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oepionie · 1 year

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—"PRINCE CHARMING'S KISS" dormleaders

💭masterlist | 💬ao3 link

synopsis: a potionology accident involving the adeuce duo leads to the prefect falling into a deep sleep. only an act of true love's kiss can save them and it seems that ace and deuce picked a certain boy to play prince charming.

⊹ [ cw ] — none◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFF.GN! READER | papa crewel doesn't seem too happy, cauldrons, tomato riddle, azul tries to get engaged, kalim bawling his eyes out, soft vil, idia is about to pop a vein, malleus throws a lamp at lilia and it's deserved◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 4k+◞

"I SUMMON THEE, CAULDRON!"

"Deuce! No! I asked you to grab one not-" Before you could stop him, the cauldron already smashed against the pot atop your desk, flinging all the contents of the pink bubbling potion all over you.

"You dumbass! They said grab one, not summon one!" Ace hissed, throwing a towel over your soaked form. "Shit. We need to get them to Professor Crewel and — Oi, Prefect!?"

You fell forward, falling limp in Ace's arms as you both tumbled to the floor. Panicked, Ace was quick to push you onto your back, slapping your cheek and shaking you furiously. "Wake up!"

"W-What happened?" Deuce ran towards you two, guilt pooling in his stomach. His blood ran cold with fear once he saw just how pale and cold your face had turned. "Are they dead?!"

"No. It's not that strong of a potion." Crewel sighed, striding towards the two morons with a venomous scowl on his lips.

Leaning down, your adoptive-father gingerly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. All previous ire he exhibited seemingly melting away. "Oh darling, I have no idea why you chose these two strays as friends…"

"Once again, you've brought my pup to harm with your incompetence." The professor stood up straight once again, his stern gaze fixed on the two youngsters.

"Nonetheless, I think this will be a valuable learning experience for the two of you." Crewel said, grabbing a thick aged book from a nearby shelf and thrusting it into Ace's arms.

"That book there contains the instructions to brew the cure."

"D-Do we have to make the- uff-" Deuce coughed, unintentionally breathing in a cloud of dust released by the old book. "-cure ourselves?"

Crewel drew his eyebrows up to his hairline, jaw dropped in disbelief. "Seven's no! I'll be making the cure myself; I have zero faith in you two."

"You two are to write a 10,000 word long report about the potion and I expect it on my desk by tomorrow." The professor pressed a boney finger against the cover, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, and I trust that you'll keep my pup safe. You know the consequences if I find even a single hair missing from their head." The two watched helplessly as Crewel walked away, his sharp heels clicking against the floor.

"Man. What's with him." Ace grumbled, flinging the book at Deuce who easily caught it with one hand.

"Deuce, what'cha say we just head to Ramshackle?" Ace hummed, nudging your unconscious form with his foot. He hadn't even bothered with picking you up. Opting to just leave you sprawled out on the cold tiles.

Ace was truly the most friend ever.

"Interesting…" Deuce muttered, clasping a hand around his chin. Ace raised his brow, peeking over his friend's shoulder to read the text on the yellowed pages.

"One of the cures listed here is…"

✩—RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

"A True Love's Kiss…?" Riddle trailed off before scowling at his two dorm members. Just what sort of shenanigans were they pulling now?

He lowered his teacup slowly while frowning and blinking incoherently. "Could this be another one of your pitiful attempts at a joke?"

"Why the hell would we joke about his?" Ace whined.

Riddle shook his head, walking over to your unconscious form draped over Deuce's shoulder like a stack of potatoes. Checking your temperature, he pressed his hand against your forehead and tsk'd at the heat.

For a split second, his eyes briefly wandered over to your lips.

What if…

Snapping out of it, Riddle stepped back with his burning pink cheeks.

"What utter nonsense. Hand me that book, I can brew the potion myself." Riddle said, pulling his gloves off before he then motioned for Deuce to pass him the book.

"Ah yeah…about that-" Ace chuckled, folding his arms behind his head. "Crewel didn't allow any of us to make the cure…so you're kinda our only hope."

The part where Crewel promised to produce the cure was purposefully left out by Ace. In truth, there really was no reason for Riddle to kiss you other than to serve as Ace's entertainment but hush now Riddle didn't have to know that.

"Well them, pray tell, what makes you think I should take the role of Prince Charming? "

"You get that disgusting dopey look on your face when you see them." Ace smirked.

"I-I do not!" Riddle shouted, face turning a deep cherry-red. Ace laughed, pointing at Riddle's flushed cheeks. "See?! You're turning into a tomato!"

"How are we certain that they even like me back?!"

"Ugh! Stop being a coward! You'll never know if you don't try!"

They began arguing anew, flinging insult after insult at one other. Deuce sighs and places you down on the couch in the lounge. He knew that if they continued their screaming, nothing would be done. It's was time he took things into his own hands.

Deuce grabs Riddle by the arm, dragging him towards you. The redhead turns to him, demanding the first-year to let go but Deuce only shakes his head. "I'm sorry house warden, I'll bear the brunt of your punishment later but I need to fix what I did."

"No-! W-Wait-" Riddle sputters, digging his feet into the ground. "I-I can't possibly-How unconsensual!-"

"Whoops!" Ace seizes the opportunity to shove the redhead forward, causing his lips to meet with yours.

"?!" Riddle stills for a few seconds, his calloused palms resting on your cheeks. Peering at you through shaky lashes, Riddle snaps out of his lovesick stupor and jolts back. His face blooming into an even deeper red than thought possible.

"R..iddle…?" His heart hammers against his ribcage as you flutter your eyes open, blinking up at him. The press and warmth of your lips still remained and a million of thoughts raced through his head. One of them seemed to echo louder than the rest.

At his lips’ touch you blossomed like a rose and the cure was complete, bringing the enchantment to an end. He was your 'True Love'?

Riddle hesitantly cradled your body, assisting you in sitting up. He coughed, averting his eyes to the ground, unable to meet yours.

"I apologize for the unsolicited kiss however, seeing as how my feelings are returned." He turned to you, clasping your hand tight in his. "I would like to court you properly. H-How does lunch tomorrow at noon sound?"

✩— LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

"…so that's why I dumped them onto ya' bed." Ruggie yawned, extending his arms over his head.

There you were, curled up against Leona's king-sized bed, clutching one of his pillows tight in your arms. Blissfully oblivious to the fact that your friends abandoned you, placing you in the clutches of a hyena and at the mercy of a lion.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"So, since Leona's a prince and all, that 'True Love Kiss' stuff could totally work with him, right?" Ace grinned, placing his hands on his hips. "I've read 'bout it in fairy tales all the time! The prince kisses the girl and boom!"

"How'd desperate are ya' to go running to Leona for help?" Ruggie sniggered, grabbing a handful of dry clothes off of the clothesline.

Really, it was both pitiful and humorous at the same time. The two chose to cast the irritable, hot-headed lion as the Prince Charming in their decrepit fairy tale.

Let's be honest, when you hear the term "charming," the first thing that came to mind was not Leona Kingscholar.

Adjusting the laundry basket, he propped it against his hip, Ruggie tapped his chin and pondered. "I can help but it'll come with a price…"

Deuce rushed forward, shoving a box of donuts into Ruggie's free hand. "Will this cover it?!"

Whistling, Ruggie flicked the box open. His eyes gleamed seeing all the tooth-rotting pastries heaped atop each other.

A sly grin stretched across his face.

"Deal."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

After Ace and Deuce handed you over to Ruggie, the hyena unceremoniously barged into Leona's room and all but threw you onto the bed.

"True Love's Kiss? Do those things even exist?" Leona scoffed, tossing a blanket over your form. Ruggie shrugged, heading out of Leona's room. "Dunno but since you two like each other, I figured you would wanna help."

Leona rolled his eyes, glancing at you. Your face was shoved against the pillow, a leg hooked over it. Well, by the looks of it, you seemed pretty comfortable. There was no harm in letting you stay for a bit.

"Shihshishi good luck on your love life." Ruggie grinned, sending Leona a thumbs up before slamming the door close.

"Damn hyena…" Leona grumbled, plopping down next to your sleeping body. His gaze poured over your skin, gliding across the contour of your jawline before settling on your lips. Leona softly pushed down on your lips with his thumb, parting them ever so slightly.

"So, you need a True Love's Kiss…" Leona whispered, leaning in, eyes fluttering close. "I better be the only one, herbivore."

His lips pressed firmly against yours, a hand propped under your chin to keep your head up. The kiss was unusually delicate and tender for someone of his nature, such a stark contrast to his gruff personality. Leona moved closer and his hair fell over his shoulders, chestnut locks draping across your chest. Within a few minutes, Leona drew back to see if you had awakened.

You stirred, bleary eyes blinking open and he smirked. Pride swelled in his chest as he leaned down to kiss you again, his tail curling around your waist.

"You're all mine, huh?"

✩— AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

"Man, just how strong are you eels?!" Ace growled, banging his fists against Floyd's back. Both of the Heartslabyul boys were slung over Floyd's shoulder, his grip on them tight and unfaltering.

Beside him, Deuce was kicking around, trying (and failing) to get the merman's grip on him to loosen. Suddenly, one of Deuce's kicks hit Floyd square in the jaw and the eel growled.

"Neh~ Squirm around some more and I'll snap both of your legs off." Floyd grinned, his bright sharp teeth on full display. Although hesitant, the threat seemed to work as the two boys stilled, not wishing to lose their ability to walk any time soon.

"Now, Floyd, there's no need for such aggression." Jade chuckled as he approached the group with you in his arms. Unlike Floyd's manhandling, you were carried in a firm bridal carry, treated as if you were a precious piece of china or rather…an offering.

"We just got word on the prefect's condition." Jade shut his eyes, placing a hand against his chest in faux sympathy. "How unfortunate that they've succumbed to such a fate. However, lucky for you we found a solution."

"Ya need a Prince Charming right~? Well, let's have Azul do it!" Floyd cheered, slamming the two boys down onto the ground. Ace groaned, cradling his back and squinting at the tweels. "You think you can drag me into another one of those contracts?! I'm not stupid!"

"Oh, you're mistaken. This one is free of charge, no strings attached." Jade chuckled.

"Yeah…I don't really believe that." Deuce muttered.

"Why're you so damn stubborn?! Can't we just hand shrimpy to Azul? I'm sick of seeing him makin' those dumb goo goo eyes." Floyd whined.

The eel yanked you from Jade's arms and stomped up to Azul's office. He kicked the door down, nearly knocking it off its hinges.

Jolting, Azul accidentally spilled ink all over his papers. The delicate fine print he spent hours painstakingy writing by hand dissolved into large blots of ink. His eye twitched as he grit his teeth, snapping his head up to meet Floyd's gaze.

"Floyd. What in the great seven's are you—?!" Azul was cut off when the eel plopped your dozing body onto his lap. It took the octo-mer a few seconds before he registered just what happened, cheeks burning a bright crimson when he realized you were pressed up snug against his chest.

"It's your lucky day, Azul~! You get to play Prince Charming!" Floyd sang as he made his way to the door. "Shrimpy here got cursed because of Mackerel and Crab so now you have to kiss them!"

Kiss…? Azul's mind went haywire but before he could speak any further, Floyd slithered out of the room and slammed the door shut.

It's not that he doesn't believe in the cure; love is a strong thing, and he's read that it can break even the most powerful curses. Even so, how could he promise that you'd wake up?

Azul pressed a hand behind your head, trying to calm his beating heart. Did you even acknowledge his feelings?

"True Love's kiss…Well, it wouldn't hurt to try." He murmurs, raising a trembling hand to rest against your cheek. He leans down and lightly presses his lips against yours, ever so clumsy, before checking for any reactions.

Azul stares down on your drowsy body as your eyes flicker open. He stares at you owlishly before breaking into a giddy grin.

"Prefect, s-seeing as how I'm your True Love-" Azul hastily unlocked his top desk drawer, pulling out a fancy piece of paper and handing it to you. "Let's make it official with a contract."

"..."

Blinking, you looked down and read the text on the paper. Azul smiled at you expectantly, nudging a pen towards your direction.

"Azul, this is an engagement contract…?"

"Precisely."

✩— KALIM AL ASIM:

Jamil peered at Kalim through a crack in the slightly-ajar door. Seeing the poster boy for the golden-retriever personality sulking was truly a rare sight. Kalim had his head buried in his hands, kneeling by his bed which had your sleeping form atop it.

"What did you tell him?!" Jamil hissed, whipping his head around to glare at both Ace and Deuce.

"W-We just told him how we needed a Prince Charming's kiss to break the spell…" Deuce trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "…we figured since he was related to royalty, he could break it."

"He must have misunderstood it then." Jamil sighed, slipping into the dark room. So dark in fact that he could barely make out the silhouette of his dorm leader. Kalim had shut the drapes so tightly that not a single ray of sunshine could strike through his bedroom. How…dramatic.

"Kalim, what's the matter…?" Jamil approached the young boy, placing his hand atop Kalim's shoulder. He didn't miss the sight of the pure gold jewelry hastily draped across your neck or the iris bouquet in your hands. Well…it was evident who all those were from. You looked like you came straight out of a Scarabian version of Snow White.

"J-Jamil!" Kalim wailed, screwing his eyes shut as thick globs of tears ran down his flushed puffy face. The vice dorm leader sighed and reached for a tissue box, which he handed to the distraught boy. Kalim snatched a fistful of tissues and blew his nose loudly.

"The prefect is cursed to sleep forever-! A-And I couldn't find the cure!" He cried out in anguish. Jamil squinted his eyes. "Kalim, in case you forgot, the cure is-"

"I know! Prince Charming's kiss!" Kalim interrupted, wiping away his tears with the back of his arm making Jamil grimace. "I sent out hundreds of search parties but he hasn't been found!"

Jamil paused.

Ah. In foresight, he really should have seen this coming…

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath to get his irritation under control. He reached for the hood of Kalim's shirt and yanked him back. Hissing into his ear, the snake spat. "Kalim, the Prince Charming is you."

"Wh-Whgat?" Kalim sniffed, his voice muffled and hoarse from his crying.

"You. You're the prince charming." Jamil groaned, running a hand over his face.

Kalim started at Jamil for a minute or two, processing what his friend just said. Eventually, he broke out into a wide smile and happy laughter.

Wasting no time, he was quick to swoop you into his arms, drawing you into a clumsy yet endearing kiss. It only took a few seconds before your eyes blinked open. He pulled away but not before pressing another quick peck on your cheek.

"So, I'm your prince charming, huh?" Kalim beamed, sending a you a silly toothy grin. He leaned down and peppered your flushed face with kisses once more, making you feel like your head was about to explode.

"Y-Yeah-" You shot him a bashful yet thankful smile.

Filled with happiness, the teen jumped to his feet and drew you into his arms. He lifted you up by the waist and spun you around, his loud laughter echoing out through the room.

"I'm so glad! Ah! But I still have to cancel all those search parties though…"

✩—VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Tsk. This is what I said about hanging out with those hooligans potato." Vil scowled, seething in rage and looking as if he was just about to hex both Ace and Deuce for this accident. "It'll only bring you trouble."

After he was informed of the incident by Rook, he wasted no time in whisking you away from your two incompetent friends and claiming he would care for you himself. Like hell he was letting you stay in that shabby dorm of yours.

Vil eased you into a luxurious bed in one of Pomefiore's spare rooms, draping a delicate lilac blanket around your torso. His palms brushed up against your brow, softly smoothing out the creases along your brow line.

Dspite the color vanishing from your cheeks and the once bright visage that made you look so vibrant losing it's glow, Vil believed you to be ethereal.

"True Love's Kiss can wake her from the spell." Vil murmured, reading off of a page in the book Deuce handed to him.

"Hmph, if I had a Madol for everytime that was listed as a cure." This wasn't the first time he'd heard of such a thing. Vil has spend hours pouring over potionology books and you'd be surprised at just how many spells and curses have it mentioned. A tad bit overrated if you asked him.

"Though there will be no need for a Prince Charming, potato." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small vial filled with a glimmering silver liquid.

The liquid swished around in the bottle, sparkling brightly. As you've probably guessed, this was the cure. Vil wasn't appointed Pomefiore's dorm leader for nothing. If he could make one of the most potent poisons this campus has ever seen then he surely knew how to make a cure as simple as this. It was mere child's play.

