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lil-elle · 5 months

Text

Overbooked

group: riize

pair: anton x fem!reader

genre: forced proximity, fluff, suggestive

word count: 4.3k

content: coarse language, kissing, nsfw implications

a/n: the way I've been in such an Anton mood recently is insane

“Uhhh…who'd you say booked this room for us..?” Anton questioned, his voice cracking slightly.

“Seunghan, why, what's wrong?” You stood on your tiptoes, his 6 foot height blocking you from peaking into the room.

“Fucking Seunghan…” he mumbled under his breath. Letting out a shaky breath, he took a few more steps into the room, allowing you to squeeze through the doorway past him.

Your eyes roamed the pristine hotel room, grazing the lush grey carpeting, the silky white curtains, and the wide screen TV mounted on the wall. It was a very elegant room, and you thanked Seunghan in your head for getting it for you…that was until your gaze landed on the lone king sized bed against the left wall, wrapped cleanly in white silk sheets and decorated with plush pillows and two towels sat at the end of it.

“Oh…” You cautiously glanced up at him, his head turned towards the wall with only his bright red pierced ears peeking through his hair as a hint to the thoughts running through his mind.

You placed a soft hand on his arm, to which he trembled almost unnoticeably. “Hey, it's fine. I can sleep on the floor.” You reassured him. He whipped his head around, revealing that the red from his ears had spread to his cheeks too.

“N-no! I'll sleep on the floor, it's alright!” The determined look on his face told you that he wasn't backing down from this and that there was no point in arguing. You smiled softly at him, warmed by his charming sweetness and slight stubbornness.

“Thank you…Anton…” His pupils dilated and you watched as the splotchy red on his cheeks spread to the rest of his face and his lips parted, taking in a quick and sharp breath of air. Suddenly he spun around, stomping towards the bed and landing face down onto the soft and sweet smelling sheets. You hurried over to him, concerned, and reached him just in time to hear a muffled “...when I catch you, Seunghan…”

After you two got settled in, kicking your shoes off, placing your bags in the corner of the room and plugging your phones in to charge on either side of the bed, he picked up one of the towels folded neatly on the end. He looked up at you as you melted into a large cushioned chair next to the bed, his complexion back to its regular pinkish olive colour. “I'll go shower really quick, ‘kay?” The sun had begun to set, casting an orange light across the room and prompting you two to start getting ready for bed.

“Okayyy.” You smiled happily at him and heard him gasp lightly again before he quickly disappeared into the bathroom.

The sound of the running water thrummed again your ears as you closed your eyes and settled further into the chair, noticing just how soft it really was. Without even realising, you drifted off, the noise of the shower and the comfort of the chair lulling you to sleep.

Your consciousness slowly drifted back to you as you felt a gentle poke to your cheek, your eyes fluttering open and meeting a very familiar face. His wet bangs brushed gently against your forehead and his round doe eyes went wide as he processed you looking at him. He somehow ended up with his back against the wall on the other side of the room within a second, his forehead all the way down to his neck flushed a deep red. “I-I didn't, I mean-”

You took in the sight of him, damp hair, plain grey shirt drizzled with wet spots from where water droplets fell from his hair, black sweatpants emphasising his long legs. And on top of all of that he was blushing. Hard. You couldn't deny how charming he looked in this moment.

You spoke up, ignoring the obvious heat creeping up the back of your neck and up to your ears, “I-I should shower now…”

You picked up the other towel, and some pyjamas you'd folded next to it, and rushed to the bathroom, heat overtaking your face. As you passed him, you could've sworn you could hear his heartbeat, fast and hard against his chest.

Locking yourself away in the bathroom, you gazed at yourself in the fogged up mirror. From the sight of your whole face, a deep crimson colour, you could tell the heat covering your body was not from the humidity in the small bathroom.

The shower passed by in a daze. You couldn't believe how many times your brain replayed the scene of waking up to Anton's face so deathly close to yours. Close enough that his freshly washed bangs left a streak of water on your forehead. Close enough that you could feel his breath. Close enough that you could've kis–

Your hairbrush fell to the floor with a clang, startling you out of your thoughts. You met your own wide eyes in the mirror as his muffled voice coming from outside the door filled your ear. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah…yeah, fine…” You responded, bending down to pick yourself hairbrush back up, a slight uncertainty in your voice.

“Be careful, please.” His soft, concerned voice filtering through the door stuck a needle in your heart and you placed the brush onto the vanity with a sigh.

You rushed through your routine, washing and moisturising your face, scrunching your hair with the towel to dry it as much as you could, and slipping into your pyjamas. Cautiously, you opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out, taking in the room now with the blinds closed and the lamps on each bedside table filling the room with warm yellow light. Anton was seated back in the chair you previously slept in, bringing the image of his face so close to yours back into your mind once again.

You took a step forward and the floorboard creaked under you, catching his attention and causing him to look up from his phone. Instantly, he froze. There was no way he was hiding the almost neon red that covered his face within a second of seeing you. Your damp hair, you draped in a shirt a little too big for you, your shorts barely peeking out from under it. The cold wetness of your hair against the back of your neck contrasted the warmth of your skin as you tried to push down the hard thrumming of your heart.

You walked forward, watching as his adams apple bobbed nervously and his eyes traced over your figure as if he was in a daze. You made your way to your bag, tucking your previously worn clothes into it, desperately trying to ignore the heat radiating from your cheeks. You didn't understand why you suddenly felt this way, why the unfinished fantasy of what Anton could've done that close to your face wouldn't leave your mind.

You slipped between the cold silk sheets as you watched Anton meticulously set up a “bed” on the floor next to you with an extra sheet he found. The pitiful set up had you feeling guilty for making him do this, and a subtle thought poked at your brain, a thought that made your cheeks flare up again for the 20th time that night. “H-hey Anton, maybe I should-”

“No. It's fine. You stay there.” He reassured as he slipped between the thin sheet, barely separating him from the hard ground beneath him. He turned off the lamp on his side and you turned off the other one in response, leaving the room dark and silent. The only thing that broke through the silence was the sound of his soft breathing, somehow loud in your right ear as you stared up at the ceiling. The sound of your heartbeat joined not long after, rippling through your body and keeping you from drifting off to sleep. Minutes passed, though you couldn’t tell how many.

“A-Anton…?” You stuttered softly, to which he responded with a low groan, ringing through your ear and bringing heat to your cheeks. “...are you awake…?” You heard him chuckle lightly.

“Of course,” the sound of rustling fabric came from your right side and you just knew he was shifting around to face your direction, “why, what's up?”

“It's just…it can't be comfortable down there…” Your voice was laced with guilt as you spoke.

“Hey. I'm not making you sleep on the floor…okay?” His concern made your heart flutter in a way you hadn't felt before.

There was silence for a moment and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “Well what if…” you heard his breathing slow to a stop, as if he was holding his breath and waiting for you to continue. “What if…we both sleep…in the bed…”

The familiar sound of a sharp breath in, followed by silence. The silence continued to stretch out with no sign from Anton that he was going to respond. Had he fallen asleep?

You quickly turned over and flicked the lamp on, letting your gaze land on where you knew he was laying on the floor. His long figure, outlined by the thin sheet draped over him, was laid flat on his back, his hands completely covering his face. His ears were once again giving away his true feelings, bright red behind his long black hair. As if it was contagious, your own ears heated up along with your cheeks. “...A-Anton..?” His breath caught in his throat and you watched as he parted his fingers, peeking up at you.

In a weak and almost inaudible voice, he spoke, “Are you serious…?”

