#have something. i think. i just need to let it rest like a cut of meat to make sure I don’t superfluously delete anything

[maxsimagination]

would you write more for kim little please? maybe her dating someone younger on the team and the rest of the girls find out? <3

𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 - 𝙠.𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚

warnings: none, just an age gap

-------

“kimmyyyy, no i wanna sleep in. pleaseeee.”

i groaned as kim pulled the curtains to our shared apartment. i wanted to enjoy the last moments with her until we had to go to training and pretend we weren’t dating.

it wasn’t because we didn’t think they’d accept us, it was more because kim was 33 and i was only 22.

the team might not think that was bad, but if they knew then it was only a matter of time before the media knew, and it would blow up indefinitely once they knew. we just weren’t willing to risk it right now.

i ended up being dragged out of bed by kim, the scot managing to haul me to the bathroom. i was half asleep but went through my morning routine like clockwork.

we rocked up at the training fields within the next hour, but kim walked in first. we drove there in the same car but walked in separately so people didn’t suspect anything.

“yn!”

“leah!”

i greeted the blonde when i walked in, levelling her excitement with my own. she jumped onto me in a hug, before slipping back onto the floor.

we walked into the dining hall where the rest of the team and staff were, picking up our designated plates and electing to sit at katie’s table. which also happened to have kim at it.

i, obviously, chose to sit next to kim but thankfully no one picked up on that.

we were allocated an hour to eat breakfast before everyone had to actually start working for the day. all the players filed out to the changing rooms where we changed into our boots, and i slipped my hoodie off while i had the chance.

i caught kim’s gaze as i jogged out to meet leah, throwing a cheeky grin at her expression.

leah was up with katie and cait, talking about god knows what. i joined in, but then jonas cut everyone’s conversations short with his yell for attention.

“girls! let’s get started please. we’re doing a jogging warmup lap, then weights.

find a partner once you’ve finished the lap, use each other for spotting. we don’t need any injuries.”

there was collective murmurs of agreement, and we started jogging around the field. i naturally found myself jogging next to kim, as if a magnet pulled us together.

“gym partners?”

i questioned, she nodded.

we made our way to the weights section of the gym arsenal had.

“we are so doing legs first.”

i all but dragged kim over to the leg press to kickstart our session. kim did not want to do legs, she was into training arms, which was very visible from the bicep muscles that she sported.

one of the many things i drooled over.

i had shoved at least 250lbs onto the leg press machine and watched as kim’s eyes bulge at the amount of plates.

“you’re telling me you can safely lift that?”

“nope. but i’m gonna.”

i ended up doing two reps of fifteen, before upping the weight to 300lbs. kim may have had an aneurysm at the amount of weight i was pushing, and making it look like it was nothing. but she still stood behind me, watching, spotting, and dancing her fingertips over my shoulder blades.

it gave me tingles, and was slightly ticklish. what we didn’t know was that leah was looking from across the room, and she knew that something was up.

when the gym session was over and we started actual drills, leah was quick to pin me as her partner for anything. i thought it was weird but didn’t question it.

when we had a break leah took my hand and walked past kim, beckoning her to follow us. leah walked us away from the groups of girls, so we were out of earshot.

“there’s something going on between you two. spill.”

both of us were quick to sputter out some form of excuse.

“no, what do you mean.”

“don’t know what you’re talking about, lee.”

leah gave us both one of her stares.

“cut the crap. i see the way you look at each other, the little touches. not to mention you both come into practice witching minutes of each other, every morning.”

i exchanged a look with kim, there was no point in hiding this from leah. she was like the fbi, she knew everything.

“okay. we’re dating. we have been for a year.”

something settled in leah’s expression, now she knew what was going on.

“i knew it.

kimmy, going for the young ones are we?”

leah poked at kim’s side, grinning at the skipper. there was an eleven year gap between us, hence why we had kept it secret for a while.

“shut it, lee. do we need to tell the whole team?”

“it would make things easier. for you that is. but only if you want.”

i look over at kim. she looks over at me. i shrug, i never had a problem with telling everyone, kim was the logic one who knew the ins and outs of the media.

“fuck it why not. they’ll figure out eventually.”

“we don’t have to say anything, we can just walk out there and start acting like a couple. see how long it takes them.”

i throw out the idea with a grin. why not have a little fun with it.

we end up agreeing on my idea. training still had a couple of hours left and jonas gave us a few more drills to do, so me and kim forgot all about keeping the secret and just had fun training with each other for once.

surprisingly, none of the girls, not even the staff, said anything. not even kyra or alessia, of all people.

you’d think that the two most gossipy youngsters on the team would say something. but by the end of training, no one was any wiser. so leah told them all.

kyra let out a very loud, ‘oh my god!’ which caught the attention of alessia, who told lotte, so on and so on. soon the whole team knew and it was like a weight was lifted off our shoulders.

“kimmy, i didn’t know you were into the young ones.”

katie’s irish accent was unmistakable as she caught up with us to poke fun at the skipper. cait walked alongside me, she didn’t tease neither me nor kim, simply said she was happy for us.

you could tell she was true with her words, she was in a very similar situation, when her and katie first got together.

“a proper cougar then, our skipper.”

lotte and alessia laughed as they walked past.

it was funny, all the jokes they threw around, but most of all i was happy that they accepted us.

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #kim little #kim little x reader #kim little imagine

[kimetsu-chan]

~playing in the snow headcanons~

A/N: so I asked five of my friends if I should have snow or instruments be the main focus on what I was gonna write, and four of em said snow :3 so we got some playing in the snow headcanons with some my fav bsd characters.

Characters: Akutagawa, Atsushi, Chuuya, Sigma, Nikolai, Ranpo, Kyouka, Lucy, and Tanizaki

TWs ⚠️: Uhh- I don’t think there are any, but it is important to note that Kyouka’s is the only one that is written to be strictly platonic. You can choose romantic or platonic for the others :D GN!Reader

I think there are slight spoilers in Sigma’s?

Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

It would take a lot of convincing to get that man within five feet of the door. And I mean a lot.

Why would you want to go outside in the freezing cold when you can stay inside where it’s nice and cozy?!

Once you explain to him that you want to play in the snow, he gets even more confused.

Why-?

He’d be sitting in a chair, his feet propped up on something with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other while staring up at you like you just grew two heads.

After you told him it was fun and something you really wanted to do, he stare for a second or two longer before spitting out a response.

“Okay….? Then go play in the snow..? What, do you need my permission??”

“No, I want you do come with me, Ryū!”

He would let silence envelope you so for a moment or so before saying a quick and simple “No.” and going back to reading.

After some puppy dog eyes and the best begging you could muster(alone with a deal that you’d leave him alone for at least six hours afterwards) he’d finally go with you.

And when he was dressed up and finally ready to go outside with you, he’d watch you excitedly start making a snowman with a fond look on his face.(he will deny enjoying this for the rest of time.)

Atsushi Nakajima

He is hopping out of his seat and putting five coats on at the mere mention of snow.

Heck yes he wants to go out and play in the snow with you!

Did you even have to ask?

You could tell him to put some warm clothes on and be ready to go outside and he’d do it in a heartbeat and with absolutely zero hesitation.

The first thing he wants to do when yall get outside is make snow angels. And he wants your snow angel to “hold hands” with his (they’re just next to each other)

He’ll let you choose what to do next, deeming it “only fair” since he got to choose first.

“No- [Name]-San-! You get to chose!”

“But I don’t know what I want to do, Atsu, you should pick!”

It would be just a bunch of giggly “no you”s back and forth until you finally relent and ask to make a snowman.

And you best believe that he is going to make that the most cozy looking snowman you’ve ever seen.

It is going to be even more fashionable than Chuuya Nakahara. (No it’s not.)

Chuuya Nakahara

Once again, a lot of convincing will be needed.

What did you expect? The man is extremely busy like 24/7, he doesn’t have time to play in the snow?

But he can’t just deny you when you come up to him to ask him so sweetly if he can please come play with you in the snow.

He wants nothing more than to accept and make you happy, but he really needs to finish his work.

So he sighs and comes up with an alternative.

“How about this, [Name]. I’ll work for about another thirty minutes, then we can go outside, okay?”

“That works! Thanks Chuuya!”

“You’re welco-“

He gets cut off when you roughly wrap your arms around him in a quick hug before running off to do who knows what.

He stares off after you for a few seconds before turning back to his work with a shake of his head and smile.

(Extra bc we can’t end Chuuya’s w/o him actually getting outside 🤭)

When he actually finishes his work, he exited his office to see you already playing outside.

He decided that it would be most fun to quickly get ready and sneak up on you, who was busily forming the base of a snow fort.

There was a yelp as cold snow fell on top of you, and you turned to glare at the ginger who was smirking smugly.

But don’t worry, you got him back by pushing him over into the snow and dropping some snow down his shirt.

Sigma

Poor boy-

Being three years old, the poor guy has never played with snow once in his entire life.

So when you ask him to go with you, you’ll have to explain to him what the heck snowmen and snowball fights were.

He’s mildly interested when you do explain, but he doesn’t quite understand the point.

Doesn't being outside in the cold for a long time give you the risk to get sick?

Overall, he’s rather confused about the purpose of playing with cold, wet snow, but he’d agree.

Once he was free, that is.

And that turned out to be a lot quicker than he thought it would, perhaps it’s because your “silly” wants have peaked his interest.

He would quickly finish his duties his duties within the sky casino, and go to find you and get ready.

When you guys step outside, Sigma immediately felt chilly. The high altitude of the casino only making it colder.

“[Name]… Are you sure this is a good idea-“

He grunted as a snowball landed square in his face.

You giggled as you saw him frozen as he processed what you just did.

Before you could ask if he was okay, he quickly picked up some snow and threw it back at you.

He had a small smirk on his face, oh it was game on.

Nikolai Gogol

Oh boy.

He was the one who initially proposed the idea of playing in the snow, because why wouldn’t he.

He doesn’t care if he’s supposed to be busy, he’s dragging you outside with him whether you like it or not.

You could be busy, you could be relaxing, and he’s suddenly ambushing you and struggling to get a coat over your head.

He will make sure you’re nicely dressed for being in the snow.

After all, you’re no fun if you’re sick.

As he’s yanking you to your feet and dressing you in so many layers, you may as well become a fur ball at this point, he’ll be running his mouth, explaining in grave detail what he wanted to do.

“Okay, so first, we’re gonna make little forts, then we’re gonna hide behind them and throw snowballs at each other. Now- I promise not to throw them too hard, okay?”(that’s a lie, he’ll throw them as hard as he pleases)

You could only watch and nod as he led you outside to begin building.

I sure hope you wrote out your will.

Ranpo Edogawa

He’s busy eating snacks working at his desk, when you came in.

He took one look at your face and flushed cheeks from already having been outside for a while, and knew exactly what you wanted.

He debated whether or not abandoning his precious sna— I uh- I mean work just to make you happy.

He thought it over for a second and decided he could go a little bit without his food, and could grace you with his wonderful presence.

He stood up from his seat with his usual smirk and pointed his unfinished lollipop in your direction.

You didn’t even get to ask him before he started bargaining with you.

“I’ll go outside with you on one condition, you gotta buy me lunch.”

You paused, that actually didn’t sound that bad, so you agreed.

You two quickly got dressed (after Ranpo put his snacks away) and headed out of the office to play in the snow, leaving a extremely frustrated Kunikida at the door yelling at you.

It wasn’t very long before all the grass/ground surrounding the agency was covered in snow angels.

Kyouka Izumi

To be honest, I see Kyouka getting rather excited.

Sure she hadn’t done it in a long time, but Kyouka used to love to play in the snow when she was younger.

It was kinda a bittersweet thing to her.

So when you asked, she was more than willing to go with you. She gently grabbed your hand and led you all the way to her and Atsushi’s dorm to get some warm clothes.

Seeing that she didn’t have enough to comfortably be outside, you took your scarf that was hanging loosely on your shoulders off and wrapped it around her neck to help her keep warm.

Kyouka smiled at you when you did so then with increased energy, she took your hand again and made her way outside.

She immediately opened her mouth and tried to catch a falling snowflake on her tongue, being successful in doing so.

She turned to you with wide eyes and pointed at where the now-melted snowflake had been.

“[Name], did you see that?”

“Mhm!”

“[Name], let’s go make snowmen..!”

Before you could even respond, Kyouka grabbed your hand and jogged to the nearest open space to make a snowman.

You guys ended up making two, a bigger one complete with its younger sister.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Lucy, much like Akutagawa, would decline immediately at first.

She’s in the middle of a shift, she can’t just abandon her job as a waitress.

Or so she thought.

Until her boss gave her the go-ahead that she could take a break and go play in the snow.

Her next argument would be that she was “too mature” to go play in snow.

But then you turned that right back around at her and asked if that meant you were immature.

She stuttered and blushed from embarrassment as she denied what you said.

“N-No-! I didn’t mean you were immature! I just-“

“Then let’s go!”

Cue you grabbing her arm and running towards the building door and shoving her coat that you stole earlier into her arms.

Lucy sighed and reluctantly pulled her coat over her arms and stepped outside with you.

In the end, you guys had a lot of fun running around and pushing each other into the snow.

Tanizaki Jun’ichirō

Actually, Tanizaki was the one who suggested the idea.

He said it would be a fun way to get a break from all their work(totally not because he wanted to show off his snowball fight skills, nooo-)

He would offer to fetch your coat for you when you agreed, doing so anyway when you declined his offer.

He held your coat out for you as he put on his own on, happily suggesting the snowball fight he was planning.

You agreed, not thinking about how he could use his ability to his advantage.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He hid behind a tree and made his illusion self dash to hide somewhere else, effectively turning your attention away from where he actually was.

He hit you in the back of the head a little harder than he meant to, and immediately stood up to rush over and see if you were hurt.

“[Name]! I’m sorry, I didn’t me— AGH-“

Karma came so sweetly as he slipped and landed on his back.

There were no hard feelings though, you guys called a truce and laughed about it for the rest of the day

A/N: these were so fun to write, omg-

I hope you liked it! Please consider liking/reblogging if you did :3

#🍁 #hehehe #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x gender neutral reader #gn reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou sd #bungo stray dogs x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd akutagawa #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bungo stray dogs atsushi #atsushi bsd #atsushi x reader #chuuya nakahara #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #sigma bsd #sigma bungou stray dogs #chuuya #sigma x reader #bsd sigma x reader

[princessbiteme0o0]

Jealousy~ (JSchitlin x Reader)

The current request I’m working on is kinda dark and I need a break from it for a moment so enjoy this smut with almost no plot.

Also, a side note- whether or not Schlatt is in a relationship is none of our business. If he is then I’m inexplicably happy for him, if not, then that’s (probably) his choice. As fans, I feel like we should just be happy for him, rather than push him towards something he doesn’t want or try to pressure him for information that doesn’t belong to us. ALSO, this isn’t meant to offend anyone, but Schlatt deserves all the privacy he wants. Don’t forget that creators are people too :)

Love you guys 🩵🩵

WARNINGS: Jealousy (obviously), mostly smut, porn with very little plot, fingering, ownership kink, let me know if I need to add more :)

—🩵—🩵—

She hated parties; hated them.

He knew this and he was well aware of why. With her history, it’s understandable why she hated being surrounded by drunk men. He knew she was beautiful and he knew that she had to deal with men (and women) flirting with her all of the time. He also knows that he has no right to be jealous, but currently that didn’t matter to him. His eyes were locked on Ted, who despite him only being six or seven inches taller than her, seemed to tower over her.

She awkwardly smiled when Ted leaned against the wall in front of her, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he stared down at her. She was internally questioning why she agreed to come; she should’ve known that if her and Schlatt got separated that she’d have men approaching her. Her mind is drawn from her thoughts and frustrations at her best friend as Ted speaks.