"The potion will suffice. Even a single drop is enough to wake you." He twisted the bottle open, gently grabbing a hold of your jaw to part your lips. He leaned down, holding the bottle over your face before pausing.

"As if I'd need True Love's Kiss to prove myself." Vil scoffed, eyes latching onto your face, his gaze intense yet warm. He tipped the bottle down, allowing a single drop to fall into your mouth before capturing your lips with his in a tender yet feverish kiss.

Vil eventually pulled away and hummed seeing the color and flush return to your skin. His fingers combed through your disheveled hair, undoing any knots. Your eyes fluttered open and Vil huffed, gliding his fingers along your flushed cheeks.

"Your skin is far too puffy, an unfortunate side effect of the cure. Worry not, I'll go grab a facemask for you." Vil pushed himself off of the bed, heels clicking against the floor as he marched out of the room. "A spa day is just what you need after another incident, potato."

It was all thanks to his potion that were you able to wake, he tells himself. Vil Schoenheit was not one for fairytales or wishing. He knew that he didn't need some magical curse or wish to win you over. No, he was confident he could accomplish it on his own.

As Vil eases the translucent mask onto your face, you smile brightly at him and his chest blooms in a sudden warmth.

Yes, it was definitely the potion.

✩—IDIA SHROUD:

"S-seriously, w-wh-hy me? Do I look like a Prince Charming to y-you?" Idia groaned, trying to shut the door but Ace stuck his foot through the opening. "Knock it off with the grin, geez… Weirdo…"

"We know you both have romantic feelings for each other!" Deuce shouted, holding you in his arms. "We really need your help!"

Idia shrieked, hair burning up slightly. He could barely hold eye contact with you for 3 seconds, what makes these two think that he could even survive kissing you? The poor boy would end up melting into a puddle of sad gooey awkwardness.

"J-Just wait until C-Crewel finishes the potion!" Idia shouted, shoving Ace away and slamming the door shut. His chest heaved up and down as he pressed his back against the door, arms awkwardly splayed to his sides, scrambling to keep the door shut.

His eyes ripped wide in panic when Ace continued to pound at the door, calling his name. "C'mon, Idia! Most people would take this as a great opportunity to win their crush over you know!"

"NOPE, NOPE, NOPE. COUNT ME OUT. I'M NOT GOING DOWN THE ROMANCE ROUTE." Idia vehemently shook his head, burying his face into the fabric of his shirt.

Ortho laughed silently, heading over to his distressed brother who looked like he was about to pop a vein. Scratch that, he probably already has.

"Big brother, didn't you and the prefect already go on a date?" Orthro said, tilting his head up to meet Idia's shaky gaze. "Why the big deal? It's just a small kiss."

"Th-That was different! I-I-It was a gaming session through a screen!" Idia sinked to the floor, curling up into a ball. He sobbed pathetically. "I could barely even keep my composure-No way am I surviving IRL."

"Yeah but they need you right now. You may not be Prince Charming but I'm sure the prefect would prefer you over any other." Ortho whispered, placing a hand atop Idia's own. The dorm leader's lip quivered, newfound courage blooming in his chest. He shakily stood up, knees wobbling from his nerves.

"…They need me."

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"I'm telling you Deuce, this guy's hopeless." Ace sighed, lips drawn into a thin line as he casually leaned against the door. Deuce frowned, lightly kicking Ace's shin. "Don't say such things about our senior!"

"Oh yeah? But he's-Argh! " Ace yelped falling backwards as the door abruptly opened. With a grunt, he landed on his back and found himself staring up at Idia's flushed face.

"Alright, n-normies. I-I-I'll d-d-do it."

Idia stepped aside and let Deuce enter his room. Anxiously fiddling with his hands, Idia watched the first-year carefully set you on his bed before stepping out of the room.

"We'll leave everything to you!" The two scurried away and Ortho also excused himself, leaving to give you two privacy. Idia stood in the middle of his room, a great distance away from you.

Alright, he could do this. It was just a simple little kiss, no biggie.

Hovering his shaky hands over your cheeks, Idia leaned over your form. His breath fanning across your face as he moved in, delicately brushing his lips against yours.

Your hands snaked around his neck, drawing him in deeper making the boy squeak. Pulling away, Idia averted his gaze, voice small and meek.

"H-Hey you. You're finally awake…"

✩—MALLEUS DRACONIA:

In a tall tower atop Diasomnia, an ominious green glow was emanating from an open window. Thick towering brambles, thorns, and vines wrapped itself around the brooding dorm. In the sky, claps of lightning and thunder flashed amongst the darkening clouds.

"Ah…we lost the prefect." Deuce deadpanned, his gaze fixed on the overgrown thick shrubs in front of them. Ace reached for a thorn, hissing as the tip of his finger was cut.

"Yeah..it's best if we leave them to Malleus, I don't think we can even get past all of…this."

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Lilia stood in the corner watching as Malleus tenderly placed you onto the bed, the dragon fae handling you as if you were a delicate piece of glass that could break at any second.

"Ah~ Are you going to be their Prince Charming? Khee hee, how ador—"

"Lillia, we need more pillows. There's hardly enough here." Malleus abruptly cut in, a stern look on his face.

Lilia blinked, gaze drawn over to the bed already filled to the brim with pillows of all shapes and sizes, so much so that some of them began pooling around the floor. All evidence of Malleus' nesting instinct.

"What a tragedy. There is to be a pillow scarcity in Diasomnia because of the devastation lay upon the prefect." Lilia replied, a dramatic theatrical sigh leaving his lips. He hurried out the door to meet Malleus' requests before the storm outside worsened. The dragon fae was already aggrevated, there was no need to make things worse.

Malleus' gaze was drawn to your serene expression, his aching heart plummeting to his stomach. Bending down, he softly cradled you in his arms. "Oh, my treasure, if only I could have prevented this."

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses amongst your skin before trailing them up to your lips. Fluttering his eyes shut, Malleus wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you off the bed as he pressed his lips firmly against yours.

Malleus drew back to see you ogle at him with with wide eyes, your fingers having immediately shot up touch your tingling lips. Chuckling, he bent down once more to press his lips against yours. You two exchanged kisses for what seemed like hours, the press of his lips against yours leaving your lungs burning and heaving for air. At some point he slipped into bed with you, holding himself above your body with his elbows.

"Khee hee, You two know it's supposed to be a 'True Love's Kiss' not 'Kisses', right?" Lilia barged into the room, a comically large pile of pillows in his arms. Malleus growled and tossed a lamp his way, one which Lillia dodged easily. The lamp shattered against the wall behind him, scattering into fragments across the floor.

"Ah ah, there's no need to be so furious. Let me just drop these off and I'll be on my merry way." Lilia cheered, dropping the pillows by the foot of the bed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old bulky camera. "Might as well take pictures!"

Snarling, Malleus drew his hand back to reach for the large painting sitting above the bed. You snaked a hand around his wrist, silently begging him to not hurl another object at his bat-dad.

"My baby boy is in love-OW!"

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✩— EXTRA:

"What did I say about keeping them out of harms way." Crewel snarled through clenched teeth, sitting in the detention room with both Ace and Deuce. Ace chuckled awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well if you look on the bright side, your kid finally has a love life, so there's that!"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

Taglist: @keedas , @spadecentral

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nctsworld · 8 months

Text

fever pitch

✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k

SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!

RATING | mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!

TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen

Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.

Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.

Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—

Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.

But one in particular catches your eye.

Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.

In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.

You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.

And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.

Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.

“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.

Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.

Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”

Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”

Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.

“Want your usual?”

“Yes, please!”

However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—

“WATCH OUT!”

With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”

You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”

“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”

Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.

“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”

You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.

Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”

Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.

Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.

“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”

“How would I know how to reach out to you?”

He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”

You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?

“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”

His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”

“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.

“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”

Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”

He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.

“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”

At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”

Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.

Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.

While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”

Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”

Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.

“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”

Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.

Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.

“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”

When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”

He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”

You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.

“Your head good though?”

You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”

In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”

Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again.

But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.

On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?

Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”

Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”

“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”

“Okay, okay.”

Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.

And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.

“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”

The camera’s now on Mark’s face.

The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.

He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.

From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.

Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.

He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.

Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.

All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.

“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”

Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.

Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”

Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?

“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.

But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.

The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow.

You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.

Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.

Because for you, it’s game time.

Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?

The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.

As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.

This is perfect timing for you too.

However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—

And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.

Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else.

But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.

Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.

“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”

His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”

He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.

“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”

At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.

Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”

“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”

After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”

You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles.

Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”

“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.

“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”

“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”

“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck.

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”

“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”

This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market.

“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”

Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”

“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”

As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”

“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”

Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”

“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm.

Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually.

“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”

Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh.

“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.

Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark.

“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.

“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.

After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.

“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.

“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.

He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.

“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”

“Yes, definitely!”

Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.

“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.

Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.

“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.

Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.

“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”

After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.

As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.

In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.

He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.

Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.

“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.

You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.

Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.

He twists around with his visor open.

“Ready?”

You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.

Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.

On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.

In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.

Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.

The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.

Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.

However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.

You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.

The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.

By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.

When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.

Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.

“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”

As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.

Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.

Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.

“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”

“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.

After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”

Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”

He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.

“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”

Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.

Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.

He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...

Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.

You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.

And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.

Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.

An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.

You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.

“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”

“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”

The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.

At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.

Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.

Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.

The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.

His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).

It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.

Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.

Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.

Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.

Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.

“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”

It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”

He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.

“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.

“Neither do I.”

And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.

Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.

He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.

When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”

You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.

It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.

“Mark, please, just—”

Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.

Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.

With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.

As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.

“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.

“Huh?”

“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.

You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”

“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.

“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”

Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.

His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.

You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.

Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.

But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”

Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”

Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.

“You close?”

You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.

It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”

Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.

When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.

“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”

“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”

In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.

Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.

Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.

God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...

“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”

He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”

You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.

Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.

Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.

More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.

As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.

Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.

“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.

But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.

“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”

You hesitate with closed eyes.

“Could I... ride your arm?”

Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.

“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.

Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”

“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”

Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.

Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”

He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”

You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.

Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.

His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.

“This okay still?” you breathe.

“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”

You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.

“Oh, God,” Mark pants.

You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.

“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”

It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.

Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.

Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.

The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.

Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.

He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.

At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.

He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.

Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.

As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.

There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...

And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...

It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.

He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.

Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.

EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.

Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.

With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.

“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.

The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”

“Oh, my God, Chenle...”

“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”

You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”

“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.

Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.

Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.

“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.

“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”

Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”

Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”

You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.

“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”

In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.

After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”

You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.

“And you have me,” you add jokingly.

He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”

The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.

Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.

Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.

You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.

That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...

Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.

But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.

And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.

He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:

“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."

Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.

Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.

All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.

You immediately say yes.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee fanfic #nct smut #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #yn brainrot

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artist-issues · 4 months

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Look I know Rapunzel paints and Tiana cooks, but if you guys don't think Mulan is the Most Creative Disney Princess, you're wrong.

She's literally introduced in this perfect scene that highlights her whole character, flaws and strengths:

The first time you see her she's:

Cheating, which is totally the opposite of what honor-code General Shang would do.

Undisciplined, which is what going to the army fixes.

Problem-solving—by writing the recitation she can't remember on her wrist—

BUT LISTEN. That last one is the first hint you have that she's the Most Creative Disney Princess. Because guess what? She's not the first young woman to cheat at the matchmaker test. The Matchmaker specifically checks to see if she's cheating when the test begins. But the rest of them wrote their cheat sheet on their fans.

The Matchmaker was prepared for the usual kind of tricks. But Mulan's full of her own ideas, not everyone else's.

You guys know the rest. She dresses up like a soldier—nobody suspects her because the idea that someone would do that never occurs to everyone else. She climbs the pole by tying the medallions around each other when none of the other recruits can figure it out. She lights the cannon by grabbing Mushu instead of searching for flints. She creates an avalanche instead of just taking Shan Yu out. She tricks the Huns by dressing her friends up as concubines. She defeats Shan Yu with his own sword and a bunch of fireworks.

But even beyond problem-solving, Mulan never does things like other people do. She doesn't even do things like other women do.

She doesn't just walk across a bridge, she jumps from pillar to pillar. She doesn't just bring her father tea, she puts a spare teacup in her sleeve because she knows she's clumsy.

Mulan is creative. But you know what that moment proves? That she's not just a representation of all women-versus-men. Mulan is representative of a human, who sees where she has strengths, and sees where she has weaknesses. She uses her strengths to her advantage and works to improve or make up for her weaknesses. She doesn't try to be exactly like a man. She just tries to use what she's got to do the right thing. And finding ways to use what you've got, even if it's not like what everyone else has, is creativity.

#Mulan #Mulan meta #hua Mulan #fa Mulan #General Shang #Shang #china #Disney #real Disney #Tom Bancroft #Disney's Mulan #animated Mulan #mulan 1998 #meta #character analysis #Rapunzel #Tiana #Disney Princess #Disney princesses

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kadwrites · 9 months

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an introduction | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; you meet your husband to be for the first time.

warnings ; angst, dysfunctional family ig? , arranged marriage trope. bad writing?

a/n ; is it good? is it bad? is it too long? who knows. thank you for the support <3 please let me know what you think!

you hadn't left your room for the past three days. celest would be there , feeding you, holding you as you cried.

tonight though, you couldn't sleep because the sounds of your siblings yelling is keeping you away from the slumber you very much needed.

"you did what?"

oliver's brows furrow, his very pregnant wife , renee , sits beside him, her eyes open wide and a hand on her belly.

his mother tries to act like she didn't feel the guilt clawing at her heart , she sips her tea, "it's about time she got a husband."

"mum , what were you thinking? what has gotten into you?" his voice isn't loud, it isn't his usual roar, which is what concerned his wife. she puts a hand on his shoulder "you're forcing 'er to marry thomas shelby? are you fucking insane? have you lost your bloody mind?"

"im not forcing her to do anything, she agreed."

"after ya slapped 'er."

celest lets out a chocked sob at the mention of that

his mother's eyes are stern when they look up at him, resenting the fact that he brought it up

"she's a wild girl, she raised her voice at me"

"what did you expect 'er to do?" he got up, and his wife desperately tries to calm him down "lay on 'er back and open 'er legs?"

"to obey her mother."

"the mother that treated 'er own daughter like a piece of meat?" his jaw clenched, his hands shake "how could you do that? you didn't even tell us anything."

abraham is pacing around. his girlfriend ,anna stands in the doorway, watching this unfold. what else was she supposed to do?, its not like she can do anything. celest is sitting on a chair, her face buried in her hands as she cries. their father wasn't at home, he was out visiting his brother.

he's been avoiding this very incident like the plaque.

"when did this even 'appen?" abraham walks and stands next to oliver, both of them staring at their mother, his voice trembles as he tries to hold back whatever he had to say.

"why does it matter?" their mother slams the teacup on the table "it's already happened. what good is it going to do if we keep talking about it?"

"how long 'ave you been plottin' at this?" oliver's voice gets louder, his wife tries to get up but cant, abraham grabs his shoulder instead. "are you that desperate for money?"

"i did it-"

"for 'er ? securing 'er a future, yeah? is that what you tell yourself?" celest finally speaks, her face glistening with tears as she stands up

celest was always her mother's daughter. being the eldest, she always aimed to please her but when this happened, she couldn't even stand to look at her mother. she knew their mother was looking for a suitor ,she tried to reason with her, telling her how her younger sister would never agree, that she'll just yell and maybe even try to run away. celest never knew that the suitor her mother had in mind was thomas shelby, she never knew that he'd already agreed to all of this.

their mother's eyes move to celest, renee and anna share a look , and anna stands with her mouth covered. "this is not going to end well." ,they both think.

"what?"

"i said is that what you think you're doing? that you're doing whats best for 'er?" celest repeats "when you and i and everyone in this room knows who thomas shelby is, we know what he does, we know how he lives"

"he will take care of her." she raises her voice as well

"mother...." abraham warns, with his eyes closed. he knows the words she will say next would just anger everyone further

"i dont want her to end up like you! with a man that has you living in a piss poor excuse of a house, running after his spawn." her mother spits those words out like venom.

"i love 'im, i chose 'im, and i never ever regretted that decision, i never once complained,i never doubted his love or loyalty" celest walks closer "i will live a good life with a man who is good to me, an honest man. would she say the same about the husband you chose for 'er?"