You nodded gently, biting the inside of your lip. He covered his eyes again and rolled over, turning his back to you as he mumbled, the only words you were able to pick up being “...fuck…Seunghan, why…she's so…”

He suddenly sat up with a strained sigh, propping himself up with one of his hands and the other still covering his face. With a better view of his features, you could now see the very familiar sight of him blushing bright red. “An-”

“...fuck it.” He picked himself up off of the ground and turned to face you, his eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Scoot over…” A wide smile overtook your features and you quickly shimmied to the other side of the bed, giving him space to crawl in with you. His slightly shaky hand pulled the covers back and he hesitantly layed down, as if afraid that making contact with the clean sheets would dirty them somehow. He laid awkwardly staring at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You turned over to lean on your side, looking towards him.

“Anton…?” You spoke suddenly, making him flinch.

“Uh- huh?” His throat sounded dry and his gaze didn't move from a single spot on the ceiling.

“Can you…turn the lamp off?” There was a soft smile on your face, like you were enjoying seeing him so anxious and flustered. Despite that, your heart was still pounding harder than you've ever felt and your whole body burned like you had a fever.

“O-oh…” his voice cracked and he quickly reached his long arm behind him and flicked off the lamp, leaving the room in total darkness once again.

The air around you felt heavy with tension as you both laid there in the darkness. It was just like before, the only sound making its way to your ears being his breathing, only this time it was much closer and faster.

You don't know what prompted you to do it, but you extended your right arm out, your knuckles brushing against his arm lightly and making him twitch. His breathing caught in his throat and the silence that flooded the room made the tension all the more dense and palpable. You trailed the tip of your finger down his arm until you felt the veins on the back of his hand and you swore that you could hear his heart pounding against his ribs. Heat sat overwhelmingly on your cheeks as your fingers clamoured against his hand, intertwining themselves with his. His hand was much larger than yours, fitting with his height but not the soft and introverted personality he presented. He hesitated, his fingers sitting limply between yours, but after a few moments his hand tightened and embraced yours, the sound of his heartbeat only becoming louder.

You could've cut the tension in the room with a knife as you two laid hand in hand in silence, your hearts beating in sync.

Him accepting your hand hold made you bolder and the darkness in the room that obscured you two from seeing each other encouraged your confidence. Slowly, you scooted closer to him, as if afraid to startle him away. He took a breath in, as if he was able to feel your warmth get stronger.

“Y/n…” His voice was soft and deep like usual, although there was a slight strain to it, like he was holding something back. You turned your head, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, to see him lying on his side, his head resting on the pillow. His eyes looked at you with emotion you've never seen before, emotion that overwhelmed you and forced the butterflies in your stomach to go wild.

He brought your hand that he was holding up to his lips, pressing them against the back of your hand so softly and your flustered brain struggled to comprehend where he got this boldness from. “Anton…” Your voice was weak and breathy, staring back into his siren-like gaze as he held his lips to your hand.

His lips disconnected from your skin with a subtle wet smack and he spoke, his voice rough and quiet. “I'm glad it's so dark in here right now…I'm sure my face is burning up…”

“You–” your trembling voice was cut off by his hand letting go of yours and moving to rest on your waist. His strong hand grasped your hip before pulling you closer to him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. You looked up at him with a shine in your eyes, just shocked by his actions. He sighed softly before chuckling to himself.

“Y'know, Seunghan definitely did this on purpose.” His eyes stared deeply into yours as you processed his words.

“H-huh…?”

“Booking us a room with one bed? Totally on purpose.” His pinky finger fidgeted with the fabric of your shirt, pulling and twisting it with obvious nervousness.

He leaned his forehead against yours as his gaze stayed locked on your eyes, your breath catching in your throat.

He muttered something so quietly that the only reason you were able to pick it up was because of his proximity and the deathly silence that occupied the rest of the room. “...Should never have told him I like you…”

Suddenly every thought in your head came to a halt as his words played over and over again in your mind. It was as if you were forced onto a treadmill, your heart rate rising like crazy and your breathing heavy.

“Y-you…”

He sighed, closing his eyes and nuzzling against your forehead slightly. After a moment of hesitation, he confirmed your uncertainty. “...Yup…” His voice cracked slightly and you heard him swallow anxiously as he opened his eyes to gaze at you again. He chuckled awkwardly to himself, “It's a little obvious…”

You struggled to speak, your throat dry with nerves, but you managed to get just his name out in a slightly scratchy, whiny tone. “Anton…” You watched a shiver run through him as the breath that uttered his name hit his lips. His eyes dropped to your lips and his breathing slowed. The moment seemed to last for hours, despite it only being a few seconds before he met your gaze again.

“Y/n…” his voice, barely above a whisper at this point, speaking your name like that made you let out a soft gasp for air, like you were drowning. “Can I…?” His eyes gestured down at your lips again and when they flew back up to meet yours they were glossy and full of emotion, almost pleading.

Your lips were parted, trying to take in as much air as you could to fuel your rapidly beating heart. His implication muddled your thoughts and you felt as if you were free-falling. You squeezed your eyes shut before taking that final leap and nodding, giving him the reassurance and consent he needed to do something he'd waited so long to do.

His hand on your waist slid up slowly, his fingertips trailing along your arm and coming to rest on your cheek. You could feel his hand trembling.

Almost in slow motion, he closed the gap between you and him, his soft pillowy first only grazing yours and you found yourself fighting a full-body shiver. His breath was hot, almost unbearably so as it covered your lips.

He was hesitating, refusing to finish closing the gap, making you restless.

“An-” With that your mouth was sealed, your words swallowed by the sudden push of his lips to yours. An inaudible squeak pushed up through your throat, drowned out by the soft wet sounds of his lips pressing repeatedly to yours.

He was desperate, much more than you'd expected. It was obvious now that this was something he's wanted to do for a very long time.

His breathing turned to panting as his fingers tightened against your cheek.

“An-mm-”

He used his other arm to prop himself up, putting him in a position where he was leaning over you, his lips still relentless in stealing air from your lungs. His bangs fell against your forehead, light and fluffy from his shower earlier that night, making an obvious shiver run through you.

What you didn't expect was his response to that shiver, a melodic hum from deep in his throat that made you see stars.

His hand trailed back down to your waist, gripping and bunching your shirt in his fist as he tilted his head for a better angle. You gasped for breath against his lips, overwhelmed with the sudden passion he'd drowned you in, but he only submerges you further when he takes the opportunity to flick his tongue against your bottom lip. You gasped, this time with shock and you didn't even notice your hand pushing against his chest, prying his lips from yours.

For a moment, you two just looked at each other's faces, his bright red even in the dark room, his lips parted as he breathed heavily, and his eyelids sitting half-closed. The light coating of saliva on his lips made your head heat up even more and you licked your own unconsciously, making his eyes immediately dart back down to stare at them.

“Y/n…” his voice was raspy and deep, making you squeak with surprise. His hand tightened on your waist and your breath only sped up, anticipating his next words. “I think…I need…to sleep on the floor….” Your eyes shot open at his unexpected words, words that came out through heavy breaths and you were surprised at how he was still out of breath.

“A-Ant-”

“I don't want to stop…” He whispered, almost inaudibly, and it was only now you noticed the look of lust in his eyes. “So…I need to sleep on the floor…”

You sat stunned as he pried himself off of you and made his way back to the makeshift bed on the floor. You couldn't even utter a single word, the memory of the way he was looking down at you, almost like a wild animal that hadn't eaten in days, burned into your mind. What surprised you most, though, was the way your heart fluttered and your stomach turned at the sight.

“A-are you sure?” You managed to stutter out, lifting yourself up to look at him, only for your gaze to meet his broad back. He stayed silent, the audible rapid beat of his heart giving you enough of an answer. You laid back down, your face going red with embarrassment at the thought that you were slightly disappointed.

Safe to say you didn't get a wink of sleep that night, fully awake to welcome the first chirps of the birds outside and the orange light of the sunrise streaming through the blinds. You didn't even spare a glance for Anton as you packed up your individual belongings and cleaned the room, a slave to the way your heart threatened to burst from your chest at the slightest glance of his messy bed hair or busy hands making the bed and gathering his things.