“Hi there, Honey.” He hums, low voice melting the tension between them. It was her turn to speak and she struggled to decide whether to flirt back or not.

“Hi, Ted.” She whispers softly, a warm blush spreading across her cheeks. As Schlatt stood back and watched this interaction, he felt a jealous rage swelling in his chest. Before he knew what he was doing, his feet directed him in their direction.

“You look absolutely adorable in that pretty little skirt.” He drunkenly slurred and she could smell the alcohol rolling off of him. A warm blush warmed her cheeks, making Ted chuckle softly.

“Thanks…” She trailed off, a nervous insecurity swelling her chest. Ted moved just the slightest bit closer and she could feel the warmth rolling off of his body.

“Why so shy, (Y/N)?” His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks and she furrows her brows when she looks up at him.

“You know I’m not a big talker, Ted.” She mumbles softly, bowing her head slightly. His fingers snaked their way under her chin and tilted her head up to make her look at him.

“I bet I could make you one-“ His words are cut off when Schlatt clears his throat beside them and slips an arm around her waist, pulling her away from Ted. Ted opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it as soon as he sees the glint in Schlatt’s eyes. Grumbling under his breath, Ted rolled his eyes and glared at Schlatt.

“Why don’t you go get a drink, Toots? I need to talk to Teddy Boy.” He smiled down at her and as a soft blush spread across her cheeks. Nodding quickly, Schlatt grinned as he watched her scurry off towards the kitchen. Turning back to face Ted, he raises a brow. Ted stares right back at him, glare boring into him. “What in the hell is wrong with you, Ted?”

“What?” Ted snapped in return, shifting on his feet as he moved to rest his back fully against the wall.

“You know how I feel about her.”

“Well you better tell her. If you don’t take her, I will.” Ted grumbled drunkenly, pushing off of the wall. Schlatt had to fight every urge to launch himself at Ted, instead he focused his attention on her. His eyes found her cute little figure, head down and cheeks pink as she grabbed a beer for him through the crowd of people. Before he could even think about it, his feet were guiding him towards her. Snaking his right arm around her, she tensed for a moment.

“Easy there, Pumpkin, it’s just me.” He whispered to her and she audibly breathed out a warm sigh, looking up at him and smiling softly. His eyes ran over her face for a moment before he spoke again. “Can I talk to you upstairs?”

“Sure.” She hums, eyes soft and sweet; that was one of his favorite things about her- if he stared into her eyes, he could see into her soul. Her kindness and subtle purity making a warmth flood his gut every time he looked at her. He gently takes his hand in hers and guides her through the crowd and up the stairs. Once the two of them made it upstairs, he leads her into a room and leans his back against the door after he shuts it.

“Jay…?” She whispered and the way her voice sounded nearly made him snap right then and there, biting back a growl. He slowly took steps towards her, fully expecting her to walk backwards as she does with everyone else, but she just stood there and watched him. He only stopped when he could feel the warmth of her body radiating through the tiny gap between them. Lifting his hand, he slowly and gently ran his fingers over her collarbone.

“So fucking sweet, like candy…” He mumbled as his fingertips still carefully explored her skin, ghosting up the side of her neck. “So pure, like a pretty little angel…”

“Jay, I-“ She whispers out, but the words die on her tongue as his thumb runs across her lower lip.

“Open.” He stated simply, watching her mouth as her lips part and he slips his thumb into her mouth, watching the way her pretty eyes widen in surprise.

“Suck.” And she instantly did as he said, pulling a growl from deep within his chest.

“And oh God, you’re so damn obedient.” She stared up at him, shuffling in place to press her thighs together in hopes of relieving the ache that was spreading through her abdomen and leaking between her legs. Pulling his thumb from her mouth, he’s surprised to hear her whine softly. “Shh, shh.” He gently shushes her while his hand moved to the back of her scalp, tangling his hand in her hair.

“Please, Jay… Please.” She chokes out, their faces a few millimeters apart. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers as he whispers.

“My sweet, little, forbidden apple.” He hummed out, pressing a small kiss to the corner of her lips.

“So tempting in everything you do…” He mumbles, free hand traveling down her side to her hip. “From the way you move, to the way you speak… All the way to when you look at me. Mmm, the way you look up at me so innocently- makes it so hard not to grab your face and kiss you right there.”

He chuckled momentarily when he saw the subbed out expression gracing her face. Her hazy eyes, pupils blown wide, stared up at him with so much softness, swirling with passion and making him take in a sharp breath. Nudging his nose against her cheek, he whispered again, “All mine.”

“Jay…” She whined softly, pulling away to look up at him. Her pretty blue eyes flip between each of his eyes and her lips part to speak, “Why don’t you kiss me then?”

“Because if I kiss you…” He pauses a moment to try and gather his thoughts- the way she’s looking at him makes his brain turn to mush. “If I kiss you, I don’t know if I can stop.”

“Oh yeah?” She hums softly, still staring up at him with wide eyes. When he gives a small nod, she continues, “Who says I would want you to stop?”

Her words made a soft growl leave his lips and the two practically pounced at each other, their lips colliding, much like waves crashing upon shore in the middle of a violent storm. She laced her fingers into his hair and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Before the two even realized they were moving, her back was slammed against the wall, him holding a hand behind her head to carefully press her further against it for support. His tongue clashed with hers, setting a bright, vibrant fire in her chest. While their tongues mingled together, his left hand slid down her side and gripped her thigh, lifting it to rest on his hip.

“Tell me you want it, (Y/N). Tell me who you want.” His voice comes out in a shaky growl against her lips, words barely audible over the heavy thumping of her heart in her chest. Upon a lack of reply, he pulls away just enough to look into her pretty, bright eyes and a soft whine leaves her at the lack of touch. Her lips tried to chase his, but he moved the hand behind her head to carefully wrap around her neck. “Tell me.”

“You, Jay. Please, need you. Please.” Her voice cracks and her chest heaves as she struggles against his hold, desperate for any touch from him. A smirk crosses his lips as he leans down and kisses the side of her head.

“Good job, baby. I’m so proud of you.” His praise pulled the most lewd mewl from her lips and she struggled in his hold once more, hips incidentally grinding against his. “So impatient.” His words are teasing… mocking… But she doesn’t mind- in fact, the way she was nearly dripping down her thighs at his tone made her oh so aware of what he does to her. His lips ghost down the side of her neck and he gives a playful nip to her collarbone, pulling the prettiest little whimper from the back of her throat.

“Please, please, please…” She begs and pulls away just enough to see his eyes- heavy with love and deep with affection.

“Anything for you.” He whispers in return, fingertips sliding carefully up the thigh over his hip. Slipping under her skirt, he slowly worked the pad of his thumb in circles around her clit making her head fall forwards against his chest. “Does that feel good, honey?”

“So- so good.” She whimpered softly, her body quivering with each slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers. Gently he pushed aside her panties and sank just his middle finger into her, making her gasp and grip onto the sleeves of his shirt for dear life. He torturously worked his finger back and forth before adding another. The lewd mewl that left her lips made him grunt out a soft reply as he felt his cock twitch in his pants.

“It’s too much, Jay!” She squeaks out softly as she clenched around his fingers. Her body trembled in his arms as she quickly approached her orgasm.

“Yes you can, Angel. You’re gonna take it and I’m gonna be here to catch you when you fall apart.” He whispered softly in her ear, kissing her temple. Schlatt held her there against the wall, wrapping his free arm around her body and carefully holding her up and against him. His warmth made her feel safe, like a giant blanket protecting her from everything- he helped her just to… Feel.

“I- I’m gonna- I can’t- please don’t st-stop.” She choked out on a sob met somewhere in her voice with a moan.

“That’s it, baby. Let it all out. I know you’ve been neglected, my love. I’m here now. I’ve got you.” He praised her softly as her body twitched and her eyes closed tightly, basking in not just the glow of her orgasm, but the light of his love.

-A/N:- Pt. 2? I know it was a cheesy ending but the romantic in me couldn’t help it 😭

#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #schlatt fluff #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt smut #schlatt smut

[xvysarene]

𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕗

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.3k Genre: Suggestive Notice: 3rd person POV, Mentions of alcohol, Slight OOC Zayne (not a teetotaler)

"I know a healthier way to relieve stress, doctor."

Alcohol-induced thoughts had rolled off her tongue effortlessly.

She had expected his towering build to abruptly rise and leave her right there, appalled by the provocative comment. A disgusted expression or an unexpected snort would be acceptable too.

Yet, when she finally dared to face him, those sharp eyes locking with hers was not something she expected. Overflowing intensity caused her skin to tingle.

“You shouldn’t offer what you can’t deliver, Ms. Y/N,” his lowered voice warned her, sending a chill down her spine on hearing the way he had addressed her so formally, just like when they were in the meeting room.

The room suddenly spun, but not from the alcohol. No, she only had two bottles of beer, just enough to loosen her tongue like this.

The response in her throat dried as she saw him sipping his whiskey sans ice, Adam apple’s bobbing as he swallowed the deep amber liquid after letting it linger in his mouth, taking in the smoky flavour.

“Well?” Perfectly arched brow challenged her.

Heart pounding rapidly in her chest, she took one last gulp from the barely touched third bottle to calm her nerves before subtly cocking her head to the bar’s exit.

It was one of the rare moments she had seen him smirk and not in response to a challenge in the medical field. 

The faint creaking from the bar stool was loud in her ears as he stood up, settling both of their bills with the bartender, and leaving a hefty tip. His surprisingly warm palm rested low on her hip as he guided her to his black sedan.

Mesmerizing city lights blurred. Her attention drawn solely to the sensation of his thumb slowly drawing circles on her thigh.

Next thing she knew, her back was pressed against the back of his front door, lips locked in a passionate battle filled with intense desire that made her knees buckle.

The strong thigh nestled between her heated core was the only thing stopping her from melting into a puddle on his floor. The friction, a welcome bliss, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

That was the beginning of the agreement, becoming a recurring occurrence whenever both of them needed to blow off steam from the stresses of demanding jobs. Him, saving lives, and her, dealing with difficult clients.

“Thank you for being my stress relief.”

His words cut through her second post-orgasm haze like ice water.

Somewhere along the line of what was supposed to be a no-strings-attached arrangement, small things like having a late-night snack together to deeper conversation during pillow talks grew to be a regular part of the deal.

Feelings for him had begun to bloom, much like the flowers outside with the arrival of warmer weather.

“Are you okay?” The sound of rustling sheets reminded her that she had been silent for too long while staring emptily at his ceiling.

“Yeah,” she simply replied.

Not satisfied with the answer, she felt Zayne’s fingertips lightly tracing above her collarbone, gently checking patches of skin that had turned reddish. They would undoubtedly be bruised by the next day.

“Was I too rough?”

Hands roamed greedily over her curves, warm lips on the sensitive dips and folds that he had become well acquainted with, growls of desire, and powerful thrusts flashed through her mind.

She tried to suppress the memories, though her body still hummed from the aftereffects. “No, just tired.”

He carefully took hold of her chin, noticing that she had been avoiding his gaze. "Y/N, you know you can talk to me, right?" his voice filled with concern. 

“I think that’s the problem.”

Zayne’s calculated hazel orbs bore into hers, searching for the meaning behind her words.

“I’m not sure if you notice, Zayne, but for a casual arrangement, things are starting to get complicated.”

It was his turn to drop his gaze. For someone as bright as him, it would be impossible for the situation to go over his head.

He too must have realised the way their dynamic had changed over time; they had spent more time together in and out of the bedroom. 

At times, they’d simply cuddle through the nights, providing a safe haven without the necessity for words.

She held her breath. There was no going back now. "It's starting to feel like more than just sex—it has been for some time.”

Retracted fingers sent a clear sign that he was about to take a step back, the gesture as clear as the darkness enveloping the night. The guarded mask was back once he met her gaze again.

"We both agreed that this was meant to be casual. I don't want either of us to end up getting hurt."

It sounded like an automated response even to his ears. He grimaced.

Y/N's heart sank. Despite the obvious signal of his withdrawal, his words still pierced her heart. "I see," she said quietly, distancing herself from him slightly.

Zayne could sense her disappointment and reached out to touch her arm. "Hey, Y/N, it's not that I don't care about you. I just…” his words faltered.

"I understand," she said, forcing a smile. "I believe it might be best if we stop doing this then."

He breathed out slowly. "Yeah, you may be right.”

A curt nod was directed at him. "I should probably get going anyway."

“Don’t be silly, it’s past midnight,” Zayne immediately stood up, trying to stop her. She tried hard not to look down at his abs or any other part of his anatomy. “I’m not asking you to leave. You can take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch if you want.”

“I just prefer to sleep on my own bed tonight, but thank you for the offer.”

He watched as she quickly slipped on her clothes and gathered her things. 

“Let me drop you off at least,” he pleaded.

"I'll take the 24-hour taxi on the corner of your street and send you my location," she shut him down with the same assertive tone she used when closing deals.

As he closed the door behind her, a part of him wished she hadn't seen him at the bar that evening when he had let his heart rule over his brain.

“What is it?” Zayne took the pen out of his pocket and began to add his notes to the patient’s file.

When no response came from the direction of his office door, he exasperatedly looked up, about to shoot daggers at whoever was interrupting him.

Greyson, his assistant and regrettably a close friend out of work, stood in place, watching his every move.

“Less than fifteen minutes to the meeting; you were normally ready half an hour before that.”

The grip on the pen tightened as he concentrated back on jutting his notes down, making sure he didn’t miss any important details.

“I have some urgent things to attend to earlier.”

Greyson hmmed. “Yeah, things that you normally assign to the junior doctors so they can 'practice more' as you often phrase it."

Zayne knew that engaging with Greyson was futile since he would never win—a rarity, given that he would typically be the one in Greyson's shoes in any other situation.

“Let’s go, don’t want to be late for such an important meeting.”

As Greyson walked one step ahead of him, he did shoot daggers at the back of his friend's head all the way to the meeting room.

Nervous fingers, poised to adjust the tie, froze in place as he noticed Yvonne sent Greyson a knowing look once they entered the conference room before setting her eyes on him.

“Ah, Doctor Zayne and Doctor Greyson are here,” the hospital administrator greeted them from his seat.

He cleared his throat. “Apologies for running late.”

“Not at all, Doctor Zayne. You are, in fact, right on time,” Y/N said, acknowledging him after finishing setting up her laptop for the presentation.

"It's good to have you back, Ms. Y/N,” Greyson said as he took the seat across from him.

“Likewise, Doctor Greyson.”

“No offense to your colleague, but we were afraid we’d get a new account manager.”

The smile faltered slightly on her lips, clearly taken aback by his assistant’s nonsensical comment. “I had a business trip last time, which was why I had asked my colleague to step in for me.”

“We find that consulting with you is a more enjoyable process for us, as you're familiar with our requirements, isn’t that right, Doctor Zayne?"

Greyson’s sudden query left him unprepared. He sent his friend a quick warning glance before nodding, afraid that his carefully crafted pretense of nonchalance would slip away.

“Right, since everybody is here, should we start the meeting then?” the purchasing manager spoke when he finally put his phone down, not paying attention to the conversation as he was busy texting anyway. “Ms. Y/N, what new devices do you have for us?”

As Y/N started her presentation, Yvonne’s hushed words reached his ears, “Would you like some water, doctor?” The nurse’s hand appeared in his line of vision, handing him a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” he replied, making the mistake of looking into the nurse's eyes. Her perceptive gaze told him she knew how surprisingly affected he was by Y/N’s presence.

For once, he regretted instilling in those who work under him the importance of being observant of their surroundings.

Y/N’s fingers traced the rim of the glass, lost in the haunting cadence of the singer's voice. 

The lady poured her heart into each note. Each lyric dripped with the bittersweet of longing, a testament to love that lingered just beyond reach.

