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gojonanami · 2 months

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❝ 𝐒𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘, 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 ! ❞

❝ HONESTLY, I CAN'T BELIEVE I GET TO CALL YOU MINE !! ❞

✧ pairing: professor! suguru geto x reader

✧ summary: it's your first valentine's day as a couple with suguru, but he's away for a conference in another city -- and you understand you do, but you can't help but miss him -- so what happens when he ends up surprising you?

✧ warnings: so fluffy!!, suggestive, mentions of nsfw, implications of smut, reader has graduated from her program, set after the events of the main series (including every part), these two idiots are so in love its ridiculous, lingerie mention, wearing his glasses and button down

✧ wc: 1,206

“I’m sorry I have to be away,” you smile at Suguru through the screen, knowing that you’d kiss his furrowed brow away if he was here, before finding his lips with yours. “This conference was last minute, I wish I didn’t have to go, but Yaga left me little choice but to go,”

You shake your head, “We can celebrate when you come back, it’s not a big deal anyway. Just means you have more to make up for on White Day,” you tease, and he laughs, a smile on his lips for the first time the entire call, “don’t worry ok? I’m really not upset,”

“I know, it’s just our first Valentines together and I know you had planned something for us. I really wanted it to be special,” his lips purse, arms crossed as he looks almost utterly hopeless (far too cute) and you can’t help but chuckle, “what?”

“Never thought my hardass professor could be such a romantic,” you smirk, as his cheeks are tinted with a lovely red, “should I be giving you a poor grade for your tardiness?”

He rolls his eyes, as his lips curl again in a smile that can’t seem to escape your presence, “Well, while I’ll definitely be making it up with some extra credit, I’d appreciate my favorite student to cut me a little slack,”

“I recall you cutting me very little slack that first day,”

“On the contrary, I think I was very kind, especially considering you were late to the very first class—“

“And what is this weekend?” You say in mock thought, “our first Valentine’s Day?” He huffs, and you smile in victory, “is this the first headache I’ve given you?”

“Today? Yes,” and you gape at him, and it’s his turn to smirk, “I love you,”

And your gaze grows soft, “I love you too, call me after the conference is done for today?”

“You know I will,” and you both share your goodbyes and you’re left by yourself, as you lay back on your bed, a pout on your lips. Suguru had offered to let you stay at his place, but you know it would have only made you miss him more — being surrounded by his things, his scent, his clothes. You sighed as you buried your face in your pillow, glancing at the picture the two of you had taken in Kyoto at one of the local shrines, almost taunting you.

He’d be back soon enough — right?

Sorry I haven’t been able to call again. It’s been a lot of late nights — too many networking dinners. I’ll call you tonight.

It has been two nights now, and it was Valentine’s Day tomorrow. You had barely gotten a minute to speak to Suguru since your call with him on Friday. You sighed, sending him a picture of you in his button up you stole, along with his spare glasses he had left at your place, can we have a networking meeting? I’ll send an invite to your calendar.

I’ll clear my schedule. You smile.

Another message, as soon as I get back.

You pout, you expected as much — you shouldn’t have dated such an indemand academic. The horrors of academia.

You laid back, forearm over your forehead as you stare back at your blank ceiling. It was fine, you really understood that he was busy, but you just — turning on your side to stare at his smiling face in the framed image on your bedside table before your eyes flutter shut — missed him.

You stir awake to lips pressed at your neck, soft kisses that draw you from the heavy arms of sleep, as your eyes flutter open to see Suguru, at your side.

“Sugu?” And his fingers trace your jaw, as your brow furrows in confusion, “but isn’t it—“

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind him — an arrangement of your favorites, as you blink, brain seemingly struggling to keep up, “you okay?”

Your fingers find his cheek, “is this a dream?” And he chuckles, as he leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your lips, before his fingers lightly pinch your cheek. And you’re sitting up only to jump into his arms, a gasp on his lips, as he chuckles, arms curling around you, raking his fingers through your hair. The bouquet lays forgotten on the side because truly the best gift was in your arms.

“I missed you too,” he chuckles, as you bury your face in his chest, breathing in his scent, as if he’d disappear any second.

You lean back to look up at him, “What are you doing back early?”

“Made a deal with Yaga that I’d go to all the networking events he wanted, if he let me leave last night,” he kisses your forehead, “surprised?”

“I am, the best surprise,” you find his lips in another kiss, “I was fine with you being busy, but I just missed you so much. It reminded me of all the time we had to spend apart — and I just know I can’t spend another minute without you,” you bite your lip, “I was going to wait until the end of the night, but,” you bite your lip, “I know we discussed moving in before — and I think I’m ready to,”

He blinks, before a smile breaks out on his lips, “Are you sure?” And you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, lips sliding against his, as your hands slide back to cup his cheeks.

You part, barely a breath apart, as you press your forehead against his, “Never been more sure of anything in my life — it’s definitely owed to us now, don’t you think?”

He snorts, his eyes shining, as he presses another gentle kiss to your forehead, “Should we start looking for a place now?” And you grin, as you climb into his lap, a tilt of your head.

“Don’t you want your Valentine’s Day gift?” You ghost kisses along his jawline, drawing a gasp from his lips, your hands guiding his own under his shirt you had stolen, “I had worn it last night just to try it on, but now,” you undo a few buttons of his shirt, a hint of red lace peeking through the undone collar.

His clothed cock twitches through his slacks, as his fingers pull yours away, to undo the last remaining buttons to show a red and pink lingerie set — red lace hugged the outline of body with red hearts dotting along the design, sheer blush fabric left barely anything of your breasts and cunt to the imagination — not that he needed to imagine — he had practically memorized every curve and corner of your body.

“Well?” And his fingers pull his shirt off of your body, as he’s gotten you pinned to the bed, as you giggle, lips parted, “I also baked you some sweet treats, baby,”

His lips curl, as he leans down to meet your lips, as his breath warms your lips and his words warm your heart, “There’s only one sweet thing I want, right now.”

The two of you never did get around to looking for a place together — not until the next day.

✧ a/n: this was supposed to come out earlier, but i fell asleep because i slept badly last night and ended up reading a manhwa when i got tired of trying to sleep. wrote this fic listening to laufey's valentine :) i also didn't tag everyone since this was kind of a last minute thing - sorry guys <;3

✧ taglist: @spider-fan72, @grunge-mo0n, @ameri-blog, @kentocalls, @peachyminx, @forest-fruits-jam, @hanxyy, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunflowmaryam, @regrettinglifechoices, @sugurus-fave-monkey, @atomicbxtch, @shinylightsalad

#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto fanfiction #geto suguru fanfiction #geto suguru fluff

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sports-on-sundays · 5 months

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people change / CL16 / Part 1

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen. Link to part 2 / Link to part 3

"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"

"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."

"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.

"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."

You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."

Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"

"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.

He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.

The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."

"What do you say?"

"Please!" he pouts.

You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.

The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.

When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.

You sigh, feeling worried.

Did...

Did Charles do something?

Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.

"Dinnertime, love!"

Silence.

"Love?"

"I'm not hungry!"

You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"

Silence. Again.

You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.

Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?

"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."

The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"

It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.

"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"

"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?

Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."

You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."

"But Daddy told me not to."

You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.

You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"

"Tell Daddy what?"

"What I'm gonna tell you."

You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."

He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."

You try not to tremble.

Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.

Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.

Why can't he just let go?

You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.

Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"

And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.

Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.

And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.

Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.

But in the same way, you don't either.

Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."

There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.

Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."

"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.

"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"

"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"

All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"

"Of course, Y/n. I-"

You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.

But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"

At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.

When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."

"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."

"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.

"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.

"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.

"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.

And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"

There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."

"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.

Years ago.

Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.

You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.

Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.

The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?

Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.

He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.

He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.

He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.

Or so you thought.

You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.

Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'

Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.

When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"

Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"

"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."

"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."

"Charles, do you still love me?"

He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."

"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"

He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"

"What did you just call me?"

He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."

You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"

He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."

You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.

But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...

"I would do anything for this to work."

Another tear falls.

"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."

He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.

"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...

"Y/n, people change."

Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3

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ghouljams · 8 months

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god pls tell me medieval ghost gets readers parents approval or imma throw up in sadness i need them to be happy forever

You take a moment to collect yourself after your disastrous meeting with the duke. Your eyes are hardly watering but Ghost hands you a handkerchief at the slightest sigh, dutiful as always. You often wonder what he thinks of you for being so emotional over these little sorrows. It's hardly worth getting worked up about, a less than ideal man, a practically perfect knight. Yes, hardly worth the sniffles.

"I'm alright," you tell Ghost, glancing up at him. His gaze is fixed on you, watchful as you dab your eyes with his handkerchief, press the soft fabric against your lips and imagine him doing the same, before holding it out to him. He holds a hand up in refusal. You settle it in your lap, fingers playing with the hemmed edges of the fabric, you can't bear to look at him like this. "I should tell my mother that the Duke's fled," you stand, hear the shift in Ghost's armor behind you.

"Pathetic fool," Ghost grumbles.

"Agreed," you hum, swiping your hands over your skirts to be sure they've fallen back into place, "I hope I never marry if that's the sort of men I have to look forward to." Ghost hums, deep and dissatisfied. It's not him you're talking about, you hope he knows that. No, you hope he doesn't know, it's worse if he knows. He mustn't know.

"Queens have ruled before," he says. Ghost follows a step behind you as you exit the sitting room. You're sure your mother is in her quarters, if she hasn't already heard word of your prospective suitors hasty exit.

You spot her in the foyer, your dissatisfied guest walking away from her. You turn on your heel to avoid the shit show and nearly bump into Ghost. His hands grip your shoulders to keep you from bouncing off his armored chest, and you wince a little at the picture you two must make. Your mother's voice calls to you and Ghost spins you to face her. She looks cross.

She motions for you to follow her and the three of you make your way to her drawing room. She holds a hand up to stop Ghost from entering. He gives a short bow and moves to the side to stand with the other guards. So, it's going to be that sort of conversation.

Your mother pulls your aside as the doors close firmly behind you, eyes searching yours. You feel significantly smaller than you are under her gaze. "The Duke left in a hurry," she says plainly, "apparently he was concerned about-" a sigh "-living up to your expectations."

"Should I not expect anything of my future husband?" Sarcasm drips from your voice, you know you're pushing it. The queen's voice seems more steeled when she speaks next, a tone that makes you flinch.

"He had other concerns about you and your knight. Concerns which seem to be shared by many, I'm told." Her voice softens, falls gently into your mother's, not the queen's, questions. "Tell me honestly, have you and him..." she winces, her gaze darts to your skirts. You feel your anger boil at the insinuation, not for yourself but for Ghost.

"No! No, he would never-" You try to swallow the bitterness rising in your throat, the painful truth of your situation, "Ghost would never touch me."

Your mother looks relieved, you wish you could feel the same. "Good," she nods, "good."

"Is that what people are saying? What people think? That he would-" you can't stop the anger that bleeds out of you, the shock on your mother's face as you raise your voice, "Ghost is an honorable man, he has been loyal to me for years. How dare you- How dare anyone even think to imply that he would be such a- a brute! That he would ever do anything to harm me or my reputation as your-" you spit the words at her, "-perfect princess."

"Oh," your mother's face falls, understanding written clear over her features, "oh my sweet child, you love him."

"Of course not," you look away from her, "what would be the point? He wouldn't lay a finger on me even if I did."

"If you said that he-"

You cut her off quickly, quietly, "I won't sully his reputation for my own selfish desires." Your stomach clenches, your throat scratching hot as you swallow down the lump in it. A princess does not let her emotions get the best of her, especially when it comes to trivial ones like love.