You both made your way out of the room, bags slung over your backs, walking an awkward distance apart from each other as you struggled to keep a blush from overtaking your face. Even his finger pressing the button for the elevator was too much for you, keeping your eyes glued to the floor until you heard the ding signalling the arrival of the elevator. You stepped into the elevator cautiously, your mind swimming at the realisation that you'd be in this small space with just him, if even for a few moments, being too much for you.

The subtle rumbling of the elevator as it travelled floor to floor filled your ears and you could feel heat on the back of your neck from the now close proximity of him.

You were quickly pulled from your chaotic train of thought by the elevator suddenly coming to a stop. Your eyes darted up to the screen above the buttons reading “5” when it should say “G”.

“W-what happened…?” You stuttered out, still unable to bring yourself to look at him. Although, it was a pointless endeavour, as he suddenly invaded your vision, stepping in front of you to spam the button that opens the door. Unsurprisingly, the doors didn't respond, and it seemed you were completely stuck.

“Great…” he sighed, leaning back against the wall and sliding down. For the first time all morning, you were able to look directly at him, your worry taking over all other emotions. You carefully sat down next to him, ignoring the beat of your heart as you peered into his face.

“W-what…do we do…?” You questioned, a slight shake in your voice.

He sighed before leaning his cheek against his knees, looking at you softly.

“There isn't much we can do except sit here and wait for someone to show up and help us.” His soft gaze brought a subtle heat to your cheeks and you questioned how it took you so long to realise you liked him. Suddenly, another realisation hit you like a lightning bolt.

“...Should never have told him I like you…”

His words replayed in your mind. He likes you…and you like him…

Your face flared up, something he definitely noticed as his eyes got slightly wider.

“A-are you okay…?” he questioned anxiously, “claustrophobic…?”

You shook your head slowly, swallowing your nerves. Taking a deep breath in, you finally spoke what was on your mind.

“So…you like me?”

His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open as a pink tint crept onto his face. You gave him a moment to gather himself and he plucked his head from his knees, staring straight ahead for a moment before nodding softly.

Your heart raced as you prepared to confess your feelings to him as well.

“I think I-”

“I'm so sorry.” He hurriedly spat out, leaving you dazed.

“F-for what?” You spoke with a hint of confusion.

“...Kissing you…” He hung his head, as if ashamed.

“Hey, it's okay, you asked and I said yes.” You explained, kneeling to face him. He took in a breath before continuing.

“B-but I got carried away, and you don't even like me like that, and-”

You grasped his face, turning his head towards you to look directly into his glossy eyes.

“Hey…who said I didn't like you…” You said the words with as much composure as you could muster, but the radiating heat in your skin gave away your true feelings. His expression froze in one of shock and you could feel his warm skin under your fingers grow warmer. After a few moments you felt his fingers creep up onto your cheeks, cradling your face.

“Can-”

“Please.”

Without another second of hesitation, he pressed the softest and sweetest kiss to your lips, much different from the passion of last night. You wanted time to freeze in this moment, but the kiss was already over as quickly as it started. You were still steeped in a pool of heat when he spoke again.

“-end?”

“H-huh…?” Your eyes refocused on his, serious and determined.

“...Will you be my girlfriend…?” He repeated, making your heart skip and a wide smile stretched across your face before you even realised. You could only nod before he quickly pulled you into his arms, burying his head into your neck. You giggled as his nose and lips tickled tickled your skin and your heart raced with love and joy.

You both flinched as the elevator suddenly started moving again, the screen finally flicking from “5” to “4” and continuing to go down. You buried your hand in his soft head of hair, chuckling.

“It's like it was waiting for us to sort everything out.” You felt him smile against your skin, making your heart flutter in your chest. He breathed out, his warm breath spreading across the skin of your neck.

“And I suppose I actually need to thank Seunghan…” He mumbled, earning another giggle from you.

“Y'know we're not getting away from this whole thing without a lot of gloating and teasing, right?”

He sighed, finally pulling back from you and looking into your eyes, a wide smile stretching across his cheeks.

He ran a thumb along your cheek gently.

“It's worth it…”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST:

@hyunromi @chocoeon @hyunukitty @minjaezed @ihyeokzu @cake1box @chiiyuuvv

#riize #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fanfic #riize anton #anton #anton x reader #anton fluff #anton lee #lee chanyoung

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amelia-queen-black · 1 year

Text

Oliver: You need to rest, you’re sick.

Felicity: If I was sick, could I do this?

Felicity: …

Oliver: What are you doing?

Felicity: Cartwheels. Am I not doing them?

Oliver: No.

(He'll take care of her and make her the best soup she ever ate)

#the reverse works too #Oliver Queen would never let a *small* fever stop him from fighting crime #but Felicity wouldn’t leave the Arrow Cave either while her man is fighting #they're both so stubborn #olicity #arrow #incorrect arrowverse quotes #oliver queen #felicity smoak #team arrow #arrowverse #source: parks and rec

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stararch4ngelqueen · 7 months

Note

For the Jason drabbles, what about Jason conforting/taking care of reader while they are sick or even on their period?

We love a supportive man. What he receives he gives back tenfold.

“Show me where, baby.”

His hand roamed along your lower abdomen, imagining the soreness in your tense muscles. The spikes of pain that riddled you bedridden during your most heavy days.

“Here?” He applies pressure, fingers rubbing circles down just under your stomach, along the spot near your hip bone.

“Oww, yes,” you whine, wincing from the pain before being soothed by his massage.

Jason knew what periods were. He knew it’s a natural thing women dealt with. He’s worked with women for years, alongside doing his own research on it during one time you hadn’t left your bed for a while, thinking you were sick at first. It was an.. interesting conversation with Babs over what more he could do to help that the internet didn’t tell him about those relentlessly heavy cycles.

Pain like this took a lot longer to be rid of than a heating pad would allow. Especially the good quality ones with different settings.

Or, if you want something different, something fun that he wouldn’t mind shoving into the microwave for a minute, he’d get you a heatable, plush teddy bear. Or a duck. Or a menstruation crustacean.

He had no idea what the hell that was until you showed him on the site. You received whatever you chose in a box nearly three days later from Prime shipping.

Don’t freak out about blood. Accidents happen. If you got some on the sheets, along his lap when he held you, or on the couch, he could’ve cared less.

He wouldn’t even point it out, if you didn’t know. If you did notice it, he’d immediately shush you in an consolation attack, hiding your shameful expression in the crook of his shoulder.

“Shh, baby,” he’d murmur in your ear. “Easy. Nothin’ I haven’t seen before. S’alright, it’s okay.”

With advice from Babs, he cooks a lot more iron rich meals for you a lot more during this time. Usually, it’s been a team effort. You cook, he cleans up, you wash dishes together. Vice versa.

This week, regardless if you suffer from irregular periods, he does it all. He’ll do it even if he was a walking zombie, he doesn’t care.

Jason will not, no matter what you say, let you lift a finger if he knows you’re in pain. He’s an expert of masking his own, he can tell when you do it.

This even goes if you’re not used to being babied, get used to it. You tend to him for weeks at a time in a single month alone, this is his way of saying thank you for it all.

“Bed.” Jason demands, not even having to turn around from his attention on the stove to hear your shuffling to the kitchen.

“But I’m—“

“I brought you a drink,” he replies. A cup of warm raspberry leaf tea sitting on your bedside.

“No, I mean—“

“I know it hurts, but you can’t take anything until after you eat,” Jason peers over his shoulder, seeing his olive green shirt loosely draped over your body. “Go back to bed, Princess.”

“Can I stay here?” You plea, making his shoulders slump with a sigh. Try as he may, your weakened state makes him more pliable to your every request.

Might as well, since you’re already up. Stubborn girl.

“Go sit on the couch,” he sighs, knowing a few comforters were folded up on the cushions. “Get comfortable, an’ stay there. Dinner’s almost done.”