“Pretty uneventful for a celebratory night, don’t you think?” The bartender—Ethan, she had learned his name—approached her again once the end of the workweek crowd had slowly dispersed.

“Perhaps,” she replied, “but it allows me to rearrange my thoughts.”

She had found unexpected companionship with the bartender, who had recognised her from the night her loose tongue had led her into a difficult situation with Zayne.

Despite its prime location at Moonshadow Avenue, the jazz bar remained a hidden gem, often overlooked by the bustling crowds.

It was the perfect place to enjoy some time alone outside the confines of her home, feeling it a little too empty lately.

“People normally do that within the privacy of their home,” he responded knowingly. There was a kindness in his eyes, a silent reassurance that she wasn't alone in her solitude.

She sent him a small smile and savored the final drop of the ruby-hued liquid. A delicate hint of orange zest, weaving through the complex herbaceous notes, warmed her body.

Ethan took the empty glass. “And that, ma’am, is the last glass for tonight.”

When he saw her let out a playful huff despite the buzz that she was feeling, he offered a gentle warning, “Negronis can sneak up on you quicker than you think. Wouldn't want you making any bad decisions now, would we?”

"Alright, dad." Y/N playfully rolled her eyes to his retreating figure, feeling grateful for his watchful care.

As the band moved on to another piece, she cast a look around the room. Couples were huddled together, allowing intimate conversations to blend with the somber tones of saxophones and pianos.

The warm, honeyed glow from antique lamps illuminated their faces, creating playful shadows dancing across their features. Every exchanged smile spoke volumes of love in a myriad of languages shared between them.

Feeling a churn inside her heart, she grabbed her purse, ready to call it a night.

“It’s on the house,” Ethan tutted after serving another patron.

“I had more than one glass tonight,” she warned and slid the card to him.

“If I ever undergo heart surgery at Akso—God forbid,” he knocked on the polished bar to ward off any bad luck. “I’ll make sure to thank you personally for the devices you sold to them.” With that, he slid the card back across the bar.

Y/N shook her head at his antics and handed him a generous trip instead. “Thank you, but just this once.”

“Anytime, milady,” he quipped, bowing dramatically. “Get home safely.”

She waved goodnight and stumbled a bit, the buzz from the drink intensifying as she rose from the stool. Ethan’s advice was spot on—any more drinks and she might have found herself spinning along with the room, tripping her way out the door.

The cool breeze of the spring night air hit her, a welcoming sensation that helped clear her head. Phone in hand, ready to order a ride, she thought she caught a whiff of a sterile smell, a scent that reminded her of the corridors at the hospital. 

Heart racing, she looked up at the sound of a familiar voice softly uttering her name.

“Y/N?” he called out again as she blinked at him.

It was Zayne, still clad in the white shirt and light beige cotton vest combo he had worn earlier in the day, looking like he just finished his shift.

Though he had rolled up his sleeves, allowing the world to get a sight of his strong forearms.

A faint sigh slipped from his lips as he extended a finger in front of her face, moving it from left to right, checking to see if her eyes focused on it.

“You’ve been drinking more than I thought.”

“What are you doing here?”  Y/N countered, not expecting to see him.

Those unmistakable hazel eyes peered down at her, before looking to the side, lost in contemplation. 

“I need to see you. Figured you might have frequented this bar again and I was right.”

Her mouth opened and closed, mind racing on how to respond to that.

The lively younger crowd suddenly shifted, eager to migrate to a happening spot as the night was still young to them, and she found herself jolted into his embrace.

Apologies from a younger girl fell on deaf ears as her focus was captured by the arms securely wrapping around her figure.

“Let me drive you home.”

It wasn’t a question. The same words he had uttered the night she left his house echoed in her mind.

City lights blurred into a colorful haze, much like the first time she sank into the plush leather seat of his car, though her thigh felt empty.

The hand that had rested on it previously was gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to restrain itself. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he finally broke the silence when her apartment came into view.

Zayne turned off the engine and turned to face her. “But seeing that you’ve had some drinks, it’s probably better if we do this when you’re completely sober.”

“Meet me upstairs,” the words came rushing out of her mouth, surprising him and her both.

He looked into her eyes deeply. “Are you sure?”

She nodded swiftly and opened the car door, stepping out before she could second-guess her decision.

Upstairs, weary feet paced back and forth, the sound of footsteps echoing softly in the quiet apartment. Fresh breeze swept through the opened windows, bringing clarity to her mind.

Soon, there was a soft knock on the door, and her heart raced faster. She was met with the sight of him who had shed his vest and tie. That sure wasn’t helping her nerves as he somehow looked even more dashing than before.

She could feel his heat as he passed her. Suddenly, her apartment felt small with Zayne standing there, his presence filling the room.

“You have been busy,” he remarked when he saw the pile of papers stacked on her coffee table.

“I’m just trying to do more work to take my mind off…” she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Of you.

“Of what?” Zayne prompted. “Is everything okay?” He genuinely looked concerned, softening her towards him even more, if possible.

“Just a lot in my mind lately,” she opted to say.

He hmmed understandingly and they resorted to another silence. Feeling parched, she took a swig of the chilled water from her fridge, aware that his gaze was tracking her every move.

"I saw you hurriedly walking down the hospital corridor a couple of months back,” he said quietly, “avoiding me as if I were contagious."

And yet, she had done it again earlier in the morning. After successfully closing the deal with Akso, the businesswoman's confidence evaporated as their hands clasped in a shake.

The familiar hold of his hand ignited a surge of memories, memories where he had once gripped both of her wrists effortlessly, guiding her into moments of ecstasy.

It prompted her to hastily make an escape.

"I just...didn't know how to face you, and I didn’t want to make things more awkward between us."

His hand caught her chin, lifting her head that had hung low from embarrassment. Her breath caught, only noticing how those broad shoulders were closer than before.

“I’ve missed you.”

Doubt stealthily crept into her. “You mean the sex?”

“That’s a totally different context,” he clarified quickly, "I care about you. More than I've ever cared about anyone else. And it drives me crazy knowing that I have hurt you.

“You were right, it hadn’t been just a casual arrangement for some time," he admitted, voice tinged with fragility that she had heard sneaking in within the safe space of their pillow talks. “I’m a coward who thought that completely baring my soul to someone will only end in heartache.”

“Well, I have a soft spot for this particular person who dares to bare his soul.” Her smile was gentle, though he didn’t miss the mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Did you finally admit that it was more than physical or is my mind playing tricks on me, Doctor Zayne?”

A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Judging on your playful quip even when I’m being serious and…” His thumb brushed against her jugular, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her pulse beneath his touch. “…seeing that you’re responding even to the slightest touch, it seems that you’re fully alert right now.”

Smouldering gaze pinned her down to the spot. Their heads tilted closer, drawn by an irresistible magnetic pull.

“Though, I never refuted that I didn’t miss the physical aspect, did I?”

A surge of heat rushed through that one spot south of her body. “So, Mr. Coward, what’s your next brave move going to be?” her words came out in a breathless whisper.

With a barely audible exhale, he grabbed her by the back of the neck. Mouths moved in a passionate dance of need, their kisses growing more desperate with each passing second.

As they fought for oxygen, he withdrew, forehead touching hers. “Are you sure this is something you want? Right after we talk about things between us are more than just sex?”

“Didn’t you confirm I’m ‘fully alert’ earlier?”

She tugged on his collar, drawing him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. The fabric of her pencil skirt felt constricting as his skilled surgeon fingers toyed along the waistband.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” she managed to gasp out in between her moans, tilting her head back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck to his wandering lips further.

“No,” he replied, voice thick with a feral need.

Puffs of hot breath danced across her skin, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand proud. “Will you stay the night then?”

Full-blown dark irises locked onto hers, a sly curl exclusively reserved for her tugged at the corner of his lips

“I thought you’d never asked,” he breathed, before lightly nibbling on his favourite spot. The spot he knew would elicit the sweetest symphony from her lips.

Peppered purplish marks would for sure grace her neck for the next couple of days. And perhaps a few other places on her body too.

#ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐱𝐞𝐩𝐡'𝐬 writing nook #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #zayne x reader #zayne #zayne x y/n #zayne x you #suggestive

[commander-rahrah]

I'm excited to read it too! I'm glad you find it interesting! Don't worry about your post because long! Your thoughts are so interesting!

I agree that Astarion would have to come to terms with Reader/Tav's boundaries too since it works both ways! I definitely feel that Astarion would be too lost in drinking from the blood of a sentient creature to notice the signs.

He would feel ashamed when he's aware of their fear yet they still chose to offer despite that might made him feel like he manipulated them like Cazador did to him 😭

What his excuses are if they try to offer in the early days makes sense! He would be too ashamed & terrified to have such a vulnerable conversation with them yet 😞

He would feel safe enough to bring up their fear after he confessed about everything. He would make it clear to them he doesn't want them to suffer by making them do something they don't want to like he did especially after how much they have helped him & how important they are to him 😭

He would respect their decision if they said it's too much for them. He would support everyone's personal choices & autonomies even though the concept is still new to him 😤

He would need an explanation if they insist on feeding him regardless of their fear. They would explain that not only do they trust him, they love him more than they fear it 🥹

He would only accept if they establish some ground rules 👍 like he did when it comes to physical intimacy & sex which is healthy for both of them!

I know it's unrelated but thank you for adding this because you described me pretty well 🤣 I would definitely react to even the smallest of cuts so Astarion quickly but gently sucking it & giving a small kiss on it would be a fantastic distraction 😳

You're welcome! Thank YOU for entertaining me & sharing your thoughts! I'm glad you enjoy putting Astarion and Tav/Reader in all these different scenarios too 🤍

Here's my idea that I would love to hear your opinion! Just to let you know this is quite self-indulgent XD How would Astarion react to GN! Reader/Tav actually had suspicions that he's using them but still chose to believe that he's not. So when he confessed he manipulated them, they're even not angry at him.

They're sad for how much & how long he has suffered to be the way he is now, but they're also genuinely hurt that he did take advantage of their trust in him. They don't blame him but they admit it still hurts and wants some time alone to process it.

After leaving them be, they would go to him when they're ready to talk to him. They would tell him how grateful they are that he chose to come clean with them despite knowing how it would be easier for him to keep quiet for it, and thanked him for trusting them enough to be honest with them.

What do you think of it? I'm curious :3

Hi Anon! Sorry for the super late response, I let this one stew for a little while in my brain and the other night I had this dialogue idea and couldn’t resist writing a little scene about it tonight! I hope you enjoy ❤️

I envisioned this scene happens half way through his confession, and then imagined the rest of the conversation about intimacy and boundaries would happen afterwards! It’s about 1100 words, and canonical Astarion backstory warnings apply — trauma, dark thoughts, etc.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

“I just — I feel awful." Astarion’s throat worked silently, his eyes glancing down to his boots. "Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan — seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy — instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in." He finally looked up at your face, studying intensely for your reaction. 

“I—oh,” You pulled your hand away from him as uncertainty flooded your features. He saw your eyes dart back and forth, but they weren’t studying him. No, you were lost in thought. “Oh.”

Astarion licked his lips, his hands ringing together in front of him nervously. “You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry. I thought we… I don’t know what I thought.”

The rest of what he had planned to say vanished out of his mind. Instead it started to betray him, a cruel voice whispering about how he knew you would react like this. Did he really think it would go well?

His pink mouth hung open as he scrambled for what to say, trying to think of how to make this better. But he’d done enough already, hadn’t he?

You crossed your arms over your body, your cheeks flushing deeply. “I feel a bit like a fool. None of it was real, the whole time?”

“Not the whole time,” He confessed as soft, vulnerable moments with you flashed in his mind. The very moments that made him start to drop the act. “It hasn’t been as of late, but before… in the beginning, up until recently, yes.”

His red eyes followed your throat as it bobbed up and down before flicking back up to your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed, your mouth a sad pout.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Astarion whispered, not daring to move forward.

“I’m thinking… I need a moment.” You admitted, already looking behind you and away from him.

His heart sank, but he nodded. “I— okay. Of course.”

And then you were off, your head down as you stalked away from the edge of the beach and back to the warm glow of camp.

He stood there stunned for a moment, before turning around to stare at the dark, choppy waters in front of him. Hundreds of scenarios began to dance in his mind — what if you went back to the camp to tell the others? Would he be met by pointed blades and blazing spells? He imagined being kicked out, staked, cursed, roasted alive with fireballs. Hand delivered to Cazador as extra punishment for his sins. Anything his twisted broken mind could come up with played like a messed up vision.

Astarion didn’t even try to stop the repetitive dark thoughts. It was what he deserved.

Eventually, the vampire slinked back into the camp some time later — once the sky was inky black and the moon was the only light to illuminate the way back to his tent.

“Hi.”

The sound caused his ears and shoulders to perk up instantly. You were sat in the grass and dirt outside of his tent, your arms wrapped around your knees and pulled to your chest.

“Hi.” Gods, he sounded breathless. But he couldn’t see any weapons or angry barbarians or wizards nearby. That was a good sign, right?

“I wasn’t sure when you’d come back.”

He cocked a brow, “I figured you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

A sigh escaped your lips, “Astarion, don’t be dramatic. I asked for time to think — not for you to leave.”

He blinked at your sharp tone, but nodded his head in slight defeat. “You’re right. And you waited for me because—?”

You brushed off your clothes as you stood up to his height, “I would like to finish that conversation, if you’re ready.”

Well, there was no denying the inevitable.

He nodded his head solemnly, stepping forward to open the flap of his tent and inviting you in with a wave of his hand.

The privacy his tent offered was slight, but this late in the night he knew most of his companions would be fast asleep. Quickly lighting a lantern, he joined you on the fabric floor.

His half-dead heart was thundering, the thrumming sound echoing in his pointed ears that he almost missed your quiet voice.

“I understand.”

“What?” His brows furrowed, looking at you with confusion.

“The stories you’ve told me… your scars… I understand why you did it, why you felt the need to do it.” You explained, your voice and eyes tender as you looked at him in the low light. “But you manipulated me, Astarion. You took advantage of me, toyed with me and my emotions to get what you needed. That hurts.”

Astarion’s stomach twisted into a hard knot, “I know.”

“But you also didn’t need to tell me any of this. You could have kept pretending, kept up the charade until we faced Cazador… But you didn’t. Why?”

Now it felt like his stomach was crawling up his torso and into his throat. Gods, what was this feeling? Why did you do this to him. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before. I failed with my plan. It felt apart the moment I realized… that I had fallen for you.” He admitted, but his fluttering heart made more words stumble out of his mouth. “And I know you probably don’t believe me, why would you after everything I just told you. Trust me, nobody feels more stupid about it than I do.”

You cut off his rambling, “I don’t think it’s stupid. I think that’s probably the most honest you’ve been with me since I’ve met you,” You said earnestly. “It would have been a lot easier for you to keep on pretending, wouldn’t it? Pretend I’m just another mark, another means to an end to get through the day.”

“I don’t want easy… I don’t want to just get through the day. Not anymore.” Astarion whispered across the small tent, staring intently at you.

You cocked your head slightly in question, “And what do you want?”

“I want this, I want us — to be real. You deserve something real.”

“So do you, Astarion. You deserve something real.”

Your name escaped his lips as a choked sob as overwhelming wave of emotion settled over him. “I don’t even know what real looks like. How do I give that to you if I—?”

“Do you trust me?”

The vampire nodded through his tears, “Yes.”

“I trust you,” You said softly.

“After everything I’ve done?” He croaked, waving his hands dramatically, “You’d trust a monster—“

You grabbed onto his extended fingers gently, squeezing them. “Yes, even then.”

He looked down at your hands touching, before intertwining his pale fingers with yours carefully. “Maybe you are a fool.”