Your mother turns your chin with gentle fingers so you're facing her again, and leans forward to bump her forehead against yours. You take a deep shaky breath as her hand cups the back of your neck, warm and comforting in a way she could never be outside of her private rooms. You close your eyes and enjoy it, enjoy the shared space, the joint inhale and exhale. It calms you.

"I'll stop the suitor meetings," she tells you finally. You pull back, shocked.

"That's not-" She raises a hand to stop your refusal.

"There are no suitable candidates currently on the list anyway, it would be a waste of your time to meet them all." She speaks with the conviction of a queen, waving off the roster of well established gentleman with the affection of your mother. You smile, weakly.

"Thank you, I'll- I'll try to quell the rumors in the meantime."

"Why? I see no reason to bother with petty falsehoods, continue as you were." You nod, and your mother cups your face, her eyes sad, almost nostalgic. You wonder what she's thinking, you know better than to ask.

Ghost stiffens when you exit the Queen's rooms, the other guards snapping to attention as well. For all the yelling you'd done, you hardly look upset. Though that was nearly two hours ago. Since then a maid had been in and out with afternoon tea and you'd been much quieter in your conversation.

Honorable you'd said. Honorable. As if the thoughts of you that ran through his head were so... honorable. Though you were right, he wouldn't lay a finger on you. In his dreams he holds you tightly in his arms, spreads you with both hands, caresses you with his mouth. One finger is nothing, he needs all of them. Needs to run his hands over you, hold your face between his palms, feel the give of your soft skin where he touches and God if he didn't need every point of contact he could get. He wants to feel your breath against his lips, taste the last sip of wine on your tongue. He wants to hear you say his name, his real name, with such desperate wanting it would make an angel blush. He wants, and it is not an honorable thing.

An honorable man. How highly you must think of him. If you knew how he thinks of you late into the night you'd shun him in the morning.

"Ghost are you still here?" You ask, peaking your head out of your changing room.

"Always, my lady," he answers on instinct, watching your smile with growing unease. You nod and brush off your maid's entreating hands to exit the safety of closed doors.

He is just a man, worse than a man, really. The way his breath comes short seeing you in your dressing gown, the soft white fabric hanging so delicately off of you, your silhouette illuminated through the linen by the flickering candlelight. You bend to pick a novel off your table. A dog. He's no better than a dog. His eyes rake over your exposed flesh, his fingers itch to grab, to touch, to ruin you for anyone else.

"I thought you might like this one. I know its not your usual fair, but-" You come too close to him, hold out your book too innocently. Youre too warm, too tempting, tried too hard to defend him. His fingers grip the back of your head, tight in your hair, tipping you back as he leans down before he can stop himself. Your eyes are wide with something he doesn't recognize --he knows all of your expressions but this one it seems-- his breathing comes heavy, panting in the short distance between your lips.

"Simon," you whisper, soft, honest, questioning. Is it fear in your eyes? He's worked so hard for so long to keep you from ever feeling that, and now you can only turn it on him. He hasn't heard you say his name in years, he doesn't want to hear it like this.

Ghost all but throws himself away from you. His own disgust with himself giving purpose to his actions. Your face falls, lips downturned and brows furrowed. This expression he knows, you're upset, and it's his fault.

"What's wrong?" You ask, he can't look at you, can't stare down his own shame. "I'm sorry, did I- I shouldn't have called you that." It twists like a knife in his chest to hear you apologize. You're right, you shouldn't have called him that, all you ever do is fill his head with delusions of something better than this daily torture.

"Nothing, I- that was a mistake," he growls, not even bothering to look at you. Your heart pulls so tight you think it might stop. A mistake, is that all it was? You reach out to touch his armor, to beg him to say it wasn't, and he jerks away from you again. "Forget that ever happened," his hand is tight on your door, "please."

Your heart jumps in your throat, you can see your maids watching you from the doorway in your perifery, watching it all unfold. You pull your hand back. One must always remain poised when observed by gossips. Even when they want nothing more than to fall apart. A mistake. "Of course," you steel yourself behind the voice of a princess, "its forgotten." You turn back to your maids, back to being dressed for dinner, "You're dismissed, see if you can't find someone to check your head. We wouldn't want you making any more mistakes."

"My lady," you hear the creak of his armor as he bows, the open and shut of your quarters' door. You're a fool to think he'd fight for you. To think you're more than just his duty. His mistake. Of course you are. Ghost wouldn't lay a finger on you.

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #knight!ghost #medieval au #poking the bruise and poking the bruise and #i meant to finish this earlier but this weekend has been so busy #i wrote most of this at like midnight on friday bacause i literally could not stop thinking about it #where do duty and love meet? where do they mix and where do they so painfully diverge #just KISS HER you pathetic man #princess!reader

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iloveinej · 2 years

Text

Sick of the Silence

Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore ends you friendship over a rumor spred by Rita Skita

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of starving, insecurities, Rita Skita

Words: 6.1k

꧁꧂

You sneakily made your way towards the tent that the competitors were sharing. The air was very damp today, and the weather was starting to get colder. But you couldn't understand how you were still freezing even though you had your old winter boots on, along with Theo's scarf tightly wrapped around your neck

When you stood infront the tent, you carefully lifted the tent entrance to the side and feeling lucky when you saw that Harry was the only one left.

Quickly, you took a leap, and Harry felt his soul leave is chest when he felt someone close his arms around him.

"Merlin! Y/n have you lost your mind." You didn't listen to him.

"First place Harry! And with a Horntail!" You gushed making Harry look down on the ground bashfully.

"Thanks, but you should've seen Cedric." He replied quietly, slowly continuing to peel off his destroyed items.

You sighed as you watched him, taking great sadness in the fact that he didn't even take an ounce of credit.

"Harry, you beat that dragon. With your own strength and mind. Be proud of yourself. Becuase I am certainly." You quietly said, before taking ahold of him again and bringing him into one more hug.

And you smiled to yourself when you felt him slowly start to hug you back.

What broke you out of the hug was a very bright flash, and the sound of a sharp giggle running through the tent. You and Harry quickly separated from your hug, and you felt an unfamiliar uneasiness set into your stomach as you watched Rita Skita and her magic quill.

She sighed dramatically.

"What a scandal." That was all that she said before she left the tent. This could never end well.

꧁꧂

Theodore had never felt the feeling that was currently streaming in his veins. His fingers were grasped tightly around the peace of news, feeling an urge to tear the picture of you and Harry hugging in to shreddes.

Theodore felt betrayed. Wether it was by you or his feelings, he didn't know. But he were aware that you were not the one to blame, it wasn't your fault that you fell for Harry. But oh how he wished that he could blame you and not himself. To not blame himself for being such a coward.

He cleared his throat and forcefully folded the paper before throwing it on the table, getting a last glimpse of the title before he dragged his feet to his first class. Not having the strength in his heart to wait for you, to afraid that tears would be spilled.

Mrs Y/l/n taking her chance with the Harry Potter after he was betrayed by miss Granger for going to his rival.

You watched as Theo hurriedly walked out from the Great Hall, not even looking your way as he exited. You furrowed your eyebrows as you could catch a glimpse of his clenched jaw and white knuckles. If you didn't know any better, he looked hurt. And it deeply concerned you since that wasn't a feeling you wanted the young boy to feel.

꧁꧂

Luna and Cho looked at you with worry in their eyes. You'd been acting strange ever since breakfast. You were not concentrating on your lessons, your hands drawing strange doodles or figures on your paper instead of writing down your notes.

They had also seen the way Theodore stormed out the dining hall this morning, but they didn't think that his pissy mood would affect yours as much as it did.

You had tried all day to get a hold of Theodore, but you almost thought that he'd disappeared from the castle grounds by how quickly he was nowhere to be seen. But the suspicions were luckily blown away when you saw him walking down the moving stairs with his friends from the Slytherin house.

"Theo!" You called, trying to catch his attention, and feeling successful when he heard you. The beat of your heart increased when searched for you, but the look that he gave you was something unusual.

The absolute anguish that his face was painted in shocked you to the core. You'd never seen him look that way at you.

But it disappeared in only a second, and instead, he looked at you with stoic eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably as he stared at you, and you felt yourself having troubles meeting them.

"Ehm, I was wondering if you'd like to study later?" The slight unsure voice that you had made you internally cringe, and you hoped that he didn't notice it.

Theodore could both hear and see your strange behavior, and it was bothering him. You didn't look like you even wanted him in your presence.

Like you were tired of him when you finally got together with Harry Potter. But he wasn't a chore for you to keep company, so he decided to make that clear. Even if something in the back was screaming at him.

"No, I'm busy." You cringed slightly at the cold tone that he used. That wasn't what you were used to. He'd never used that voice with you.

"Oh alright. I'll see you tomorrow then." But he'd already started to walk away again, trying to catch up with the rest of the Slytherins. You frowned as a dark feeling settled in your heart. It wasn't the fact that he declined. It was the fact that he sneered it at you. You'd gotten so used to his soft and melodic voice that you'd forgotten how sharp it could be.

But you did your best to not let the little spot of blackness poison your thoughts. So instead you just kept moving for the Ravenclaw tower.

꧁꧂

It went by two entire days before you had the chance to speak to him again, and you offered to study once more. And to your relief, he said yes.

So you took your books in your hands that night and slipped through the shadows, down to the Slytherin's common room. You pretended to not see anyone as Blaize Zabini let you into the common room. You knew that they weren't fond of you, best friend and almost cousin to Harry Potter, friends with their pureblood Theodore Nott.

You silently thanked Blaize and he gave you a kind smile in return. Blaize was one of the few of Theo's housemates that didn't despise you. And you were grateful for that because never in your life would you want to get on his bad side.

When you opened the door to Theo's shared room, you were immediately hit by the smell of Peach tea, old books, and cologne. The smell of Theo made your ears warm and your nose take an extra deep breath, liking the comfort that it brought.

You quietly stepped inside and walked to the bed that Theo was sitting in. His back was resting on his headboard and a charms book was resting on his lap.

He didn't blink an eye when you stepped inside, but he probably didn't even hear you in the first place.

"Hello there." You smiled at him as you laid your books down on his bed. He looked up through his eyelashes and gave you a tight-lipped smile before he went back to the book, the "smile" already gone from his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you wished that your brain would shut up. It wasn't un-normal for Theo not to verbally answer you, but he would make it up with a warm smile or something similar.

Feeling embarrassed, you timidly sat yourself down on the foot of the soft bed, before picking up your charms book. Your finger ran up the old and flaked back of the book as you tried to concentrate.

Although you knew that you needed to study, the feeling was overpowered by the need to take find out what was through his pretty mind.

"So, how've your days been?" Theodore looked almost startled by your question as he snapped his eyes up to meet your y/e/c ones. But when he slowly lowered them again, you felt disappointed.

"It was alright. Was quiet." He answered absent-mindedly. But you smiled lightly to yourself, knowing it was probably a bit quieter when you weren't around. He told you once that he liked how you drowned out the silence from his ears.

"It was quite nice actually."Oh. It took a while for you to register his words. But you did, and for a while, you wondered if he knew what he said. It was a big concern of yours, that you talked too much that is. You thought that he at least found it bearable.

But you didn't want him to think that he hurt you, especially if he only thought about it as a mindless joke or comment, so you gave him a chuckle that felt like it would tear your throat open for blood.

Theodore heard you swallow hard, and it was obvious why. He hadn't thought about the words as they left his mouth. But for some reason, it felt like he should hurt you for what you did to him. Even I'd you were completely innocent to it.

He felt regret hit him exactly two seconds later like a punch in his gut.