"she will love him! she will grow to love him" she yells those words, as if she desperately wants them to be true.

celest lets out a chuckle , looking at her mother as if she was insane "do you not hear yourself? do you not hear how you sound?" then she moves even closer,"you're ruining 'er life!" celest cried, her screams sound through the whole house, abraham is now holding her back, as she squirms and thrashes "is this what you fucking want ? for your own child to live a miserable life?"

oliver left the living room at some point and he was inside your room now, somehow.

he crouched at the side of the bed, where you're laying on your stomach, cheek against the pillow and covers tucked up to your neck.

"i..." he tries to speak, he lets out a breath "i didn't know" he felt guilty for some reason, as if he could've stopped this.

"i know"

"you don't 'ave to say yes" he puts a hand on your head smoothing down your hair. oliver was never the one for affection, always awkward with it. "you don't. you can say no"

"i cant" you whisper back to him, your eyes look at him and they are once again filled with tears, your lips quiver

"yes you can"

"no i can't" you let out a sob "and you know that."

he just looks back at you, keeps on smoothing down your hair

"its not your responsibility to save them."

"it is now"

and he knew he couldn't change your mind, "she says he's comin' by tomorrow ,to see you."

silence ensues. you two just stare at each-other not knowing what to say

for the first time in his life, oliver the man with the biggest mouth, the loudest voice, the one who always fought you over that one spot on the table, doesn't know what to say. he has nothing to say.

he slowly gets up, and leaves the room, closing the door behind him gently.

and when that dreaded morning comes, you find yourself on your vanity chair, looking at your reflection in the mirror, your face still almost emotionless

celest stands behind you, brushing your hair,she's crying silently, and you just stare at the mirror

you knew that those steps belonged to your mother, you'd memorized how they sounded when you were a child , when you pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't know you'd stayed awake past your bedtime. she walks and stands next to celest, you don't look at her, you just stare at yourself.

celest puts the brush on the table and she walks away, she walks to the window, trying to calm down. your mother picks up the brush.

"i know you think im cruel, and that i'm selfish. but i did it for your sake." she speaks

this is the first time you'd even seen her since it all happened

your eyes dart up to her, she doesn't look at you, she just looks down at your hair as she brushes it.

"when your father got sick, i never thought we'd lose the farm too, we lost the very thing that gave us most of our money." she pauses for a second "i know this isnt how you wanted to get married, it was not an easy decision for me either"

"i don't love 'im" your voice is soft, its not angry

"love isn't everything, you don't need it to be content" she continues "i didn't love your father when i married him , but love follows"

"he is nothing like my dad"

your mother stops again "he's a hardworking man, he was in the war , wasn't he? just like yer father."

"my father was a farmer," she muttered "that's what you loved about 'im, what you've come to love. that he is a good man but the man you're marrying me off to isn't"

you sound like celest.

your words cut deeper than you thought they would, your mothers eyes close, she sighs "you're my youngest child and i want you to live a good life when me and your father are no longer here .a safe life. i dont want you to need a roof over your head or worry about money or food"

you don't want to argue , so you don't. you just let her brush your hair and neatly style it. she brings a box and opens it, inside it a golden necklace with a ruby as a pendant, she puts it on you, she smiles at your reflection

"i wore it when i married your father", maybe it will bless your marriage too, your mother thinks to herself.

you don't say anything, you just do what you're told. you were too tired to fight this anyways. you just wanted this day to pass

and then you hear it, your brother's voice as he greets him, despite his anger your oliver sounds polite. their voices are muffled but you hear them.

you mother walks you down the stairs and when you descend you see him, on the green sofa , talking to your father and your brothers and as if he could sense your presence his eyes dart up the stairs and he sees you.

you feel as if the whole house ran out of air, and as if your lung collapsed. you look back at him nonetheless as you walk down the stairs.

it feels as if their voices are distant as your family greets him, very welcoming and warm they sound but you can't process a word. you just look at him. you think you mumbled a greeting too, you're not sure.

he got up when you entered the living room, he looks you up and down but only for an instant and then his eyes go back to yours. you cannot see any emotion on his face.

you sister stands at your side, renee on the other, they sit with you between them on the couch facing him, the rest of your family scattered around the room but you didn't look at them, too busy looking at the man you'll marry. it's almost as if you can visibly see the blood on his hands.

but when he speaks , you snap back into reality out of your trance

"its a pleasure to finally meet you."

his voice is deep, calm and collected. for some reason it sends a chill down your spine

"the pleasure is mine" you say back, as politely as you could.

slowly, person by person, your family leaves the room

you glance at the window, your brothers and father are outside smoking, pretending to not watch. celest, renee and anna are under the foyer.

your mother and mrs gray are in the kitchen, having tea, when did she come in here?, you didn't even notice her.

you lean back against the sofa, you stare at him just like he stares at you

"mind if i smoke?" he already has his cigarette between his lips , he pulls out his lighter

"no" you say curtly , you sit on the sofa in the most expensive dress you own, your newest heels,

he offers you a cigarette, you eye it. you hadn't smoked since your parents caught you smoking on the roof but they've disappointed you, so what if you disappoint them one more time

you pull a cigarette out, he passes you the light and you light it, then putting it out

he leans back as well, crossing his legs

"are you good with children? can you care for them?"

you nod, your cigarette hangs between your fingers"i 'ave one nephew and 4 nieces, one on the way too"

"i 'ave a boy"

his eyes give nothing away no matter how long you stared at him , looking for a crack in the mask

"what's his name?" you ask softly

"charles"

"how old is he?"

"four, he's turning five soon"

"is that why you're looking for a wife? to look after your son?"

"thats a part of it, yes" he exhales the smoke, he throws an arm around the back of the sofa

"what's the other part?"

"i need a wife and i want someone i can trust around my boy when im not around"

you nod , your eyes look away for the first time.

"do you feel like you can do that?"

you turn back to look at him

"i believe so , yes"

he nods, "are you being forced into this?" he's blunt. it doesn't take a genius to know that you're not happy, that you're reluctant.

"no, i'm not"

"i don't want to marry you if you're unwilling"

"i said i'm not ,didn't i?" you tried to hold back your tongue, but you couldn't

his brow raises at this ,"you don't exactly look like you're content with your decision"

"is this an interrogation?" you ask, stubbing the cigarette on the ashtray that sits on the table. partly because the taste of it made you nauseous, having not had one in years. the other part annoyed and defensive

"i believe its called an introduction" a his face is still stoic, but his voice is betraying him, it's sounds as though he's amused.

you look up, you hate to admit it but you can't deny it. he looks handsome, in his expensive suit, his glasses, his cheek bones. celest was right, at least he is easy on the eyes

"an introduction, aye?"

"hmm"

you just look at eachother, you blink a couple of times, then lean back again.

"its my decision, mr shelby." you try to compose yourself, "it wasn't forced on me,"

he nods again,

"do you 'ave any conditions?"

"i do..." you lick your lips nervously "my father, he's sick"

"i will take care of his medical expenses" he nods before you could finish that sentence

"it would be nice if i could finish my own fucking sentences"

he lets out a dry chuckle, and you take it as a sign to continue

"he's never been properly checked , we don't know what exactly is wrong with 'im" you sigh "my only condition is that 'im and my mother would be looked after, financially and medically."

"they will be"

"i want it in writing" you hesitate but then say it anyways , you don't know if you can trust him, you don't care if you offend him.

he looks at you, his eye travel between yours "alright"

you let out a breath you didn't know you've been holding

@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator

#kadwrites #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfiction

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sha-n-dowbannedlol · 28 days

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Wriothesley — the art of body language

cw: feat neuvillette, references to neuvi's story quest (sorry, i just finished it, loved it very much) other than that nothing rlly, just fluff

an: i cant believe i havent written anything for wrio yet??? thats unacceptable, considering i main him (and jing yuan too, all because ono daisuke voices them... jotaro brainrot goes crazy)

It had come to Iudex Neuvillette's attention that there is still much he needs to learn about the enigma that are humans. Following his recent revelations as to his role in Fontaine and relationship with its citizens, he thought it'd be nice if he gets to know them better.

It hadn't escaped his knowledge that sometimes, things would fly over his head. Things said in jest, he ends up taking seriously before realizing at a later time that it was in good humor.

Sometimes, he doesn't realize that his silence had ended up causing the other party feel awkward, and even then, he doesn't know what to do or talk about when they do.

And so, he started by studying the little things. Their expressions, their body language—It had first came up in a conversation with the head nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, Sigewinne.

During one of her rare vacations where she visits the overworld and checks on the Chief Justice in worry that he may be overworking himself again.

Sigewinne talks about the things she has learned from observing the expressions from the workers in the Fortress, and with her observant gaze, she notices just how interested the Chief Justice seems even if from an outsider's point of view, he just looks like he's sporting the same, neutral expression.

At that, Sigewinne brought it upon herself to share the things that she has learned, but he can see the slight furrow on Neuvillette's brow, his fingers on his chin, deep in thought as he tries to picture out the expressions that she's describing.

Thinking to herself, the head nurse thinks of someone that she can describe well enough but also someone that Neuvillette knows fairly well to help him picture out what she's saying—and one person easily comes to mind.

"Take His Grace, for example." Sigewinne mentions, and the Iudex looks up with his eyes widening the slightest bit.

"Wriothesley?" He echoes.

"Yeah!" The melusine chirps happily, smiling widely at Neuvillette.

"If you show him that one human you always send from the Gardes, you can notice a few things from his body language that you wouldn't notice if you're not looking closely."

Which leads to the mentioned Duke now sitting in Neuvillette's office in Palais Mermonia, a tea cup in hand. After all, if Neuvillette were to learn, it'd be better if he sees it for himself, no?

Wriothesley was in the middle of his sentence when a knock reverberates in the room, coming from the door to the entrance to the office. Still holding onto his teacup, the Duke glances at the door, before looking back at the man before him, not surprised by the knock at the very least, as if he had been expecting it.

"Monsieur," Wriothesley spoke in his usual polite tone towards the Chief Justice, "Are we expecting someone else?"

His icy gaze are calculating as they meet Neuvillette's gaze, the Iudex shaking his head, sighing as he looks back to meet the man's calculating gaze.

"Pardon me, it's just some business. It'll be quick." Neuvillette apologizes politely, to which Wriothesley nods and shrugs, taking a sip from his tea cup. Taking that as his 'go ahead' signal, the judge turns his head to his office door and spoke.

"Please, come in."

Neuvillette was quick to glance at Wriothesley from the corner of his eyes as the door opens. And as you came into view, he notices the way the Duke's eyes widened slightly in surprise, quietly choking on his tea but managing to gather himself again in a split second.

"Chief Justice." You spoke in a formal, polite tone, eyes glued to the man who nods in return, before you eventually noticed the other person in the room.

Again, Neuvillette observes Wriothesley.

"Your Grace," You also greet the Chief Justice's guest politely.

True to Sigewinne's words, The Lord Incognito sat with his back a little straighter, his chest puffing out as he oh so gently puts his tea cup down on its saucer, his voice laced with a tad bit of warmth as he spoke your name in greeting.

"Is it a bad time?" You asked, eyes glancing over the tea cups laid on the table between the two men, "I'm sorry for interrupting your meeting."

But before Neuvillette could reassure you that you weren't at fault, and that it was all his for having called for you, Wriothesley was quick to respond.

"Nonsense," Wriothesley didn't even hesitate to reassure you that he doesn't mind, a small genuine smile gracing his lips. "We're just sharing some words over tea, would you like a cup?"

"Thank you, Your Grace. But I couldn't possibly." You respond as you take steps closer, closing the door behind you as you fully enter the office.

"I insist." Wriothesley hums, already reaching out for a third tea cup that has been conveniently brought out by Neuvillette despite the fact that there were only two of them.

You raise your hand, about to protest but was cut off by the Chief Justice, your boss himself.

"You're no strangers to each other, please do share a cup," Neuvillette spoke as he looked at you with a nod before standing up from his seat. "Excuse me while I look for the file that our latest convict needs—I seem to have mixed it with other files."

An obvious lie. The Chief Justice is a neat person, everything has a place and everything is in their rightful place, but neither of them questioned it as Neuvillette offers his seat to you before moving over towards his desk where the paperworks to process the latest criminal lay.

He took this opportunity to study the scene before him, as he pretends to shuffle papers here and there.

Diluted pupils. Eye contact. Mirroring your actions. A smile never leaving his face. Leaning on the table. And.... uh huh. That's the third time Wriothesley tried to fix his hair in the past five minutes.

Neuvillette blinks as he observes the way the Duke handles himself around your presence, and he is sure that if Wriothesley had a tail, it'd be wagging happily right about now.

Eventually, the Iudex returned to rejoin your small party. A small smile was plastered on both your and the Duke's faces as you engaged in your own little world, both pairs of eyes landing on him as he penetrated your little bubble.

"I've found it," He spoke in his usual neutral tone, and you gave him a nod.

The ever gentleman that he is, Neuvillette thought nothing of it as his hands moved with sophisticated grace, pulling your chair out for you and offering you his hand to help you stand. He was just being polite. And being used to his actions, you didn't hesitate to take his hand as you stood. But...

Ah.

Neuvillete can't help but notice Wriothesley's gaze fixated on your hand in his grasp, the smile on his face gone, just his pale, icy gaze staring a hole into the Chief Justice's fingers around your hand.

Tense. On guard. Almost reminiscent of a guard dog meeting a stranger and gauging whether they are a threat or not.

Interesting.

The man let go of your hand to give you the paperwork you had come for, giving you another nod, your gazes now locked with each other's.

"Here you go,"

"Thank you, Monseiur."

You receive the files, opening your mouth to bid your farewell to both men in the room when the sound of the chair sliding against the floor sounded, and both your attention snapped towards Wriothesley who was letting out a loud sigh.

"Ah, would you look at the time?" Wriothesley suddenly announces loudly, as if making sure both of their attentions are on him. "It's getting late."

Neuvillette's head subtly tilts to the side in curiosity at Wriothesley's sudden actions. Trying to figure out what has the man so tense, quietly thinking to himself.

Is this what they call envy? No, envy isn't precisely the correct term...

Ah. Jealousy. That's the term.

"I should get going. Thank you for this afternoon, Monsieur Neuvillette." The Duke spoke, approaching the both of you, snapping the said man out of his thoughts, who turned to face him.

"The pleasure was all mine. I'm grateful for your time as well," The Chief Justice responds,

"I'll be on my way as well," You spoke your farewells to your boss, and Neuvillette watched as Wriothesley turned to face you this time, speaking your name in a soft tone.

"You'll be escorting an inmate to the Fortress, no?" Wriothesley spoke with a slight hint of amusement in his voice, his eyes on you as you nodded to confirm his questions.

"I am, but I'd have to pick them up first." You respond as you turn to walk towards the exit, Wriothesley hot on your heels like a puppy happily following its owner

"I'll go with you, then."

"That might not be a good idea, Your Grace. They might get intimidated."

"Well, they'll just have to deal with it, won't they? They'll be seeing more of me in Fortress of Meropide; they should get used to it."

Neuvillette watched your exchange, the Duke opening the door for you, closing it behind him, and your voices became muffled. The Hydro Sovereign stands in place, placing a hand on his chin as he thinks.

"And what kind of emotion does Wriothesley portray when around them?" Neuvillette had asked Sigewinne after she happily detailed every minuscule movement that Wriothesley does consciously and unconsciously in your presence.

"That is what humans refer to as romantic love." Sigewinne beams up happily at him, and he nods, making sure to make an internal note of that.

"So that was love." Neuvillette nods to himself, eyes still glued to the door where you and Wriothesley exited. Funnily enough, Wriothesley wasn't the only one he ended up observing.

From his observations, he can quickly tell that you had the same body language as the Duke throughout your entire conversation, a stark contrast to your more rigid and mechanical body language when speaking to him.

That day, oh so casually, the Chief Justice confirmed and gave his judgment on both of you based on the observed facts.

"They're in love with each other." Neuvillette concluded.

"And neither of them know."

#wriothesley x reader #wrio x reader #wriothesley #wriothesely x reader #genshin wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines

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kazumist · 7 months

Text

ALL OVER AGAIN .ᐟ

✩ — neuvillette gets a new problem: he finds himself crushing on you all over again.