You let out a breathless laugh, the sound waking up something in him he’d long thought dead. “Maybe, I am. But you fell for me, so what does that make you?”

Astarion’s mouth twitched up until it match your smile, “The luckiest vampire alive.”

#commander-rahrah answers #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #Astarion X reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn!tav

[suguwu]

MOON EATER I THREE

"But truly, Master Diluc—why am I here?"

"I would wed you," he says, flexing his hands in his lap. "If you are amenable to it."

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

masterlist

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x f!reader

notes: i've been sitting on this chapter for a while, so i'm excited to send it out in the world!

content: marriage of convenience, politics, some manipulation, pining, jealousy, some jeanlisa if you squint.

wc: 4k

The winery is almost entirely empty when Diluc steps inside after you. Jean is corralling the few stragglers, giving quiet orders to the remaining knights, her blue eyes as gentle as the summer sky. She’s in ceremonial wear and it hones her; he thinks of a sheathed blade. 

“Jean,” he says. “You don’t need to do that.” 

She turns to face him, a soft smile curling up on her lips. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, the color of the pearly dawn. It’s the one she gains when she’s caught doing something she knows she shouldn’t.

(“Father,” Diluc said, innocent as a newborn fawn as Jean and Kaeya shifted at his side.  “You wanted to see us?”

His father eyed them with a raised brow. “I don’t suppose the three of you know anything about the pie that went missing from the kitchen.” 

Kaeya fidgeted with his sleeve, his slender fingers working at the cuff of it. Diluc elbowed him in the ribs subtly. “No, Father,” he said.

His father studied each of them carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, Diluc saw the blush rising to Jean’s cheeks, a soft pink that was slowly darkening. 

“Jean?” his father asked.

“I’m sorry!” she cried out, and Diluc groaned.)

“I was just helping—”

“Jean. You don’t need to help.” 

She bites at her lip and Diluc softens. He’d forgotten how much she needed to feel useful. But this close, he can see the bags under her eyes, the deep blue-gray of a stormcloud. “My staff has it under control,” he says. “And you’re a guest.” 

“But—”

“Go home and rest.” 

“I can still—”

“Jean.” 

“Alright,” she says quietly. “I just need to give a few more orders, that’s all.”

He nods and starts to step away.

“Diluc?”

When he turns to face her, he takes a sharp breath. There’s something like sorrow shining through her expression, something bone-deep carved into the curve of her mouth.

“Is this really what you wanted?” she asks. Her voice is gentle, but she’s watching him carefully, her gaze a comet streaking through the sky, the blue of it cutting through the heavens’ tender underbelly. It cuts through him, too.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says after a moment.  

Jean smiles, starshine at dawn, a slow fade of light. “I thought you might say that.”

Diluc stays quiet, meeting her gaze steadily. 

“You’re as stubborn as ever,” she says, shaking her head, but her voice is fond. 

“Master Diluc? Stubborn? Perish the thought,” Lisa says as she joins them, wrapping her shawl around her pale shoulders. 

Jean heaves out a beleaguered sigh, but she can’t quite hide the twitch of her lips.

Lisa laughs, light and tinkling, looping her arm through Jean’s. “Come on, darling,” she says. “Let’s let the newlyweds have their night, yes?” She throws Diluc a bold wink. 

Heat scorches across his cheeks, a supernova burn. He’s able to disguise his choke as a cough at the last second, though from the glimmer in Lisa’s jade eyes, he hasn’t hidden it well enough. 

“Lisa!” Jean scolds.

The mage laughs again. She’s every inch the cat who got the canary, her lips curling into a delighted little smile. 

“Goodnight, Diluc,” Jean says, all but dragging Lisa away. Lisa lets herself be led, snuggling in close to the blonde as they leave. It smushes some of the roses in her hair, but she doesn’t seem to care that she’s leaving a trail of petals behind. Diluc sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry about her,” you say as you join him. “She’s a handful.”

“I’m aware.” 

You laugh, picking a cecilia out of your hair and rolling the short stem between your palms. The bloom whirls with it, a ballerina’s tulle skirt, a light dusting of pollen floating down from it to tint your fingers gold. It catches the light as you raise your hand to cover your yawn.

Diluc frowns. “You should go to bed,” he says. “It’s been a long day.” 

You hum. “It has been,” you say. “I don’t suppose you intend to sleep soon?”

“I need to speak with Adelinde.” 

“Alright,” you say. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.” 

He watches you go upstairs, the hem of your dress flowing behind you, a silken spill of moonlight. 

You don’t look back. 

He turns on his heel. Finding Adelinde is easy; she’s in the midst of giving orders to some of the staff. She hands off a mostly-empty platter of tiny, delicate golden-brown pastries to Hillie when she sees him.

“Master Diluc.”

“Adelinde,” he says. “How is the clean up going?”

“We’ll be done with the food soon. The rest can wait until morning, I believe.” 

“Good.”

Adelinde pauses. She looks at him for a moment; her jade eyes have a knife’s edge to them, her gaze an autopsy cut. Her lips draw tight, a wound of a mouth. “You mean to go out tonight.”

“Yes.”

“If I may, Master Diluc,” she says, “you now have a wife.”

“That has no bearing in this. The Knights will be lax tonight, lulled into complacency by the celebration. I heard a few mention continuing at Angel’s Share after they return to the city. I cannot leave Mond unprotected.” 

Adelinde does not frown. Instead, her face smooths out into an impenetrable mask, porcelain breathed to life. “Very well,” she says. “At least wait until she’s asleep.” 

“The sooner I leave—”

“At least wait until she’s asleep,” she says, voice sharp. “It is your wedding night.”

“When she’s asleep,” he allows.

Adelinde nods. “Goodnight, Master Diluc.”

“Goodnight, Adelinde.” 

He goes upstairs quietly. There’s a soft light filtering from under the door to your room. He sighs and heads into the master bedroom, settling at the small desk in front of the windows. He lights the candles with a flick of his wrist; the flames devour the wick, leaping high before settling into a low, sweet glow. He’s just beginning to shuffle through a few papers when one of the hallway floorboards groans, a warning song.

“Diluc,” you say from the doorway. The candlelight barely reaches you there; it casts you into shadows, a new moon’s outline against the velvet of the sky. “May I come in?”

He stands. “Yes,” he says. “What is it?”

You step inside. The cecilias are gone from your hair, but you’re still wearing your dress. Your smile is a bit sheepish, but there’s a secret tucked up in the corner of it. “My dress,” you say. “The maids are all so busy. Can you undo the top few buttons for me?”

“I—what?”

“It’s hard to undo them from this angle,” you say. “Please?”

He takes a breath. “Alright.” 

You turn as he steps closer, the delicate train of the dress swirling at your feet, a whirlpool of silk. It exposes the line of buttons marching down the back of your dress, rigid against the soft flow of the fabric. 

The buttons are tiny things, pearls that shine like little moons even in the low light. He bites back a curse as they slip against the leather of his gloves. He tries again, gently tugging on a button, but it refuses to come out of the loop holding it tight. He changes the angle, but it’s no use; he runs afoul of the slick surface again and again. He huffs in annoyance and bites at the tip of his index finger to peel off his glove, letting it drop to the ground.

He tries again and finally, the button slips free of the little loop. The fabric separates. His fingertips—rough, heavy with scars from burns and blades alike—brush against the cool slope of your back, skin against skin. He goes still. 

You glance at him over your shoulder. You’re still shadow-kissed, but your eyes gleam in the dim.

(“Forgive my forwardness,” you said. “But there is the small matter of lovers.”

Diluc coughed. He glanced at you and saw no hint of a joke. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lovers,” you said, that rosebud smile rising to your lips, petals yet unfolded. “If you should take one, I only ask that you be discreet. I would do the same, of course.” 

Something in Diluc’s chest went cold. It was bone-deep, as if the Dragonspine winds were cutting through him. “You would take a lover?”

“I do not know the future,” you said. “But if I should, I would be discreet, as I said. Is that alright?” 

Diluc took a deep breath. “If you wish it, I would hardly stop you.”

You inclined your head to him with a little smile. You moved on to another topic like a river current, slow but inexorable. Diluc barely heard any of it, your voice muffled, as if you were speaking underwater. He only came back to himself as you gathered your things and bid him farewell. 

“Master Diluc,” you said at the door. He glanced up at you, your features softened in the light streaming in through the windows. “I should mention that I would not mind you in my bed instead of a lover.” 

Diluc choked.

By the time he recovered enough to speak, you were already gone.)

He undoes another button. Then a third, and a fourth, each little pearl slipping from its loop with ease. His thumb traces over the salt of your skin until it slips just beneath the fabric. He pulls just enough for the gap between the fabric to widen. He drags his thumb along the crescent moon sliver of revealed skin; a callus catches against you. You take in a sharp breath.

Diluc pulls back as if burned.

“There,” he says, clearing his throat, his cheeks hot. He knows they’ve gone scarlet, that there’s a deep flush painted over his whole face. “They’re undone.”

“Thanks,” you say, glancing over your shoulder once more. Your lashes catch the shadows like a spider’s web. It only serves to better illuminate your eyes. He swallows. 

“You’re welcome.”

You study him for a moment before you smile, as soft as the breaking dawn. “Goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight.” 

The door clicks shut behind you. Diluc listens as your quiet footsteps fade away; there’s a distant thud as the door to your room closes too. He sighs, leaning down to pick his glove up off the floor. He slides it back on as he crosses to his closet. The night is still young and he knows what he must do.

When he’s dressed, he opens the secret compartment to his desk. He stares down at the owl mask that’s ensconced there. It gleams in the low light, the severe point of its beak a wicked hook. Diluc tucks it away under his cloak before he opens the window. 

With the lush vines clinging to the winery walls, it’s an easy climb down. He looks up when he reaches the bottom. There’s still a light glowing faintly in your window. His chest aches, as if a ribbon is tightening around it, but he ignores it and slips on the mask.

He has work to do.

—

Morning comes far too soon.

Diluc’s room is still steeped in blue, but the promise of morning is apparent on the horizon where golden fingers of light are reaching into the sky, scraping their way through the darkness. The birds are just beginning to stir, their chirps still subdued, a few plucked notes before the melody. 

It feels like Diluc has just only collapsed into bed, but the stars that had been watching over him when he stole back into his room have gone out, fading beneath the dawn. He sits up and scrubs a hand over his face, wincing as it pulls at the fresh set of lilac bruises blooming on his right side. He prods at them carefully. 

The ache sinks its teeth in as he brushes his fingertips along the biggest of them. It’s still darkening, a galaxy caught under his skin. It remains tender as he gets ready for the day; it takes effort to not compensate for it in his movement. 

By the time Diluc heads downstairs, the winery is already stirring to life. A few maids scurry past him; he can hear the vineyard workers starting to make their way through the vines, checking them after the harvest. But most of the activity is centered in the heart of the winery, where the remnants of your wedding reception are. He watches as two of the servants unhook a floral garland from the rafters, petals raining down beneath them. The petals whirl through the air like snowflakes, thick and white, and Diluc brushes one off when it lands on his shoulder. He’s in the middle of plucking another out of his mass of crimson hair when the floorboards whisper your arrival. 

“Oh,” you say. “They’re taking them down already? A shame.”

He glances at you. “I am sure Adelinde would be open to keeping them up, should you wish it.”

“It’s fine. I just thought they might keep them up a little longer while they’re fresh.” 

“I see.” 

You reach out and let a petal drift into your hand. It’s a little bruised at the edges from being shaken loose, but you don’t seem to mind. 

“Do you think I could have a few for my room?” you ask.

“A few—”

“Flowers,” you say. “I’m sure many of them are still intact even after the garlands are taken down.”

“Of course. Any that you would like.” 

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed,” he says, adjusting his cuff. “It’s—this is your home too, now.” 

You pause. When you look at him, he can’t quite make sense of your expression. “Yes,” you say quietly. “I suppose it is.”

“I hope you will be comfortable here.”

You smile, the slow rise of a crescent moon. “I’m sure I will be. Though I intend to return to Liyue soon.”

“Of course. Do you know when?”

“I expect that I’ll return within the week.”

“Oh? That’s later than I expected.”

“So eager to be rid of me?”

Diluc flushes, the heat of it spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “No, I—”

“I’m only teasing,” you say. “I haven’t been back to Mond in a while. There are some things I should handle in person.” 

“I see.”

You examine him for a moment. Whatever you see must satisfy you, for you glance back at the workers, still diligently undoing the reception decor, autumn come indoors, the flowers stripped away to reveal bare wood. A petal flutters down into your hair; Diluc thinks of the gentle fall of snow. He starts to raise his hand to pluck it out but you shift and the petal drifts to the ground. He halts before tugging at his glove instead.

“Now,” you say, turning back to him, “I need something to eat. Will you be joining me for breakfast?”

Diluc shakes his head. “The vintners asked for me today,” he says. “The earlier I can speak with them the better.” 

You hum. “Okay. Have a good day.”

“You as well.” 

You flash a small smile before inclining your head to him. “Husband,” you say. You dart off before he can respond. He watches you disappear, the moon dipping below the horizon. 

Husband, he thinks. 

He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that.

—

The days roll by. Diluc buckles down to work, caught up in the hubbub of the end of the harvest season. He oversees the grape crushing, the little fruits popping beneath the press until they’re must, all pulp and juice. A few small buckets of grapes are set aside for the children of the workers; they’ll stomp them to their hearts’ content, their chiming laughter drifting through the vines as they cling to each other for balance, their little feet dyed dark.

(“C’mon, Luc!” Kaeya cried, already scrambling towards the tub filled with ruby-red grapes. His eye was shining, starlight bright, a grin spread wide across his face, his usual reticence washed away. Diluc knew it was his favorite time of year; the other boy loved every moment of the harvest season and all that came with it.

 “Hurry up!” Kaeya called. He had already rolled up his pant legs and stepped into the tub, his face lit with joy, a summer sun in the autumn chill.

Diluc huffed but climbed in after him. The grapes popped beneath his weight, squishing up between his toes, a pulpy mess of skin and seeds. He stomped once, twice, and felt more of them burst. 

Kaeya reached for his hand; Diluc twined their fingers together and held on tight as the scrawny boy started to jump in place. Kaeya laughed wildly, the sound picked up by the wind and carried away like seeds. He jumped again and almost slipped. Diluc caught him at the last minute, hauling him up with a giggle. They joined hands again and began to twirl in a circle, stomping away as they went.

They laughed as they spun around together, holding on tight to each other as juice started to gather beneath their feet. Their skin went purple with it, a galaxy splashed up to their calves. The golden afternoon sun shone down on them; sweat gathered on their brows. But they kept going and going, unrelenting until the last of the grapes had burst beneath their feet.

They panted as they climbed to the side of the tub. Kaeya sat on the edge of it, swinging his feet as the maids went to gather towels for them. He was incandescent with delight, a shooting star streaking across the night sky, and Diluc grinned. 

“Good work, boys,” his father said, coming down the path. He’d clearly met the maids halfway; there were towels slung over his broad shoulder.

Diluc puffed up with pride; next to him, Kaeya smiled, shy but pleased. His father handed them the towels and watched as they wiped their feet clean.

“Ready for the next step?” his father asked. 

Kaeya nodded eagerly, but Diluc balked.

“Can’t we stomp more grapes?” he asked.

His father laughed, as warm as the sun. “Maybe later,” he said. “But now you need to learn what happens next.”

Diluc sighed.

“C’mon, Luc,” Kaeya said, bumping his shoulder against Diluc’s. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Diluc said. “There is.”)

Diluc sighs, nodding to Connor as he takes his leave. He heads back to the winery; a few of the workers call out greetings, but no one tries to stop him.

Adelinde appears as soon as he steps inside the winery. She inclines her head to him, her hands clasped in front of her. “Master Diluc,” she says.