He cleared his throat, and your eyes quickly shot up to him.

"I'm tired today, so you should probably leave so that I can get some sleep." He mumbled, looking you straight in the eye with those foreign, distant eyes.

You sighed in dismay, now knowing that something wasn't right.

"Theo, are you alright?" You placed your hand on his leg. Theo swallowed down the guilt he felt and gave you a pitiful nod. But the look in your eyes told him that you didn't quite believe him, and the thought of you caring so much about him made a little smile bloom on his face.

"I'm okay, I promise." He told you lowly, and you let out another sigh, nodding slightly before starting to gather your books.

You knew that he was lying, and you despised it when he lied. Because you always assumed that he would tell you if something was bothering him.

But apparently, he required time, and you were willing to give it to him. But not too much.

Because out of the personal experience, you know that suffering in silence would get you nowhere.

"Goodnight, Theo. Sleep well." You gave him a last smile but didn't stay long enough to see him give you one back.

꧁꧂

"I don't know what's going on with him, Hermione." You sighed, dragging your hands over your face. The entire ordeal was stressing you out, and you didn't know what to do about it. You would try to talk to him, that is if you could catch him since he has been avoiding you like a plague ever since that night.

Hermione sat besides you in the dining hall, a frown on her face as she thought about your situation. She watched as you concealed the lower half of your face in your sweater clad arms in despair.

"And you did try to speak to him?" She interrogated and you nodded, finding interest in one of her quills.

"Yes, but as I said I don't think that he even wants to talk about it with me." It was quiet between you for a while, and you took a small sip of your green tea.

"Maybe he just doesn't feel comfortable around me anymore. I might have said something to provoke him?" You questioned yourself and Hermione stared at you with sympathy in her eyes.

She reached forward and grabbed one of your hands in her own.

"Don't think like that, by what you have told me in the past, that doesn't sound like Theodore at all. So stop letting those harmful thoughts get to you." You looked down and your and Hermoine's tied hands, before meeting her eyes and nodding. It soothed your anxious thoughts a little, to know that you had someone that would help you through anything.

꧁꧂

The rest of the day went by slowly, as it had the other days prior. You didn't have anything to look forward to, since Theo didn't meet you after class anymore. And you were beginning to get impatient and restless, waiting for something that you weren't sure was going to happen.

You didn't have anyone to speak about music to, among every other topic that you would sit and discuss with Theo on your days. And during this time of loneliness, you realized truly how much you depended on him. He was what continued to keep your head over the water, never letting you sink under the pressure. He was what everyone would need to survive, he was like water.

And you were slowly dying without him.

You slowly rose from your bed, realizing that you couldn't lay here with your depressing thoughts. So you decided for a a stroll in the castle.

In the middle of the courtyard sat a small group of Beauxbaton girls, which were almost the only people you'd seen this entire afternoon, but oh to behold. On the other side, in the window of the wall, sat a boy with dark curly hair with his nose in a book.

And in that moment you had been patient enough.

He didn't notice when you stopped in front of him, to intertwine with the words on the pages. You didn't want to disturb him, but this time you had to put yourself first. So you loudly cleared your throat to catch his attention.

Theodore almost jumped when he heard it, and when he met your eyes he felt like his heart was jumping out of his throat. He was not prepared to see you standing in front of him.

You tilted your head as he quickly closed his book and put down his feet from the windowsill. It was an awkward silence, no one saying anything as Theodore nervously played with his fingers.

"Hi, Theo." You took the first step, wanting this game of cat and mouse to be over. He awkwardly lifted his fingers as a reply, and you frowned as he wouldn't look at you.

"Theo, I have given you time, and I don't want to pressure you but I don't think this is good for you?" You tried your best to gain eye contact, but it didn't work so you just ended up settling beside him.

"That what isn't good for me?" He sounded almost irritated and you were a bit taken back.

"That you're pulling yourself away from people, it's not healthy."

"I'm not pulling myself away from people." He nearly interrupted me, and I fretted at his words.

"So you're only pulling yourself away from me then? Why?" Theo swallowed hard at your question. He didn't dare to tell you, but he wished that he could be so selfish so that he could. But it wasn't right of him to destroy your first relationship.

"I just don't feel like talking, why can you not understand that." He told you sternly, and you saw his awkward posture and behavior melt into something harsh and hostile once again.

"I do understand, but this thing is affecting our friendship." It was quiet, and Theodore just stared out through the opposite window, not answering, or even giving a sign that he listened.

"Theodore I miss speaking to you. And I miss being with you." Theo tensed at the mention of his full name falling from your lips, and he saw you lean back as he suddenly stood up.

"Well, I can't handle you speaking to me right now. I'm tired of it, and I need space." He looked you right in the eye when he said it. And you felt your chest contract painfully as you saw no regret in his eyes.

You looked down on your lap, not knowing how to continue after your unsuccessful attempt to get him talking. And now only that but his words were beginning to hurt.

"I'm sorry Theo, I didn't want to push you." You said, your despair stuck in your throat like poison. He didn't answer, only looking down upon you with empty eyes. You tried to search for any feeling in his face, but nothing was shown, not even a small ounce of sadness.

Theodore slowly started to walk past you and you followed him with your eyes as he walked. You felt helpless and afraid. Like if you didn't do something right now, he would leave you forever.

A painful huff left Theodore's pink lips when he felt something squeezing him painfully hard around his slender waist. And he didn't have to look down to know that he would see your y/h/c hair, and he certainly didn't want to, since he would be at his knees, apologizing the second he did. So he just stood there and stared. Not move his arms to embrace you, but neither moves out of your hug.

You waited for him to embrace you like he always did. For his arms to envelope your head while he stroked your hair. But nothing came. His chest was tense against your cheek, but you didn't care. You were not going to let him go until he at least patted you on the back.

"Y/n, let go." He tried to instruct you, and he sighed when you only tighten your arms harder around him. He let his head fall to the side in frustration. It didn't matter that he liked to have your arms around him, because right now it was painful, and it was not because of your hand grip.

A spark of hope ignited in your chest as you felt him move his arms, and you felt yourself relax when his fingertips grace your sleeves.

A yelp left your throat as you felt his slender hands take a hard grip around your wrists. He easily pried your hands apart as you were in slight shock, and he swiftly threw your arms off him before storming down the corridor. Past a certain black-haired male with round glasses, with good ears to be added.

You watched him walk, to get away from you as if you were the pest. Labored breaths escaped your nose as your tears were kept at bay. Storming away from the corridor, you needed to find a place to be alone at.

꧁꧂

Later you found yourself on a stone staircase with your head leaned against Harry's shoulder and his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He tried to console your choked cries, but nothing seemed to help. He realized that this was the first time that you'd cried in front of him. Remus used to tell him how you were a sensitive child when young, but Harry would've never guessed. Especially by the lack of despair, you showed during the years that you'd known him.

A cold wind went through the open wall, and he watched as the sky cried with you.

Footsteps were heard in the distance, but your cries made you unable to hear them. Harry turned his head towards the opening as he heard someone stop in it, and was surprised to see Nott in all his glory, looking at you with guilty eyes.

Harry suspects that he didn't notice him at first because it seemed to take a second before realizing whose arms you were in. And when Theodore met his eyes, they turned into stone. But Harry wasn't blind.

He saw the heartbreak since it matched the eyes that Hermoine had for Ron after I said something idiotic.

꧁꧂

When Mattheo and Blaize entered their shared room, they were expecting to find Theodore with either you, sleeping, or his nose in a new book. Not his back faced against the door, head in his hands and elbow resting on his legs as pitiful sniffles echoed through the room.

Their conversation came to an end when they realized what was happening, and they gave each other a look before walking up to the bed.

"Nott, what's up with you?" Mattheo asked carelessly, earning a jab in the ribs.

"Don't be a twat." Blaize hissed.

Theodore quickly wiped his cheeks and eyes before sitting up in his bed, leaning his back on the head board with bent knees.

He didn't look at them.

"Nothing of your concern." His voice cracked.

He did end up telling about the things that'd happen, obviously not in detail, but enough of the story so that his two friends could understand, and later leave them alone.

Blaize couldn't decide on where to stand. Theodore was his friend, and he understood what situation he'd gotten himself into. But he also thought that Theodore had been a dick.

"Come on Nott, it's only a girl. There so much better things in the world than girls." Mattheo casually said from his bed while he changed his rooms for his evening clothes.

Blaize snorted from his place on Theo's bed, and Mattheos head emidiatly snapped towards him, sending him a deadly glare.

"Like you know how to fall in love Mattheo." Blaize adjusted his collar at the emotionless voice of Theodore, and he waited patiently for Mattheo to snap at him. But was mildly surprised when he only laughed at him.

"I'm serious, I don't know what to do. I don't even think I can do anything."

"But it's just a crush right? It will fade in time Theo." Blaize thought that he's words would bring a little bit of comfort to the distressed Slytherin. He wasn't right.

"I haven't met someone that cared for me like that since my mother died."

The room went airily quiet. And both of them turned towards Theodore, who was again carrying tears in his long lashes.

꧁Two months later꧂

Second tournament

He felt weak. And the screaming of different students around him was hurting his eardrums. He wished that he could crawl back to his bed, or maybe just to lay down on the damp wood under his feet.

Thedore looked sick. His face had gained a new gray colour to it, and usual circles under his eyes had increased tenfold. It had even gotten so bad that his clothes wasn't fitting as they should anymore.

He anxiously chewed on his nails. He hadn't caught a glimpse of you in two entire days. He was aware that you weren't talking anymore, that you haven't had an interaction since that day two months ago. But he felt guilty, but he's chance to apologize was ruined by his pettiness when he saw you in Harry Potters arms, and since then he thought that it was to late. Though it didn't stop him to keep you in check.

Ever since that day, he'd watched over you. Not following you or starring at you. Only making sure that you were still there. He remember those days that he hadn't caught a glimpse of you. He wouldn't be able to sleep, loud thoughts making it so quiet in the room as he wondered where you were.

The water started to ripple when he saw Cedric Diggory emerge with Cho Chang in his arms, your friend.

The Hogwart's students exploded in shouts and jubilation of glee as he was pulled up from the watter.

Theodore didn't give to shits about who won. The need to find you was growing by the second, making his mind go hazy.

The Durmstrangs shouted proudly as Viktor Krum came out of the water, Hermione Granger besides him, looking very confused and cold.

Another one of her friends.

Gasps, shouts and screams was heard when, instead of Harry, two girls apeared in the water.

Your head violently turned as you heard the shouts around you. And you realised quickly that you'd been rescued from the second task. But you didn't mask your confusion as you were met with a young blond girl instead of Harry, but you didn't have any time to waste so you quickly helped her towards the stand.

When you were finally dragged up people started to surround you with blankets, pats on the back, and even a few hugs from the closest.

You didn't even notice when Harry was shot up from the water since you were shaking in your shoes while feeling over stimulated by the people around you.

"Y/n!" You didn't get time to see the person that had desperately shouted your name, becuase before you even had time to think, arms had circled your neck and you were quite forcefully pulled into someone. And when your nose hit their chest you emidiatly realised who it was.

Theo was holding you in a death grip, squeezing you as you slowly circled you arms around him.

"Theo." You whispered, and with the call of his name he let you go, but he didn't leave you. He messily took of his green and grey scarf, and began to wrap it around your neck and when he was done with that he darted to quickly wipe your still wet face with hid cold hands, felling desperate to feel your skin.

"Theo." He stopped, hands shaking and eyes wide. You didn't look at him with anger. You didn't look at him with a sad eye. You looked worried. His face was slimmer and he certainly didn't look all to well. He was breathing heavily, as if he just ha been pulled out of a nightmare.