✩ — includes: neuvillette x gn!reader. fluff fluff fluff!! no cws. wc: 503. reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated :D

if there was one thing that neuvillette didn’t expect to experience again ever since he got married to you, it would be him being attracted to you all over again.

he had no clue how or when this started again, but he just woke up one day and couldn’t stop admiring you. his eyes wouldn’t leave you; whenever you two touch, it feels like a burst of electricity is suddenly rushing through him; and god, every time you kiss him, he feels like he’s floating.

was this normal?

neuvillette snapped out of his thoughts when you started waving your hand in front of his face. “neuvi, are you okay? you’ve been staring at me for a while. was there something on my face?” you asked him with concern, setting down two teacups of tea on the table. neuvillette coughs into his fist and looks away out of embarrassment that he got caught staring at you like a lovesick boy.

“my apologies; it was not my intention to stare like that, but i do think that i might be having a fever," he says. after hearing his response, you immediately got closer to him, checking his temperature.

and this makes neuvillette’s temperature rise higher, if that was still possible.

“well, your temperature is a bit hot right now, but it isn’t bad enough for a fever.” you replied. “ah, uhm.” huh, did he just stutter? did neuvillette actually just stutter? “is that so? that’s good news then.”

“love, are you sure you’re okay?” you asked him again.

well, it wouldn’t hurt for him to express his current concern, right?

he doesn’t nod to answer you, instead, he starts voicing himself out. “to be honest with you, dearest, i’ve been… having a few troubles lately. every time you walk into the same room that i’m in, i just can’t help but admire you. every time you open your mouth to speak, i find myself ignoring and putting down what i’m currently doing just to listen to what you have to say. and every time you kiss me… i feel my knees getting weak.”

you let out a giggle at his words, and your poor husband just looks at you in confusion. “was there something wrong with what i said?” he asks. “no, no, don’t worry, neuvi. you just sounded so cute.” you reassured him.

“but to answer your little problem, i think you’re in love with me.”

neuvillette is confused. “in love with you? but how could that be possible when i’m already married to you? i have always loved you, so why am i only feeling this now?”

now it was your turn to blush, trying to keep it cool when you just heard your husband say such things. “well, dearest, love is quite a complicated thing sometimes, isn’t it?" you say, lightly poking his nose.

this time, neuvillette nods. love may be a complicated thing to grasp, but all he knows is that he loves you. and nothing will ever change that.

#( writings )#astronetwrk #favoniuslibrary #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #x reader

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helluvapoison · 1 month

Text

First Date Time At LuLu World

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Lucifer smoothed any creases from his ivory suit and checked his hair four times in the nearby reflection. He wasn’t nervous! He just… needed tonight to go well. It’s the first date he’s had in years— or it might technically be his first date in history? Everything happened so fast with Lilith! He can’t remember if he ever properly asked her on a date. They did end up getting married though, so it worked out… until it didn’t. Fuck, there’s a lot of pressure on this now

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Steeling his nerves in place before he lost them, he allowed his knuckles to tap “the shave and a hair cut” on your door

• His smile (and ego) tripled in size when you opened it not a moment after. For the sake of his restless mind he let himself picture you waiting in anticipation on the other side, dreaming you might be just as excited as he was helped him a bit

• Lucifer twisted his cane in one hand and offered you his other, “Are you ready for the best night of your life?”

• “Hm, that’s a big expectation,” You reply playfully, bypassing his hand and hugging onto his arm, “Are you sure a theme park will live up to all that?”

• He scoffs and rolls his eyes but inwardly he’s hyper aware of the new proximity you’ve granted him, “LuLu World is not just any theme park! It’s my theme park. I designed and built it with my two hands!”

• “And maybe a tablespoon of magic?”

• “A teaspoon, at most.” He winks

• Your laughter was delightful, a sign that the night was starting off perfect. He just hoped it would end the same way

• LuLu World was big and chaotic, sending every sense you had buzzing with adrenaline and you hadn’t even done anything yet!

• Lucifer’s stuck for a solid minute just reveling in your awe. You like it! He made this and you already like it!

• He drags out of your stupor by pulling you to the teacups. He has one hand on his hat to keep it from flying while the other attempts to help you spin the wheel

• After Devil’s Drop (a terrifying 500ft plunge) you begged to go into the Haunted Dollhouse. Lucifer of course indulged you but couldn’t hide his boredom. Nothing here would scare him. He doubled over in laughter when a real ghost made you jump though

• The two of you rotated turns picking and choosing what to do next after that

• Giga coasters with butterfly loops, swings that went backwards, bumper cars, a massive carousel with actual unicorn horns— LuLu World had it all!

• Lucifer was bouncing in place, excitedly watching you bite into an infamous LuLu World caramel apple when he noticed how dark it had gotten

• He’d long forgotten his plan to make everything perfect and the schedule he was supposed to keep you on

• “H-Hey let’s go on the ferris wheel! Like right now!”

• You hardly have a moment to swallow the crunchy treat, asking with a full mouth, “Right now?”

• “Right now!” He repeats seriously with a tight smile

• The line would be ridiculously long, everyone likely had the same idea he had. But he had it first! He was the king and the owner, shamelessly walking past the line of sinners and straight to the front

• He flashes the operator a warning glare when they try to tell you to throw away your carmel apple

• (To his dismay you take a final, ridiculously large bite and toss it anyways, not wanting to start a fuss)

• “Hey this is a date right?” You asked while the two of you waited for the ride to officially start, sitting in a slow rotation while the empty carts filled up below

• Lucifer jolts, “Of course it’s a date! Why-why would you not think it is? Is it no lt date-y enough—“

• “I was just checking! Wanted to make sure it’s ok to do this,” You reply quickly and slip your hand under his own, lacing your fingers together with his

• Can panic and relief hit him simultaneously? He felt his nerves vibrating, deciding whether to spike or settle down

• You clearly see him internally struggling and attempt to break the silence casually, “I still can’t believe you made all this. It’s really impressive. I’m having a lot of fun with you. But I always do.”

• His brows jump, crimson eyes sparkling with delight at that, “You do?”

• “Of course I do! We could be surrounded by nothing but rocks and you’d find a way to make it entertaining.” You say with a laugh

• Joining in your mirth, he chuckles and squeezes your hand slightly

• A thunderous boom echoes in the air and makes you jump

• “Right on time!” Lucifer’s grin widens

• Colors pop and flower in the night sky with loud cracks! Some form shapes or spell short words

• Lucifer’s so immersed by the firework show he forgot he wanted to see your reaction to them. When his eyes flit to you he sees you’re ignoring them, gaze completely fixed on him in total adoration

• Your spare hand steals his cheek and guides his face closer with ease. Just as a firework explodes in the near distance, his lips meet yours

• Lucifer shares the sentiment with a giggle when you part, “Fireworks.”

• You laugh before kissing him again

• Safe to say his first date was a massive success

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ big sad so i quickly wrote smthn to cheer me up, i hope everyone enjoys

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanons #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel #poiboiwrites

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xxbottlecapx · 8 months

Text

I saw someone talk about this idea (can’t find them now) so-

Steve is walking down the street and he hears the jingling of a dog collar so he turns around to ask to pet their dog but it’s just Eddie.

Steve might have a meltdown. He seriously might. This was the worst day he’s had in a long fucking time.

The day started with a fucking seizure, of all things, when Steve hasn’t had one in months, so he decided to go to the emergency room to get checked up just in case.

The doctors said he was fine, the scans and blood tests came back just as normal, but he ended up missing lunch so he didn’t get to have down time with his best friend Robin, and she was the biggest reason he could manage his anxiety and PTSD.

His mom called him when he was at the hospital, even though she disowned him ten years ago when he was forced out of the closet as bisexual. He thought she wanted to talk but apparently her husband (Steve’s father, unfortunately) was dying and wanted Steve to help with the hospital bills considering apparently their business went under, which Steve hadn’t known about because he hasn’t seen them in ten years. It led to a fight over the phone which triggered another seizure, so he’s had two in one day. Because of his history with seizures, the hospital decided to let him go, which he wasn’t entirely sure would be a good idea, but what else were they supposed to do? It’s not like Steve knew. Besides, he’s pretty sure they were understaffed and maybe they just didn’t have a place for him. They just gave him some painkillers, gave him a form so he wouldn’t have to go to work for a week, and let him go after giving him an IV. Steve would have argued about the work thing, but the doctor was able to convince him that having a bad seizure in front of a bunch of toddlers might be a bad idea, even if they’ve dealt with his smaller ones before.

He decided he would go for a run because that always relaxes him before remembering that he shouldn’t go running after having two seizures, so he decided to go for a walk instead. Of course, this only makes things worse for himself. First, he forgets to take his dog Farrah with him on the walk, and then he realizes that he’s wearing a thick knitted yellow sweater in 86 degree heat, also he lost his glasses somehow?

He must have still had some postictal confusion left because he very quickly got lost and then he couldn’t find wherever the fuck he put his phone, so he couldn’t call Robin to pick him up, and it’s not like his anxiety would let him walk up to some random person and ask.

It was getting dark, so he wasn’t going to approach a woman, which was something Robin had to teach, and Steve was kind of scared of men, which might be stupid because he was a man, and also taller than most men, but anxiety is a bitch so it’s not like he could argue with it.

His heart beating outside his chest, Steve realized he very well could have a third seizure, or a panic attack if he didn’t calm the fuck down, so he went to hide behind a alley which just so happened to be behind a bar.

That was fine.

The music was dampened by the concrete wall and sometimes silence made Steve’s existential dread even worse. He missed his dog. Farrah was a white teacup chihuahua and Pomeranian mix that Steve had adopted from a shelter he had been volunteering at. She kept getting bullied for her size even when they put her in with the other babies, and the shelter asked someone to foster her. It was a foster fail but Steve didn’t regret it.

Steve tried to think of her as he sat down, working on the deep breathing his therapist had told him about. Of course, Steve sat on the floor and got beer and gunk on his jeans, but he was so tired that he was past caring.

A migraine was coming on, all of his bones hurt, and he had white spots dancing in his vision. His hands were shaking. It’s very possible he had a small seizure when he was getting here and he didn’t remember it, that happened sometimes. He really hoped Robin had done okay at school without him. They taught a kindergarten class together. He really should have called to get her an aid but it had slipped his mind and she was going to be pissed.

He would just stay on the floor until he felt better. Then he’d call and apologize.

He did remember to feed Farrah and she had some pads on his living room so she would be okay. When he got home he would give her a lot of treats. Maybe he would make Robin cupcakes.

Steve’s nerves picked up when he heard someone open a door behind him. Luckily for him, he had a switchblade in his pocket (he got it from Max, and who knows where she got it from) so he could use that in case of an emergency if anyone tried to accost him. Then again, this was a bar, maybe they’d just think he was drunk and leave him alone.

The jingling of a dog tag gets Steve’s attention, and suddenly he thinks he might actually cry if he doesn’t get to pet this dog right now.

The person’s heavy footsteps get closer, the dog chain making cute clinking sounds, and Steve readily looks up to ask, even though his face is already red with embarrassment, because what if the person says no?

But then he sees the man’s thick-heeled boots, and then his leather jacket with all the metal spikes on the shoulders, and Steve thinks no, he doesn’t have to ask to pet the guys dog, and then he chokes when he realizes there isn’t any fucking dog. The man is wearing a collar.

Steve tries to quickly shove his head between his legs, curl into a ball so the man might not notice him, but whatever sound he makes is enough to draw the guy's attention. Fuck.

“Hey, what were you going to say? I saw you try to ask something.” The guys crouches down in front of Steve. Steve assumes the guy is going to beat him up for looking at him weird or something, but the man’s voice, while deep, is actually very calm. He has a few more chains hanging from his black jeans, which were absolutely shredded, and the clinking noise still reminds Steve of Farrah but now he’s embarrassed about it. Is he wearing fishnets under his jeans? Oh my god, Robin is going to kill Steve in the morning if this guy doesn’t kill him first.

Steve thinks about answering but his words get clogged in his throat. Sure, he didn’t ask to pet the guy, but he thought about it, and his face burns and Steve wishes he could jump into the dumpster a few feet away.

He must look weird, because the guy, already crouching down to him, gets closer until their knees are touching.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, very gently putting a heavily ringed hand on Steve’s arm.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve sobbed, finally lifting his head to meet the guy's face. The dude’s hair is long, held up in a ponytail, which shows off the fact that he has an undercut with a pattern shaved on it. This man is absolutely terrifying, oh my God, how is Steve going to get out of this situation without dying?

The guy's eyes widen at the words, but he keeps his movements slow as he places his hands against both of Steve’s trembling arms. Not constricting him, just pressing, just adding a bit of pressure.

“You’re okay, I’m not angry.” The guy says soothingly, “You haven’t done anything. Why- why are you crying?” The guy’s voice goes high pitched, cracking a little. If Steve wasn’t so terrified, maybe he’d find it comforting.

Steve doesn’t know what comes over him. He tells himself he’ll come up with something stupid, but his body hurts and lying takes a mental energy that Steve doesn’t have right now. His head pounds and the sound of his blood rushes past his ears.

“Uh, I heard your collar and I thought you were a dog.” He whispered, putting his head between his knees again. “I was gonna ask to pet you. I’m so sorry.” He sounds absolutely mortified, which is good because he is. Why was he saying this? Steve was about to die and then Farrah would go back to the shelter and Robin would find another teacher and forget about him and no one would be able to teach Dustin to drive because he’s too annoying to keep a normal driving instructor-

“You can pet me, if you want.” The guys interrupt Steve’s spiral. He moves so he’s sitting next to Steve, both their backs to the wall, his chains clinking all the while until their thighs are touching. Steve could briefly feel the dull spikes on the guys jacket pressing Steve’s shoulder.

Steve’s brain completely blanks out.

“…Uh-“ his hands are close to his chest, in fists, but mostly he’s just confused. Why is this guy being so nice to him? Steve thought he was a dog. He was never going to live this down.

“I like petting.” The guy says, a small smirk on his face that brings charming wrinkles to his cheeks. Steve blushes.

“Ca….” He can’t tell if the guy is serious, but the dude quickly pulls his hair out of his ponytail, shaking his head- like a dog.

Maybe it’s just the seizure talking, but Steve tries to call his bluff.

“Can I pet you?” Steve whispers, confusion and uncertainty lacing his shaking voice.

“Yeah.” The dude replies calmly, tilting his head.

Well, Steve realizes, now he kind of has to, doesn’t he? Shit. The guys hair looks really fucking soft. Steve’s allowed to touch it?

Without knowing what else to do, Steve stiffly pats the guys on the head, which makes the guy laugh. Still, he doesn’t attempt to make Steve stop. In fact, he gets closer, until Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulder, playing with the hair on the crown of his head. Steve doesn’t really know what to do at first, but the dude smells really minty, but also like weed, and Steve doesn’t hate it as much as he thinks he should. He brushes his fingers through the guy's brown hair until there are no knots, letting his heart settle until the spots in his vision go away.

“So, what are you doing out here?” The guy asks quietly, letting Steve mess with his hair, his eyes are closed almost like he’s enjoying it.

“I got lost.” Steve starts. The guy hums, so Steve continues. “I, uh, I had a few seizures this morning, and I got confused and got lost and I can’t find my phone or my glasses-“ Steve only realizes he’s rambling when the guy gives him a very concerned look.

“Do I need to get you to a hospital?” He asks, clearly trying not to frighten Steve.

“Oh? No, no, it’s okay, I’m sorry,” Steve said, almost absently as he braided a small strand of the guy's hair. He tried to focus on that instead of the raging headache he has crawling up his spine. “I went to the emergency room already, this is normal, it happens a lot, it’s just been a bad day. I’m sorry.”

He can feel the guy nod, his body relaxing slightly. His hand casually moves to touch Steve’s collar with the tips on his fingers, his short nails painted black.

“Your glasses are on your shirt.”

Steve looks down where his glasses were hanging off the collar of his sweater. He blanches.

“Shit, thank you. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, hurriedly putting them on. His face goes hot, and he wants to sink into the floor. He might cry again, he was so embarrassed.

“Can you call someone?” The guy asks, not bringing up the panic on Steve’s face, which Steve is mighty grateful for because bringing it up will make him cry, he thinks.

Steve shakes his head, “I lost my phone. Sorry.” He chokes out.

“Can I call someone?” The guy specifies.

That’s a really good idea. Sure, it’s getting dark, but Robin always has time for him. She’s probably out of work and blowing up his phone trying to contact him. She might even have broken into Steve’s apartment by now.

Steve closes his eyes, trying to push past the fog in his brain. The only thing it does is add pressure to the backs of his eyes.