Jason has pills, plenty of them. From plain Tylenol, ibuprofen, to doctor prescribed muscle relaxers, morphine, etc. All thanks to Alfred.

Broken bones or severe, suture required injuries would be the only times Jason felt complied to take them. He knew addiction, watching it first hand and being involved in it at one point himself. He only took them when he absolutely, positively needed it.

For you, if you needed something stronger, he’d give you half of one pill, or a full, single pill at most. No way would you ever fall victim to such a cruel, toxic routine. He’d keep them locked up, for both your safety and his.

After your said hearty, iron rich meal, you remained on the couch snuggled up together like true lovers.

His guilty pleasure during your period of vulnerability was how much you relied on him for comfort. Positions varied, but his most favorite would be your body laying in his lap as he lounged on his reading recliner.

A gray comforter over your shoulders, some fuzzy socks on your feet. The furnace you called your boyfriend leaving you nice and toasty, his hands settling along your hair and back, preparing to soothe and massage when needed.

He adored when you needed him, he loved catering to you. You were his woman, his little nurse turned patient.

This also sort of gave him an excuse to skip out on patrols, but he never voiced the reasons why he’s gotten calls about it. He just didn’t feel like it, refusing the idea of abandoning you late at night, leaving him tense and unfocused on his routine on if you needed something, and he wasn’t there.

The others, with their detective mindsets could figure it out for themselves as to why Jason didn’t show up on a Saturday night. Or a Sunday, and definitely not a Monday.

He had important priorities, after all.

Just him, you; snuggly comfortable and content, and your herbal scented, menstruation crustacean.

#jason todd x y/n #Jason Todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd dc

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florencemtrash · 5 months

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter One

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Mentions of death and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Layers of gosammer fabric rippled with movement as you smoothed the bodice of your dress. Warm sunlight flooded through the stained glass windows, getting trapped in the sheer material until you glowed shades of yellow and blue. You tugged the sleeves over your hands and took a deep breath.

It was a great honor to be invited to the Sun Palace, and for the Summer Solstice no less. The other Librarians of the 12th sector athenaeum - lovingly nicknamed The Alcove - had been absolutely astounded when the letter came addressed to you, hand delivered by pegasus. It was an honor. It was a great honor. You knew this. But your heart buzzed uncomfortably within your ribs like a bird desperate to take to the skies.

“Do I really frighten you that much?”

You swiveled your head to the side, finally acknowledging your High Lord after minutes of silence. Helion shot you a smile full of light and warmth. Light and warmth. Everything about Helion screamed it - from the sunburst crown on his head to the glow of his brown skin. He may as well have been carved from burnt amber. Helion’s very presence was enough to melt the hearts and open the legs of any fae - male or female. Even now you saw some of the female courtiers shooting you envious looks full of heat and longing. It made you cringe uncomfortably.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the pearls woven into your hair settle at the base of your neck.

“No.” You said quickly, “I apologize, High Lord. It’s not you. I just… haven’t been around this many people before.”

“You take after your mother,” Helion said, that bright smile slipping into something fonder, more full of regret, “She was never one for parties either.”

You’d taken after your mother in just about everything - your eyes, your hair, the way you walked, even the way you took your coffee. Maybe if your mother had allowed you to be around Helion earlier on you would have learned his charm, absorbed his charisma like a sponge. As it was, the only thing you’d inherited from Helion was a stubborn power you couldn’t control.

You clasped your hands together behind your back, as if that would be enough to hide your talent. With the ability to absorb knowledge and memories through touch, Clairvoyants were incredibly rare and highly sought after in the Day Court. Helion had worked hard to conceal your power and your identity, so when you’d been given first pick of athenaeums following your apprenticeship, it was to no one’s surprise you’d chosen the one furthest from the city.

The Alcove. Your home. How you wished you were there now, nestled away in your attic apartment above the library. Comfortable. Alone.

Helion’s gaze softened as he regarded you. He shouldn’t have been as much of a stranger to you as he was. But he was no stranger to your work - always methodical, always precise, always handled with the same degree of love and attention that fae showed their children. You’d nearly died protecting The Alcove when Amarantha ransacked the Day Court libraries, smuggled books and knowledge across court lines during her reign.

Perhaps you had inherited some bold streak from Helion after all.

“How many times have I told you to call me Helion?”

“Six.” You said without hesitation.

“Of course you would remember such a thing,” He said, clicking his tongue, “Would you take a turn around the room with me?” He asked, extending a poor man’s olive branch, “I have guests I would like to introduce you to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You’d planned to remain glued to this pillar until nightfall, half hidden by the quartet that was beginning to rush the tune in time to the next song. The spirited piece was coming just in time for champagne drunk party goers to make their way to the dance floor.

You sighed, “Must I?” The performance of it all - the dress, the hair, the party, the pearls - was more than you were used to, something orchestrated by Helion to finally get you to leave The Alcove. He would have dragged you to more parties if you weren’t so stubborn about ignoring non-business related correspondences. Hence the pegasus.

“Your High Lord commands it.” Helion said smugly and moved his arm out to the side, gesturing for you to leave your little bubble of safety. “And you may very well come to thank me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine.” You waited a moment before saying, “Helion.” The casual name felt unfamiliar on my tongue.

He clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of one of the sons of Autumn. He shook his head of flames and scowled into his whiskey, handsome features twisting into something uglier.

“Finally!” Helion’s voice boomed, “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

You chased after his long strides, hoping to stay within the radius of space fae gave to a High Lord. And it worked. For some time. You bounced between various pockets of fae, dodging servers with platters of cheeses, wine, pastries, and more balanced on shoulders. Helion’s deep voice reverberated off the walls as he laughed and clapped people on their shoulders, whispered in their ears, and threw casual, flirtatious winks. He shielded you from the vipers and introduced you to his friends as a talented researcher instead of his bastard daughter. But despite your best efforts, someone still touched you, and your power reared its ugly head.

It happened when one of the Summer Court delegates, drunk and giggling, crashed into a female in a flurry of teal silk, who - like a domino - fell onto you. You landed on your knees, palms stinging from broken glass as flashes of memory and knowledge raced through your mind.

A diagram of the Day Court cities taken in secret from the 29th sector cartography athenaeum. A page ripped from one of Helion’s private collection tomes. A sketch of a still, black lake, and the being of death and destruction that resided there.

Koschei.

The name spilled onto your mind like ink in water, followed by horrible memories of slaughter and violence. Enough blood to turn the lake red.

The flood of information dulled and the female became nothing more than a willowy tower of tulle with ivory hair retreating into the crowds.

You gasped for breath, limbs shaking.

The air. It was too thin here. Too suffocating.

Koschei

“Are you alright?” A male asked. His deep, careful voice felt like the calm before a hurricane.

You jerked back from the scarred hands that reached for you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scrambled to your feet. A horrible rip sounded through the now quiet ballroom as you tripped on your dress and tore the bottom layers. And if it couldn’t become more embarrassing, when you stood up you came face to face with none other than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

Devastatingly beautiful - were the first thoughts that came to mind. So beautiful in fact that he shook you from your visions and the horrible power attached to the lake. The edges of him flickered in and out of existence, clouded by shadows that fluttered about like smoke above a flame. You flinched when they came closer to you before being wrenched back on some invisible leash. He was as gorgeous as the rumors claimed, every inch of him seemingly carved out of black obsidion.

The flash of shame that crossed his hazel eyes quickly faded into nothing and he clasped his hands behind his back, cursing Cassian for convincing him to go without gloves tonight.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Helion neared closer to you, pointing to your bloody hands. But the pain was nothing. You thought your heart might burst in your chest from the nerves. The more you thought about your splattered remains on the crisp marble tiles, the worse you felt.