He watched intently as you raised your hand to his cheek, and butterfly erupted in his stomach. He almost wanted to cry when you stopped yourself.

You hadn't forgotten how he treated you. You wanted to, but the actions had already been done and the words had been thrown. And he hadn't even apologized.

"Nott!" Mattheo roared as the crowd started to leave and Theadore requlantly stood up before leaving you and his scarf to go to his friends. You followed him with your eyes as he got into the boat, taking some time to just look on his face.

He is so beutiful. With hid straight nose, sharp jaw and big tired brown eyes. You wanted to blame the heat on your cheeks on the drastical temperature changes, you couldn't believe that you were still so in love with him after everything he's done.

You yelped as you were hoisted up on your legs by two pair of arms and smiled when you saw a drenched Hermione and a happy Ron on your sides.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked you, not hiding her excitement.

"Yeah, Nott just hugged you infront of the entire bloody school, what's gotten into that bloke." Ron said in disbelief as you began to walk towards the boats.

"Oh don't you get Ronald, it's love." Hermione smiled happily, and you laughed as Ronald shook his head until you realised what she said.

"What do you mean by 'love'?" You eyed her carefully, but she casually ignored you as she sat down on a boat, dragging you and Ron with her.

"She has a bet with Fred and George about who's going to confess first. Fred and George thinks that Nott is going to confess first by the last trial." Ron explained, before Hermione interrupted him.

"And I believe that Theodore is going to confess sometime around the second task, more exactly, today." You looked at Hermoine with a fish mouth. In your entire time of knowing Hermoine, you have never heard her make a bet. Especially not on a so stupid thing as your love life.

"What makes you belive that? He hasn't spoken to me in two months!" You exclaimed while holding up two figners.

Hermione looked at with an odd expression.

"I'm sorry are you blind? Have you seen him the last week. He's been looking at you like a homeless kitten. It's sad really." Hermione looked forwards again and you only shook your head at her.

"But why did no one bet on me to confess first?" You slapped your hand of your mouth as you realised what you said, and Hermoine let out a gasp.

"So you do like him!?" You hushed her quickly, looking around you to make sure that no one was listening to you conversation.

"Shut it, I don't need the entire school to know." You hissed when the boat came to a stop.

"Oh belive me, the entire school does already know." Ron concluded as he stepped out from the boat. Hermione glared at him as they walked, but he only smiled lightly.

Suddenly, they stopped and you casted your eyes forwards, only to see Mattheo Riddle and Lorenzo Bekshire standing infront of you. You looked in between them quiestongly.

"Uh, hello." Lorenzo said bashfully with a smile on his face. Ron and Hemoine looked doubtfully between the two boys as they stood infront of them, Lorenzo trying to make small talk while Mattheo looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than infront of them.

"Alright that's enough." Mathheo interrupted Lorenzos talk about the weather before grabbing you by your upper arm and dragging you away from your friends.

"Come on, we need to talk." You looked in panic back towards Ron and Hermoine, who booth looked as confused as you felt. You looked at Lorenzo as he caught up with you, and gave you a bright smile, which you returned with an unsure smile from yourself.

You wanted to ask where you were going, but you didn't have to when you saw the rest of the slytherins, along with Theo standing there and talking mindlessly.

You emidiatly tensed up and tried to struggle out of Mattheos hard grip.

"Nuh uh. You two are going to speak to each other today. I'm tired of getting woken up by Notts crying in the middle of the bloody night." He mumbled, and began to drag you towards them again.

Had Theo been crying?

"Nott!" Mattheo yelled, gaining the attention of the small group. Theodore felt his heart drop when he saw who was with them. As if it were an instict, he tried to find a way out of it, not really feeling the need to meet your dissepointment for real.

But a hand on his holder stopped his head from moving around.

"Theodore, this is your only chance to make it right. You have to tell her." Blaize whispered, and Theodore pursed lips knowing that he was right. So with heavy feet, he walked up to you.

Lorenzo gave you a nodd, before walking along with the rest of the group, who was giving you strange looks before Lorenzo had started to sho them away.

It was quiet, the only thing that was heard was the splashing of the waves against the shore, and the wind blowing in the trees.

"Theodore wha-."

"How are you and Harry?" You watched as his face contorted into a fake smile, stuffing his hands even further down his black coat.

"Me and Harry?" He looked at you with his eyebrows together, as if it was obvious that it was you and Harry.

"It's... good? I'm sorry I don't really understand." Theodore sighed as he kicked in the dirt, feeling anxious towards your calculating eyes.

"Nothing."

"Are you still cold?" He asked, finally finding the courage to meet your eye once again. He swallowed hard when he saw your sad frown as you shook your head, trying to apear to be glader than you really were.

"No, your scarf is warm." Now it was your turn to look away. His big brown eyes were starring at with the same softness that you hadn't seen for two months.

"I-.. I'm sorry. I never meant to be so... distant." He chocked out. He looked like he was in pain. And he probably felt like it to. You looked at him as he swallowed and harkeld as he waited for you to say something.

"Did i do something, Theodore?" You said in low voice. For the first time ever, you felt intimidated by his precens. The way his body slightly towers your own, how his eyes constantly loomed over you face.

"No. Of course not." He sighed after a beat of silence. He took a step closer to you, not feeling comfortable to be so far away from you. An you looked at him with questioning eyes.

"Theodore, if you're going to say something i want you to say it now, otherwise I'll leave." It was quiet for a moment and Theodore felt stuck.

He watched as you sighed deeply, looking down on the ground before swiftly walking by him.

Theodore reacted instantly. Before you were able to walk any further, he quickly took a strong hold on your wrist forcing you to stop. And you ended up standing shoulder against shoulder, with his against the lake and your eyes on the leaf covored ground, turned towards the forest.

"Y/n." He said. You didn't react.

"Y/n, look at me." He sternly ordered, and you could feel that he was staring at the side of your head. His hand slightly tightened in an almost possessive way around your wrist, and you couldn't lie that it brought a nervous feeling to your stomach.

His hand slowly started to raise from your wrist, his fingertips slowly tracing the length of your arm, and you wanted to belive that you could feel the warmth of his fingertips through the layers of your soaked clothes and blankets.

"I want to be selfish." He spoke lowly and melancholy. You were confused because it didn't even sound like he was speaking to you.

His continued up towards your face, and you took a deep breath with you felt his knuckles starting to steadily graze your cheek.

"I love you."

You snapped your head towards him feeling anger rise faster than a rocket in you chest. Angry tears hung in your lashes, and maybe in different scenario you would have been happier, but your butterflies had no chance do defeat the flames of your anger.

"You're a coward." His face fell the second he heard your words.

"I know my love." He sadly smiled at me as he soothed his palm over you cheek.

"You didn't speak to me for months, only because you liked me? You hurt me, Theo." You tried to confirm what you were hearing, but it was hard to keep your voice steady.

"I didn't speak to you for months because I'm in love with you." His forehead made contact with the side of your head.

"I didn't speak to you for months because if I did I would become selfish, and if I did I would destroy everything that you and Potter have together." He slowly lowered his head, so that he could peck you by the ear before he left, but was disappointed when you abruptly pulled away from him.

"What is this constant japing about me and Harry?! I have never in my life been in love with him, let alone dating him!" You shouted, your frustration running amock as you realized how utterly dumb Theodore Nott was.

"You ignored me for two months because you thought I was in love with Harry?" You quietened down when you saw the startled eyes that Theo gave you after you shouted.

He didn't answer, only continued to stare at you with big eyes.

"Theodore Nott, if you had just told me about your feelings nothing of this would have happened. I would be yours by now if you just to-" Something warm touched your top lip, which made your voice get lost in the autumn air. Your eyes were blown wide as you saw Theo being so close to you with your eyes closed, his big hands on your cheeks and his soft lips on yours.

He slowly cracked his eyes open, and he felt his cheeks become red when he saw your pupil-blown eyes starring at him

"Close your eyes." He mumbled shyly against your lips, and when you did as he said, he collected one more kiss. This on being directly in the middle of your lips.

Your arms hung limply at your sides as you tried your best to kiss him back.

When he pulled away his breath was much shakier than he intended it to be, and he felt embarrassed when a lonely tear escaped his eye.

You quickly stood up on your toes, and kissed him right under his closed eye, tasting the salt of his tear on your lips as you pulled away.

"Theo."

"I'm sorry. I should never have done that to you."

"Theo I think I'm in love with you."

꧁ end ꧂

I think it was a little half as but whatevs

Thanks to @eunoiathewriter for helping me with the idea!

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redclercs · 9 months

Text

— or, the one where mick prefers the dress off of you.

✤ requested as part of the lavender haze event!

✤ mick schumacher x fem reader, prompts used: “against the window, are you insane?” + "leave the heels on"

✤ warnings: lowecarse intended, smut, mdni!! semi-public sex, unprotected sex, piv, bit of sir kink ig? creampie, no aftercare, per usual, don't take this as an example and be smart about having sex y'all. 1.2k words

visit the lavender library

the moment mick saw you with the dress on, he wanted to take it off you. not in a bad, overly possessive way, although it did occur to him that if he was looking at you like that, some of the other guests in this wedding would too.

who in their right mind had thought of giving the bridesmaids such a deep cleavage? mick couldn’t even begin to guess. his brain was swarmed with other thoughts.

“what?” you ask, your hands already on their way to cover your breasts. “it’s not too much, is it?”

mick shrugs in return, shaking his head. “definitely not.”

“you’re a shit liar,” you retort, eyeing yourself in the full-body mirror one last time. “let’s go loverboy, I don’t want to make a late entrance.”

although usually annoyed by the nickname, mick doesn’t give it a second thought as he follows you out of the room, where he wishes he could stay for the rest of the day, filling it with your whines and soft moans.

••• ─────────

you finally notice mick’s discomfort during cocktail hour. the bride and the groom are somewhere in the venue taking pictures and you’re left behind with the rest of the guests to catch your breath, and leave your boyfriend breathless.

“what’s gotten into you?” you ask mick, taking the short glass of amber liquid out of his hand. his other palm is drawing circles against your hip bone, almost leaving a hole in the fabric that hugs your figure perfectly.

"what do you mean?" he asks, already extending arm to recover the drink. his mouth is dry, and his tongue feels like sandpaper.

you click your tongue, still keeping the glass away from him. "you're so tense, and while i don't hate it, you've been practically groping me all day. in front of everyone."

your boyfriend clears his throat and stares at you for the millionth time that evening. "it's the damn dress, y/n seriously, whose idea was it?"

you laugh, before noticing he's being serious. "seven other girls are wearing this dress, mick."

"i don't care about the other seven girls, they're not the ones giving me an issue."

you raise your eyebrows at him. he's actually acting like a horny teenager in the middle of one of your closest friend's wedding.

and you like it. it thrills you to know you have this effect on him, so you caress the back of his neck with your perfectly manicured nails, the color matches your dress perfectly.

"seriously y/n," mick is gritting his teeth and turning back to the bar, to hide the lower part of his body against the mahogany.

this time you laugh audibly, and to mick's mortification a few of the guests and the bartender turn their heads in your direction.

"come on loverboy, let me help you." you wink, making your way out of the bar.

your heels create an echo through the empty room. the old mansion in which the party is taking place has many unused spaces that you discovered yesterday with mick, so now you're putting them to use.

mick shuts the door behind him, and after the lock clicks, scarce seconds pass before his hands are all over you. you didn't even hear him move.

your world comes down to tongues and teeth, and his fingers pressing and grabbing against the skin the dress leaves exposed. your hand finds its way to his crotch, he's already so hard it must be painful to keep it in his pants.