“I… I can’t remember any numbers right now, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He puts his hand over his mouth to stop himself from speaking.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The guy delicately pressed his palm to Steve’s shoulder, which draws attention to the fact that Steve’s breathing has sped up again.

Steve gulps, blinking hard to stop himself from tearing up. He feels so fucking stupid.

“Uh, with chronic seizures, there’s this thing, called a- uh, postictal state,” he tries to explain, voice way more breathy than he would like. He’s gripping maybe a bit too firmly to the frayed ends of the guy’s hair but he makes no move to stop him. “Which I like to say just means my brain hasn’t, hasn’t caught up to my body, like it’s, um, still processing.“

The guy nods, taking Steve’s rambling with grace. “Do you like champurrado?” He asks, Steve opens his mouth, closing it, opening it again. The guy nods, hurrying to explain himself.

“We could go to my apartment and I could make you some. You look like you could eat. I made albondigas yesterday. When you can remember, we’ll call someone.”

Steve really shouldn’t. This guy has already been too nice to him. Steve didn’t want to impose. Also, the guy was very kind, yeah, but Robin would kill him if he got hurt following this dude somewhere. But then Steve takes stock of the aches in his body. If he didn’t go with the guy, what would he do? Sit here all night? It was going to get cold and Steve’s anxiety wouldn’t let him sleep outside in the dark in an alleyway behind a bar playing very loud, aggressive metal music.

Steve sighs, defeated. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry.” He felt like he was doing something wrong.

The guys smile brightly, almost blindingly so. He stands, chains jingling, and holds out a hand for Steve to take it.

“You gotta stop saying sorry, man, you just had what, two seizures? It’s fi- holy shit.”

The man’s hands were soft, which Steve wasn’t expecting, save for a few well placed calluses on his fingers. Steve tried not to think about it as he stood and wiped some gunk off his jeans, staring at the messy floor before figuring out something was wrong. He looked up, and the dude was staring up at Steve with his eyes wide, mouth agape.

“What? What’s wrong?” Steve whispers, folding in on himself a little. What the fuck did he do now?

The music rages on, but now it’s overwhelming. He feels static in his head.

The guy’s heavily tattooed arms were held limply at his sides, “You- you’re really fucking tall.” He says unabashedly.

Steve gulps, trying to shrink a little to make himself smaller, like that may alleviate the problem. Unfortunately, thought he did this often, It did mean he had terrible posture so his neck began to hurt.

“Oh, I’m really sorry.” Steve wouldn’t look at him.

“Why are you apologizing? It’s hot.” The guy says, Steve’s head shoots up to look at him as they stare at each other until the dude realizes what he just said. “Wait, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” The guy puts his hands up, a nervous huff coming out past his lips as he was the one to start panicking now.

Steve can’t help but let out a small laugh, covering his mouth with his hands. He’s never had someone say he’s hot in such a way, he couldn’t help but be a bit flattered. Steve nods so the dude knows he isn’t upset by the random comment. Steve’s face was already red, and now he couldn’t even tell why.

The guy’s eyes brighten, if that were possible.

“Okay, let’s go. I’m Eddie.” He says, motioning for Steve to follow him. It takes a second for Steve to get the memo, with how slow his brain is working, so Eddie cautiously takes Steve’s arm in the way Steve watches men do in old movies.

“I’m Steve. Thank you.” Steve, honest to God, giggled. Maybe he should be worrying about his dad and the fight he had with his mother, but he tries not to think about it. They’re not his problem, and he has better things to do.

He does have to look down to see Eddie’s face when they’re not sitting, but that’s normal for Steve. He’s a few heads taller than most people he knows, and he works with kids so he’s obviously taller than them. He kind of just forgets, most of the time. No one else has mentioned it. His height was why he was so popular in high school before the seizures and anxiety messed it all up, though Steve is grateful he isn’t a bitch anymore. He’s only about a head and a half taller than Eddie, though.

Eddie laughs, and it’s a cracky, beautiful sound. “You’re welcome, big boy.”

Steve squints at Eddie as he leads him down the street. “Big boy?” He asks. As they get farther from the bar, there are less and less people out on the streets. No one jostles Steve, though, probably on account of the guy next to him, covered head to toe in spikes with black eye makeup.

“Really? Do you not see how large you are?” Eddie continued, looking up at Steve like he was insane as he led him to the left, then the right. “It’s honestly kind of scary.”

“Me?” Steve wasn’t scary, this guy had it wrong. Sure, he was big, but nothing about him was frightening. Steve couldn’t remember the last person he met who actually looked afraid of him. None of his students ever were.

“Yeah, you!”

“I’m not scared.” Steve protested, though he was also smiling. “If anything, you’re scary.”

Eddie throws his head back dramatically, covering his face with his curly hair. The bandana in his back pockets whips around.

“Why thank you.” Eddie grins, “Just so you know, flattery works on me.” He continued until they got to what appeared to be Eddie’s apartment building. Steve held on to his arm tighter. Eddie's dramatics calm him a little.

“I have a dog, so you can pet a real one.” Eddie teases, unlocking the door with his free arm. “Her name is Ozzy, she’s a Doberman Great Dane mix, so I hope big dogs don’t scare you. I promise she’s not violent.” There’s something in his voice that tells Steve there’s something else.

Steve smiles softly, “She sounds perfect.”

#steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steveddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things s4 #robin buckley #steve has seizures #meet cute #or meet ugly #depending #depending on how you look at it #modern au

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d-targaryenshoe · 4 months

Text

The Arrival Of A Miracle - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1666

Summary: Oh how wonderful it is when new life joins us in this adventure called life, is it not?

The chamber is elegantly decorated with antique furniture and delicate china tea sets. Violet Bridgerton, an elegant and wise woman in her seated on a comfortable armchair.

And Eloise, a spirited and intelligent young woman joins the both of you with a cup of tea.

"It's so lovely to have this moment of peace amidst all the chaos, isn't it?" Violet chuckled, taking a sip from the hot liquid in her teacup. "At least for the time being."

"Yes, indeed. I can't believe this little one will be joining us shortly." You smiled, placing a hand upon your bump covered by your green gown.

"Time flies, my dear. It feels like just yesterday when Anthony was a baby himself." The mother sighed, slightly lost in memories, smiling at you.

"Speaking of babies, it seems like everyone else in London is busy with their own affairs." Eloise joked, making you chuckle as well. "I hardly see anyone these days."

"Well, Eloise, life does tend to get busy, especially when there's a new addition to the family on the way." Violet silenced her daughter, pointing at your bump.

"I must admit, it's quite overwhelming at times. But having tea with all of you brings such joy and comfort." You said, looking at both the women in the room. "Truly."

"My dear, you're doing wonderfully. We're all here to support you every step of the way." Violet assured, placing her hand on yours.

"Absolutely! And once the baby arrives, we'll have even more reasons to celebrate." Eloise laughed, taking a biscuit from the table.

"Indeed, Eloise. Our family will grow, and our love will only deepen." Violet agreed. "Could I ask something?"

"Oh, most definitely, what's the matter?" You asked.

"I've been searching for this specific book for weeks, and I can't seem to locate it anywhere." Eloise almost begged. "My brothers are no help at all. One of them is always painting and the other is making sure a nursery is completed."

"Eloise, y/n is close to birthing a child, how could you ask such a thing?" Violet scolded her daughter.

"It's okay, I'd be happy to help you out." You answered, getting up from the couch with some difficulty. "We can go to the library together and search for it."

"Really? You would do that for me?" She asked, eyes wide with happiness. "Thank you so much. Let's go right now."

And with that, the younger Bridgerton took a hold of your hand and pulled you towards the library.

Entering the library, you're greeted by the smell of old books and the sound of pages being turned.

"Wow, this library is impressive. Do you have any leads on where we should start?" You asked, placing a hand on your back as you felt some subtle pain.

"Well, I've already checked the history section, the adventure section, and even the rare books collection. But no luck so far." Eloise sighed, randomly reading some titles of books.

Eloise is meticulously going through books about unsolved mysteries and hidden secrets. "... It must be here somewhere."

You walk a little further into the library, reading some book titles as well, hoping you'd find the book, at least to help Eloise out.

Suddenly, Eloise's hand brushes against a book that feels slightly different from the others.

But at a sudden moment your face twists in pain. As Eloise walks towards you with a book in her hand.

"Y/n, are you alright? Shall I get Mama or Anthony?" She asked worriedly, placing the book on the shelf, and placing her hand on your back.

You took a deep breath, placing your hands on the shelf, trying to steady yourself. "It's too soon. The baby isn't due for another two weeks, El."

"I don't know much about this but this child is coming," Eloise said, looking around her if there was anyone that could help her out "We must get you to your room."

"I... I can't wait any longer. The baby is coming." You panted, cradling your bump with one hand, feeling how the pain got worse.

"We'll do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of our child," Eloise assured, taking hold of your hand, and leading you out of the library.

You smiled weakly, grateful for the support of your sister-in-law.

Eloise smiles back, determination etched on her face. She took your arm and supported you as you both started to make your way up the grand staircase.

Eloise and you slowly walk up the staircase, each step becoming more challenging for you. Eloise whispers words of encouragement, trying to keep you calm.

"You're doing wonderful, y/n. Just a few more steps and we'll be in your chamber." Eloise encouraged, breathing along with you.

Your grip tightens on Eloise's arm as another contraction hits. You wince in pain, but bravely soldier on. "I can't do this, El."

"You're stronger than you assume, y/n Bridgerton. Remember, soon you'll be holding your beautiful babe in your arms." Eloise smiled, rubbing the lower of your back, hoping to soothe some of the pain.

You reach the top of the staircase and continue down the hallway towards your room.

Eloise helps you into the room and guides you towards the bed. You collapse onto the bed, your face pale and sweaty.

"You, try to stay calm, I'll get Mama and make sure that wicked brother of mine, returns home," Eloise said, kissing your cheek one last time.

Descending the grand staircase with purpose. She spots her mother, across the room. "Mother, we must act fast! Send the midwives to y/n's room and fetch Anthony immediately. She has begun the labor upstairs in their room!"

Anthony Bridgerton bursts through the doors of the Bridgerton residency. Noticing the stares his mother and sister are giving in his direction.

"It's your wife, dearest." Violet began.

"Where? Where is my wife? What's the matter?" He asked, noticing Eloise nodding her head subtly towards the hallway upstairs.

"Anthony, my dear, there's no need to worry. Y/n is in good hands. She's in your room." Violet explained, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "Preparing for the arrival of your child."

"I just want to be there for her, Mother. I want to hold her hand and support her through this."He answered, looking down at the wedding ring on his hand.

"And you will be. Y/n knows how much you adore her. She knows you'll be by her side every step of the way." She smiled as Anthony's eyes lit up with determination.

"Yes, I will. I'll be the best father and husband I can be." Anthony nodded his head.

"I have no doubt about that, my son. You will be a wonderful father, just like your own father was." Violet spoke with tearful eyes.

"Thank you, Mother. I won't let her down."

"I know you won't, my dear. Now, go to her. Your wife needs you." Violet insisted, motioning her hand toward the staircase.

Anthony nervously enters the room, his heart pounding with anticipation. He glances around, noticing the midwife preparing the birthing supplies. The room is filled with an air of both excitement and trepidation.

"Is everything alright?" Anthony asked the midwife who was taking some sheets for the bed.

"Yes, Mr. Bridgerton. everything is going well, soon you'll child will be here." The woman answered.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He walks over to your side, are you're lying on the bed, your face flushed with pain.

"You're doing amazing, my love. Just a little longer." Anthony whispered against your forehead, softly smiling. .

" Oh, the pain! I can't bear it any longer!" You cried, leaning back into the pillow.

"Just a little while longer, my lady. You're doing wonderfully." One of the midwives reassures, adjusting the gloves on her hands. "Just a few more pushes and we'll have the baby in your arms."

"Don't leave me, Anthony. I need you." You sighed, squeezing his hand.

"Alright, my lady. On the count of three, give me one more big push." The midwive said as you we're pushing the best you could.

"Come on, my love. You can do this." Anthony encouraged, placing his hand on the back of your neck.

The birthing room is filled with a team of midwives bustling around, preparing for the imminent arrival of the baby.

"Just breathe, my lady. You're doing great." The midwife said as she saw sweat beads on your forehead as you clutched Anthony's hand tightly.

You gritted your teeth, leaning back in your bed. "I can't... I can't do this anymore."

"Yes, you can, my love. Just a little longer." Anthony said, removing the strands of hair on your sweaty forehead.

You gather all your strength and push with all your might. The room fills with the sound of your pains.

Anthony's face breaks into a fragile smile as he hears the cry of a babe. "It's... it's a miracle."

"Mr. Bridgerton, It's time for you to cut the umbilical cord. Are you ready?" The midwife said, holding out the scissors towards Anthony.

"I mostly am" The woman hands him the pair of sterilized scissors. He takes a deep breath and approaches the baby, who is in the hands of the midwife.

"Here we go, little one." Anthony carefully cuts the umbilical cord, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. The baby lets out a soft cry, signaling its arrival into the world.

"It's a beautiful and healthy baby boy!" The midwife said as she took the baby and gently placed him on your chest. Your eyes filled with tears of joy as you held your newborn close.

"Welcome to the world, my son. We will love and protect you always." Anthony spoke as his eyes were filled with tears.

"Our little miracle. Our family is complete." As you both gaze at your newborn son, the room is filled with a sense of pure bliss and the promise of a bright future.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton netflix #colin bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #anthony x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #x reader

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catcze · 7 months

Note

OKAY BUT how about matching jewellery with Wriothesley?? You could both wear a necklace or a choker to match his vibe or maybe earrings? (The fact he's wearing some is sending me 😩 His style is really good tbh, def would let him choose my clothes) And if they're embedded with each other's initials? Even better, let the world know you belong to him, the same way he belongs to you (was inspired by your other collar drabble don't mind me 🥺👌)

AAAAA that is SO cute wtf ?!?! And so true, his style is honestly immaculate !! I got inspiredddd and wrote this (even tho it's a little more 'secret relationship for now, but wearing little tokens of each other until we make it public' kind of thing tee hee)

warning for vv slight leaks (Wriothesley's birthdate) and a slightly ooc Wrio !!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

"Your grace?"

"Yes, Sigewinne?" Wriothesley hums, not looking up from his morning paper. He holds a teacup in his other hand, the scent of freshly brewed English Breakfast filling the room.

Sigewinne is staring hard at him, head tilted as she examines the change in the Duke's wardrobe. "I can't seem to place my finger on it but your new necklace looks rather—"

Wriothesley promptly chokes on his drink, loud coughing breaking the quiet of his office as he thumps his chest, sputtering and frantically moving his paper out of the range of fire of his choking.

"—familiar."

Sigewinne hands him a handkerchief, which he takes with a wheezed word of thanks. She's squinting at him in suspicion, antennae twitching as she watches the duke squirm.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Wriothesley coughs one last time into the handkerchief, clearing his throat in an attempt to get rid of the roughness in his voice. It doesn't work. "Perhaps you're mistaken, Sigewinne. Are you certain that you haven't just seen someone around the fortress using something similar? Or maybe you saw it in fashion on the surface."

Sigewinne is sure she hasn't. She just hums in thought, placing her hands on her hips as she continues to evaluate the necklace, while Wriothesley pointedly does not meet her gaze.

It's a simple thing, really. A silver circle on a thin silver chain, and from this distance Sigewinne can barely make out what looks like two letters and a date carved on it. It's this simplicity, actually, that makes it stand out amidst the Duke's otherwise chunky and bold accessories.

Sigewinne keeps staring, trying to remember just where oh where had she seen something like that before, and why does it nag her so much that she can't recall. Wriothesley doesn't offer up any information, however, having chosen to pour himself another cup of tea and resuming reading his paper.

Eventually, the nurse relents and turns to head down the staircase to leave his office with a word of farewell thrown over her shoulder, still bothered by the mystery that she just can't solve, but knowing what the Duke is like when he clams up.

"Oh! Hi, Sigewinne!" You greet, almost running into her as she descends, while you yourself are on your way up. You reach out a hand to steady her lest she roll down the rest of the way. "Leaving already? Everything alright?"

"Everything is fine," she says kindly, patting your arm in thanks as she looks up to your face. "Some patients to check on, but otherwise nothing particularly noteworthy. His Grace just refuses to answer any of my questions, however..."