“Adelinde,” he greets. 

“Is everything in order?”

“Yes,” he says. “Everything is ready for processing. It was a good harvest.” 

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’ll take some of Elzer’s work with the Wine Guild so he can concentrate on processing. If you see him, please let him know.”

Adelinde purses her lips. “Master Diluc, Elzer is perfectly capable of handling both. You have enough on your plate.”

“My decision is final, Adelinde.”

She examines him for a moment, her jade eyes sharp, a flaying gaze. “You don’t need to make amends for your absence,” she says. “That is the past.” 

Diluc flinches. Adeline watches him steadily, her face impassive, but her eyes have softened, have crinkled around the edges, sweetly fond. He flexes his hand, searching for words, but his tongue is leaden in his mouth.

Adelinde takes pity on him. “The vineyard workers are starting the fertilization process today and tomorrow,” she says. “Is there anything you wish to let them know?”

“No. I trust them.”

“Good.”

Diluc adjusts his cuff. “Is that all?”

She smooths her hands over her uniform skirt, as if erasing wrinkles that aren’t there. “Your wife’s travel arrangements are complete. She means to leave tomorrow.” 

He nods. “Where is she now?”

“She went to the Dandelion Sea, I believe.”

“By herself?”

“She has an escort. One of the knights. Though it is my understanding that the knight would not be able to return with her due to a patrol.” 

Diluc rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen the broad line of them. “When did they leave?”

The corners of Adelinde’s lips creep upwards, an ivy tendril curve, barely noticeable. “A few hours ago.”

He nods curtly. “Thank you, Adelinde.”

“Of course, Master Diluc.” She disappears, light on her feet despite her heels, barely a whisper of sound to accompany her.

Diluc leaves the winery to head to the stables.

—

The Dandelion Sea stretches vast, the flowers rippling in the breeze like waves lap at the shore. The sun is high in the sapphire sky, a halo burning bright, the dandelions stark white under its kiss. There are seeds floating through the air, faintly glowing, scattered like falling stars. 

Diluc ties his horse to a tree, leaving her to graze on some long grass, and begins to make his way into the Sea. More seeds come loose, dancing around him like snowflakes; they settle into his mane of hair, the crimson of it bleeding to something darker against the soft white of them. They catch on his jacket, too, dotting the ebony cloth until it’s a glittering night sky. 

It doesn’t take him long to find you. He can see faint figures at the edge of the Sea, where the trees cast shadows, a sweet pool of shade. He heads towards you as the breeze picks up. It carries a peal of laughter to him, bright as the sun, swirling around him. 

“Oh,” you say as he draws close, standing up before he can stop you.

The knight you’re with comes to attention—far too late. “M—Master Diluc,” he stammers. 

Diluc clicks his tongue. The knight goes shame-faced, glancing away from his thunderous visage. 

You smile, a glaze lily unfolding under the moon’s tender touch. You touch the knight’s vambrace lightly before turning to Diluc. His gaze stays on where you’re touching the knight still, your fingertips lingering against the metal of his armor.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” you say. “Is something wrong?”

Diluc blinks, vermilion eyes flickering back to you. “No.”

You pause, as if waiting for something. Diluc blinks again. Your smile flickers, a guttering candle. The knight shifts in place.

Diluc turns his attention to him. “You can go,” he says curtly. 

“But—”

“You have patrol soon, don’t you, Anselm?” you ask. “You should head out.” 

Anselm glances at you. “Oh. Of course.”

“Thank you for accompanying me today,” you say. “It’s appreciated.”

The knight nods, a slight flush rising to his cheeks. He gives you the Ordo’s salute. “Let the wind lead,” he says before turning to leave.

Diluc doesn’t bother to watch him go; he keeps his gaze on you. That rosebud smile blooms on your lips again, as inevitable as the sun’s rise. “Poor Anselm,” you say. “You have quite the scowl, Master Diluc.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. “Was he going to leave you here alone?”

You sigh. “It’s perfectly safe here.”

“So he was.”

“You’re here now,” you say. “So it hardly matters.”

Diluc bristles. “It matters to me. The Knights have their duties—”

“They cannot attend to every single civilian. The roads to the Sea have been clear for weeks, anyway. Or did you see something on your way?”

He furrows his brow and sets his jaw. “No.”

“The Knights aren’t as incapable as you think,” you say softly. You peer at him through the fan of your eyelashes, the shadow cast by them soft against your cheeks. “And besides, as I said, you’re here now. I know you’ll keep me safe.” 

Diluc takes in a sharp breath. He tugs at his glove and glances away.

You don’t seem to notice. Your attention has returned to the Dandelion Sea. The meadow sways gently in the wind, a honey-slow shiver. You trace a finger over a dandelion; it stays whole despite your touch, the Anemo energy holding it together brightening for a breath before it fades again, a firefly glow.

But when you flop into them, the dandelions puff up, the seeds scattering like starfall. They yield to you like a blessing, giving you everything they have. The seeds catch in your hair, your clothing, your eyelashes. You turn your face up to the sky, the sun bathing you golden.

It strikes Diluc that you are pretty. 

(Burnished by the light, you were lost amid the golden leaves of the sandbearer tree. You climbed and climbed until you were shining bright in the cerulean sky, a sun all your own. Diluc watched from the ground, mouth agape.

When you glanced down, the shadows crossed your face in bold strokes. It softened you, blurred the edges of you. Except for your smile. Your smile cut through the shadows like a single stark slash of a sun-bright knife.

Diluc looked up at you, at that smile, and suddenly, he knew what pretty meant.

It meant you.)

It’s not the first time he’s realized it, but it feels new. It’s in the curve of your back, a cathedral nave of muscle and bone; it’s in the way the sun filters through the leaves to touch you like a lover, a stained-glass kiss. The dandelion seeds catch on your eyelashes like moonlight, and it hits him again: you’re pretty. 

And you’re his.

He pushes the thought away. You might be his, but it’s in name only. He knows better than to assign meaning to it. There’s nothing between the two of you aside from a certificate with your signatures upon it. 

But that’s fine.

That’s all he needs it to be.

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #bee writes genshin #fic: moon eater

[radioisntdead]

Ways to piss off an Italian

Alternatively three ways to cartoonishly piss off an Italian

Hazbin hotel x reader [Platonic]

Warnings:

Italian stereotypes, just jokin' around this is all in good fun! I put an Imp OC of mine in as the reader assistant! She just pops in and out to stir things up! Reader's learning to cook other types of food because they've hadn't had to cook for themselves in ages they just had others do it. Ending is a little off but we don't talk about that I finished this at 6 am I need sleep, Angel isn't that pissed mostly dismayed

Good evening folks! This is a side story with Eldritch horror reader and Angel dust because he's Italian, this is somewhat inspired by my own bit of how my younger self made it her mission to piss off Italians because of that Italian TikTok duo back in 2020-2021 [???] She did not succeed as she did not know any Italians and all she did was eat spaghetti noodles with anything but a fork.

this is also the 100 followers special! Now at the time of posting we are FAR past that at 207! but better late then never! Thank you so much for the support, I genuinely did not think this many folks would like my silly little writings, I adore getting y'all's requests, comments, and just appearing in my inbox genuinely it makes my day thank you! And I hope you enjoy!

Angel Dust took great pride in his Italian heritage and culture, as he was truly Italian.

Unfortunately he lived with a centuries old Eldritch horror who may or may not have lived in Europe during the bubonic plague and didn't understand the more "modern'' Italian or Italy at all, and others that didn't understand the "sacredness" of the Italians.

🍝The spaghetti.🍝

You took over cooking in the hotel, you and Alastor had begun fighting over the kitchen, whoever got there first got to cook and today, you were victorious.

You were exploring new recipes you had thus far made spicy tteokbokki and Korean corn dogs, some type of curry that was sonic blue, teriyaki chicken, hummus and other things! You experimented with different flavors, seasonings,

These tasty things would've ended you if you ate it back when you were alive and not dying of the bubonic plague.

Anyways, you decided to give making spaghetti a try because you were in the mood for something fairly easy to make.

As you perused the recipe book while humming along to the songs playing from Alastor's radio show, you nodded noting down the ingredients before pulling out the phone that the little Imp that worked for you had bought you insisting you should have one to contact her instead of hunting her down at random and dragging her away.

You squinted as you scrolled through the few contacts you had until you reached said imp's phone number and slowly texted her a barrage of ingredients to buy.

Cece carefully opened the hotel doors and skittered over to the kitchen, having memorized the route since she delivered ingredients to you almost daily at this point.

You grinned as you took the ingredients from Cece's hands turning around to place them on the counter while she pulled up a chair and sat down waiting for the inevitable "Dear Cece can you cut this" or "Dear Cece can you stir this"

You washed off the tomatoes before slicing in an x and blanching them, you peeled the tomatoes after and diced them up before putting them aside to cut up yellow onions, you gathered them up and placed them into a pan, sprinkling in salt to unleashed the onion liquids and sweetness.

You added in some prechopped garlic and let it saute.

While that was happening you took the tomatoes and crushed them, once done you combined the tomatoes with the rest letting it simmer.

You added other components like herbs, basil and a little olive old at the end just for fun.

You filled up another pot with water to boil, sprinkling a twinge of salt and stirring it in.

You brushed your hands on your apron, as you scooted around to find the box of spaghetti noodles, grinning you opened it and take out the pasta.

It was at this unfortunate moment Angel dust decided to waltz on into the kitchen, intending to see what was for dinner and maybe snag something to munch on, you held the dry pasta over the pot, both hands gripping the ends

"Hey tentacles, what's for- WHAT THE FUCK!''

"Good evening Dearest Angel! I'm making spaghetti!"

You said unfazed as the pasta snapped in half and dropped into the pot as Angel dust watched in pure horror.

"Why would you do that?!" Angel asked, his voice pitched as he asked arms gesturing to the pot of sad broken pasta boiling away.

"Make spaghetti? I didn't think it was such a controversial meal"

"No! You broke the pasta! That's like the biggest sin ya can do! What is wrong with ya?"

"We're already in hell, I don't think sins matter much here," Cece popped in, you jumped slightly forgetting the imp was there.

"They do when it comes to' fuckin' pasta toots!"

Angel dust shouted before promptly turning around and leaving the kitchen, leaving you completely confused and Cece amused, unfortunately her amusement turned into irritation as you asked her to grab the ground beef and roll it into balls so you could cook them because meatballs.

During dinner time your spaghetti was a hit!

Charlie complimented your cooking saying you outdid yourself while Vaggie was grabbing a second serving, Sir Pentious enjoyed slurping up the noodles, Niffty kept stabbing the meatballs foe whatever reason, Husk seemed to enjoy the meal however Angel dust had one pair of arms crossed while he reluctantly ate, it was good he could admit but he knew the sin that you had committed while cooking, he knew that innocent pasta had been broken.

Angel dust almost died a second time when he walked into the kitchen later that night for a midnight snack and witnessed a probably drunk Husk eating leftover spaghetti pasta with ketchup because the sauce you had made was on a higher shelf in the refrigerator and he didn't feel like climbing.

🍕 pineapple pizza time.🍕

You and Alastor had... For lack of better words got into a little fight over the kitchen, tentacles, shadows, mild mind control and other things were used until Vaggie stepped in and separated the two of you,

It was decided that pizza would be ordered for the hotel, much to Alastor's disapproval.

Cheese, pepperoni, pineapple and ham, and supreme were the pizzas ordered unbeknownst to Angel dust since he was coming back to the hotel from a hangout with Cherri.

"Angel! Welcome back we ordered pizza!" Charlie said waving the spider over as Vaggie placed the pizza boxes onto the table.

"Great! I'm starvin'!" Angel walked over just in time to see the box containing pineapple pizza opened up.

"Nevermind I'll starve."

"We have other pizzas Angel."

Vaggie did not get paid enough to deal with this, she didn't even get paid!

Angel dust was extremely disappointed in you, you were the one to suggest getting pineapple pizza because you quote, "Never had it before and wanted to try it",

You were well over a few centuries old, you weren't a child, you had gone to hell and become an overlord that rained terror for a couple of years and therefore you should've been able to tell that pineapple on pizza was a crime against humanity, so what if pizza wasn't a thing during your time, it was a thing that came to be while you were down here!

He had later lectured you about it, it was amusing to you! You were a feared overlord and yet this little Italian guy had the gull to lecture you, this was normal in families right? To not be afraid of each other? How wonderful!

The lecture eventually switched over to Husk who was eating pizzas folded which was just weird because he was just tasting the crust! What about the cheese? The sauce? THE SAUCE HUSK? DO YOU NOT TASTE IT?

Husk was too sober for the lecture, Alastor found it amusing though.

🇮🇹Italian PowerPoint presentation 🇮🇹

"Alright tentacles, we're havin' a intervention!" Angel dust said throwing his hands down on the coffee table as you sipped something from a teacup, probably tea.

"Is what you dragged us here for? This shit?"

Husk was here, how did he always get dragged into these things? Niffty was beside him trying to stab a roach, Charlie and Vaggie were out of the hotel, Alastor was hell knew where, probably doing radio stuff and Angel dust had somehow tracked down your assistant and dragged her there.

"Oh! Whatever for dearie?" You asked head tilted as you placed your cup on the table,

"You've committed so many fuckin' crimes in the past week! Ya' broke the pasta before puttin' it in the pot! Ya' put cream in the carbonara! Ya ate pineapple on pizza, I get we're in hell but are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?-" Angel moved his arms around to empathize his point "Not to mention that little fusion stunt, ya' deranged octopus!"

You hummed thinking about the meals you've made recently before responding, "I don't think I made anything bad?"

"You decided to put tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni on cooked ramen and stuck it in da' oven and ate it."

"It wasn't as good as the little people on the interwebs said."

"OF COURSE IT WASN'T GOOD IT WAS A CRIME! IT CAME OUT OF THE DEEPS OF HELL."

"Eh, it wasn't that bad" Cece popped in to stir the pot, Angel slowly turned around becoming slightly more spidery

"The fuck did ya just say?"

Cece shrugged, "Food's expensive and I need to eat."

Cece was picked up and thrown on the couch with you as Angel dust set up a PowerPoint presentation about the history of Italian food and whatever else, You did not want to be here you'd rather be drinking your drink in peace, Husk didn't want to be here he'd rather be drinking, your hellborn imp assistant didn't want to be here, she's never going to Italy she didn't need to know this and Niffty, well she's still stabbing things on the floor.

By the time Charlie and Vaggie returned you had zoned out completely and your mind was elsewhere, Niffty was napping on your shoulder, Cece had escaped by asking Angel if garlic bread was Italian and while he went on that tangent she ran out abandoning everyone.

Husk was more dead inside then per usual, he wasn't paid enough for this, the first hour was fine but this had been going on for five hours at this point, how did Angel dust manage to drag this PowerPoint presentation out so long?

Vaggie shut it down after it was realized that you weren't responding and they thought you had somehow died,

You did not die and you eventually snapped out of it when a white cloth was put over you in order to hide the body.

Good evening folks! Thank you for turning on in! I hope you enjoyed, my apologies for taking forever to get this out, if your wondering why it feels like there's a missing gap that's because I wrote a whole lil' thing of reader and Alastor combining forces to annoy Angel and I accidentally deleted it.

I'm gonna rewrite it eventually and add it to a different fic with Eldritch horror reader, also If your wondering why I have an imp OC in here there is a reason with Eldritch horror and their family complex you'll see eventually

I'll be getting the readers backstory which will be the 200 follower special out [hopefully] soon so tune on in for that! Thank you again have a wonderful day!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #angel dust & reader #angel dust x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you

[keirawantstocry]

Would a prompt for Tubbo to show up at Fit an Pac's doorstep absolutely fuming work? Like maybe it isn't Tubbo in control it's Tommy here to give the 2 an ear full because Tubbo has been a mess, months of miscommunication building to thinking they have been left behind, months of Tommy hoping he was right not to jump in cause it meant his husband paid attention to him. But Tubbo's a wreck heartbroken it can't be ignored anymore, how could they just drop him like that weren't they steps away from all 3 of them dating? Was that not worth fighting for?