"you're so hot," mick keeps repeating like a mantra, "you're driving me crazy."

you smile against his lips, fingers already working the belt of his trousers. "this is crazy."

you want mick, you always want mick. but the idea of doing having snuck out of the wedding just to fuck him while people might be looking for you has you wanting him in a way that's overwhelming. you have never done this before, with him or with anyone else.

the moment your dress comes off, you gasp. to be fair, you expected mick to work his way up your legs, moving the fine fabric to the side, not just have you naked in the middle of the room, with your bare ass against a leather cushion.

"leave the heels on," he commands, getting rid of his suit jacket. his pants are already halfway down his legs.

"yes sir," you're only half-mocking him, but you notice the way his eyes darken at what you just called him, and you know you've unlocked a new part of your boyfriend that will only bring more enjoyment to your life.

you spread your legs for him to settle in the middle, his erection already free, out of his boxers as he approaches you. but your throbbing anticipation is met with denial as he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you to him, and away from the couch.

the long piece of furniture that is against the wall meets your hipbones painfully as mick makes you bend against it. but you don't have time to worry about the possible bruises, not when you're right in front of the window to the back garden with your breasts hanging in the air.

"against the window, are you insane?" you gasp, your hands pressing against both the glass and the cedar surface. you don't want to risk giving quite the spectacle to another guest or one of the staff.

mick's only response is to press your back down and pin one of your hands behind you. and it's like your brain shuts off, because this is so hot, and now you both are horny teenagers unafraid of consequences.

your moans echo around the room when mick finally stars fucking you. your hips hit the wood time and time again and your free hand is pressed against the glass with such force it might break, but you don't care. it's all about the way mick feels inside you and his grunts and groans in the back of your neck.

the hand in the middle of your back moves down to your clit, roughly pressing on it before moving his finger in circles. "fuck, you're so hot," he pants, like it's the only thing on his mind. "you feel so good."

you whine as an answer, legs buckling as you approach your orgasm. you don't even care about the window or the way the sun hits your frame, making it clearer for anyone who could be outside.

mick's hand has to let go of your pinned arm to cover your mouth as you hit your climax loudly. and he presses it down hard when he cums in you, almost cutting your airflow. you twitch in his arms, overly sensitive already against his non-stop movements.

you can feel his cum start sliding down your legs and you sigh, your stomach contracting in anticipation, you could go on and on.

"we have to go back," you speak with mick's palm still against your mouth. "the reception is starting soon."

and you have to clean yourselves up in the bathroom down the hall.

reluctantly, mick takes his dick out of you, still hard. he really can't get enough of you. he can't wait for you to be back at the hotel.

you turn around to kiss him, your bare chest pressing against his clothed one. "let's do this more often," you can't help but giggle, because you're still high on the thrill of the danger of getting caught.

"I'd do it all the time," mick kisses you back, hands squeezing your ass before finally deciding to get himself together.

or as together as he possibly can, knowing you're putting the damn dress back on.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for joining the event! i hope you've enjoyed this filth. let me know your thoughts!❞

#mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x reader #mick shumacher imagine #mick schumacher smut #f1 x y/n #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #lavender haze; 1k event!#🏁 checkered flag; 1k!

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neonghostlights · 9 months

Note

Listen- listen carefully- okay?

okay so

Eddie, right? Eddie, with a tattoo artist crush??!! like cmon. The possibilities are endless!

how does he confess? What are their dates like? How do they spend quality time together? So many questions, not many answers. (Fem reader pls-) 🍋-

BESTIE. I AM HEARING YOU LOUD AND CLEAR. This is great. I love it. Readers a badass. Eddie’s in love. This is amazing. This is gonna end up being a two parter with the next chapter being their relationship once the relationship is established. Thank you! also, sorry it took me so long to write this ):

Warnings: Love at first sight, Tattooing, Pain, Blood, 18+ only

Wordcount: 2.1k

Rose

The bell attached to the shop door dinged when Eddie walked in. The floors were clean, polished. That was something he always checked when he walked into tattoo shops. Back in highschool he didn’t particularly care about the cleanliness of tattoos, just getting whatever he wanted etched into his skin in his buddies trailer. After seeing the outcome of a particularly nasty skin infection Gareth got one time that left his tattoo looking like a jumbled mess, Eddie cared a little more now.

Robin had begged him to stop by and check out her new job as a part time receptionist at the best (only) tattoo shop in Hawkins, Indiana. Eddie was a little surprised to see you here since he had seen your work done in one or two magazines before. You were somewhat of a celebrity in the tattooing world, having won quite a few awards for your art.

Steve had told him that Robin had been terrified to start here, since your reputation was well known. But after the first day she came home gushing about how great you were and insisted that Eddie swing by to meet you as soon as possible.

Low rock music played from a speaker in the corner of the room. Black leather couches and chairs surrounded a coffee table full of binders and magazines. Artwork, presumably yours, covered the walls top to bottom. Eddie usually drew up his own designs when getting work done but yours were so good that he wouldn’t mind having one of your pre-drawn designs placed on his body. He could smell the fresh paint still lingering in the air, telling just how recent the shop had been opened.

“Hey!” Robin greeted him from behind the clear glass counter. “Welcome!”

“Nice looking place,” Eddie said with a low whistle.

“Right,” she said with a fake whisper. “You think you want to get something done?”

“Nah, not today. I didn’t draw anything up.”

Robin rolled her eyes, knowing Eddie was picky about what he wanted done. She couldn’t blame him. She had an orange tattooed on her foot after a drunk spring break dare from Steve that looked more like a basketball.

“Hey, Rob?” Your voice broke out, muffled by the rock still playing on the radio. Eddie heard the sound of wheels rolling across the floor as you scooted your rolling chair out of the room you were working in and backing out into the hallway. “You wanna order some lunch?” You asked once you were fully in the hallway.

Eddie had seen a lot of attractive people before but none of them had made his heart stop quite the way you did.

“Oh, hi,” you said, startled to see Eddie standing there. “Were you looking to get something done?” You asked, standing from your chair and approaching him.

Eddie froze. All thoughts escaped his brain as you walked towards him. He could see the skin of your legs through your ripped jeans and Eddie had never thought a kneecap was so sexy before.

“This is my friend Eddie. He just came by to check out the shop. Right, Eddie?” Robin plucked his cheek to try to reboot him.

The magazines had never included your picture, but he wished they had so he wouldn’t be standing here like an idiot. He had a feeling that your picture printed on glossy paper wouldn’t do you any justice.

Eddie winced at the sharp sting of his cheek, rubbing at the stubble there.

“Hi,” was all he was able to croak out, sticking his hand out to you.

You smirked a knowing smirk at him that made him feel embarrassed from how obvious he was being. He was usually the one that was smirking to make people melt, not the other way around and it made his head spin.

You gripped his hand, firmly giving it a little shake. Eddie didn’t want to let go, but finally did, realizing how sweaty his palm had gotten. He tried to discreetly wipe it against his jeans. If you felt it, you didn’t say anything.

“So, Eddie, did you want to get a tattoo today?” You asked, head tilted as you looked him up and down.

“He said no-”

“Yes. Yes I do,” he said, cutting Robin off.

Robin looked like she was about to die of laughter. Eddie knew she would be itching to grab the phone and call Steve to tell him all about the way Eddie was acting. He knew there would surely be some jokes cracked at his expense during the next family dinner. But he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much.

You tilted your head, like you were studying him, picking him apart to make sure he was actually worthy of having your art on his skin forever. Eddie would let you draw on his bones if you were able to. Shit, he’d hand you the pick and chisel.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Have any idea of what you want to get?”

“Uh…” Eddie trailed, eyes darting to the artwork around the shop. “You choose.”

You frowned. “You want me to choose your tattoo for you?”

Eddie nodded, already too far in to back out now.

“And you’re sure? Completely?” You checked as Robin started pulling out paperwork for Eddie to sign.

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.”

Three months later and the bell dinged over the shop door. You could hear it from your office where you had low music playing as you sketched away at an idea you had. It was getting closer to the holidays and the shop was less busy. People usually liked to spend their money on presents and food this time of year instead of tattoos. You knew January was going to pick back up again so you weren’t worried.

You could hear Robin laughing at something up front, probably at whoever just came through the door. You heard the familiar sound of boots come your way and it brought a smile to your lips.

His knuckles rapped against the door a few times. This had become a routine since Eddie let you tattoo him a few months ago. He had gotten a couple more done by you, each more intricate than the last. But some days he would stop by just to say hi to you, like he probably was today. You never let other customers come to your office like this. Eddie was special.

“Hey,” you greeted him, turning in your chair. You dropped the pencil you were using to your desk, ready to give your hand a break for a bit.

Eddie smiled as he leaned against the door frame. “What are you working on?”

You held up the sketch pad. It was a drawing of a dragon taking flight. It was small, simple with just enough detail to not overpower it. If someone ever wanted this you could of course add anything to it.

“That’s sick,” Eddie said as he came closer, humming as he assessed the drawing.

“It’s not done yet. I need a little more time with it,” you explained, feeling a little self conscious about your art, something you hadn’t experienced until you realized shortly after meeting Eddie that you always wanted to impress him.

“Is it for a customer?” He asked.

“No. Just an idea I had,” you said as you set it back down on your desk.

“Can I get it?”

You tilted your head as you looked up at Eddie. His hair framed his face where he was still looking down at the drawing with intensity, avoiding your eye contact now for some reason. You could see the rose tattoo on his arm, the first one you gave him on the day you met. You didn’t tell Eddie what you were tattooing until you were done. You knew it was a risk, not many men wanted a flower tattooed on them. But this one seemed like it fitted him.

After you had tattooed the rose he stared at it with teary eyes. You thought you had really messed up until he told you that Rose was his late mothers middle name. After that, the dynamic seemed to change, bringing you even closer even though you two had just met.

“I mean if you want but it’s really not done and I-”

“I think it’s perfect,” Eddie interrupted, finally looking up at you with a small smile.

You took a deep breath at the intensity of his stare before leading him back to the room to be tattooed.

You had Eddie lay back in the reclining chair. It was laid back to be as flat as a table so you had better access to his ribs.

You explained to him that the ribs were going to hurt pretty bad even though he was no stranger to tattoo pain. He just laughed it off and asked if you could hold his hand when he starts to cry.

You rolled your eyes, pushing away the butterflies at the thought of holding his hand in yours. You didn’t really like emotions. You’d prefer to spend your time alone, drawing with nothing to complicate your life. It had been a battle the past three months of knowing Eddie. You were constantly denying the way you felt and it was getting harder and harder each time you saw him.

Eddie closed his eyes and laid mostly still except for the occasional twitch and tapping he would do. He was uncharacteristically quiet today and you found yourself going through most of his tattoo without him even saying a word. That wasn’t normal.

“Are you doing okay?” You asked as you gathered more ink. “If it’s too much we can stop for today.”

“No,” he said loudly, practically jumping off the table at your offer. He cleared his throat looking embarrassed before he slowly laid back down.

“Are you sure?” You checked again, giving him the opportunity to quit if he wanted to.

“Yeah. I’m sure,” he said with a nod as he closed his eyes again.

You went back to tattooing, trying to figure out why he was acting this way. He seemed nervous to be around you today and you weren’t sure why. It didn’t make sense. He was usually a blushing, stumbling mess around you and now suddenly he was acting like this tattoo was the most serious thing he had ever done.

“You need me to hold your hand?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Eddie giggled nervously with his eyes still closed. You watched him wipe his palm discreetly against his jeans.