But then her eyes catch on something shiny on your neck. Something shiny, and looking awfully like the object of her interest just a few short minutes ago. She glances at it, and as close as she is, she can make out what is carved on the pendant around your neck: A simple W and the date November 23 written underneath it.

She pauses mid-sentence, turning to glance over her shoulder.

Wriothesley is still reading his paper, but from here even she can see how he's trying to subtly glance over it in your direction. His fingers clench the sheets in anticipation and how his boot has started to tap on the floor despite his show of nonchalance. She looks at the pot of tea he had put out earlier, notices just how much tea there still seems to be in it, and the extra teacup that she had asked about earlier when she had first come in.

Just in case a guest stops by, he had told her, and nothing after that. Suddenly, she has a pretty good guess of what is written on his grace's necklace.

"Nevermind," she corrects, trying not to smile too widely. "But I certainly have to be going. Enjoy your... meeting with his grace. I'll see you later!"

You blink at her abrupt departure. "Oh? Okay. Uh... Bye, Sigewinne. See you soon!"

She nods, hurriedly excusing herself in an attempt to give you two some privacy, finally letting her happy little grin show once she was no longer in sight. She shuts the doors behind her and takes a moment, then practically skips her way back to the infirmary, her steps light and joyful.

I'm glad. They deserve to be happy together.

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #Wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #Wriothesley #Genshin Impact

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two-red-lungs · 1 year

Text

The Kids Are Alright (Eddie Munson)

Your first date with Eddie Munson is fine, as far as first dates go. You get pizza together: meet awkwardly outside the door at 7pm, hands sweaty, exchanging nervous, butterfly-riddled smiles. You eat. He can't stop moving in his seat opposite you, tapping his hands on the sticky enamel tabletop. He looks at you with big brown eyes. Wary, at first, then as the night goes on and it becomes clear this isn't some string-along joke, or a prank, with boyish glee.

But the second date is the one that really shines.

Eddie, in all his intellectual glory, takes you to the Dollar Tree.

It's late, again, and the D in the logo flickers in and out of existence. The air inside smells like cheap plastic, dust, and the urban sprawl of capitalism. This is a place that's usually... dead. A pathetic sort of dead, where dreams come to die, the cashier looks about five seconds from falling asleep, agonizingly boring elevator music plays over tinny speakers, and Hawaiian themed teacups are on sale for ninety-nine cents.

You think god, what the hell are we even doing here? This is hardly a dinner date, or the bowling alley, or makeout point, or any of the usual dates your friends always bragged so cooling about. But then Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, spins on his heel, and throws his arms wide. His outfit jingles.

"Welcome," he says with a glint in his dark eyes, "to the goddamn kingdom of imagination."

You should leave. God knows to anyone else at school this date could sound like a horror story, an uncouth, uncool, unladylike disaster. But there's something in those eyes. Something vibrant and alive and real. So instead of leaving you think, okay. Why not.

Best decision of your life.

He knows this place by heart, every white-tiled aisle under the buzzing fluorescents. And he's funny, too: you didn't expect him to be so funny. As you both slowly amble and push your squeaky-wheeled cart he picks up random shit, talking as he fiddles.

A fuzzy caterpillar cat toy becomes his moustache. He wraps a crinkled paper streamer around his neck like a boa and faints dramatically against some of the shelves. He scurries to the aisle next to you and pretends to walk down a staircase, disappearing from view: when his moppish head pops back up again, his wild hair flounces.

Huh. He smiles like the sun.

Eddie asks about everything possible, and god, under his stoner slang he's whip fucking smart. You crack a joke or a sarcastic reference and he smoothly returns it with equal emphasis, two tennis players on the court.

You check out picture frames. Eddie suggests throwing a little spraypaint on it, a little silver paint to light the edges, some weathering with sandpaper, and suddenly you've got yourself some primo decor.

"You like to paint?" You ask him, standing in the aisle, holding the shitty wooden frame. He's looking over your shoulder. You can feel his body heat, this close.

"I'm a big believer in, uh. Creativity, y'know?" His smile is big, toothy. Still nervous. Like as extroverted as he is, as big as his personality could be, the sting of a scoff or a sneer could still hurt.

You tell him that's cool. Something in his eyes softens.

God, you don't know how many hours you spend in that place, just talking and touching shit and discussing potential DIY projects and cool ideas. You talk comics, and music, and Hawkins social politics. He tells you about Tolkien. You tell him about David Brin. He likes David Murray, you like Siouxie Sioux. You both agree the autumn leaves this time of year make the Hawkins High look like its roof is on fire (and god, if only).

Your cart is full of bullshit you don't really need, bullshit full of promise and potential, and Eddie is letting you ride the cart with your feet on the front bar as he pushes it down the aisle at mach one speed. He splutters behind you, your hair in his mouth. He's laughing.

The total comes to 12 dollars even. The plan for the next date is to turn the kids bathtub toys you bought- ducks and dolls and dolphins- into zombies and mummies and other creatures with the shitty barely-opaque acrylics set you scored.

The sky is black outside, and it's raining. He asks if he'll see you again this week, and you say yeah, duh. The air feels like fireworks- like lightning, like a live wire. You think for a second that he's gonna kiss you.

Eddie pulls out a silver-plastic tiara from under his vest, nicked free of charge from the girl's section, and sets it on your head. It's cheap, pattern-punched plastic with pink plastic gems. It's perfect. He's made you a fairytale.

Munson bows, smiles again- the one that makes his eyes crinkle- and then he's off in his van.

He's so weird. He's so strange. You don't understand him.

You think you really like him.

#eddie munson #stranger things s4 spoilers #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine #my writing #I'M NOT DEAD I'M JUST IN UNIVERSITY

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thehighladywrites · 5 months

Text

— “tell me you’re mine.” “ i’m yours.”

☀︎ — pairing: azriel x afab!reader

☀︎ — summary: you dream that azriel was cheating on you and now you can’t look at him without being annoyed. It’s not really his fault, but still… azriel reassures you, promising that you’re the only one for him.

☀︎ — warnings: a sprinkle of angst, fluff, a bit of crack, smut, oral (m. receiving), fingering, dirty talk, fluffy smut ngl, mentions of crying, cursing, mentions of hickeys and bruises

☀︎ — amara’s note: i loved writing this, also this is my apology fluff fic for the angst fic. hope you liked it! also english isn’t my first language so if you see any grammar errors, no you didn’t 🫶🏽 i think this is my proudest work🥹

tags: @callmeblaire @rowaelinsdaughter @azrielslightintheshadows @hauntedwitch04

Azriel’s brows furrowed as you avoided his hug for the second time today and just walked past him, acting like he wasn’t more than a ghost. This whole brushing him off thing had been going on all day and he was genuinely confused. Were you in a bad mood? Was your cycle coming? Azriel knew you were emotional during this time, but you usually stuck to him like glue.

He checked his mental calendar - no, not for another two months.

Did he say something to you? He replayed everything he said and every conversation you had yesterday and today but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Well, except for the fact that you were flat out ignoring him.

Azriel felt distressed over the fact that you ignored him, and he just wanted to be closer to calm down. Knowing he might have upset you, deeply unsettled him, prompting a strong desire to bridge the emotional gap between you.

Azriel found solace in your presence whenever he felt upset. You'd sprawl on the plush bed, arms open wide, inviting him into your embrace with a soft and tender expression. His head would rest on your chest, settling his weight on you, comforted by the beat of your calming heartbeat. It was a sweet sanctuary he sought when the world felt heavy.

There was nothing calm or sweet about the way you didn't spare him a second look, pouting as you carried on with your day. Occasional dagger stares shot his way, and even though you thought he didn't notice, he did. Of course, he did. The tension in the air was palpable as your silent discontent lingered.

Azriel decided to start small and ask an easy question, not daring to accidentally say something that will set you off.

“So, angel, what have you done while I was gone? Is the book you picked out yesterday any good?”

Sipping on the delightful peppermint tea, you huffed and snorted, keeping your gaze fixed on the window from the comfort of the soft sofa in the sitting room.

“Well, wouldn’t you just love to know?”

His brain was scrambled at this point, desperately attempting to save the clearly and very obviously dying conversation.

“Uh, yes? I’d love to know. If you don’t want to talk about the book then that’s fine but-”

“You’re just giving up so easy, Azriel. Atleast fight a bit. No wonder you cheated on me…”

Huh? What the actual fuck?? Confused and shocked, his brain went haywire, jaw dropping as he struggled to find words. A bewildered look crossed his face as he grappled with the unexpected situation.

He cheated on you? What were you talking about? The mere thought of being near another woman made him nauseous. Really, he didn’t like being around people at all, so the thought of going out of his way to find someone and then invite them to bed was something that made him shiver.

“What are you saying? I would never be unfaithful to you, please let’s just talk.” he dropped to his knees infront of you, panicked, trying to find the words to explain himself and to clear his name of something he didn’t do.

“You cheated on me. Yeah, with some blonde girl. And you seemed to enjoy it, too. Ugh, I’m so pissed, I can’t even look at you.” You put down your teacup a bit too hard as you folded your arms over your chest, glaring out the window in silent anger.

The crackling of the hearth was the only sound as Azriel's face paled. He was at a loss – how did you come to believe he was unfaithful? Where did these thoughts come from? The mystery hung in the air, a palpable tension challenging the warmth of the fireplace.

“If I truly was unfaithful, can you provide details? When did this happen, and where was I with this girl?” You felt his pleading, questioning stare burn into you from where he knelt.

Okay, so maybe you shouldn’t keep this up. He didn’t actually cheat on you. It was a dream but it felt so realistic that when you woke up and saw him besides you, you actually snarled. There you were, struggling to look at him without mentally replaying the scene of some random woman giving Azriel's body a tour. Fucking hell, you had never felt such betrayal and hurt by something that didn’t even happen.

But it felt silly to tell Azriel that you were mad at him for something your subconscious created , a dream you had dreamt. So you simply avoided him instead.

But damn, he was persistent.

Perhaps it was irrational, but you felt a desire to stir up some drama, maybe hoping to shake things up a bit.

“Okay, Azriel, I’ll spill. Yesterday at Rita’s, this blonde woman was all over you, touching everywhere. And you, shamelessly soaked it up like it was a spa. In my dream you also smiled as you held eye contact with me. You totally knew I saw you and did it anyways.” You looked away, breathing deeply as the memories invaded your mind.

Azriel felt a combination of relief and disbelief as you revealed it was all a dream. But he wouldn’t downplay what you imagined since he deep down felt your hurt through the bond. You had already been married for decades but the bond had snapped about 7 months, still new, so he understood that seeing him with someone else was hard. Hell, he’d feel absolutely murderous if he ever dreamt of some male feeling you up and fucking you, even if it was a dream.

He stood up as he dragged you to your feet and tilted his head, assessing if he should approach you or not,

“Sweetheart, you know I'd never do such a thing, right? How could I ever be unfaithful to you, my sweet girl? You're my perfect mate, my loving wife, my everything.”

He stepped closer and closer until his enticing scent enveloped you. Oh, how did you go an entire day without being close to him? Your mate towered over you, gently gripping your chin and tilting your head up. His face mere centimeters away, a magnetic force pulling you into a moment that blurred any lingering doubts.

“ I love you more than anything on this planet. In no universe would I ever stray away from you - you’re my beloved home, my cauldron fated. Over my dead body would I ever entertain another woman. I’ve waited for over half a millennium for you and I’d wait a million more for just a minute with you, sweetheart. I will never allow myself to disrespect you like that ever, I promise.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as he drew closer, his soft lips meeting yours. In that moment, your love for him overwhelmed everything else. His gentle kiss offered reassurance and warmth, the sting of the bargain tattoo fading into the background as he continued, sending shivers down your spine.

Needing one last push of reassurance you beg him for a last sentence. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, you whisper,

“Say you’re mine. Say you belong to me.”

"I'm yours, I belong to you. Just as you're mine, you belong to me."

Tears streamed down as your heart raced, overwhelmed by his sincere devotion to you.

He wiped away your tears gently, his eyes filled with unwavering affection. “No more doubts, my love. We're bound to each other, and I'll spend every moment proving my devotion to you.”

His words hung in the air, creating a comforting embrace that removed any lingering insecurities, even ones in dreamscapes.

You slumped in his arms, finding solace in the embrace of his huge arms. He held you tightly, rocking you gently from side to side, creating a soothing rhythm. Your tears dried, replaced by a sense of calm as the only audible sound became the steady beat of his heart. Inhaling his calming scent, you grounded yourself in the reassurance of your mate's embrace.

Azriel tenderly stroked your hair, his touch a gentle reassurance. In a heartfelt moment, he pressed a soft kiss to your hairline, expressing his love and commitment without the need for words.

Your heart swelled with love, the connection through your bond overflowing with overwhelming warmth. The excess energy and love pulsated between you two, prompting you to contemplate a way to reciprocate the comfort and love to Azriel.

Lifting your head from its resting place on his chest, you stood on your tiptoes and initiated a kiss. Your arms remained cradled by him, your head guiding the motion as you continued to share this affectionate moment with your husband.

Azriel noticed the quickening beat of your heart, your eyes fluttering as the kiss deepened. He knew what you wanted and he couldn’t deny you ever. His lucious lips curving into a smile. You did your best to keep eye contact with him but it was difficult given that Azriels eyes had darkened over with lust, pupils expanding as his lids were slightly lowered.

Staring him dead in the eyes you whispered your desires,

“I want you. I want you everywhere. I want your mouth.”

You placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I want your hands.”

You kissed his other cheek.

“ I want you inside me, mate. “

You gave him a final kiss on the lips, sealing your wishes.

Azriel let his eyes flutter shut, struggling to tame his desires. He knew you inside and out, knew exactly what pace and setting you craved in that moment. Bending down to your level, Azriel picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

As Azriel carried you to the bedroom, you couldn't resist planting tender kisses along his neck, sucking and biting as you created bruises. The soft touch of your lips added a playful warmth to the moment and you couldn’t help staring up at him. His handsome features captivated you – the straight nose, sharp jaw, and beautiful eyes. He looked as if The Mother Herself had carefully carved him. His long, dark lashes and perfectly shaped brows added an extra layer to the masterpiece that was Azriel.

A possessive pride swelled within you. As you continued trailing kisses along his neck, you couldn't help but revel at the fact that Azriel was undeniably yours. A sense of exclusivity and fierce protectiveness filled your mind, boasting that no one would ever touch him the way you did, no one would ever love him the way you did.

‘Suck on that you blonde bitch’ was all you could smugly think.

Azriel gently placed you in front of the full-length mirror by your bed, positioning himself behind you. With deliberate care, he bent down, pressing kisses to your head, temple, ear, cheek, and finally, lingering on your neck. Each kiss was an expression of affection, creating a trail of shivers along your spine and arms.

His hands slid down to your waist, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze. The slow, deliberate touch made the moment feel personal and intimate. You make eye contact with your husband through the mirror and slightly nod, giving him permission to continue.

You step back, making him feel your ass through his pants, grinding against him as his hands travel up to your breasts. Azriel lightly squeezes them before moving to play with your stiffened nipples. His moves elicit a gasp from you as you revel at the feeling of him touching you.

You press against him again, this time harder. Azriel hisses as he lightly grab your neck with one hand, focusing his clouded eyes on yours through the mirror.

“Watch it. This is about you, not me, baby.” He unzips your dress, letting it pool around your feet. Instinctively you bring your hands up to cover yourself up, looking away, and realizing that you’re in fact completely stark naked infront of your fully dressed mate.

Azriel is having none of it. He wants you to see how beautiful you are. Wants you to see how your face twist in pleasure. Wants you to notice your little quirks that you otherwise wouldn’t see. He wants you too see the goddess he’s worshipping every day.

“Eyes open, sweetheart. You have to see how beautiful you look.” His hands envelops yours as he lowers your hands, leaving you bare infront of him. You hear rustling behind you and feel a sudden warmth pressing against your back. Opening your eyes, you see Azriel undressed with his warm chest pressed against your back. He looked massive, wings splayed proudly behind him, big arms flexing as he leaned down. His lips pressed against your ear, and the hot breath sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re my perfect girl. Look at you, all nice and ready for me. Now, imagine I see this everyday, imagine you laying under me, taking me like a good girl. That’s what you are right, a good girl?”

You nod absentmindedly as your mind goes blank. You just wanna make him proud of you, just wanna please him. “Uh-huh ‘m your good girl, Azzie.”