Sorry if it's too detailed prompts are not my specialty it seems 9 w 9;;

I thought maybe a prompt of how left out Tubbo felt would be nice something that gave Fit and Pac pause to see that the hostility Tubbo shows at times to their relationship was because of that but also thought Tubbo would never say it or open up to anyone but I know you also subscribe to Tommy possessing his husband sometimes... I'm going to flee now I'm rambling too much ...

Have a lovely day!

it's been a while but you have a lovely day!

Tommy was mad. Tommy was furious. 

Tubbo was in the back of the mind they were currently sharing, sulking. He was so upset and it made Tommy furious. So he took over. Grabbed the reins of Tubbo's body and took control. 

Tommy stomped their body right over to Pac and Fit's house while Tubbo was too busy keeping his tears at bay to protest. 

“Hey!” 

Pac looked confused when he opened the door. “Ola?” 

Tommy huffed, crossing his arms firmly. “Listen to me, man.” 

Fit appeared behind him with a cautious look. “Hey, Tubbo. What's up?” 

“Listen to me!” Tommy repeated. “You guys are assholes. He's not perfect, okay? He pulls away from affection and he's a little bitch half the time. But he's my best friend. He's an amazing person and he would rather choke than say it but he fucking loves you two. He's been moping in our fucking mind for ages. He won't stop crying and as soon as he figures out I'm saying this he's gonna take over this vessel and I won't be able to tell you. So fucking listen.” 

They both stared at him with wide eyes as he drove his finger forward to drive them further back into their own house. 

“He loves you both. Not the deep platonic bond he has with me. Because trust me,” Tommy scoffed. “What I have with him will last beyond your lifetimes. Completely and utterly. But he fucking loves you guys. I mean the way he talks about you two. The way he thinks about you two. God. It's so fucking annoying. He's mentally collapsing over how attractive he thinks you two are. It's so ridiculous.” 

Tommy took a deep breath. Pac tried to cut in but he made sure he couldn't. 

“No. Let me finish. Right now he's starting to stir in our consciousness. When he takes over I need you to kiss him and make up. Fuck, it's gonna be disgusting and I'm going to hate it but its better then having to see… the most important fucking person in my fucking life… having to be hurt over and over again by people he loves. So do your cringe ass lovey dovey shit and make sure he feels loved. For the love of-” 

He was cut off. Snapped back into the back of Tubbo's mind. Fuck, he swore to himself. Please let those idiots understand me.

Through Tubbo's eyes he watched. Watched as Pac took Tubbo's face as soon as his own words slipped out of his lips and kissed him. Murmured the sappiest shit he had ever heard in his ears while Fit hesitantly took him by the hand.

And Tommy was right. It was gross and he hated it. But the joy that flooded through Tubbo's body was undeniable and calmed his spirit. He could finally rest. 

#my writing #fanfiction #q!tommy #q!tubbo #q!pac #q!fit #poly morning crew #fitpacbo #eeee lets go!!!! #fic requests

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Cookies and Brownies - Gaz x Reader

Content Warnings - Fluff with some very, very minor angst.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Normally, Gaz did not find leaving his flat so difficult. Usually he was already gnawing at the bit to get back onto the field from his mandatory leave, to get back to doing something instead of lying around. Well now he had a reason to want to stay, for the person next door who also happens to work at his favorite bakery/cafe.

There is something cruel about that, ironically cruel. Gaz has never had any trouble getting people to come home with him, sometimes he didn’t even need to put on any of his charm. But he knows it was because of his looks, charming like a prince in a fairytale. Was it the military lifestyle? Was that why he found it so hard to keep people around him and wanting him? Maybe.

But you, you were different. You didn’t see his return to the military as a goodbye, closing your door on whatever is happening between the two of you. No, you worked out a solution in mere seconds. Gift packages, he’d seen some men he’s worked with before get them. Packages usually from loved ones, like family or partners. Sometimes from friends. Gaz hadn’t gotten one since his early days, back when his grandmother was still around. God rest her soul.

It’s two weeks later, two weeks into being at this base in this fucking desert that the package arrives. His name is called out alongside others and he is handed a package, it has several postmarks slapped onto it with your handwriting on the box for the address.

His stomach twists at the sight of your handwriting, how is that possible? How can he feel that way over handwriting? It’s not just anyone’s handwriting, Gaz thought, it's yours. Distinctly and completely yours. Something no other person could replicate, just you.

Gaz waits until he’s in his tent, empty thankfully, to cut open the package. Inside there is a letter on top of several tins that his mind immediately thinks are sewing supplies until he connects the dots. He opens the letter first, imagining his grandmother slapping the back of his head for being rude and going for the gifts first.

More of your handwriting, his heart pounds as he reads through the letter. He can’t help but rub his thumb over where you wrote his name. Kyle. His real name, not a call sign given to him years ago. Kyle Garrick.

Kyle opens the first tin and finds it filled to the brim with chocolate chip cookies. It dawns on Kyle then that there are four tins, which means lots of baked goods. He licks his lips as he pulls out the other tins and opens them, just to know which one’s hold which.

There is another tin of cookies, white macadamia nut and two tins of brownies. One looks like the classic kind and the other filled with cookie-brownies. He feels like a wolf staring down prey, unguarded sheep ready to be eaten. Before he digs in, he puts the tins away and rips a piece of paper from his notebook and writes.

Dear Kyle,

Hello! I hope the package found you alright and that I had added enough postmarks for it to make the journey. I hope you’re still at base and not somewhere fighting bad guys haha. Things here have seriously slowed down or maybe its because our best customer isn’t currently here. I made some cookies and brownies although they might be stale. If they are, I’m sorry but I’m not sure how to stop that from happening. Do you have any kind of favorite candies? If you send me a letter with your favorites I’ll be sure to include it in the next batch, maybe even bake it into the cookies.

It’s been raining impossibly often but according to Mrs. Thompson its that time of the year. Is that true or is she trying to keep me from rightfully complaining about not seeing the sun in a week? Why is it that when you left the sun decided to hide behind rain clouds? Do you have some kind of deal worked out with the weather? If so, let me in on it, there’s only so much rain a person can handle. Well, I don’t want to hold you up. Enjoy the likely stale cookies and brownies.

#gaz call of duty #gaz x female reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #gaz x y/n #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #cod imagine #gaz imagine

[autumn816]

Soulmate au + married to the job 🤭

Here you go!! Hope you enjoy :)

—

George massages his forehead. 

“Is it getting worse?” 

“Yeah.” He answers Alex. “I can’t believe that man is doing this to me.”

Alex snorts. “You can’t believe Lewis is staying behind to go over data and not notice that he has a headache?”

“It was a figure of speech, Alexander.”

They are quiet for the rest of the walking distance to Ferrari. 

Charles walks through the door, his eyes glued to his phone.

“Charles.” George calls. 

The Monegasque jolts, a shriek escaping him. The edges of George’s mouth curve up while Alex laughs next to him.

“Don’t do that,” Charles says. “You scared me. And stop laughing, Albono.”

“It was funny. Did you hear the sound you let out, mate?”

Charles pouts. Alex steps forward and kisses it away. 

“Alright, knock it off,” George says. “No need for PDA.”

Alex pulls away from the kiss and rolls his eyes. “You cannot be talking. You and Lewis are worse.”

“Which reminds me…,” Charles chimes in, “good timing. I was gonna just call you.” He shakes the phone in his hand. “You need to get Lewis out of here. Your man doesn’t want to leave the room. He has been there since morning. I don’t think he even moved once.”

Alex whistles. “No wonder your headache was so bad.”

“Where is my man?” George questions. 

“You have a headache?” Charles answers his question with a question. 

“Yeah. So where is the reason for my headache?”

“Come on. I’ll take you there.”

George and Alex follow Charles through the Ferrari facility until he stops in front of a room and pushes the door open quietly. George steps into the room and closes the door behind him. 

Lewis is sitting in front of a computer. A very shirtless Lewis. 

Now, look, George might be here on a mission but that doesn’t deter him from appreciating the tattoos adoring Lewis’ back, especially when his muscles flex. 

“As much as I love this sight—”

Lewis spins around in his chair, his eyes widening before he realises who it is. 

“—I would love it even more if it was at home.”

“George?” Lewis frowns, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I reckon I should be asking you that, mate.” George approaches Lewis and comes to a stop right in front of him. 

Lewis places his hands on George’s waist as he settles on his lap. The chair creaks under the weight of both. 

“I know you’re married to the job but you’re also married to me,” George continues. “And I would really like to be home right now with my husband.”

“What are you talk—” Lewis cuts himself off and reaches behind to grab his phone. “Fuck! I didn’t notice the time.”

“Yeah, clearly.” 

“Should I be worried about how calm you are?”

George presses his thumbs into Lewis’ temples, earning a groan first and then a sigh with a shut of eyes. 

“I can get mad after we do something with that headache.”

“How did you—” Lewis’ eyes fly open. “Is your head hurting?”

“Terribly.”

“Shit! Sorry, I can—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m already telling you right now that we won’t be having sex for a whole month.”

Lewis knows how much George hates it when he closes off their soul bond, even temporarily. George despises it. 

“Right, sorry.” Lewis clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

George softens. “How about you make it to me by coming home and sleeping it off?”

Lewis smiles, stealing a kiss from George. “Yeah, I can do that. Let’s do that.”

George slides off Lewis’ lap and extends his arm, pulling Lewis up when the older man puts his hand in his. “Let’s go home, my love.”

—

Mash-up trope

#thank you for sending <3 #ask games

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

#I think maybe productivity tips help less if the reason you're unproductive is partially like.. physcial health and other extenral things #out of your control. rather than just like having trouble paying attention or spending too much time on tiktok or whatever #all the strategic to do lists in the world are not going to somehow prevent me from waking up with a debilitating migraine or whatever #or having external stressors or lacking resources and connections or other Productivity Essentials etc. #especially many tips involve stuff like 'cut off from social media' since thats the modern day time waster for so many poeple #and it's like.. lol.. i can hardly even maintain a blog even thuogh i actively WANT TO DO SO. 'shut off your smart phone!' already #done babey i fucking hate smart phones i shall never use an app unless i am forced to. 'delete tiktok' yep. already covered. tiktok and #all of those thinsg are my enemies. 'save money by cancelling some of your services' cool. already ahead of you. #who the fuck is out here paying for like 10 different subscription services. pirated videos uploaded to google drive and youtube to mp3 #my beloved. etc. etc. and so on. 'socialize less' .........LOL.. if only you knew.. mr.writer of the article. i can barely muster #talking to friends more than once a month and even less if I'm actively sick (often occurence) etc. etc. ... hewoo #I think maybe instead of generic productivity tips I need more like.. how to refocus and be productive anyway even if you have a headache #or are nauseous or etc. Not that those are always things to ignore. and of course you should let your body rest and etc. But plenty of peop #e have mild physical symptoms and just work through them. Ithink something about the way my body/mind is SOO hyper attuned to all #sensory information just makes it like... constantly 'GRR well I cant focus on WRITING right now because my lef #t ear feels weird and my socks are too itchy and my back has a strange pressure and I'm vaguely warm and my eye feels some ssort of #way it doesnt normally feel and I'm hyperaware of my breathing and also nauseous for no reason' and like half of those things I #think '''normal''' people wouldnt even notice or at least would be able to just live through. but for me it's like.. nealry impossible to i #gnore and soooo distracting always. like 'wahh.. nooo we can't draw or get anything done.. my legs feel slightly heavy or something!!' #like............. ok......... who cares. thats not even a PAIN sensation it's just something weird. but it's just like.. NO. constant #mental alerts about the 'heaviness' of your legs be upon ye. Though Imean like.. yes.. 70% of the time I am in genuine pain #or having some sort of actual ailment with trackable physical symptoms. but sometimes it's just like... we could totally be working right #now and ignoring this silly thing but my brain is fixated on it for no reason uncontrollably. etc. etc. I guess it's the same way that like #most people can go to a grocery store without the whole experience being so overwhelming and so much stuff going on at once #that they have to rest afterwards but like.. in my own HOME doing NOTHING i feel like I should be able to not get overwhelmed lol. ANYWAY #Rolling my bastard little rock up a dumbass hill and so on and so forth

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

#do you ever think about what johnny remembers and what he doesn’t remember and do you think #about the memories he lost and the rumors that said he did and his mouth saying he didn’t #anyway. anyway. *walks directly into the bay* #post-canon addressing the elephant in the room of johnnys false memories silverdyne………. #have something. i think. i just need to let it rest like a cut of meat to make sure I don’t superfluously delete anything

[yourtamaki]

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind. 

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

“no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.” 

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets. 

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?” 

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to. 

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

#zoro smut #one piece smut #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro smut #roronoa zoro x reader #god this has been in my drafts for so long

[kaeyas-beloved]

a moment too late

Characters: Ayato, Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Wriothesley, Zhongli

— your husband doesn't make it to you in time...

CW: ANGST w/ very little to no comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), scars (Diluc), blood (Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Zhongli), death (all except Cyno and Diluc), kidnapping (Cyno), minor Fontaine Act 1 + 4 spoilers (Primordial Sea Water - iykyk), spoilers for Childe’s real name

val's no sympathy novemeber masterlist

I don't know if I can take a month of hurting my boys....

Thinking about them not making it in time...

Ayato, who had been in an important meeting.

He'd given strict instructions to all his retainers and the Shuumatsuban to not interrupt under any circumstance. So, when one of the newer helpers knocked on the door, the commissioner was less than pleased. Without letting the young man get a word out, Ayato cuts him off, a sharp smile on his face. "Please, wait outside. I'll deal with the matter after this."

When the retainer tried again, a feeble "but, my lord-!" sputtering over his twisted tongue, the change in Ayato's tone couldn't be missed, and it left no room for interjections.

When a second knock echoed through the room some minutes later, it took everything in the clan head not to sigh out loud in front of all the powerful politicians and businessmen. This time, however, when it was the familiar face of Thoma that stepped in, a scarily straight face as his expression, something shifted in the male. It didn't help that the pyro user didn't stop his advancement toward him, even at the call of his name.

It was like the whole world shattered the moment the blond leaned by his ear, the news that you'd been placed in the nearest hospital plummetting his heart into his stomach.

There's this inner struggle that takes over, the role of a leader and your husband fighting against one another - he can't just leave so abruptly, but he also feels like he might crumble if he isn't by your side in the next ten seconds.

It's the firm hand that's placed on his shoulder that breaks him away from his thoughts. Following the arm he meets the slight smile of Thoma, "I have this handled, my lord. Go, be with them."

He's up and out of the room in an instant, briskly walking in the direction of the hospital. When he gets there he borderline demands the receptionist to tell him your room number, off again the moment she gets the last syllable out. Just as he reaches the curtain separating you from him, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, a doctor steps out.

"Lord Kamisato..." his tone is grave as he blocks the entrance with his body. Despite the obvious attempt to stop the young lord from entering, your husband tries to sidestep him. He's stopped by a simple raise of the hand and he feels a mix of disdain and unsettlement swirl within.

"Please, let me speak with them," Ayato nothing but begs, something he never does. He's known as a negotiator, a logical reasoning man, he doesn't need to beg for what he needs in the political world, but for you, his world, he'd gladly grovel at this man's feet just for you.

The aforementioned man licks his lips, adjusting his clipboard so it rests against his chest, "I'm sorry Mr. Kamisato, but that won't be possible..."

