves them through offices and hallways with ease towards the south end of the building. The glass door in front of them shows a small section of garden, a big maple tree casting enough shade to allow for one to have a comfortable meal at one of the tables underneath its leaves, and the beige stone stark against the dark colors of the building. When they step outside Anthea‘s breath catches taking in the little garden in full, with its two big trees, six tables for eating, four for games, and a number of benches with different levels of sun but all able to get the cool breeze that makes this place a paradise in the hotter months. They frown seeing a few spots that lack upkeep, something that doesn’t escape Hythlodaeus’ gaze. “Your specialty is flora, correct?”

“It tends to come out much better than fauna that’s for sure,” they let out a light laugh, “but that may be due to my lack of experience in committing to creating things from my own ideas.”

“It will come in time, but if it doesn’t then perhaps that is your gift to the star.”

They look up at him, eyebrows raising and then furrowing, “Can making mistakes truly be seen as a gift worthy to bring forth unto mankind?”

“Based on your record your ‘mistakes’ have all been seen fit to remain for research and with the ones that have been archived some have even chosen to build off of them, finding their answer within your perspective.” He guides them to sit at a partially covered game table, “If anything I’d dare say you’ve brought the most gifts to mankind for some things would never have come to be had it not been for your ‘mistakes’ as you call them.”

Anthea’s shoulders relax, smile returning, Can it really be argued that I have already begun my road to contributing to the star?. The question ruminates as they take in the terrace once more, committing the full conversation to memory when the beginning of it raises a question, “Why ask me such a thing to begin with?”

“Ask you….Oh! You looked at the flowers so sadly I was going to suggest we assist in their upkeep.”

“Oh,” they blush, “Right. I should have thought of that.”

“My creation magics I will admit are lacking and I believe it would be most helpful to have someone much more skilled at my side.” His smile is soft and reassuring, the heat from his hand warming theirs as the two have accidentally placed them too close to one another. Anthea doesn’t say anything about it and simply nods to answer his request for their assistance, “Ah, wonderful!”

“I won’t be cutting into any of your other work will I?”

“I am always conducting work, even when it looks as if I’m not.” He laughs at his own observation, Anthea joining in with a single thought, Something I hope I can come to learn as true, Hythlodaeus.

#yeah have these two and the first thing I ever wrote for them that's been hiding away in drafts #x: as long as you exist #mayncient 2024 #mayncient #hythlodaeus x oc #hythlodaeus ffxiv #endwalker spoilers #ish just in case #my writing

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