The other members of the Night Court looked on with concern. You recognized the other Illyrian warrior - The Lord of Bloodshed he was called. His wings were partially extended, shielding you from the worst of the crowd. And the High Lord and High Lady needed no introduction, decked out in their slim-cut robes and dress. The silvery embroidery reminded you of the stars in the night sky you gazed at when you couldn’t fall asleep and the rest of the Day Court denizens had long since snuffed out their lights. There was a dangerous beauty that wrapped around the group as tightly as the Spymaster’s shadows clung to his body. And you’d just embarrassed the High Lord of the Day Court - your father - in front of them.

Azriel stepped back, reigning in his shadows despite their many desperate protests, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to-”

But you ignored his words, gathered up your skirts, and ran towards the palace gardens, leaving nothing behind but a thin trail of blood and silk, the scent of vanilla, and a brooding, heart-broken Shadowsinger.

Heavy air mingled with copious amounts of perfume, gave way to crisp clarity. The sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon, like two lovers whispering in each other’s ears as you sprinted down the stairs past two drunk Peregryn soldiers half-hidden behind a rosebush. Their tawny feathers dipped in and out from behind the leaves like ocean waves.

A child’s doll half-buried in ash. The ring of electricity in the air and the metallic, buzzing stench of blood and rot in your nose. Suffocating. Suffocating.

It was terrible. Worse than any memory you’d slipped into before.

“Y/n!”

Koschei.

Everyone had experienced horror under Amarantha’s rule and during the war against Hybern. You’d been subjected to it too many times to count. Every brush of skin, every well-meaning touch from someone else had been a cruelty.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake?

So why did this knowledge feel so different?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

“Y/n! Stop!” Hellion’s robes billowed out behind him like sun rays, dazzling brighter than gold.

What’s buried beneath the lake?

You didn’t realize you were murmuring the words until Helion gripped you by the shoulders and spun you around. You were brought back by more comforting knowledge - Helion’s memories. Memories of you as a babe, chubby legs wobbling beneath you as you took your first steps into your mother’s waiting arms. A flood of pride entering his chest that felt more like sadness than anything else.

“Y/n!” He shook you again.

He has a room made up for you in the Sun Palace. He hides all the birthday gifts there that he planned to give to you, but never did. You are one of his greatest regrets.

You blinked rapidly, clearing out your thoughts and shoving the High Lord back with all your might. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need two hundred years of fatherly guilt to catch up to you. To the both of you. Not tonight. Not ever.

Without another word you winnowed away.

__________

“I’m sorry about that,” Helion said, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his hands together.

He was grateful the party had returned to its previous rhythms in his absence, but Rhysand took note of the discomfort ladeled upon his shoulders, the hints of regret in his eyes. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with.

The sun continued to slip behind the peaks of the mountains, changing the temperature of the room as the ivory and gold-plated walls began to take on a warmer shade.

“Y/n is not used to such spaces.” He explained, “I should have done more to prepare her for tonight.”

Rhysand waved off the apology. “There’s no need for apologies, Helion.”

“I do hope she’s ok.” Feyre said. With a snap of Helion’s fingers the blood had been wiped from the floor along with the spilled wine and broken glass. “Her hands-”

Azriel stiffened, his arms suddenly hidden from view by the shadows that wound up his arms. Feyre quickly changed the topic. “This Y/n, is she the Librarian you’ve told us so much about?”

Helion’s smile was a prideful one, “The one and only.” He lowered his voice, careful to shield his words from any curious ears with a faint blanket of magic, “I would love to claim the credit for helping with your last pregnancy, but in truth it was all Y/n.”

Feyre blinked in surprise. Her second pregnancy - although much better than the first - had still been a struggle. Rhysand had reached out to Helion in desperation, hoping once again for a safer method of birthing their winged-daughter. After spending months on end combing through the deepest depths of the oldest Day Court libraries, she’d delivered to them a text on cesarean sections. The tradition was a human one, and had been considered too primitive for fae, but with Feyre’s success Madja was reevaluating its usefulness. The High Lord and High Lady had much to thank you for when it came to little Velaria.

Cassian raised his brows and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that teased his lips. For such a timid bookworm you’d saved them a great deal of trouble. All at once that sense of pride for a female he didn’t even know fell away. You’d looked at him with such… fear. Flinched away from his touch like you knew exactly the kind of monster he was when all he’d wanted to do was help you.

“We’ll have to thank her personally then.” Rhysand said.

He raised Feyre’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm and looking at her like the love-sick male that he was. He still had nightmares about Nyx’s birth - how pale Feyre had become, the stench of blood in the air, and Nyx’s tiny, motionless body. He was ready to offer you a mountain of gold for preventing such a thing from happening again.

Azriel lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by the look that passed between the two mates. It felt like an intrusion to be standing in front of them. It was hard to see his brother and Feyre so openly affectionate with one another and not feel slivers of envy enter his heart. Cassian would have similarly been glued to Nesta’s side if she’d accepted the invitation, and although Mor was reluctant to venture out into the public world of courtiers with Emerie, she would have made it clear that she was taken. It meant that Azriel was often left to stand alone at events like this, gracefully rejecting the advances of males and females who hoped to lure the mysterious Shadowsinger into their beds. He’d been close to joining you in your solitude when Helion had charmed and whisked you away.

Azriel shifted his attention to the quartet, specifically to the little alcove to the left of the stage where he’d first noticed you. You’d stood there so quiet and observant, politely declining any male who offered you food or drinks or a dance. And there was no confusion as to why. You’d looked breathtaking in a pearly gown that clung to you like wisps of fog over the Illyrian mountaintops.

“After the party I’ll take you to her apartment. Allow you all to properly introduce yourselves.” Helion said in a burst of brilliance.

Cassian prodded Azriel’s ribs, a knowing look in his eyes as he watched the now visibly uncomfortable Shadowsinger.

But if Helion noticed, he didn’t care. If there was any collection of fae with the power to break you out of your shell, it was them.

“But until then! We dance! Come now Cassian, dance with me.”

Cassian snorted as Helion clasped a muscular arm around his shoulders and heaved him over to the dance floor where fae were already congregated in a tangle of limbs and wine. Feyre and Rhysand joined soon after, the High Lady throwing back an apologetic smile as she joined the crowd with her mate and Azriel was left to stand alone once again.

Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

I have too many thoughts and ideas and got sucked into writing this one. Also, I wanted a nice Azriel fic to follow up Flame, Shadow, Beast so... enjoy!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x day court reader #azriel x day court librarian #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #the day court #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver

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avatar-anna · 7 months

Text

It's Hard When We Argue

You quietly walked downstairs into the kitchen, a fuzzy blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You felt hungover, like your entire body had been put through the ringer even though you hadn't had a sip of alcohol last night. For a moment, your chest tightened with anticipation, not sure if you were dreading or hoping Harry would be in the kitchen. He wasn't, but from the kitchen window, you could see the back of his head as he sat on the back porch.

Your mind returned to last night briefly, all the harsh words you shouted at each other and the tears that were shed. You'd never felt so angry and frustrated and hurt in your life, at least not with Harry. He was the one person you could always feel safe and comfortable with. You knew couples fought, you knew that disagreements happened, but that wasn't you and Harry. Maybe you were naive enough to think that you and Harry were so in sync that you would never argue, or at least have a huge blowout argument like the one you had last night, but it had been so smooth sailing since you got together.

Before you went outside, you fixed up two cups of coffee, making sure one of them was the way Harry liked it. You took both of them outside, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Harry didn't even look up when the glass door opened and closed. He's still mad, you thought. He's so angry he won't even look at me.

"Coffee?" you asked, voice scratchy and raw.

"Mm. Sure, thanks."

Tears welled in your eyes. Here you were, trying to extend an olive branch and talk about your fight last night, and he wouldn't even look at you. Harry stayed sitting on the porch swing, one hand covering his mouth as he looked out at the yard in front of him. Just days ago, you were daydreaming about playing with future kids in that same backyard, and now...Now you didn't know what the future held.