The urgency rises and Ayato moves the doctor out of his way, stepping into your room. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together about what was trying to be said, but your lover can't bring himself to believe it. Not you too.

The moment he's at your bedside he leans close, trying to wear a smile as he places his hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you the exact same way he did that very morning. "My dear... wake up. This is no time for your silly tricks, we have to go home and have dinner together like I promised." His warm hands move up to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your equally warm skin, but when you make no move or noise the reality finally sets in for him.

His broken smile slips and all he can manage is a soft call of your name. Of course, there's still no answer, and Ayato is stuck flipping between the different stages of grief.

What if he'd listened the first time? Let the retainer who initially walked in speak? Would he have gotten a chance to speak with you? To tell you he loves you? To say goodbye properly?

You can't actually be dead, right? There's no way this is happening to him again.

He starts to promise to spend more time with you, he'll take off as much time as you want him to, he'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to go to but couldn't bring yourself to without him, he'll visit the land of Liyue with you - he knows you've been gushing about the scenery and culture recently. He'll do it all and more, you just had to open your eyes again for him.

Silence.

"Damn it all..." he whispered, face twisting in agony. Of course he couldn't have it his way this time. As if his parents weren't enough, the world just had to take you away from him too.

The doctor watches for a moment as one of the most powerful men in Inazuma sheds tear after tear before him, the droplets falling and hitting your lifeless body. As Ayato sinks to his knees before you, the doctor takes this as his cue to step out.

For the next few hours, the hospital is noticeably quieter, no one daring to interrupt a man who's just lost one of the dearest people to him.

For the next few hours, Ayato's tears slowly soak your shirt, his grip on the bedding knuckle white, his sobs muffled by your skin as it slowly grows colder and colder, fighting to commit everything about you to memory.

That night, he could not bring himself to eat dinner, for all he could remember was you, the way you smiled at him and how it was all ripped away from him, never to be seen again.

———

Diluc, whose connections are spread all over the world yet no one could locate you.

It should be impossible. The owner of Dawn Winery only associates himself with competent business partners. So, how could it be that the best of the best from all walks of life and all backgrounds couldn't locate the one person he needed to find?

Tirelessly, the redhead looked for you. Many sleepless nights weighed on him from shouldering so many responsibilities at once. He constantly asked for updates on the investigation and every time the news that there were no advances was just another layer of stress for him. So, of course, the moment the word of your location reached his ears, Diluc was up and out the door, claymore in hand, a fury in his eyes that few have seen only a handful of times.

When he got there, there being some far corner of Starfell Valley on the mountainside, there was no time to process or ask questions. All he knew was that you needed help if you wanted even a chance of making it out alive.

By a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the Abyss Mages that had been holding you hostage, an atrocious act that was no doubt aimed to make The Darknight Hero suffer. However, weaponless and exhausted, the creatures of down under easily caught up to you, surrounding you and throwing you around like a ragdoll. Diluc counted seven - one hydro, two electro, two cryo and two pyro - each using the elements to keep you from running too far.

With a few swift strikes of his enflamed claymore, the cryo and hydro mages disappeared in a cloud of red and black. Of course, they'd be the easiest of the group to get rid of. The last four would be the real challenge.

In between strikes, Diluc managed to get close to you, bending down to your fallen form. “Are you alright? Can you walk?” He did a once over of your body, noting that dirt clung to you and a couple cuts littered your skin. You could barely move too, having the shit kicked out of you.

“Not very far…” you groaned, raising your body slightly off the ground. Your lover nodded, glancing at the enemy before helping you stand.

“That’s alright, just get to that tree over there. I’ll come get you and take you home soon.” Diluc watches for a moment as you nod and begin to make your way over, turning his back to you once you've made decent progress. Taking up his weapon once more, it's a brutal clash of sparks and fire as he lets his adrenaline and rage fuel his every move. Soon, one electro mage goes down, and then the second and then one of the pyro ones until all that stands between him and getting you medical care and a nice bath is a single pyro Abyss Mage.

The demonic creature cackles loudly, a shrill sound that echoes in the silence. As it begins to wave its staff, a shock of recognition strikes Diluc and he glances around, looking for where the fire-breathing faces are going to appear. When he doesn't spot any dread fills his being and he chances a glance towards you, praying to the Archons that what he's thinking isn't about to play out.

The gods weren't in his favour.

Time seems to slow as he watches the triangle of heads surround you; he watches as you slowly turn to face one head-on, your tired eyes widening as you register the situation. Dilcu's only able to catch you turning your face away before he attacks the mage while its guard is down, interrupting its early dance of victory.

The next few minutes are a blur, both for you and your husband. Everything hurts, any slight movement or breath sends shooting pain through your body. When Diluc picks you up off the ground you let out the most heartbreaking cry he's heard and it took everything in him not to just stand there and soothe you.

He mumbled apology after apology, offering words of comfort as he ran as best he could without harming you further. When he made it to the cathedral he was ushered out of the room, every nun available flocking to your side. Despite the overwhelming emotions building in him, Diluc lets you go, waiting with as much patience as he can muster, which isn't a lot at that moment.

It takes about an hour before a sister approaches him, every second that he waited excruciating. She tells him that while your face was unharmed, you having managed to lean out of the way just in time, your upper arm, shoulder and the base of your neck on your left side were burned pretty bad and that scarring was almost guaranteed.

"But are they alive?" is all he asks in return. He cares that you were hurt, but he cares more to know if you'll live to spend another day with him. All the sister can do is nod, informing him that recovery will be slow, but you are alive. She adds right after that while you passed out from everything he was still allowed to enter and sit by your side. So, he does.

The nun didn't lie when she told him that things would be slow. It took several days before you could be discharged, and even when you were the days and nights that followed were filled with more torture than the usual joy.

Your burns would irritate at the slightest things, and you started to doubt your looks, wondering if your husband would still love you by the end when the wounds were all healed. At night you were haunted by nightmares of your time in captivity, and by the face of the abyss spell that burned you. It didn't help that the face was red and fluffy, just like Diluc's hair, leaving you to back away from him every time you woke up from that recurring dream, your mind tricking you that that thing had come back.

And all Diluc could do was hold you close to his chest once you saw that it was just him. He'd rub a warm hand along your back as you sobbed and shivered, quietly blaming himself for not being fast enough - to find you, to defeat the enemy, to get you out of the way of the fight. If he had been, if he succeeded in any of those things, then maybe you wouldn't have to live with this pain and trauma.

You were alive, but at what cost?

———

Childe, who was all the way in Inazuma for a mission.

Your husband left you that fateful day with a tight hug, a promise to come home and a kiss on the lips. As he walked further and further away from you all you could think about was greeting him in the same fashion. Your touch was his favourite thing after all, a reminder that you're there with him and that you love him despite all his wrongdoings.

The day came when Ajax set foot back in his homeland, and the first thing he did was search for you at the dock. When he didn't spot you, he'll admit he was a little disappointed but didn't think much of it. You were most likely just relaxing at home.

Yet, when he walked through the door he couldn’t find you anywhere. “Strange… where could they have gone? Maybe mom and dad’s?”

A quick trip over there reveals nothing however, just the tidbit of information from his mother on how it’s been a couple days since you’ve visited and that you last told them you were needing to chop some firewood.

Now he was not only confused but a sense of dread plagued his chest. Hoping it’s just his normal worrying, Ajax bids farewell to his family and heads back home. Sure enough, he spotted some stacked logs off to the side. What didn’t make sense though was the lack of an axe and the footprints that lead further into the tree line behind your home.

Following the tracks, the male’s eyes widen and his expression falls as the patterns in the snow go from clean prints to frantic clusters, as if you began running. What really injected fear into him though was the barely visible Treasure Hoarder insignia buried in the snow, its gold sheen glistening from the sun.

At this point his feet had a mind of their own as he picked up the pace, his mind running a mile a minute with the scariest thoughts his brain could conjure.

He wasn’t sure if he should've been relieved or frightened when he found you lying in the snow. Either way, he sprinted the rest of the way to you, calling out your name. You were on your side, back to him; you must’ve rolled into the fetal position to stay warm.

And that’s when he noticed it, the pink tint of the usually pure white snow surrounding your fallen form. Panic shoots through him as he rolls you onto your back, his hand recoiling at the state you were in, covering his mouth.

"No..." your cold gaze stares up at the sky, skin lacking the warmth he craves after a long day. Between the folds of your undone coat reveals where most, if not all the blood flowed from, now dry from days passed. With a shaky hand, he moves the cloth aside, surveying the damage.

The cut was deep but didn't hit anything major from the looks of it... you would have bleed out slow and painfully, and the mere idea makes him sick to his stomach. More and more he looks at the damage done to you and the more his blood boils and his heart stutterers. You were innocent, his spouse, his best friend, you had no intimate dealings with Fatui work, so why you?

His eyes narrow back in the direction of the insignia, the sorrow morphing into anger; they were fucking cowards, going after you instead of him. At the sanctuary of your home no less.

Looking back at the body that once housed your soul, he noticed something odd about your hand. It was clasped shut like you were holding onto something.

He starts to pry your fingers open, and for just a moment he can imagine that you're alive, back in the warmth of your home, grasping his scarf in a game of keep away. He'd pull you close, wrapping an arm around you and trapping you to his chest, grasping your wrist and trying to get the red fabric from you. Your husband would laugh merrily, "demanding" that you give him it back or else, to which you'd tell him no, because as long as you had it then he couldn't leave for the day.

When your palm finally opens up is the same moment time really stops and the world doesn't feel real around him. Picking up the small object, Ajax clasps it in his own hands, bringing it close to his chest - his heart - in hopes of feeling just the last bit of you left behind. He won't ever know this, but what he's doing now was exactly what you did in your final hour - you held the tangible promise you made with him close to you, your thoughts filled with him and only him as you took your last breath.

From that day onwards, your wedding ring rests against his collarbone, a string looped through it. He never takes it off, nor does he remove his own ring, because to him, you were the only one fit to take the place at his side in life. He doesn't want anyone else to love him, because no one could ever love or hold him in such high regard like you did.

It was everything or nothing, and you are his everything. Since you're gone, he'll gladly settle for nothing. Anything else and he'd label himself a cheater to your love.

———

Cyno, who prioritized catching the mastermind, lest any more innocents get hurt.

The General Mahamatra trudged back through the desert sands, clouds of dust trailing behind him. His grip was tight against the criminal’s wrists, leaving no room for escape. While part of him was solely focused on the captured mastermind, another part of him was thinking about you and how he's going to make it up to you for neglecting you the last few weeks. How could he ever possibly thank you or repay you for your neverending patience?

Rounding the last rock, Cyno finally makes it back to where he left you, having instructed you to wait there until he returned. You know that it was vital to stay put, so why is it that you've disappeared? Eyes red like the sunset scan the camp, finding that nothing was missing among your personal belongings or supplies.

As he continued to try and piece together the clues, you stood frozen in the shadows, an arm pulling you against a chest, keeping you in place. The hand over your mouth didn't help quell your fear, nor did the warm, rancid breath that tickled your neck.

How hard do you have to stare at the back of your lover's head for him to just turn in your direction!? Apparently very hard, because no matter how much you will a telepathic message his way, he still fails to find you. Tears begin to slide down your face - is this really it? Will this be the end? When he's so close to you? Will he turn and walk in the wrong direction, giving the man holding you time to escape with you in tow?

The looming threat that if you step out of line you risk harming yourself and Cyno plays in your mind, but you also remember nights lying in bed with your husband, whispering reassurance to him that no matter the situation you knew he'd always save you. You had full confidence in his abilities.

Gathering your resolve you take a leap of faith and elbow your captor, biting the hand that impairs your voice. Making a mad dash from the hiding spot, you scream for Cyno, watching as his head whips in your direction.

It all happened so fast after that. One second there's just you, him and the two Eremites and in the next, you're surrounded. The mastermind Cyno had been holding manages to retch his arms free, whistling a tune causing other desert dwellers to pop up from seemingly nowhere. A capture net is being thrown over you, aiming true and trapping you once more. Cyno, now flanked from all sides, can only watch helplessly as two men grasp the ends of the net, dragging you like you're nothing but a sack of goods.

You squirm with all your might, but it does nothing as you're effortlessly tossed in a caravan, screaming and sobbing for your husband. Amidst the scuffle, the leader orders the others to "shut them up" and right after a powder is poured on you, the effects taking seconds to kick in.

You begin to quiet until you slump on your side, and Cyno feels the urgency build even more. He channels all the strength he has into at least breaking through to get to you, but the moment he does the snap of reins echoes out and the cart takes off.

So, he runs, because for once something much for valuable that his life is on the line. Because he can't afford to let the bad guy get away this time.

But a man cannot match the pace of a horse, and it isn't long before his stamina reaches its limit and he stumbles, and you disappear over the horizon.

———

Wriothesley, who believed he could save everyone.

By no means was the warden of the Fortress of Meropide lacking in skills. He's proven time and time again that he's worthy of the title of Duke among the underwater structure, able to shoulder the responsibility of keeping each and every inmate well cared for and as comfortable as possible.

Perhaps that was the reason he's failing now to protect those he really cares for, for you were no inmate, but rather the person he swore to spend the rest of his life with.

He knew that this day would come, but he was still so, so unprepared for it. The damn seal was due to break sooner or later, and it chose today of all days to do so. The evacuation was quick, maybe even quicker than the first one, but there was one difference this time around. Today was also the day that a couple Melusines had come in Monsieur Neuvillette's place, delivering some reports to Wriothesley while also taking this time to speak with Sigewinne.

"Where are they?" The Duke grits his teeth, running through every area he can reach. You weren't far behind, having insisted a second pair of eyes was better than one. When another room turned up empty he slammed his first into the wall, cursing loudly.

You did another look through in the places he missed before sighing, placing a hand on his chest, "We'll find them Wrio. Take a deep breath, please." He stares at you for a moment, doing as you suggested. You offer a small smile, "There aren't many rooms left, they've gotta be here."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, "but we're running out of time."

Just as he says that the building rumbles and shakes, the sound of a pipe bursting in the distance sending fear through your body. All it takes is a shared look for you two to start running again, eyes and ears sharp as you try to catch even the slightest signs of life.

There were only two rooms left to check when you heard a call, not by a Melusine but by a pair of inmates. Turning to look, your stress levels spike.

“Shit, this isn’t good,” Wriothesley mutters, surveying the situation the moment you both made it over. One of the inmates was trapped underneath a metal panel, and his buddy wasn’t strong enough to lift it off him on his own.

They plead for help and you can see the cool grey eyes of your lover start to unfocus, a million thoughts passing through his mind. Time is running out, and as he's internally about to lose his cool the sound of your voice brings him back.

Laying a hand on his shoulder you squeeze firmly, "Listen, how about we split up? You deal with this and I go find the Melusines. We'll be faster that way."

His eyes widen at your proposition, and he doesn't even have to think twice about denying, "Now, hold on just a-!"

Another tremor, and you have to harden your tone to get your point across, “We don’t have time Wriothesley, help them and I’ll search the two rooms. When you’re done get them out of here, I won’t be far behind!”

He wants to say no, wants you to get to the surface and he'll take care of the inmate and missing Melusines, but as he looks at the crumbling Fortress he finds himself biting his lips before nodding. "You better stay safe, or else."

You smile, turning and disappearing into the second last room. A quick search proves nothing and when you leave you see your husband beginning to pull out the stuck inmate. You're able to meet gazes for a moment only to break it off, rushing into the last room.

It's easy to spot the brightly coloured blue beings amongst the dreary Fortress walls. "Thank Archons!" You sigh, almost tripping over your feet in your hurry to get them, scooping them up in your arms, "we have to go now you two!"