You had a feeling you knew what was going on here. It was a feeling you had from the first day you met him and he not so subtly asked you out. When you tattooed him that first day, he seemed to cover up his nerves well by joking with you and asking you questions about yourself. You could ask him, see what he says. The worst he could say is no. You usually had a good eye for things like this and Eddie had all the signs.

“You know next time you can just ask me out on a date instead of having me tattoo you,” you said as you cleaned the fresh ink off the now finished tattoo.

Eddie’s eyes shot open in a flash. He sat up, wincing at the tender skin on his ribs.

“Wait!” You yelled as you grabbed a cloth and cleanser. “I need to clean it before you get up.”

Eddie ignored your demands. “Did Robin tell you?” He asked, looking defeated.

“No,” you said as you wiped at the skin from the new position he sat in. “You were just acting kind of weird so I figured that might have been what was going on.”

Eddie sighed deeply.

“If I read that wrong and totally made this awkward just tell me,” you said quickly.

“No,” Eddie rushed out. “No. You were right. I didn’t realize I was that obvious.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You were just a little obvious.”

You motioned for Eddie to stand up and take a look in the mirror. He whistled as he looked at the fresh ink on his now angry skin.

“You like it?” You asked.

“I love it. It’s incredible. Thank you,” he said, still in awe of your artwork on his body.

You nodded your head awkwardly as you started to wrap it to keep it clean and uninfected. You met Eddie’s eyes in the mirror when you were finished. You froze, unsure what to do now and afraid that you had ruined everything by speaking up. You really enjoyed Eddie’s company and the thought of becoming something more made your heart race.

Eddie grabbed his things, about to head to the front to pay.

“So…was that a no?” He asked as he slipped his shirt over his head.

You laughed. “Eddie, you didn’t even ask me.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I’m still nervous. Do you want to go out on a date sometime?”

“I’d love to.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x tattooartist!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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illuminoia · 3 months

Text

6. You smell like the sun

note: please note that the place jing yuan and reader are in are hinted to be cold. like enough to wear a coat and scarf and all.

You tuck just a little bit more into your coat, evidently warming you just a little bit in the harsh cold, and your nervousness that's running fullforce in your veins.

The sounds of hushed conversations inside the café bouncing off of the walls. The sound of the cashier tapping in orders with a smile.

(You think you must have really gone insane.)

Your eyes linger for a moment on him. He's there, ordering the both of yourselves the coffee you recommended. He's there, hair pulled up into a neat ponytail, patiently waiting for the barista to finish making the drink.

When Jing Yuan turns to you, a smile on his face and the cups of coffee in hand, you almost shiver. It's the eyes, you think. Those clear-cut, gentle, warm eyes. Topaz gemstones that encompass you like a warm embrace of the sun.

The two of you exit the cafe, and settle to walk towards the park. There's rarely anyone there, and since Jing Yuan isn't familiar with the area, it would be a good place to go.

"Thank you." you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of shying away from his gaze when he draws close to you, taking your cup from his hands. Your fingers brush against his when you take the drink, and he only hums in response.

God, even his voice sounds pretty.

You fluster at your thoughts. Drink your coffee in a slight panic when his brows buoy, bunching in concern. You hit yourself in the head mentally. You're not acting like yourself.

"Are you alright?" He asks. He tips his head, trying to check if you were alright. His eyes bore into yours. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have suggested to make you accompany me."

Jing Yuan's tone is light, but concern seeps through it. It makes you feel sad and a little happy, just a little.

This is new for you. Different. It's sadder than you'd ever imagined yourself to be in. True concern and worry coming from another person outside of your friends, much less a man you've barely known, is jarring. A stark contrast to the toxicity you tolerated for yourself for months.

Ah, forget it. No use being negative right now!

"I'm good." You say, enjoying the taste of the drink lingering on your tongue. "If I was uncomfortable, I wouldn't even have replied to you, you know?"

His lets out a chuckle, sipping his own coffee.

"That's true, I did DM you quite abruptly." He says. There is a softness in his eyes when he looks at you, one that you can't place, but it makes your pulse race.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asks again, this time leaning closer to your space. You didn't realize you were staring.

"Ah, it's just that you smell like the sun, is all." You hastily blurt out whatever you thought of. You flush red at your own words.

(That charm and looks of his really make for a deadly combination.)

"Mm, yeah," he chuckles again as he straightens his form, this time almost teasing. His presence is comforting. His free hand hovers on your back, guiding you away from the stranger passing in a hurry. "That would be my cat's fault."

"Your cat?" You ask excitedly. He chuckles. Cute.

"Her name is Mimi." He says, pulling up his phone and showing you a couple of pictures. You almost coo at how adorable his cat is.

"I wish I could hold her." You murmur.

"Maybe next time." He tells you, and you think your inner self is dying at the implication, but before you could overthink it, your phone rings.

It was Himeko, asking you if you could come quickly to a venue for an emergency shoot. She's already sent a car to pick you up, since you did tell her your whereabouts before going out.

You look at him sheepishly when you end the call, and he laughs.

"It's alright, I know you're busy." He says with a smile. "You should prioritize it first. We can always have the next time you're free."

Before you could reply, however, the vehicle assigned to pick you up already arrives, waiting for you.

Talk about timing. First the call, and now the car.

The cold breeze passes, and you shiver. Jing Yuan's brows furrow. His hand tugs against the scarf from around his neck, and wraps it around your own. "I should have done this earlier. It's quite cold, so this should help you keep warm even by little bit on your trip."

Your brain short-circuits.

"Thank you for today. It was nice." He says, expression soft. "Stay safe."

"You too." You muster out a reply, and you almost melt again at his smile.

You enter the vehicle, and watch as he slowly fades from your view, slowly.

Your coat doesn't quite compare to how gentle, warm his own scarf made you feel.

previous | masterlist | next

note: i took some liberties and made mimi a cat. poor reader if mimi was a lion.

also wanted to add more messages and some thoughts reader was having before they met but decided against it bc tumblr. anyway, it still comes across so hopefully its not too bad.

enjoy :)

#hsr smau #jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x female reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader social media au #jing yuan smau

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cozzzynook · 4 months

Note

Thought I'd give your ask a try. I love dad Optimus and son Bumblebee.

How do you think dad Optimus reacts to Bee's potential partners?

It depends on the partners honestly.

- if the partners are both Jazz and Prowl, he’s hesitant but gives approval.

- Optimus pulls Jazz aside and Prowl both together and alone and make it very clear he will use rank and force to make their spark’s miserable if they hurt his bitlet mech in any way.

- He tells Prowl in so many words he will make the stoic mech lose composure and shows Jazz that even if he is a beast in the field, he is no Optimus Prime.

- Of course Bumblebee never finds out, he just happily sits on his sires lap and tells him about his day and how happy he is while the others know just how terrifying Optimus really is as he smiles looking at the two who are statue still failing to look unfazed.

- If its Tarn trying to get with Bee Optimus does not care about peace nor does he care about being civil or having honor. He will make sure Tarn knows to never set pede near his bitlet again. Megatron does not do anything to stop Optimus, he warned his troops, they should’ve listened.

- Oddly if its Soundwave and Shockwave Optimus is down right pissed but does nothing to stop it. Bee is in his rebellious phase and he hopes it will end soon. He bites his glossa in hopes it will be over soon and Bee will pick a nice autobot he approves of. Bee does not. Optimus almost rips his finials off when he sees Bee taking care of Shockwave and Soundwaves sparklings Rumble and Frenzy. They look like a family pod and he wishes it would stop. Its Ratchet that pats his shoulder armor and tells him to look at the bright side, “he’s well protected. Those sparklings nearly offlined a mech for trying to touch him. What do you think Shockwave and Soundwave will do?” Optimus isn’t so against it after that, after all- anything goes to protect his bitlet.

- Optimus out right refuses for Bee to Starscream which leads to Bee running off and Optimus leaking coolant chasing after him. Optimus does NOT want anything to come of this and he can’t live a peaceful life cycle knowing his bitlet is mated to Starscream of all mechas. Until he sees how loving and genuine Starscream can be. He’s still a menace and a scrap screamer with everybot else but for Bee he’s at least tame, bare-able and sweet sparked.

- Optimus honestly puts the least amount of pressure on Thundercracker. He’s civil, plans things, looks at the bigger picture, is not Starscream or the little menace Skywarp. And he easily sees how smitten Thuncracker is about Bee. He didn’t put up much fight when he saw Bee returning those feelings and didn’t object when Thundercracker asked to spark bond with Bee. When TC is seen cuddling with Bee Optimus forgets TC is a decepticon who should not be relaxing in an autobot base with his bitlet wrapped in a blanket in recharge on his chassis while said seeker writes a play dedicated to his bitlet….Optimus actually doesn’t mind this. His bitlet is happy so he is happy.

- last but not least if its Blitzwing…Primus help them. Its every creators worst nightmare to know their sweet, precious gremlin bitlet is being courted by the likes of Blitzwing. The afthole seeker turned triple changer who courts his bitlet in some of the sweetest and most chaotic ways imaginable. Blitzwing draws countless images of Bumblebee in recharge, fueling, fighting and gazing at the stars. He would think it sweet if it weren’t the triple changer he saw half devour a mech for touching his bitlet inappropriately. The only reason he stopped was because Bee demanded him. Optimus was NOT fond of Blitzwing asking for Bumblebee’s servo and spark. Nor was he fond of how gentle Blitzwing could be with his bitlet when it was just the two of them. Optimus will deny stalking them he simply had the same route as they did. Even when he looked through their shared home and watched as Blitzwing made fuel for the both of them every lunar cycle without fail because apparently it was his love language.

-Optimus definitely didn’t break down leaking coolant the moment his bitlet said he was in love and spark bonded to Blitzwing. And no, Optimus didn’t hold Bee hostage in his arms leaking because he didn’t want to let his little bitlet go. He did no such thing.

Basically Dad optimus is protective and wants only the best for his baby bot while also being emotional.

☺️🍉🇵🇸🇨🇩🇾🇪🇭🇹

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dabiscrustyfeet · 1 year

Note

Hiiii! (I’ve looked everywhere to see if your asks were open or not, but if they aren’t or you’re busy or anything like that, please ignore me!) I just had the idea of “what if MC already had a pact with Diavolo when they first arrived at the devildom cause they’d met him when they were a kid and he became fond of them since they had no one to look out for them” and was wondering if you could do the brothers’ reaction to that? I love love love your writing btw!!

AaAAAAhhhH this is so cute!! And I’m glad you like my writing love. So very sorry this is late though

GN MC who had a pact with Diavolo before coming to Hell ft. the sins

You were a young child who had nowhere to go. Your parents, who you never met, have abandoned you at a young age, and you had only yourself to fend for. The people of the village pitied you, and the other children steered clear from you - afraid they may live like you. You learned to trust nobody or get too close and comfortable with anyone - you feared they’ll leave you like your family did. A young child you were, yet you had the mind of a wise person - you grew up too fast.

You lived near a forest you always went to, the smell of the leaves and the wind calmed you. You were still trekking through the forest and it felt like hours. You were trying to find a little shed or something to stay in - you hoped your fantasy books were saying the truth about random houses in forests.

To your luck, you found a shed of some sorts. It wasn’t run down, just a bit old. There was some ivies on the door and parts of the walls, and the windows were blackened. With some hesitation, you opened the door and quickly ran to the side, in case something was in there. When nothing came out the door, you peeked your head to the side. You were ever so grateful the sun was shining, illuminating the inside of the shed.

The shed had what looked like a sofa [ which you were definitely not touching ] and some sort of kitchen. You took a step inside and saw that in the far corner there was a bed. However what caught your eye was a shelf full of a few books that was next to the bed. All of your wariness faded away and you ran to the shelf. You always loved books : each different book took you to a different world to live in.