"I think we should talk—"

"Y/n, I really don't think that I can right now," Harry said, running a tired hand over his face. He had bags under his eyes, and his facial hair was more grown out and unkempt than usual. He looked exhausted. And upset. And you didn't know what to do to bridge the yawning gap between you.

"O—Okay," you said, trying to hide the fact that you were on the verge of tears. "Are you—"

"I'm gonna go for a run," he said quickly, pushing off on his knees and standing up.

Harry turned and saw you standing with the two cups of coffee in your hands, one of which he had still yet to take. His face softened a fraction then, his hand reaching out like he wanted to rest it on your shoulder, but he stopped halfway before walking around you and heading out. You flinched when the door slammed shut, tears finally leaking out of your eyes.

Everything was so messed up. You hated this icy tension that was growing between you and Harry, and you worried you wouldn't be able to fix things. Harry was the stubborn type, he always had been, but you'd never seen him be so cold toward you. It killed you.

With Harry out of the house, all you were able to do was think about the argument.

It started out so small, so inconsequential that you almost couldn't understand how you ended up here in the first place.

Harry had been coming home late recently, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but now that he was back from tour, you thought you would get to spend your nights together. But he kept coming home late, and you were never much of a night owl, so it just felt like he was doing it on purpose. You missed him, that was all. All you wanted was to spend time with your boyfriend. To talk about your day and ask him about his and cuddle up together in bed.

"Are you avoiding me?" you asked when he came home late again. Perhaps it wasn't the best way to broach the subject, but you made a mistake by scrolling on Twitter where rumors always ran rampant, so you were a little more upset than normal.

Harry obviously didn't respond well to the harsh accusations you were throwing at him, despising how you jumped to the absolute worst conclusions. He accused you of not trusting him even though you did, but he wouldn't listen, and you couldn't find a way to say you just wanted him around more, not when anger had sunk so deep in the heat of the argument. The argument devolved from there until you went to your separate corners—you to the bedroom and Harry downstairs, presumably on the couch. There were so many cruel accusations thrown around, and so many more things left unsaid, but maybe last night had gone too far. Maybe this was it, and Harry was avoiding the most difficult conversation of all—the breakup conversation.

So you did what you should've done last night. You were going to avoid it altogether.

You anxiously cleaned up around the house for a while, scrubbing down countertops and vacuuming floors and folded laundry, tears occasionally leaking out of your eyes the longer Harry stayed out. You knew he could run for ages, especially when he was in a mood, but you couldn't sit around and wait for him to come back and tell you he wanted to take a break or break up or pick up right where you left off the night before.

Quickly and with shaking hands, you went upstairs and began to pack, tossing things in your overnight bag haphazardly. Some of it could've been yours, and some of it might've been Harry's, you weren't really paying attention, you just needed to get out for a while. If Harry could run, so could you.

Your last step was slipping into your shoes, which you kept by the front door. You were balancing on one foot trying to get your shoe on when the front door opened. Harry breezed in, running shorts high up on his thighs and baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, which were covered by sunglasses. He was so focused on whatever was playing in his airpods that he nearly bumped into you.

"Sorry, I wasn't—Where are you going?" Harry asked, eyeing the bag at your feet.

"I think I'm gonna stay at my mom's for a few days," you said, picking the bag up and hiking it over your shoulder.

"What—Why?"

He looked frantic as he took a step toward you, but you took one back. "It's clear to me that you need space, so I'm just going to step back and let you—"

"See, you're doing it again. You're assuming," Harry said, taking his hat off to run his hand through his hair. "Y/n, if we are going to be in a relationship together, I need you to talk to me, not just assume what I'm thinking."

"I—I'm sorry," you said, realizing he was right. Your assumptions were what got you into this mess. It was so easy for you to get lost in your own head sometimes. "I said things that I shouldn't have last night, and this morning you couldn't even look at me, and I—"

"Y/n," Harry said, effectively cutting you off. He took his sunglasses off, and you got a good look at his eyes for the first time since last night. They were red and watery, like he'd spent his entire run crying. Seeing him so upset made your heart squeeze with guilt. You didn't mean for all of this to happen, but you didn't know how to find your way out of it, either. "I hate that we fought last night. You're not the only one who said shitty things. I—I feel awful. I couldn't stand to see you so upset but I was still a little frustrated from last night and I didn't want the first thing I said to you this morning be something that would lead to another argument. I'm sorry that you thought I wanted you to leave. I don't."

"You promise?"

Harry stepped toward you again and this time you didn't step back, letting him take your face in his hands. "I know I got defensive and things got out of hand, but I heard you, and you were right. Not about the avoiding you part, but I...have been absent, and I'm sorry for that too. I just...you know I hate the cheating accusations. I would never cheat on you, Y/n. Ever."

You nodded, knowing he was right. Accusing Harry of cheating was a low blow, one you resorted to so he would hurt the way you did. He'd called you insecure and needy and that you weren't his mother and didn't need to report to you about his whereabouts all the time. It made your blood boil, seeing as all you wanted was to spend quality time with your boyfriend after so much time apart. So you went for the jugular. You hated yourself for using an insecurity he confided in you about against him, hated that it had its desired effect.

Nodding, you said, "B—But why have you been gone so much?" you asked. "I thought after the tour was over you would...be around more."

Harry took you by the hand and led you away from the door, taking your bag from you and tossing it away unceremoniously and muttering about you leaving being ridiculous. It made you giggle, which felt good after a night of feeling absolutely awful. You thought he was going to lead you to the couch, but he brought you over to the kitchen instead, taking you by surprise when he hoisted you up on the counter.

"I haven't cheated on you, I swear," Harry repeated. "I've been—I can't tell you what I've been doing, but I need you to trust that it's all been for a good reason. Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me, my love?"

You shook your head. Now you were dying to know what he was up to all the nights he stayed out late, but despite the argument last night, you trusted Harry.

"I don't like it when we fight," you said softly, playing with the pearl ring on his finger. "Can we agree to never do that again?"

Harry grinned before leaning forward to kiss you. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck to hold him close. When he pulled back, he kissed the top of your head, then your cheek.

"I can't promise we'll never fight again, but I promise to fight and make up with you for the rest of my life. How's that sound?"

Your ears perked up, your thumb rubbing over his cheek. Both of you looked like wrecks, but you didn't want to run from him, and he wasn't running away from you, either. It was a bad night. Maybe there would be more, but Harry was right. If you had to argue every once in a while with someone, it might as well be him.

"You don't really think I'm needy, do you?" you asked. It was the last wrinkle you needed to smoothe over before everything was set to rights.

Harry shook his head, picking you up off the counter and heading for the stairs. "If anyone's needy in this relationship, it's me."

"I think it's safe to say we're both pretty dependent," you mused, enjoying being so close to him after a night apart. He was a little sweaty from his run, but you didn't mind. You just wanted to feel his body against yours.

He set you down in the master bathroom connected to your shared bedroom, turning the water on in the shower while you quickly got undressed and helped him out of his clothes. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as your fingers traced the hard planes of his stomach, admiring all the curves and ridges and smiling when goosebumps appeared under his skin.

Harry leaned down to kiss you, but you stopped him just before he could, placing your fingers over his lips. "I know you said it was for a good reason, and I believe you, but you—are you able to come home earlier? At least just a few days out of the week? I—I miss falling asleep next to you."

"Of course," he said. A look flashed across his face that you couldn't read, but it was gone before you could make sense of it, replaced by a cheeky grin as he pulled you into the shower with him.Trust me, by the time the day is over, you're gonna be sick of me."

Giddiness spread through your whole body, replacing every horrible and awful feeling that had lingered from the night before. With one hand on his chest, you pushed Harry up against the cool tile wall of the shower, reaching up on your toes to kiss him hard. The water made your bodies slippery, and the steam made you both a little breathless, but you didn't care, you just wanted to feel him, breathe him in deep, never let him go.