He flashes you a smirk, hands traveling further down as he teases your clit before pushing in his finger. You let out a sound of pleasure as your head slumps back into his chest, his massive hand wrapping around your throat. In and out his fingers go as your pleasure rises, blood heating at the thought of him fucking you on the bed later. Your breathing unevens when he twists his fingers and presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles as he pushes in another finger.

Your eyes cross in delight when he curls his fingers and hits that spot that sends electricity through your body, making you grab onto his built forearm. Azriel whispers promises of nasty scenes, promises of ways he’ll fuck you stupid. He’ll make sure you’ll never think he’d stray away from you. He’d prove himself forever if that’s what it took for the thoughts to leave your head forever.

Not sure what the mood is today, you ask him for permission to come. If you normally did it without asking, he’d edge you. And that was just not something you wanted to happen today so better safe than sorry. But before you gather your pleasured mind and ask him, Azriel beats you to it.

“Cum on me. Let go on my fingers, beautiful. It’s okay baby, you deserve it. Don’t you think? After all, my girl gets what she wants.”

As if his words triggered something in you, he pumps once, twice and you let go as you scream out his name. Azriel keeps fingering you through your high, looking you deep into your eyes as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them.

“Delicious.”

Your ears ring, and your vision blur as your knees wobble, nearly falling. Azriel swiftly picks you up, planting a reassuring kiss. He praise you, telling you how good you were and how proud he was. You couldn’t think straight, only wanting more of him.

He placed you gently on the bed, preparing to head to the bathroom for a cloth to clean you up, but you halted him with a request.

“Can I repay you Azzie?”

Your eyes sparkled, and your face glowed with a content smile. With a tilted head and a subtle pout, you hoped he would agree to your request. You were quite tired but you so badly wanted to please him back.

He sensed your exhaustion, and originally he was so supposed to keep going but you were half asleep. He changed his plans and shook his head.

“You’re tired, angel. Rest up, I’ll be fine.”

But you kept resisting, urging and pushing that you weren’t that tired. And since Azriel can’t say no to you, he accepts. You let out a small victorious sound and slither down the bed, making room for Azriel as he settled against the headboard. You moved in closer to him, leaning forward and arching your back. You look up at him once for confirmation and continue when he nods.

Without hesitation, Azriel's hands found their way into your hair, stroking your hair softly before skillfully gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. You fall on your forearms, propping yourself up and obediently await for his words of command.

Azriel gently gripped your chin, his thumb grazing your plump bottom lip. In that moment, words were unnecessary; you already understood what he wanted.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” His words makes you blush.

You look away from his intense eyes and lower your gaze, pulling a chuckle from him. “Baby, stop. You’re making me nervous,” you plead, giving him a cheesy smile you kiss his thigh and move on.

Trying to hide your flustered face, you start out slowly, teasing him with kitten licks all over his tip. Azriel’s hands tightened around your hair making you look up at him with a smirk as he grits out,

“Play later.”

You suck on the head, hollowing your cheeks, before slowly taking in more and more, struggling when you feel him hit the back of your throat. Your mind replays the lessons Azriel taught you, prompting you to inhale through your nose.

His head thrown back against the headboard as his mind swirls with pleasure. He lets out groans and hisses of pleasure, his deep voice letting out praises,

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a good girl.”

“You’re doing so good, keep going.”

“My beautiful, beautiful y/n. You should look like this all the time, mouth full of my cock. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Your mates praise makes your eyes gloss over in submission. There was really no better feeling than being praised and loved by him. Your Azriel.

By the way the muscles in his thighs started tensing you knew he was getting close. You suck your cheeks in more and take him deeper, trying to please him as best as possible.

The room was filled with obscene noises and gags as he hit the back of your throat, bucking his hips.

Pulling away, you use your hand and twist it around his shaft while sucking on the sensitive head. Determined to make him finish, you throw in a few sentences you know will get him there faster.

“you’re so big Azzie, taste delicious too.”

“does my mouth feel good around your cock, az? you wanna cum?”

“let’s see if my pussy feels better, yeah?”

Before you can put him back around your mouth, he grabs your arms and drags you up so that you’re straddling his lap. Without warning he pushes you down on his cock as you let out a loud moan at the stretch.

“You’re right, your pussy does feel better.”

Your hands automatically grab onto his broad shoulders as you grind and bounce on him. You tighten around him as he brings his fingers down to your clit. Looking down on him, you find him smirking, satisfied that he caught you off guard. He knew you didn’t really plan on riding him but you were not fucking complaining.

Quite the opposite actually. You sounded like some deprived whore, moaning and babbling out in pleasure, licking and biting his neck and lips.

Both of you knew you were close. Azriel breathing quickened as you tightened around him.

“Tell me you’re mine.” A soft whimper escapes you as you gaze down at your man. His sweaty hair sticks to his forehead, a rosy blush adorning his cheeks and neck. In his eyes, full of love and affection, as he whispers for the second time today that he's yours forever.

“I’m yours, forever baby, I’m yours.” Azriel chants as he comes, body trembling as you grind on him,soon falling off your high and slumping against his chest.

“I love you so much, honey,” you whispered.

You looked up at him, tears welling up as Azriel held you close, making you feel overwhelmed by the depth of love. The connection between you was an unbreakable thread, weaving through your souls. In his embrace, every touch and shared moment became a testament to the bond you shared. The room faded away as your love for Azriel became an emotional beacon, each tear carrying the weight of countless cherished memories.

Oh, how you loved him.

In the quiet of the moment, Azriel gently wiped away your tears, his eyes reflecting the same depth of emotion.

“I love you too, sweetheart” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your overwhelmed heart.

The reassurance in his words melted away the pain, leaving only the warmth of shared love.

#talkswithamara #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel acotar #acotar imagine #azriel x reader fluff #az x reader #azriel acowar #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acomaf #azriel acofas #azriel spymaster #azriel acosf #azriel x fem reader #azriel x female!reader

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everparanoid · 5 months

Text

Make me lose my breath, make me water ┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , NSFW

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: Cunnilingus, consent is hot, Reader is from Natlan, cuffs used inappropriately, Body Worship, My First Smut, Fontaine is France but it's not but it is, PWF, PWP, Mutual Pining, No use of y/n, Reader is Not Traveler (Genshin Impact), Creampie, biting kink, Written After 4.1 Update, Minor spoilers for 4.0 quest, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, light orgasm denial

wordcount: 6.1k

synopsis: The notorious Duke of the fortress of Meropide hasn't been on his A-game lately, and it shows.

Originally posted: 25.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: 'Water' by Tyla.

Three quick knocks rattled the door to his large office. The sound echoed up to the second floor where his desk resided.

“Come in,” Wriothesley said not looking up from his papers.

Wriothesley was a busy man. Well, being the Duke of the self-running, man-powered Fortress of Meropide wasn’t an easy job. It wasn’t exhausting either, but that was beside the point.

He took a slow prolonged sip from his teacup. The second sip in the last hour; the flavoured water had long since cooled from the general chill in the office. Not that he could feel anything beyond the normal chill of the underwater Fortress; and with the added benefit of his cryo vision he considered himself well-suited for the climate. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the sun. Although, he could see the sun whenever he found a reason to leave the fortress, which he often didn’t.

He sighed for the fifth time that hour.

“I hear you’ve been doing that a lot,” You said ascending the spiralled staircase.

He paused and lowered his teacup, placing it on the small pile of report papers he was using as a mat. One side of his lips raised threatening to become a half smile. He quickly wiped it away.

“Oh? Have I now?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “I think I’m going to have to report you to Sigewinne.”

“Am I to assume she isn’t the one who sent you?”

His eyes met yours as you arrived atop the stairs, a hand on your hip and that sassy look in your eyes that he had grown fond of. He realised now why he had been so distracted.

He missed you.

You often frequented the fortress. First as a commissioned messenger between Wriothesley and Neuvillette, then a ‘convict’, and after that a friend and now… he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain about the company. It was nice having someone as into tea as he was. Not that he would admit it, but it got lonely in the Fortress sometimes. More so since he met you.

“What? You afraid of a couple of stickers?”

“You know about that?” he grumbled, glancing at the pile of crumpled Melusine stickers littering the side of his desk, freshly pulled off the back of his coat.

“I have ears everywhere, Your Grace,” you smirk, withholding the crucial fact that you were the culprit providing the stickers for Sigewinne and her Melusine friends. They paid you back in giggles and smiles, and just the joy on their small faces was enough for you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You probably know more about what’s happening in my humble home than me,” he said. Only a half lie on his part. You had an aptitude for making tough things bend to your will. Him being the toughest of things in question. He dismissed the thought of you flashing that blinding smile at anyone other than him.

Your shoulders rose and fell as a melodic laugh left your lips and graced his ears. If he could keep your voice in a bottle, he would.

You shook your head and pushed off the railing. His attention remained on you as you took a seat on the settee a bit away from his desk. His throat—as if he hadn’t just taken a sip of his cold tea— felt overwhelmingly dry. He cleared it gently and picked up his teacup.

“How’s the Traveler and Paimon?” he asked, taking a sip.

The flavoured water was colder. He needed to calm down lest he froze the entire thing. He imagined you would be the only one to find amusement in him sipping ice.

You crossed your legs, and your skirt rode up. He looked away respectfully, much to his dismay and the favour of his quickly deteriorating will. He didn’t remember when it happened. When he started seeing you as more than just the middle woman between Neuvillette and himself; more than just a pawn in this game against the fatui, but now he found himself knowing the way your cheek dimpled slightly only on your right cheek when you laugh; how the skin around your eyes crow when you yawn or squint; how you change to fix your posture every thirty minutes when you’re lost in a book, and your neck starts to get sore, and your lower back begs to be stretched out. He pulled himself out of his thoughts before they had a chance to spiral further.

“They send their regards and a thank you for your help with ‘the situation,’” you said making air quotes. You didn’t mention how you didn’t plan to return to them for a while, but some things were best left unsaid with Wriothesley.

Wriothesley nodded and gestured for you to join him in for some tea.

“If you have some time, of course,” he finished.

“Of course, If you are offering,” you responded.

You went to stand but Wriothesley beat you to it. Thankful for the excuse to busy himself with something other than your smouldering presence. If he was an icy avalanche, then you were like a raging inferno, melting him into warm water. Perhaps it had something to do with the pyro vision dangling from your hip. He glanced at the vision and caught a glimpse of your bare legs. He froze, curious about what colour you might be wearing underneath your skirt: black, white, blue, red? Instead, he was beyond relieved when he saw black shorts. He breathed a sigh. That’s so you.

“I can heat the pot, you know?” you say, growing increasingly more tired of his strange mood and equally as obscure silence. Never had Wriothesley sighed so much. Honestly, you never would have considered him a sigher; more a hmpher or a quiet snickering type.

You and everyone in Fontaine who had the pleasure or misfortune—mostly the misfortune—of knowing the Duke, knew that recently he had been off. In truth, your visit hadn’t been to express Neuvillette’s message (though that made a great cover). No, you were there because of a chain of strange letters from Sigewinne, given to you by an equally as annoyed Clorinde, telling you of the Duke’s bizarre behaviour. According to these letters, he was more attentive than usual. He had appeared around the fortress checking in on the production zones and the inmates an alarming number of four times in the last month, nearly causing several heart attacks amongst the inmates, which as a result caused Sigewinne to be on high alert from all the overworking; he hasn’t been partaking in as many fights in the ring, and he hasn’t been drinking as much tea.

It was the last two on the list that shocked you the most and was most of the reason why you were there now. Wriothesley not drinking tea? Was Fontaine’s archon a fraud?

Uncrossing your legs, you stood and approached him. Placing a hand on the teapot, you heated the water with your vision.

“Let me do that," you said.

You sounded more breathless than you had intended to, but being so close to him does that to you. He always managed to take your breath away, but you had stupidly thought that with time those senseless reactions would die upon learning more about the mysterious brutish duke. The way all crushes faded when the mystic i.e., the lack of information and the delusions of projection, disappeared. Instead, it seemed to have only worsened. A butterfly somersaulted in your stomach when you accidentally brushed your hand against his.

Wriothesley stiffened. The touch went straight to his gut.

“Why are you here?” he responded smoothly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Not that he was concerned about why you were here—he couldn’t be happier—but you were supposed to be away for the next six months on a quest with the traveler to your home region, Natlan. Had Sigewinne called you back out of concern for him? He had to be more careful around the small nurse in the future.

“Your tea collection isn’t as depleted as usual,” you observed, staring into the box filled with other miniature boxes of tea, skilfully deflecting the question.

“An interrogation. You’re making me nervous,” he joked. “I am a busy man, I don’t always have time for tea.”

The look you fixed him with was not amused.

“You always drink at least three cups a day,” you said putting stress on the ‘at least.’ If it wasn’t tea, it would be a terrible addiction.

“Wow, you’re counting? I’m impressed.”

“Which flavour do you want?” you said, ignoring him.

“The special blend.”

Without a second thought, you plopped the tea bag into the teapot and left it to brew.

It was your favourite, and that is why he chose it. He was more of a black tea or green tea kind of person, but the special blend he had made specifically for you. You didn’t know that though; you didn’t have to, he enjoyed hearing your quiet hums of happiness with each sip. It was great fodder for his late-night thoughts.

His heart warmed, as the skin around your eyes crowed the way he loved. Loved? He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t booking yourself as many fights. Which I would be happy about if I thought it didn’t directly correlate to why you’re acting so strange,” you lectured, and to him, you sounded like a particular short blue-haired Melusine.

“I can’t help but feel that you are worried about me,” he jested.

“As anyone would be about a friend,” you said.

Friend? Yes, that was what you were. Friends.

“Friends. Yes,” he agreed albeit stiffly.

You gave him a cautious side-eye unsure as to why his tone hurt you.

The word left a bitter taste in Wriothesley’s mouth and when you offered to fill his cup again, he accepted. Suddenly needing the soothing numbing effects of his tea more than ever. You topped up his cup before you poured the heated water into the teacup that had unintentionally become yours.

Wriothesley didn’t let anyone else use it. It was superstitious really, and he didn’t consider himself a superstitious person. However, he worried that if he let anyone else use it you suddenly won’t come back one day. Not that you would be able to tell the difference if he did let someone else use the cup; all the teacups he owned looked exactly alike, but yours was different. It was a cup with a little chip on the rim near the handle from when you decided to have your tea with Neuvillette, Clorinde, the traveler and himself after the recent troubles with the Fatui. Your cup had chipped due to the heat of your hand; he could recall the horror on your face when he informed you how much each cup cost after letting you ramble on about owing him another cup.

You eventually fell into a comfortable silence sitting together on the settee.

“Clorinde has been visiting you a lot recently,” you said from behind your teacup. You took another sip.

Wriothesley recalled his earlier meeting with the champion dualist.

“Yes, we had some tea.”

“Really?”

“Jealous?”

You turned away.

“There is no need to be, I assure you,” he said, feeling a deep sense of relief at the way you seemed so bothered by his meeting with your mutual friend. The same friend who had been lecturing him about his ‘mutual’ feelings for you. Perhaps it was because of your reaction, that he realised that Clorinde might have been right. Or he was delusional? Maybe it was both.

Wriothesley placed his mug down on the coffee table. His hand brushed your bare thigh and you both jolt.

“Who says I am jealous?” You snapped, your lip twitching.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because your lip twitches when you’re upset, and your pyro vision makes you heat the things around you without abandon. Your eyes lose that spark which makes them look like the spotlights guarding Meropide, and you refuse to look at me because you know I’ll see right through you. And I do. I see you.”

He took another sip from his tea, pretending to not notice your tea bubbling in your hand, and the crack growing on the side of the teacup.

“It’s not nice to make jokes like that, Your Grace,” you said nervously.

Your eyes darted about the office settling on anything but him. The bookshelves looked fuller than usual. Has he been reading more books?

“Indeed. It is not but come on you should know me better than that by now. I never joke about things like this,” he said. His voice was clear and sincere. “Is it so strange that I would want to give a few words of praise out of genuine adoration?”

Especially since he saw the way you’re reacting; he knew that it was real and not a fantasy from his misguided thoughts. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity to make his feelings clear. He was a straightforward guy, after all. When he knew what he wanted was within his reach he wouldn’t simply pass it up. It would be unjust. He wanted to watch you smile, to be the one that caused that smile; he wanted to be the first person you went to when something good happened in your life; he wanted to feel your skin and not just in passing touches; he wanted to let it scold him, to embrace the flames.