Pulling a book from the shelf, you blew off the dust and inspected the cover. It was black with gold accents adorning the spine, and a strange gold marking in the middle of the cover. You looked for the title, but there were none, not even a blurb. Opening the book to the first page, there was a warning, telling you not to venture further into the book, however, you payed no heed. You were bored, and curious. You turned the page slowly, and saw a whole passage. You didn’t recognise the language, only a few words – you reckoned it was latin.

Now, you loved reading, but there were no pictures. Or any interesting patterns : you were still a child, you like drawings. Skipping pages, you were trying to find something that intrigued you. A page suddenly fell out : a page too old and tattered to be part of this book. There was a massive black pattern in the middle of the page– it looked as though there was blood on the paper. In a large font was a passage under the pattern. There was warning written above the passage. It seemed as though the one wrote the warning was desperate when writing this, though you had overlooked the warning yet again.

The passage seemed to be written in red ink – or was it black? The colour seemed to change, yet you were not phased. You read the passage under your breath. As soon as you uttered the last word, the temperature in the shed suddenly dropped. The door was opening and closing, as if there was a gush of wind. The windows rattled, and the trees outside swayed violently. You did not understand what was happening, but you were terrified. You cursed yourself and wished that you had listened to the warning. The black pattern on the page seemed to move from the page to the centre of the room : rapidly growing in size. Crawling with your heart in your stomach, you huddled in the corner of the room. Legs to your chest, you looked at the centre of the pattern with a pounding heart – something, or someone, was taking shape and manifesting in the room.

You felt a burning sensation all over your body. Teary eyed, you held your legs tightly, gritting your teeth, so you do not scream and alert the manifestation. The pain was unbearable - your head felt like it was splitting, your body was trembling and your hands had little bloody crescent shapes from digging your fingers in your skin. Oh if you hadn’t touched that book, you wouldn’t have been going through such pain.

The creature took the shape of a man, and slowly but surely, you could make out his features. Dark skin adorned with gold jewellery, but the feature that made you sick to your stomach the most : horns. Two great horns resting on the mans head – gold covering the tips. Horns were associated with demons, you knew that, and you tried to keep your breath, lest he heard you. The man looked around the room, looking quite puzzled. Not a second later, his eyes widened, and he looked in your direction.

The two of locked eyes. You opened your mouth to scream, but not a sound came out. The man, however, was wondering how a human, a child at that, succeeded in summoning him. He saw the terror in your eyes, and to your surprise, his horns and the two pairs of wings he had disappeared : he was now wearing a dressing gown, seemingly looking a lot more human than before. He sat down in the middle of the room, not breaking eye contact.

‘I wont hurt you,’ he said softly, giving you a soft smile. One would say that it was hard to believe this … creature, but you could not help but feel safe in his presence. It was almost terrifying. You sat where you were since he never asked for you to sit next to him. ‘You know, nobody managed to summon me here, they all died in the process. I didn’t expect someone to succeed, let alone a child your age,’ he spoke. You stayed silent : it was obvious you didn’t trust him yet.

‘Is there anyone here to look after you?’ He asked. You looked down, hoping he would just leave. It seemed that he understood somehow that you were alone. ‘Well, I suppose I should at least introduce myself. I am Diavolo, the Prince of Hell,’ he said, lips curling into a smile. You froze. Hell? That’s impossible. Your little hands trembled. A little whimper escaped your lips, and the man felt your terror. His eyes softened and he opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

‘Don’t kill me please,’ you pleaded softly. Tears ran down your face, and the demons heart broke. ‘I wont, and I can’t,’ he said. You looked at him in confusion, and he chuckled softly. ‘I suppose I should explain. While i was being summoned, did you feel an immense pain?’ You nodded, unable to speak. ‘Well, it seems you are the first human that ever succeeded in making a pact,’ he said. A pact? You didn’t know what that was, and he seemed to know that too. ‘A pact is a contract between a demon and a human, except the demon cannot hurt the pact master, there are repercussions for that. The human usually benefits from a pact more than the demon, really.’

You thought long and hard of what he said, and he did say that he cant kill you. You looked at him, no longer feeling afraid, and walked to him, taking very cautious steps. Sitting down in front of him, you asked him ‘ Can a pact master ask the demon to do anything?’ Diavolo looked at you with a soft smile ‘Yes, they can ask anything.’ You fell silent, hesitation evident in your eyes. You then asked, no louder than a whisper, ‘Then, can you take care of me?’ Diavolo’s eyes widened a fraction, but without any hesitation, he agreed to take care of you (with the knowledge of a time lord of course)

•••

Many years have passed by being taken under the care of a demon prince, you were ever so grateful of him and happy that you asked him that question.

It was when you came back from your work place that you felt so exhausted. You did remember Diavolo telling you to make sure you get plenty of rest and that you don’t overdo yourself. Deciding that sleep was the best option (since you thought that working overnight was a good idea), you made your way to your bed and plopped onto it. You ended up falling asleep pretty quickly dreaming of all things food, blissfully unaware to the absolute quackery that was going on down below.

You woke up soon later on cold, hard ground.

Looking around in shock and confusion, you felt an overwhelming presence, and so you looked behind, showing nine demons, each with their powers overflowing and making you feel dizzy. A deep voice spoke to you and said, ‘ Welcome to the Devildom, human’. To say that you were shocked was an understatement, and the fact that you couldn’t see their faces made all the more terrifying. In fear of making a mistake, and fearing for your life, you didn’t utter a word.

‘Aaww look at how small and adorable they are’, a sultry voice piped up. ‘Do I really have to be here? Why is it even necessary?’ a whiny voice added. You were getting a little unsettled so you slowly got up from your spot on the floor, and slowly approached the demons, enough to see their faces, your heartbeat in your ears, but to no avail, so you stayed where you were.

‘Ayo thats a cool tattoo ya got there - hey Lucifer d’ya think i can get one,’ one of the demons said. From what little you can see, his hair was as white as snow, and his eyes were a beautiful sea of gold and blue. Yet, you subconsciously tried to hide your arms, surprised that he could see your pact mark.

‘No. And I’m pretty sure your job as a model wouldn’t allow it, Mammon,’ the demon who was called Lucifer replied, with a grumble coming from his brother. ‘Anyways. What is your name, human? I do believe you have quite a few questions as well,’ Lucifer asked you.

‘Um… MC. My name is MC,’ you replied. A scoff was heard and the owner of the voice spoke. ‘I don’t even think we’re going to address them anyway, so a name is not needed. You’re just a mere human, in Hell.’

Lowering your head, you realised he said Hell. If this is Hell, you thought, then that means that- a loud laughter cut through your line of thought. ‘Now, now Belphegor, no need to be so hostile to the human. Besides, this human is special, isn’t that right MC?’

Raising your head, you took a further step forward, and you were able to see each and every demon that was present. Lucifer, had a stern look on his face, worn out and looking very much like he was on his tenth black coffee for the day. Mammon, who looked truly like a model, dark skin and blue-gold eyes making him look more like an angel. Leviathan, who wasn’t even paying attention, more interested in his phone and only taking a glance. Satan, who looked very interested in you, as if you were some sort of specimen. Asmodeus, who, clearly, didn’t seem to have any pure thoughts going through his head, if that blush and that smile was anything to go by. Beelzebub, who had a little smile on his face and a lollipop, seeming to acknowledge you. And Belphegor, who looked at you with pure disgust, a glare never leaving his face.

You looked over at the person who lightheartedly scolded Belphegor, and you saw two demons. One with an air of professionalism, Barbatos, and the other, had a huge smile on his face, who you recognised as Diavolo. A smile like his broke out on your face, and Diavolo seemed happy that you were here. He opened his arms, and you ran and hugged him. Safe to say, that all the demons in the room had their jaws on the floor.

‘WHAT??’ Levi exclaimed, looking back and forth between the two of you. Mammon had to look at his brothers to see if they were seeing the same thing as him and Belphie thought he was going to puke.

‘Barbatos?????’ Lucifer stared at said butler, confused. All the butler did was smile and say, ‘Avatars of Sin, this is MC, the only human being who managed to make a pact with Young Master and survived’.

Lucifer

Fainted from the shock

When he woke up again(courtesy of mammon), he had a look of disbelief

‘How??’

Does this mean he’s got to obey you?? A mere human??

My bros pride is crushed.

Drowned his sorrows in wine

Obviously this attitude changed when you ended up in a pact with him

Bros still salty tho, cuz every time he tried to kill you, you’d just start saying ‘Denziens of the darkness, heed my call’

Shuts him right up and walks off 💀

Really impressed that you managed to withstand the pain of the pact when you were a kid tho

Hes got your respect

Mammon

Very impressed.

He’s nodding in acknowledgment

However, cuz we all know he is the one who warms up to mc first, he wont hesitate to run behind you if lucifer is chasing him

Or whenever a deal of his goes wrong- off to MC we go

Once you get your pact with him, he a little bummed that he’s not your first

Wont hold it against you, he’s still really impressed with the pact you have with the prince

He worries about and respects you even more when he finds out you were only a kid when the connection happened

Honestly loves diavolo’s pact mark- its shiny and he likes shiny things

Takes pride in the fact that although dia is your first, mammons pact mark is over your heart, and that really is everything he’d ever ask for

Leviathan

Shocked, confused, flabbergasted

Bro had to do a double take

Thought he didn’t hear Barbatos properly

Overall, he is pretty shocked, but gets over it the quickest

Quite likes looking at the pact marks on your arms, and does trace over the patterns (art inspiration for him)

He once copied your pact markings on a huge a3 paper once with you, and accidentally summoned diavolo himself

The two of you looked at each other then back at diavolo’s and just shrugged

Gaming marathon with diavolo was quite fun

He never will draw your pact marks again tho that appearance took years out his life.

When he got a pact with you, he actually quite liked his own mark, and decided to draw that instead

Still likes to trace those marks on your body, whether they’re his or not. He finds them interesting

He has stars in his eyes when he realised that you were a child who survived the pact connection tho

Satan

Shocked, confused, flabbergasted ch. 2

This bitch is quite judgmental about it for some odd reason

He did clock that there was something wrong with them ‘tattoos’ of yours

Didnt expect it to be a pact though

My bro looking you up and down, giving you a stink eye

He honestly thought you’d be someone like lucifer (bro meant that as an insult)

Does find the pact marks to be quite interesting though

Remember how good old Stanley satan kept threatening you? Roll your sleeves, display your marks = dominance asserted

Once he’s got a pact with you, you are now going to have all the marks rated one to ten. (Obviously ranks his first like any self respecting demon, but hates the fact that mammon’s is over your heart)

Whenever once of his schemes against lucifer backfires, he also runs to you for shelter.

Loves the look on lucifer face when he sees you, but got his smile wiped off his face when lucifer just walked up to him and caught him by the scruff of his neck like a cat

You can hear this guy taking off (with you in his clutches)

Good luck getting out of the father-son squabble mc

You’re going to need it

Asmodeus

When bro laid his eyes on you, he found you hot with them ‘tattoos’

When they turned out to be pact marks, found you even hotter

He’s always trying to get you to show off your arms- what do you mean its under -30 degrees mc?

Honestly he’s the only one who doesn’t seem that shocked (he is, he’s just good at hiding it)

Always has these lotions and creams to make sure you pact marks look fantastic

Also whenever a lesser demon is bothering you, he just walks up to you, rolls up your sleeves, puts some non sticky lotion on and goes like ‘ you forgot to put some cream on your arms mc, we wouldn’t want Diavolo’s pact mark to not look good now don’t we~’

Makes the lesser demon run off with his tail between his legs, and that is also how a lot of demons don’t try you (they think you’re a short tempered person smh)

When he has his pact with you, its as if Diavolo’s pact mark ain’t even there 💀

Bro attention is on you and his pact mark and makes sure you take care of it properly.