This secret Harry was keeping from you would most likely gnaw at the back of your mind until he eventually told you, but you would do your best to respect his wishes, to trust him like you said you did. Right now, you were content with the fact that despite the fight, he heard you, and you understood his side. That seemed like a good enough conclusion for you.

And maybe a little arguing wasn't so bad if each one ended just like this.

#harry styles #boyfriendrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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olivinecabocone14 · 2 years

Text

Zeus: well personally, I do not feel a need to be right most of the time

Also Zeus: *turns a debate of differing theories into a sort of competition because he wants to feel like he knows something*

#zeus the rebel #zeus the olivine #rp account #ask #roleplay #stubborn olive #zeus shtpost

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qingxin-dream · 8 months

Note

Scara relaxing on the couch with you<3 if u do NSFW having him cockwarm you so he can relax

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐈𝐭 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬”

summary | today was one of those days where nothing could go right. well, maybe, it’s been like that for awhile. and you know damn well that your loving husband was not about to watch you fall into despair. (art credits: unknown)

warnings | not proofread, reader has a mental breakdown, comfort, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], female-bodied reader, cockwarming, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, slightly possessive/dominant, marking, breeding kink, creampie

genre | modern au, comfort, smut

word count | 3k

pairing | husband! scaramouche x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The sky had been overcast all day, only putting a damper on your mood. Work has somehow become extra stressful lately with more and more responsibilities piling up. You felt the crushing weight on your shoulders with each passing hour and you couldn’t wait for the clock to hit 5pm.

The last place you wanted to be was at work, away from home, and without your husband, Scaramouche. Even then, your relationship was getting to a point where it was nothing more than bitter roommates. He had missions to complete while you were obligated to work every day. Someone had to be the breadwinner, after all.

Sweet freedom washes over your exhausted body when it’s finally time to go home. You rush outside only to find that the clouds had turned a nasty gray color and wet droplets of rain dotted your suit jacket.

Great, you forgot an umbrella.

The rain was really picking up now, your clothes soaked and your hair flattening into drenched clumps. Running through the downpour, you had to make it another block to your car until you got stopped at an intersection—narrowly avoiding the wave of water a speeding car almost splashed onto you.

Once you practically leaped into your car for safety, the sense of stillness that suddenly permeated the air brought you back down to earth. You were more than overworked. You were burned out, with hot tears freely streaming down your face in a choked sob. Gripping the steering wheel, you slumped your forehead onto your knuckles, shoulders shaking as you cried out all the pressure you had bottled up inside. The rain beat against the windshield, drowning out your agony.

Once you managed to compose yourself with a few sad sniffles here and there, you turned the key in the ignition. Tonight you decided to forget about everything. No stress. No work. Not even a single load of laundry. You couldn’t muster the strength for anything other than some sort of self-care or self-indulgence.

When you walked through the door with an expression bordering on despair, Scaramouche knew you had a rough day. He frowned to himself. Frankly, the distance between you two was a sore spot for him as of late and he was expecting you to lock yourself in the bedroom.

At first, he had been stubborn about the tangible separation pushing you further and further away from him. Foolishly, Scaramouche had tried to drown himself in his busy work and missions, simply trying to ignore it. But after a while, he realized that this damned feeling of alienation and being constantly on edge like some old married couple was ridiculous.

That’s not who he married or the life he signed up for, and Scaramouche found himself determined to finally act like you both loved each other for once.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you from the couch. Looking down at his casual sweatpants and shirt, you wished you could’ve stripped down and lazed around on the couch this afternoon. Sleep was something you desperately needed. He offers a small olive branch with his softened tone of voice. “Why don’t you get changed and come sit with me? I missed you.”

You drew in a hesitant breath. Perhaps it was your way of attempting to decompress before answering your husband or you were unsure of his intentions. The couch was definitely calling to you, and the prospect of your lover’s comforting arms enveloping you was even more tempting. In a haste, you kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag, nodding with a bit of a pitiful pout on your lips as you went into the bedroom.

Scaramouche perked up slightly upon hearing your return, making room for you on the couch so that he could spoon you just right. As you sat down, his hand immediately went to your hip and he found himself gravitating toward the comforting crevice of your neck. Your skin was colder than he expected from the rain but he was more than willing to share his warmth with you, his fingers venturing up the contour of your waist under your baggy shirt.

“There’s goosebumps on your skin,” he noted with an obvious smile in his voice. “Why don’t you take this off and let me warm you up, hm?”

You gaze at him over your shoulder, catching the subtle seductive intonation of his offer. Despite his pads of his fingers gently caressing and massaging your hip in encouragement, you weren’t entirely sure if you had it in you for too much physical affection. Most of all, you just felt tired.

Yet, Scaramouche always got his way. Maybe it was how the words rolled off his tongue that sparked your imagination in the back of your mind, or that mischievous gleam of excitement in his violet eyes. He had no problem catering to your needs, helping you slowly lift that baggy shirt over your shoulders and tossing it aside. He quickly did the same.

Suddenly, he ensnared you in his arms, burying his nose in your neck and sighing. The feeling of your back pressed against his bare, muscular chest was like a balm soothing his soul. You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, surprised by his enthusiasm, and pull a heavy blanket over you both.

“Better get rid of these too,” Scaramouche suggested softly into the shell of your ear, tugging at the elastic waistband of your shorts. He generously nuzzled your neck, peppering a few kisses across your sensitive skin to distract you as he easily slipped you out of your bottoms.

Your whimpers were buried in your throat. You purposely tried to stifle it, but the little shiver of your neck and body against his ministrations couldn’t hide your true feelings forever. The slow drag of his hand up your plush thighs, over the round of your hip, and dangerously close to your breasts was merely a confirmation of your suspicions.

“Scara… please,” you murmur, sounding more like a faint plea for peace and relaxation. “My feet hurt so much. I don’t think I can move anymore, let alone do—”

“Shhh, love, you really think I’m going to make you do anything?” he asks rhetorically, the timbre of his sweet words deepening to a level bordering on husky. His hand travels back down the curves of your body with silent reverence, hoping to ease your worries. “I don’t think you realize how hard you’ve been working until it breaks you.”

With a click of his tongue, your husband continues to let his hand journey over every inch of your lovely form. Your breasts, your stomach, your pelvis, hips, thighs… If he was being honest, Scaramouche would never have thought he’d discover someone as perfectly imperfect as you. To not remind you of how much he secretly worships your whole being would be a grave sin in his eyes.

“I feel like I never see you anymore. We never talk anymore,” he mumbles into your shoulder blade, taking his time to kiss and nibble as much of your upper back as he could. You involuntarily arched your back, the sensation of his mouth along your spine sending pulses of electric desire through you. His voice shifts into a possessive growl. “And I miss my wife.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you weep dryly, rolling your head back to relax on him fully. Your thoughts instantly short-circuited at the revelation of his thick bulge pressing into the plush of your ass, tactically held in place by his fingertips digging into your love handle. You were so ready to just melt into him completely, to give in and let him take care of you.

“Don’t ask for my forgiveness,” he quickly interjected to correct you. You could feel the smirk spreading on his face as he leans into you as much as possible. The back of his hand ghosts your inner thigh, nudging it to the side. “Show me how much you want my mercy.”

You were hanging on every syllable that left his lips in a hushed whisper. A featherlight touch grazed near your outer labia, enough to capture your attention like a moth to a flame. That was all it took for him to push your mind over the edge. It was pathetic, really, how you were desperately trying to mentally fill in the blanks and imagine the pleasure of his slender fingers massaging your needy clit.

Scaramouche knew exactly what he was doing. He loved getting a rise out of you. Admiring the subtle contortion of your features in pleasure may be his favorite pastime. Tickling the insides of your thighs and skirting skillfully around the one place you wanted him most, he scoffed in amusement every time you sighed softly in frustration.