There's a groan of metal and the clatter of something collapsing in the distance, and it's safe to say you didn't waste time sprinting out of there. As you pass where you last saw your husband, there's a momentary wave of relief at seeing him no longer lingering there. You know then that he's gotten out, and that he's probably waiting anxiously for you.

The thought pushes you to get out faster, jumping over any puddles that have formed or debris. But just because you can jump doesn't mean you can dodge.

One piece then two fell from above, but when you look up dread courses through you upon the realization that a good section of the roof is about to drop. You acted before you could fully think and tossed the two tiny beings in your arms, sprinting just a little faster before leaping yourself. You're glad you managed to throw them out of the collapse zone, but you weren't so lucky, your leg getting trapped from midway to your knee and down under the pile of rubble. All it took was one attempt at tugging your leg out to know it was stuck under there good.

"Go," you pointed in the direction of the exit, immediately beginning to dig yourself out. The least you could do was get them to safety. The Melusines however hesitated, looking at each other before looking at you again. You knew they weren't strong enough to lift anything off you, so you repeated the one-word order, adding that you'd be right behind them.

You hear more than you see them run off, and after a minute of struggling you manage to free yourself, continuing towards the exit.

Wriothesley didn't stick around the entrance, instead busying himself with checking on everyone. If he didn't then he'd go mad and rush back in to get you. As he made another round he spotted the two creatures of the sea clutching onto the Iudex, their heads buried in his neck. If they were safe, then you must've made it out too, right?

Wriothesley gives the order to close the Fortress of Meropide off completely, and he watches unaware as he cages you in. It's only by chance that, once he's almost to the surface, he looks out the window of his escape submarine and through one of the windows of the Fortress. The horror sets in.

Even if it's useless, you stumble and limp up to the glass, banging on it, screaming for him. You're not sure what he'd do though, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time, wanted to tell him you love him, that it's not his fault. You stare at him, tears streaming down your face before turning your back to the ocean and sliding down to the ground.

Even if he can't hear you, you whisper out your love for him, how you'd never hold this against him. You pray to the Archons, to the Traveler, to Neuvillette, to Clorinde to watch over him for you.

You eye the rising water, and to make it just a little more bearable you pretend it's the first time you got Wriothesley to go swimming with you. You had dip your toes in first, as a show that the water wouldn't bite. He wasn't scared of the water, and he knew how to swim; he wasn't ashamed of the scars on his body either. No, he refused to go swimming back then because he didn't want to freeze, and it took you and the trust he placed in your word to tell him the water was perfect.

So, you repeat that same action, imagining Wriothesley is right beside you like that day years ago.

From the water pod, your husband watches frozen as you vanish in an instant, continuing to watch as the water rises until it's above the height of the glass. In that single moment, most of the warmth in his heart vanishes along with you.

"You promised you'd be safe... I trusted you..."

It was the first and last time any prisoner would see the almighty Wriothesley cry out, for he swore sometime later that he'd close off his heart and never let anyone get as close as you did. He knows deep down that's not what you'd want, but he knew he could never go through the same pain again and still continue to live.

———

Zhongli, who you were fighting side by side with.

It's always been like that, you and him up in arms against the world. It was like that in the Archon War, in the Cataclysm and any other time someone threatened the safety of the Lord of Geo's territory. You had his back and he had yours, something that only grew stronger as your relationship developed from war buddies to friends then finally to lovers.

It was... naive of you both to think that you'd be able to spend eternity together without issue. You were too blinded by the fact that you were both going to withstand time and he believed that there was no way he'd fail to protect you, not with the strength he possessed.

Your downfall was not due to time or a lack of strength, but rather your own desire to keep the man you love safe from harm.

Zhongli did not see the sword pierce your skin, but he did hear the strangled cry you let out. He felt the fear wash over him, he saw the bloody aftermath as you fell forward into him, no longer able to hold yourself upright.

Instinctively he wraps his arms around you, sinking to the grass with you. Crimson stains his hands and clothes fast as if the wound was his own and he knows right then that your time together is limited.

The pain you feel is searing and with each breath you take you're fighting to keep that air in your lungs long enough to get more. Your husband spoke softly as he stroked your shoulder, "Why did you take the hit for me?"

When you looked up into his warm, amber eyes you knew then that this was the last time he'd hold you, the last time you'd speak with one another. How interesting it is that you both realized at different points that this was the end.

"You..." you cough, body trembling in his hold and Zhongli almost regrets asking you to speak. He just wants to make you comfortable in your last moments, to act as if everything is okay. "You... were going to get hurt."

The man you knew to never weep lets a single tear slide down his face, a light chuckle getting stuck in his throat, "ah, how like you to put me above yourself. I'm the same way with you, so I suppose I can't point fingers, now can I?"

“No… you can’t,” you smile back, but it’s tough to force it through the pain. You cough again and this time a little blood comes up as well.

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the seconds tick by. “Morax.”

The former Archon stiffens; you rarely ever call him by his real name unless you're serious about something. "Yes, my dear? What is it?" When he sees you trying to lift your hand to his cheek, Zhongli dips his head, placing his own hand over yours.

Glazed eyes watch as you swallow, stuttering on your own breath, "I'm... I'm very proud of the man you've become compared to the Archon I first met. I'm very proud of the things you've done for Liyue, and I'm grateful for the things you've done for me."

Your eyes droop a little, and he knows your time to depart is near when he sees you rest your head against him more and with the way he has to hold up your hand for it to stay resting on his cheek. He swears he won't let you slip away until you've said your final peace.

"I... I need you to promise me something Morax."

"You know I will always do my best to honour your wishes," he tells you, his grip tightening on your hand. A sudden breeze picks up, blowing his hair in such an elegant way that your face softens, never not amazed by his beauty. Tranquillity washes over you, and it may sound crazy, but the scent the wind brought to you smelt like home, like a simpler time in your life.

All other sounds are drowned out, the wind blowing them far away so he could hear you clearly, "You have to find happiness again... even though I won't be there for you. Can... can you promise me that?"

He pulls you impossibly closer, removing your hand just to place a gentle kiss on your palm before returning it to its place, "I promise." In that moment he feels like he's lied to you, for he believes he'll never truly recover from your death, but that doesn't mean he won't try for you. And as you smile up at him for the last time, Morax feels that he could live with his answer to you.

Much like his friends of old, he knows he'll see you in the little things around the city - a lantern, a blooming flower, a cup of tea, the fires in fireplaces - as if you're watching over him. He'll continue to walk forward as everything passes him by, mingling with the ever-changing people and culture and surrounding himself with friends, because that's what he promised you, and he wants you to see that even when you're not by his side to experience it yourself.

"I'm happy now, see? But I will never be as happy as I was with you"

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

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@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood

#val’s nsn #genshin impact #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #childe x reader #cyno x reader #ayato x reader #wriothesley x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin angst #genshin x reader angst #diluc x gender neutral reader #childe x gender neutral reader #cyno x gender neutral reader #ayato x gender neutral reader #wriothesley x gender neutral reader #zhongli x gender neutral reader #ayato x you #diluc x you #childe x you #cyno x you #wriothesley x you #zhongli x you

[undiscovered-horizon]

[It’s considered good etiquette to ask a man about his wife’s wellbeing. Except if the man in question is Dracule Mihawk.]

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Garp hates having to call Mihawk, mainly because of the warlord's attitude. Used to the usual "yes, sir!" of the Marines, a man with his own will and agenda is not something he entirely knows how to navigate. Especially since both of them know that the World Government needs the warlords more than they need the bureaucracy. And that doesn't exactly help in exercising power.

His attempts at diplomacy have burst into flames each time and today isn't going to be much different:

"How’s the missus?" Garp asks in the nicest tone he can force although he's aware that Mihawk knows how much the vice admiral hates asking for Dracule's assistance.

Mihawk only scoffs. "Are you calling just to spoil my mood or is there another reason for your impertinence?"

"I was just trying to-"

"Don't," he cuts him off in a stern voice. "If you have business with me, speak fast. If you're interested in my wife, I know where you live, Garp. I'd suggest losing your unwelcome nosiness before you lose something else."

Little did Garp know at the time but his little question was possibly the worst strategy he could think of. Dracule Mihawk is not like most men and the mere mention of his wife by acquaintances only enrages him. Work and private life do not ever mix. And he'll be damned if someone tries to breach that, even in the form of a courtesy. Therefore, the rest of the call was filled with openly insulting answers that were bold even for Mihawk. A veiled threat or two also found their way into their rather tense conversation.

You know he's done with Garp when he lets out a frustrated grunt. Sometimes you wonder if this grumpy, forever dissatisfied version of him is the only side of Mihawk his acquaintances know. Maybe he really is two men in the form of one.

He's sitting at his desk, thinking about something and not bothering to get up for now. Considering the fact that his hat is lying on the table and not on his head, Mihawk is probably not planning on going out anytime soon. Then again, judging by his spoiled mood, his homestay is a blessing for the first poor sods that would cross his path.

In slow steps, you stroll to his side, letting your hand brush through his hair. He doesn't say anything, only leans his head further towards you. The thing about Mihawk is that he loved to reject and decline but he never does so to you. No, in your case it's the opposite - he revels in allowing you whatever you want.

So intimidating and combative, yet soft and looking for intimacy. Truly, two men with the face of one.

"My mother used to say that each grey hair is one thing we worry about," you say quietly. "At this rate, love, your whole head will be white by noon."

"Your mother also says that milk goes sour because gnomes piss in it," he retorts. Yes, your mother and her strange folk beliefs... She's probably the only person Mihawk can force himself to be nice to despite his dislike.

His response earns a hearty laugh from you. Clear as day, you can see his posture relax as he listens to the music of your happiness. If he even thinks about the possibility of Garp or any other of his acquaintances hearing it, he might just get furious again.

"Well, nobody's perfect," you say between chuckles.

Then, Mihawk gently grabs your hand and lowers it to his face. With softness and passion that hardly befits a man of his infamy, he kisses the inside of your hand. "You seem to be doing so effortlessly."

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[ddejavvu]

wait your new hotch blurb got me thinking what about they got secretly married and everyone knows that hotch is married they just don’t know it’s to bau!reader because he seemed very genuine in the wanting privacy so (after complaining) they respected that, and maybe one of the team members sees hotch and bau!reader kissing in the hallway of a hotel or something and confront him about cheating on his wife

"How could you cheat on your wife?"

Penelope's harsh, degrading accusation hits Aaron directly in the chest, through the layers of stoicism that he's come to forge over the years of working in criminal investigation and straight to his heart.

All Hotch can manage is a, "What?", and Penelope's eyes dim further.

"Don't do that, Hotch. I saw you. I saw you and Y/N kissing in your office. How could you do that to your wife?"

She looks so crestfallen that Aaron's chest actually aches, so unprepared to see the famously bubbly Penelope Garcia close to tears. Close to tears because of him, no less.

Aaron might have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't been so startled by Penelope's unusual devastation, but his jumbled brain forgoes its job and his mouth takes over, uttering the thoughtless statement, "That's- that's what she's there for."

And in his mind, it's true, if not the complete truth. You are there for him to kiss, you're there to be kissed and loved and appreciated and cherished, but he's momentarily forgotten that Penelope doesn't know that you and his mystery wife are the same person, and his words so easily warp into possessiveness and disregard.

Her face contorts into a mixture of disgust and rage that could take out a serial killer, and he seriously considers recruiting her as Chief Lecturer of the BAU, "Hotch? How- how could you say that? That your wife is just- just some thing to wait on you while you run off with someone else? You- Aaron, I can't believe you, I thought you were better than that!"

She tries storming away, tears budding in her eyes but Aaron catches her elbow, ignoring the way she flails and squirms at his touch.

"Let go of me!" She tearily demands, but he grabs her by the other arm now, holding both of her shoulders.

"No, Penelope, listen-" He tries, reminding himself to send her to Derek later for a self-defense lesson, because the weak shoves that she's pushing at his chest with do very little.

"No! No, I'm tired of listening to men," She shrieks, "You were supposed to be better than that, Aaron! I trusted you, you were supposed to be the kind of man that I could admire, and- but you're not! You're just like the rest of them, you're some egotistical, possessive, heavy-handed, domineering son of a-!"

"Y/N is my wife." Aaron cuts her off, his voice slightly raised, but not harsh. Never harsh, not to the sniffling mess of ruffles and glitter in his arms that handed him her resume on pink stationary all those years ago.

She falls silent, finally, but her lips still tremble. Aaron squeezes her arms tighter, not rough but comforting, "Y/N is my wife. We married privately late last year. We kept it secret for safety reasons, but I'll admit we didn't need to hide it from all of you. I was not cheating on my wife, I would never-" He thinks momentarily of Haley, of the gut-wrenching sound of her cell phone ringing with a call she wasn't brave enough to answer in front of him, "I would never do that to Y/N."

It's a lot of new information to process, and Aaron grants Penelope all the time she needs to work through it. When her red-stained lips part again she breathes, "You married Y/N?"

"I did." Aaron nods, and though it's not the time to smile, he can't help that a ghostly one flits over his features at the mere thought of the day he'd married you, "I'll show you pictures when we're done here. Penelope, you can trust me. I don't blame you for accusing me- in fact, I'm glad that you did. I'm glad that your loyalty isn't blind. But Y/N is my wife, and that's why I kissed her."

A very wobbly, "Oh." Is all that Penelope can manage, and she sniffles again, staring at his tie rather than his face as he holds her steady in the hallway. He's glad that they've both shown up early for the day, but you're due to return with coffee for the three of you any minute now, and he offers her his pocket square to wipe beneath her eyes.

"You said-" She chokes out sheepishly, voice unsteady as she smears the tears off of her cheeks, "You said you have pictures?"

That's how you find them when you return, seated on the couch in his office peering down at his phone. You have to set the tray you'd been carrying down on Aaron's desktop before you can properly greet either of them, but you're immediately alarmed by the tears streaked over Garcia's cheeks when she stands to face you.

"You-" She starts, not giving you a second to speak, "-are a rat! You got married," She gushes, and Aaron chuckles deeply from beside her, standing and pocketing his phone.

"You got married to our boss, and you told me nothing," She hisses, but slumps so easily into your chest for a hug that you're more than willing to give her.

"I'm sorry, Penny," You gush, squeezing her tight, "We just- we were worried about safety. The more people we told, the more dangerous it would become, so we didn't share it with anyone. But- but we should have told the team, I know."

She sniffles and you draw back to pick up her drink from behind you, sugary and pink and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, "I got you a drink. Forgive me?"

"Reluctantly," She tries scowling, but she's never been very good at it. She takes the drink from you huffily, jamming the straw inside and taking a drag at the thick liquid. It's barely nine in the morning, far too early for the concoction she's sipping, but she nods after she draws back from the straw.

"This is delicious," She decides, "And you two are traitors, and I'm telling everyone about this."

"You should," Aaron laughs, stepping up behind you to press his shoulder to your own. It's comforting just having him there, and you relax against him as Penelope takes her leave.

"I mean it," She warns, wiping another stray tear from her cheek and sipping at her strawberry drink, "I'm telling everyone. I'm- I'm gonna hire some guy to fly a plane over the city, and the banner is gonna say, 'Y//N Y/L/N and Aaron Hotchner got married without me'."

"That's fair," You nod, not bothering to bite back a grin as she lingers in the doorway of Aaron's office.

"And so help me god," She narrows her eyes at you, once more falling just short of intimidating, "If you try to take some extended-sick-leave time, and I find out you're hiding a pregnancy from me? No amount of frappuccinos in the world will make up for it!"

"Noted," You call out as she leaves, and Aaron's hand comes up to press against the near-indiscernible bulge of your belly before the door even clicks shut.

"She's good." Aaron observes, and you reach for your own non-caffeinated drink with a grin that's hard to drink through.

"Let's tell her about the baby at lunch," You propose, "I think she's more than earned a secret to keep."

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