“Ah, it seems I have ruined the mood,” he said smoothly.

He stood.

You went to stand too, but when you did the boiling liquid in your teacup splashed your hand. You hissed and dropped it. The porcelain shattered against the metal ground; the liquid spilt everywhere.

Wriothesley sat back down on the settee and took your warm hand in his immediately not sparing a second to glance down at his soaked boots. They encased yours and worked to chill the burn; one of the many benefits of having a cryo vision. The two of you couldn't be any more different. Fire and ice co-exist? Impossible. Unimaginable. Dangerous. The tenderness in which he held your hand sets your heart ablaze as if it wasn’t already. Had he been telling the truth? You knew the Duke better than most, and with that knowledge you know he wasn’t the type to lie about that, but did he mean it? Could he mean it?

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Wriothesley’s attention remained on the forming boil on your soft skin. He soothed it gently, trying not to give you frost-burn. Thankfully the natural heat of your skin stopped his cryo from hurting you further.

“For what?” he responded softly, bringing your hand up to his lips and breathing out cool frosty air. You felt like mush, and if it weren’t for the dull ache in your hand you would have snatched up the opportunity to run said hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It always looked so soft and maybe he would allow you to touch it.

You pulled a face between flustered and self-loathing.

“That was one of your expensive teacups,” you managed to choke out.

He continued to blow cool air onto your hand.

“There will be other teacups,” he says, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

You wanted to melt on the spot.

“But—“

He sighed and said your name sternly looking up at you through the haze of dark lashes.

“Why would I worry about a teacup when you are hurt?” he asked and lowered your hand from his lips. “In any case, I should apologise for ruining a perfectly good meeting. If you have said all you need to say then—”

You waved your hands, flabbergasting him as you snatched them from his cool encasing, momentarily forgetting about the burn, and cutting him off mid-speech.

“No, you didn’t,” you yelped.

He half smiled at the scarlet tint of your ears, and taking your burnt hand back into his, he proceeded to gently apply cryo to the festering burn.

“Ah, is that so?” he chuckled. “Alright then, how will you pay me back?”

“Huh?”

“You broke my favourite teacup, after all. So—“ he said your name with a hint of mischief in his smooth voice. “How will you pay me back?”

“That’s not fair!” You straightened in your seat. “How can that be your favourite teacup when they all look the same? Are you just saying that to make me feel worse than I already do?”

He cocked a brow and tugged you forward. You fell into him, your free hand coming to rest on his lower abdominal. Your nose brushed his, and you felt his cool breath against your cheeks. His breathe smelt of spearmint. Your lips twitched and you tried to focus on the scar under his eye (the one you’ve always wanted to trace with the tips of your fingers) so as to not meet his icy blue stare, or to glance down at the obvious smirk on his lips. You wanted to kiss him; you could kiss him; would he let you kiss him?

Wriothesley watched your tongue dart out to swipe across your lips; he wanted to bite it; but he had more control than that. He had an image to uphold. The Duke was supposed to be fair and reasonable; he was supposed to lead by example and be a neutral figure of respect and reverence, not a brute without self-control. He pushed you back gently, hoping beyond hope that in your shock you haven’t noticed how hard he was.

“Kidding, of course,” he drawled.

Anger coloured your face and you punched his shoulder, half seriously. You hissed and shake your still very much wounded hand. You had been duelling partners for a while when you had spent a significant amount of time in the Fortress pretending to be a convict back when you were neither friend nor whatever you were now. He’d only agreed to it at the time because you managed to beat everyone and nearly him.

“You are breathtaking,” he muttered. “Come on let’s get you to Sigewinne.”

He stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart stuttered. Even though you weren’t native to Fontaine you were well-versed in their mother language, but even then, you didn’t believe your ears.

“What?” you asked.

He chuckled again, a deep and hearty sound.

“When will I stop doubting the ears of a seasoned traveler,” he said out loud although it was meant for his ears alone. He must have been mentioning your mutual friend, the blond traveler, and their small pixie pie companion, Paimon. You have been accompanying them on a few commissions and quests here and there, especially through Natlan. Which kept you away from Fontaine for significant periods of time, much to Wriothesley’s silent dismay.

However, he would never keep something so precious away from the light. He tried to keep a pet once—not that you were a pet—but he soon realised that it was wrong to keep something meant to be in the sun away from it. And if he couldn’t do it to a small animal then he definitely couldn’t do that to you. You were a traveller, not even native to Fontaine. Although you have made it clear countless amounts of times that Fontaine is your favourite region; he can’t help but feel like you weren’t meant to be chained to one place. He won’t be your administrator, the fortress won’t be your prison, and he couldn’t imagine keeping you in this cage with him. He refused to, even if his more selfish desires would have you cuffed to his desk where he could gaze upon you forever till you hated him and wished him gone.

“No, I want to talk first,” you said.

“I assure you we can talk after your hand has been seen too.”

“Wriothesley.”

Your tone went straight to his cock. You have never said his name, at least not his face. Even when you’re both around your mutual ‘friends’ you still have only ever called him ‘your grace.’ He wanted to hear you say his name again. He wanted to hear you say his name breathlessly, desperately, whilst you crumbled into each other. He cleared his throat and walked across his office hoping that the distance would stop you from noticing the obvious tent in trousers. He fiddled with the cuffs on his hips to distract himself and pulled at his tie.

“You really should go…to Sigewinne,” he said.

You approached him. He turned away from you facing a bookshelf. You brushed your fingertips to his forearm feeling the chilling aura around his skin. You expected him to pull away, for him to stop you from going past the point of no return, but he didn’t.

“Wriothesley,” you said his name again, this time with a wistful air. You don’t even realise you’re saying it. You never said it; not to him, only to the crisp cold darkness when your back arched on your sheets late into the night.

“Say it again,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

Your eyes widened as you realised your mistake. You have always tried not to say his name to separate your lustful fantasies from the real man.

He faced you, capturing your gaze and with it your heart too in his glacial eyes that looked so warm. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but obey. His name slipped out in a hushed prayer: “Wriothesley.”

In turn, he said yours; just as quiet, just as wanting.

“You really should go to Sigewinne,” he said and ghosts his thumb along your jaw.

“What if I don’t want to?” you stepped closer. “What if I want to stay right here?”

His expression darkened.

“You shouldn’t,” he said with no bite behind it.

You didn’t budge.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, sounding way more desperate than you intended. Before you could cringe at yourself, he had you caged in his arms, mouth cold against yours. He groaned when you bit down on this bottom lip, and for the first time, you felt his thick erection brush against your stomach.

None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of kissing Wriothesley and any pain in your hand disappeared altogether. He kissed you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth; like you were his last gulp of air before he dissolved into primordial water.

He tugged on your shirt.

“If you don’t take this thing off right now I’m going to rip it,” he said, his breath laboured.

You reached under your shirt, and he helped you slip it over your head. He threw it away and pulled you into another kiss. His hand wrapped in your hair.

You took off his tie and his waistcoat, his usual fur coat was already draped on the back of his large red chair. He stopped you unbuttoning his shirt, shaking his head, trailing kisses along your jaw, and down your neck as he walked you backwards to his desk. He unclasped your bra. He watched it slide down your arms and then tossed it somewhere that was going to be your future you’s problem.

“Up,” he ordered.

You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He grasped the underside of your thighs and placed you down on the free space of his grand desk.

He bit your shoulder, and you moaned out his name in a way that had him almost feral. He lapped at the wound and kissed it. You threw your head back biting down on your lip. He continued leaving kisses and nibbles along your collarbone, slowly lowering until your breasts were under his hungry gaze. You suddenly felt nervous. You wouldn’t say you were insecure in your looks. You knew that your looks were something to behold and of which you were very proud. They’ve come in handy in your many jobs as many times as they have caused unnecessary issues but being under the watchful gaze of Wriothesley felt different… intimate. You tried to bring your hands up to cover yourself. Wriothesley caught your wrists, looking up at you from his crouched position.

“Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

“Wriothesley,” you said.

“If you aren’t comfortable, we can stop,” he assured you, although the words pained him and his dick, consent was king—always. If you weren’t comfortable, he could always sort himself out later. You were the most important thing to him. He let go of your wrists and you dropped them, letting him feast his eyes on your breasts.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“If you change your mind, just tell me and we’ll stop,” he said. “Give me a safe word.”

“Cake,” you instantly responded.

“Cake?” He cocked a brow. “Cake, it is.”

Without a moment spared, he grasped your breasts and planted a kiss there, dragging his lips over your nipples in a way that made you shiver. He smiled to himself at the occasional whimpers that left you; even more pleased that he was the one causing them.

“I love the noises you make. I love your voice. I’m obsessed with it. I wish to capture it and listen to it whenever you’re away,” he groaned.

He dragged his tongue down, further, and further until he was on his knees, he pushed up your skirt that had been bothering him since you crossed your gorgeous legs earlier. He was tempted to have you keep it on when he fucked you, for no other reason than the thought that the next time you decided to wear that poor excuse of a skirt he knew all you would be able to think about was how he messed you up in it. The thought brought him immense pleasure.

He slid his hands into your shorts, squeezing your thighs. The flimsy piece of black material and whatever surprise underwear beneath it were the only things keeping him from what he wanted. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to feel how you’ll curl on his tongue; he wanted to feel you gripping his hair and screaming his name as he brought you to a high only he could give you.

“These damn shorts,” he grumbled.

“I climb mountains. How else am I going to keep myself comfortable?” you asked.

He tutted and tore them open; the fabric did not put up much of a fight at all.

“I guess you won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon,” he said guiding the torn fabric down your legs.

“Those were my favourites, you brute.”

He winked up at you.

“Ah, I suppose that makes us even,” he drawled.

Was he thinking about that damn teacup right now?

“How are you?” He said, checking in on you.

“Good.”

He smiled and your heart melted a little.

He froze when he took in the sight of your lingerie.

“Were you thinking of me when you bought these?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you said.

“Too late.”

You bit your lip. It hadn’t been intentional, your underwear matching the colour of his eyes. He trailed his nose up the soaked fabric brushing your clit. You grabbed his hair at the stimulation. You felt the beginnings of the scruff threatening to break out of his chin tickling you as he guided your lingerie aside and gave your clit an ardent lick. Wriothesley wasn’t big on savoury treats, but you weren’t savoury, you tasted like you, and you were fast becoming his favourite dessert.

“You taste divine,” he said.

“Oh Archons,” you muttered.

“They won’t hear you down here,” he said.

It didn’t take long before your toes were curling, and you were chanting his name. Wriothesley gripped your thigh with one hand and fingered you with the other, stretching you out in preparation for him; because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were going to cum around him. He was going to feel the way you would clench around him; he was going to watch your blissed-out face twist as he fucked you hard into his desk. Although he would love to feel you climax on his face there would be time for that. He’d be damned if this was the first and only time he had you. You were his. Morals and reputation be damned, he wanted—no, needed to be inside you. He didn’t care if the entirety of Meropide could hear you; in fact, he got off on the thought.

Just when you felt like you were about to climax, he pulled away and licked his lips. You glared at him as he stood and bent over you kissing you softer than before. You could taste yourself on his lips, and instead of it turning you off it spurred you on. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, grinding against his clothed erection.

“Do you trust me?” he asked between heated kisses.

Everything felt wet like you both were melting, and you probably were. If so, you didn’t care, becoming water wasn’t half bad if it was with him. You heard his cuffs before you saw them spinning around the two fingers that had been inside you.

“Right now, no,” you lied.

He half smiled.

“I suppose I deserve that. I guess I’ll just have to persuade you then.”

You untangled from around him. He stepped back unbuttoning his shirt and revealing lean scar-littered skin. You wanted to reach out and so you did, tracing the long jagged discoloured scars, slightly keloid. Some looked fresher than others. He shivered and breathed out a low groan when you grazed over his nipple. He raised his signature cuffs.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

It clinked when it secured around both wrists. The spiked metal looked so beautiful against your skin; he was almost tempted to throw away the key.

“Oh no, you’ve caught me, your grace,” you teased. Something you shouldn’t have done because the way he looked at you after told you that you had triggered something in him.

“You did break my favourite teacup after all,” he said.

“I thought we were even.”

You watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and step between your legs. There would be time for savouring the moment later, many moments if he could help it but not then. You felt his erection only covered by the thin fabric of his boxers press against your vagina, he leans over you caging you between his arms and the desk.

“Indeed, we are for breaking.” He nibbled on your ear, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. That was an expensive cup you know some flimsy shorts won’t cover the costs. You should know I only play fair, and you got some of the tea on my freshly shined boots.”

Your cuffed hands resting on your stomach fiddled with the lining of his boxers. You lost your breath when he nuzzled into the base of your neck.

“Don’t tease me,” he grunted.

You manage to slip his cock out.

“Says the man who denied me my orgasm.”

You felt his smile on your neck.

He rubbed his cock along your folds but didn’t push in. He wanted to be sure that you’re sure.

“I don’t think friends do this,” he said as he continued to edge your hole.

“Just fuck me already,” you sassed.

He thrust into you, filling you completely. He was thicker than you expected, thicker than you had had before. You couldn’t be more thankful for the earlier foreplay because without it he wouldn’t have fit. He remained still for a while, and you slowly adjusted to his size. The dull ache of the intrusion quickly turned from discomfort to bliss.

“Wriothesley.”

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed. “Don’t stop saying my name.”

You didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said.

The desk jutted, the papers shook, and books slid off the desk smacking the floor in their wake, but the sound was lost to you both. Despite his strong persona, and much to your delight, he didn’t hold back his occasional whimpers, and grunts. The sound blessed your ears like a symphony. Sometime after your first orgasm, he took off the cuffs and threw them to his settee.

He left the occasional bites and kisses on the underside of your jaw, and down to your breasts. You, in turn, added to the long scars down his back, your nails clawing into the flesh. He would treasure those when they scarred.

You guided his face up from your neck, where he had been breathing you in as if he couldn’t get enough of you into his system. In truth, he couldn’t. You kissed him deeply, filling it with all the words you hadn’t yet been able to say. You felt your third climax on the horizon as he hit the same spot that made your back arch.

“Wriothesley,” you said against his mouth. “There.”

He chased your lips.

“That’s it,” he said, rolling his hips. He slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and rubbed your swollen clit. You let out a needy moan.

“I’ve got you,” he said as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of primordial water. He held you to him, as he continued to thrust towards his own high, encasing you in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groaned.

Wriothesley felt like he was on cloud nine. Being with you was entirely different from what he imagined in the best way possible. It felt like a dream having you here, in his arms, pliant to his every desire. In each kiss, he pretended that you felt the same way; that you wanted the same things. He pretended that this moment wasn’t just a moment but forever—because he wanted you forever.

He slowed down prolonging the experience and straightened up looking down at the fucked-out expression on your face. He knew he didn’t look any better. Swiping a hand through his hair, he continued to roll his hip slowly. He placed a hand on your pelvis steadying you. Your body was covered in a sheen of sweat which glistened under the light of the office. He felt like he was melting into you—like you were melting into each other.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered opening your arms for him, beckoning him home. And truly, to him, you felt like home.

He pushed his damp hair back once again, before leaning over you. With a final grunt and a spam of your walls around him, he came. He didn’t pull out right away, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.

Your thighs were sticky from your combined releases, and your body felt like it had been sitting in a sauna for hours but seeing the rare, satisfied look on his face made it all worth it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“You owe me new shorts,” you said.

“I’ll buy you as many shorts as your heart desires,” he uttered, tiredly.

“Really?”

He hummed and nodded slowly.

“Good because I think I’m going to need a lot of them if you’re going to rip them off every time,” you said causing him to perk up. “You know to repay for the teacup.”

“Oh?”

“Unless this was a one-time thing then—“you hesitated.

He kissed you again, unable to hide his smile.

“Next time let’s use my bed.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

He tried to intertwine your hands, but you winced when he brushed against the forming boil.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to Sigewinne, for real this time.”

“First, can we have a cup of tea?” you asked.

He laughed. Of course, you wanted to have tea. He could do with some tea too; he was famished after all. He laid a kiss on your forehead and made a mental note to send Clorinde an extra box of his finest tea.

“Of course, first let's clean up and then we'll have tea. I promise, but don’t spill it this time.”

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