“I thought you were going to be nice,” you groaned impatiently, beginning to lazily roll your hips in rhythm with the intermittent brush of his fingers just shy of your cunt.

“I am,” he snickered into your collarbone, his hot breath pouring down your chest and thrilling your skin. “You can’t lie to me. I know you like when I tease you until you’re begging for me to stuff you to the brim.”

Taking your lower lip between your teeth, you managed to defiantly buck your hips forward and finally feel the tantalizing glide of his index and middle fingers between your slick folds. The sweet victory ripped a lewd moan of your lover’s name from your pretty throat. To say you were utterly addicted to the sound of him parting the lips of your glistening pussy might be an understatement.

“Tsk, tsk, good things come to those who wait. Isn’t that what you humans say?” Scaramouche mocks you lightheartedly, though his fingers don’t leave your clit. Rather, he circles the sensitive nub at a tantalizingly slow pace to earn another cock-twitching moan from your angelic mouth. “I could touch you like this all night… unless you’d rather serve your punishment on my cock instead?”

You were too preoccupied with the intoxicating pleasure concentrated on your aching clit, eyelashes resting on your cheeks and jaw slightly agape. Scaramouche chuckled deeply into your ear with satisfaction, returning his lips to your neck but this time with a little more force. His teeth sunk into you, intent on leaving a good bruise.

It would be a clear reminder in the morning of who you belong to.

He sucked a little harder, causing you to yelp in a mixture of both pain and pleasure. His words were muffled against your skin with a gentle scolding. “I asked you a question.”

“C-cock, please,” you nearly choke, starting to grind sloppily onto his hand for some sense of relief. His other arm underneath you tightened, essentially pinning you to the heat radiating from his body from behind.

“Whose cock?” Scaramouche grumbled jealously at your vague plea. He needed to know that you didn’t just want anyone’s cock to fill up your drenched, gummy hole. The intensity of his violet irises demanded an answer, glued to your blissed out and desperate expression. His fingers were hastily stimulating your clit as he intently watched you parse love and lust on the brink of an orgasm.

“Y-your cock! Please! I need it so bad,” you cried out loudly, the threat of tears lingering behind your eyes. He abruptly slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans, and then shoved his hot, veiny cock pulsating with desire across your soaking wet entrance.

Scaramouche couldn’t stop the salacious groans under his breath, wanting you to hear all the ways you make him unravel. He was eager to drag the mushroomed, pink tip of his cock over your clit over and over, occasionally teasing your hole with the pressure of his length trying to nestle itself within you. But he never pushed it all in. Instead, he continued to gather your essence on his cock—the mere thought of cumming in your rosy folds like this and fucking it messily drove him wild.

“Don’t tell me… hnnnghh… that this is all you want, (Y/N),” he grunted with honeyed pleasure, grinding at a little faster rhythm. You were already nearing your climax again, whispering prayers and praises under your breath for Scaramouche to plunge into you and fuck you senseless.

His hand was still tightly covering your mouth, so you simply shake your head and moan breathily to ask for more.

“Mm, good girl,” he mumbles intimately, kissing your ear and nuzzling you affectionately again. “I know my baby is tired and needy, so I’ll let you be my little cocksleeve tonight, okay?”

You nod and hum against his hand enthusiastically.

He takes the opportunity to shower you with a few more kisses, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance once more. Your walls were already squeezing eagerly on the small inch of his tip inside you and he didn’t dare delay any longer. Scaramouche grabs you by the hip and buries the entirety of his thick cock in your slick tightness, his eyebrows crinkling at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him like a vice.

“F-fuck!” Scaramouche curses sharply, bottoming out completely in your aroused cunt. “So good. S-so fucking good, yeah…”

“A-ah, yes! Mm…” you sighed raggedly with ecstasy, pure pleasure and relief washing over you. His huge cock was stretching you perfectly, the lips of your pussy sucking him in at every possible chance. Despite your exhaustion, your husband had wound you up so much that you begged for tiniest semblance of a thrust into your sopping hole. “Oh my god, p-please, fuck me.”

Without warning, you decided to selfishly fuck yourself on his throbbing cock, but Scaramouche instantly snatched your throat. He held you tightly against his pecs and craned your neck with a forceful grip so that you were facing the ceiling, your oxygen partially cut off. The submissive position had your spongy walls dilating in excitement.

“No, no, wait,” he chastised you, his voice cracking slightly at the end as he struggled to adjust to your greedy cunt. “N-Need I remind you, love? Good things come to those who wait; and if you’re lucky, I’ll cum in you.”

He couldn’t believe your pussy was still quaking around his girth, releasing your neck as you nodded obediently. Once he pulled you into him tightly with his strong arms around your stomach, Scaramouche nudged your legs closed so that you could completely envelope his cock. It was incredibly hot every time he shifted to get more comfortable and your walls only swallowed him further. His breathing calmed slightly, wanting to relax with you for the rest of the night deep within your cunt.

“I-It feels too good, Scara,” you whined, cuddling into the pillow on the couch and clutching the warm blanket to your chest.

For the love of Celestia, your body was so exhausted from work but at the same time you wished you had the strength to fuck him like crazy. You made a mental note to wake him up tomorrow morning with the feeling of your folds lubricating his hardened cock, sinking completely onto his impressive length when his pretty indigo eyes sleepily opened for the first time. You’d make sure to hush him and keep his sleeping mask on snugly, fucking him to your heart’s content.

But for now, your husband returned to worshipping the expanse of your soft curves, coaxing you to relax despite the occasional twitch of his cock inside you. Scaramouche’s voice was smooth as silk when he whispered into the crook of your neck, “See? That wasn’t so bad now. Why don’t you turn on your show and I’ll keep this pretty pussy of yours company for as long as you need, hm?”

You both melted into each other’s embrace, connected in every way imaginable for the first time in a long time. The sensation of your lover’s cock nestling into your folds slowly nudged your sweet spot, drawing breathy moans out of you. He thrusted slowly but deeply, marveling at the lust clouding your eyes pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Though Scaramouche was enraptured by the heavenly sound of your pussy slurping his cock, the need burning in his core was beginning to overtake him. “Mm, turn around for me, babe.”

He was gentle and attentive to you as he helped you face him, holding you firmly against his chest and quickly ensuring his cock didn’t leave your cunt for too long. As he stuffed you full, his mouth captured yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers dug into your hair, keeping your lips planted on his as you lazily swirled your tongue on his own and moaned his name.

“Nnghh, can’t take it anymore,” Scaramouche growled hungrily into your mouth, lifting your leg slightly to support you so he could delve his cock deeper. His tone trailed off in a quiet beg, “Lemme breed you, (Y/N). Please…”

“Mhmm,” you agreed without hesitation, cupping your lover’s cheek and kissing him with growing reckless abandon.

He was unequivocally smitten by your ardent claim to his lips, groaning lewdly into the kiss as he began to fuck your desperately pulsating pussy. His grip on you tightened, focusing solely on ravaging your walls until you were on the verge of screaming his praise.

“Hah, that’s it. Goddamn it, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he takes your lower lip between his teeth roughly, plunging ruthlessly and chasing his impending orgasm. “You can take it, you can take it, yeah… you better fucking cum all over me or else, I swear…”

You reeled him in with a firm tug of his dark purple locks, nearly crying in pleasure onto his tongue intermingling with yours. Moaning and whimpering like a whore, you clutched onto your lover like your life depended on it. “O-Oh my god, Scara, shit, I’m cumming! I’m… mmph, f-fucking c-cumming…!”

Scaramouche pounded his cock into your sopping release, a guttural groan escaping him as he generously coated your spasming walls with loads of his hot seed. He kept himself buried in your cum-laden folds, your erotic juices mixing around the base of his cock while he kissed you softly.

“God… you have no idea how much I missed you.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

#thank you for the request anon! :)#i could really use a night like this omg i got a little carried away hehe😩#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fatui #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut

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