He’s quite alright with the pact marks tho, but also hates that mammons is over your heart

What do mean you cant move the pacts around MC??

Beelzebub

Impressed ch. 2

He doesn’t really mind or care, he’s just hungry

But does wonder if it did hurt, he does know that the pact from any royal would hurt depending on how much magic you know

The one time he almost killed you, he was soo guilty to the point where he just followed you around apologising profusely.

Doesn’t look at custard the same way (was it custard that he was upset about i cant remember pls correct me if im worng)

Wondered why you didn’t use your pact with diavolo

Turns out you just forgot in the heat of the moment.

Once you get his pact, he quite surprised at how big it is on your lower back. Honestly thought that Diavolo’s would be the biggest

Oh well, he quite likes it (his mark not dia’s) and likes to touch it sometimes

Still quite impressed when you manage to make diavolo pop out from thin air

Thinks that you can get diavolo to drag barbatos with him so that he can get some food.

What do you mean it don’t work like that mc?

Belphegor

Disgusted

First you’re a human and now you’ve got a pact with the himbo.

Any respect he had for you went down the drain.

Say he managed to kill you like in the game, and you don’t use your pact, so you ascend, he’s basically shook that you didn’t use your pact, but diavolo does come pretty quickly since, y’know, he felt his connection breaking

If not, then he’ll be salty, he will keep inconveniencing you, maybe try to kill you idk

How did you put him in his place, you say?

You gave no warning and summoned diavolo, who (thank the lord) was confused. ‘Oh hi mc, Belphegor, whats up?’

Shuts belphie right up, but he only behaves when he’s there

Once diavolo fucks off, he goes back to being a little hoe, so you just summon beel right in the middle of his insults.

Cue sad beel noises ‘why cant you get along with mc, belphie?’

Soo, he fixes up his behaviour (only for beel he says)

But he does end up warming up to you eventually (also because he like to tell you to order diavolo around for his entertainment smh)

Also uses you as a scapegoat whenever an anti lucifer scheme backfires

Seems like everyone be using you as a scapegoat, huh?

Bonus:

Solomon

So many questions

How? When? What kinda attitude towards him did you have?

Bros getting all the information he can get to see if he can make a pact with lucifer (and now maybe diavolo)

Someone stop him before he gets caught by barbatos

Pretty damn bummed when he realises you were a child when the pact was made

Asks barbatos whether he can turn him into a child

Gets a dirty look in return

Seriously tho wth did solomon do to barbatos

Simeon

Verrrry impressed

Also concerned

Are you sure it doesn’t hurt anymore mc?

Knows how much it does hurt for the pact master when the connection is given, especially if they have no magical experience

Will massage your arms and body to give you some relief of tension

He so sweet wth 😫

May or may not give you ideas to mess with diavolo

There’s definitely something going on between them (bro wont hesitate to piss diavolo off)

Luke

First off, he a kid

What does a kid do when they see someone remotely intimidating or scary

Get scared

He was honestly quite afraid when he found out you had a pact with diavolo

Thought you were going to unleash your scary power on him (pls i love him so much 😭)

When he realised you’re not as shady as solomon, he warmed up to you real quick

Always baking with you and cute shit like that

He’s still a little wary about the pact though, so he does try and placate you if you get mad

Poor thing thinks you’re going to summon diavolo and make the prince do something to him

Please reassure the kid

Finds it concerning that you had to go through so much pain AND that you were a kid when the pact was forged

Like simeon, he also gives you massages, or bakes you cookies for you

(He so adorable 😭🖐️)

Barbatos

Already knew

He knew the second Diavolo disappeared

Bros like ‘something just happened’

Still, you’ve got his respect. A human successfully forged a pact with his master, and a child no less. Very cool

Will not hesitate to put you in your place tho

Unlike the brothers and the angels, he’s not afraid of diavolo, and possibly is more powerful than the guy

Has the power of time in his hands, so he knows you don’t hv the guts to summon diavolo.

Does warm up to you ( after making sure there is not one possibility where you will take advantage of the Young Master)

You do have to watch your step though.

He wont hesitate to cast you out to the human world if need be

Diavolo

When the connection was being made, he was so baffled.

How on earth was his first question

Then he saw you and was very concerned

How did this kid summon him? And how are they still alive- oh shit they’re scared

Once he calmed you down and explained everything, he became batman decided to become your father

Of course barbie had to help with all of that (no offence but the guy would end up killing you accidentally with how incompetent he is in raising kids)

He did go back and decide to rio the summoning circle apart, he don’t want another person to come and successfully forge a pact with him.

He does try to suppress a lot of his magic even more than he did when you were younger so he doesn’t overwhelm you and your body.

In short he regulated his power not to kill you

Most stressful years of his life honestly

He had to regulate his emotions and make sure that you learn basic magic too on too of being a Prince and doing princely things

Was happy when you became an adult

Bro sat down and just let his power go to what it was before you.

Still, he does respect you and does try to teach you some more magic and potions when he has the time

Also spoils the absolute heck out of you, regardless of your age

To him, you’re still the child he took in years ago

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me!#obey me swd #omswd mc #obey me mc #obey me diavolo #omswd #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me nightbringer

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wandasgf · 8 months

Text

I. THE PROPHECY. mdni. 18+. series masterlist

pairings: wanda maximoff + mutant!reader

summary: wanda finds out about the prophecy and the two of you meet

warnings: none

wc: 2.8k~

< prologue | next part >

The last thing Wanda expected during her Sunday afternoon downtime was to be called into an emergency meeting. She had made it very clear that if she were to join the Avengers, she needed a few days to herself, to just be Wanda and not the Scarlet Witch, and Sunday was one of them. So, to say she was surprised when Tony called over the intercom that they needed her in the war room would be an understatement.

“This had better be good, Stark. I just put some pasta on the stove, and if it boils over because of this–” Wanda pauses, brows furrowed as she steps into the room– “Agatha. I wasn’t expecting to see you today. What’s… going on?” She asks slowly, looking around and seeing that everyone is already gathered around the table. As she steps closer, she realizes that they’re looking at a photo on the desk. Specifically, she realizes they are looking at a photograph of the Darkhold. “What is that doing here?” She knows she shouldn’t be so harsh, that the Darkhold isn’t actually anywhere near her, but she can’t help it.

“Wanda, dear, don’t be like that. Come sit down.” Agatha ignores her question and pulls out a chair for her to sit in. Wanda takes a deep breath and softens considerably. Agatha has been like a mother figure to her since she’d been rescued from that small Transian town near the mountains of Wundagore, and she tells herself that there’s no need to be upset with her, that Agatha must have a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. She starts to walk closer as she reminds herself that everything is fine, “I would prefer to stand.” She crosses her arms over her chest and peers down at the photo.

Agatha gives her a knowing glance and sighs, “Alright, dear, if you’re sure.” She knows how Wanda must be feeling right now, she knows that she would have recognized the book from the photograph, and she hopes that this isn’t dragging up any unsavory memories for the younger witch. “Recently, there has been a change in the earth’s ley lines. I have been monitoring it for a few days now trying to uncover the source and unfortunately, it’s much worse than I could have thought.” Agatha speaks up, addressing everyone in the room.

“The earth’s ley lines? Magic. There’s been a change in the earth’s magic?” Tony speaks up, gesturing with his hands as he talks. “Can’t you just do some hocus pocus and fix that all up? What’s this meeting for?”

“I wish it were that simple, Tony. That photo on the table is a picture of one of the pages of the Darkhold–” Agatha turns to Wanda now– “Do you know what that says, Wanda?” And Wanda reluctantly looks at the words in the picture instead of staring at it blankly. It’s not in English or Romanian, but for some reason, she feels like she recognizes what it’s saying. “Yes, maybe? I don’t know.” She reaches down and picks up the photograph now that she’s sure that the Darkhold isn’t able to sink its talons into her through it and studies the words: यदा अन्धकारमाता उत्थाय अग्रजदेवं छथोन् आह्वयति तदा आकाशं हरितं भविष्यति, कालस्य अन्तः च समीपं गमिष्यति।.

Her fingers dance over the text and she lets the words sink in even though she could not read them out loud in their original language even if she tried. Her tongue feels heavy as she speaks, “When the Dark Mother rises and calls upon the Elder God Chthon, the skies shall turn green and the end of time draw near,” she swallows harshly. That is not a name she wanted to hear again, “The Lovers, born from the Mother, the Hunter and from Chthon, the Witch, are bound by eternity. Only when the Hunter walks in the Light and the two Lovers join will the apocalypse fall.”

Wanda feels her blood run cold. She was a witch created by Chthon, perhaps the witch created by Chthon, but that is not a reality she wants. She can feel everyone’s eyes on her now that she’s done speaking and she looks up, “No.” She says simply, placing the photograph back on the table. Agatha frowns, “I know you may not like it, but this is not just a fairytale in the Darkhold, Wanda. Lilith has already risen and if we have any hope of stopping her we need you.”

When Wanda stays silent, Agatha continues, “The change in the ley lines that I was sensing is from the dark energy that Lilith radiates. Although she has only been on our plane for a few days, she has been able to manipulate the ley lines completely without even trying. Her strength is something that I fear will only grow if we do not act in time. I have not been able to pinpoint her exact location, but I have at least reached out to the Hunter. I know this is a big favor to ask, but it’s not just Wanda that we need. If we are to fight off Lilith’s army and save this universe, we are going to need the Avengers' help.”

“I am not a character in Chthon’s damned book, I am a person, Agatha!” Wanda snaps. She feels like a teenager acting out against her mother, but when she heard that this Hunter had already been contacted she couldn’t help her little outburst. She has no interest in fulfilling anything that book has to prophesize because prophecy be damned, she is not letting Him tell her who she is anymore. She turns on her heel and walks out of the room before Agatha can get another word in, she doesn’t want to hear it.

“Looks like Vision here’s not your real loverboy!” Tony jokes, “hope this one’s handsome.. And a little less metal!” He calls out to her as he watches her storm out of the room. He has to stifle a laugh when she raises her right hand and gives him the middle finger. Natasha rolls her eyes, “Don’t be an ass, Tony,” before she follows behind the witch.

Wanda hates that how she's been feeling for the past couple of weeks seems to be explained so simply in two sentences of that stupid book. “The Lovers, what a joke,” she mumbles to herself. Things with Vision have never felt exactly right, but she didn't think anything was supposed to feel that way. These past couple of weeks, though, have felt increasingly not right. So maybe she's been avoiding him both at the compound and at the tower… and she's been requesting specifically not to be teamed up with him if it could be helped.

She had been chalking it up to the fact that even though she loves Vision, she just doesn't love him like that and she'd just been happy to know that someone would always be on her side. Tony’s comment struck a nerve. She knows he was only teasing, but he was right. She did want something a little less… metal and a little more human. She just hates to think that her feelings are not her own and that somehow, some way, she'd been influenced by that damned book.

That does not, however, mean that she wants this Hunter person.

She lets out another little huff before walking into her room, slamming the door shut but not locking it. She knew the red headed assassin would be following her and she'd never say no to a little comfort from one of her favorite people.

The Avengers compound, not tower, you realize as you drive up the unnecessarily long driveway. It’s been two days since you received the letter from Agatha and perhaps you took a little longer than you needed to get here, but for some reason, you think the witch might have predicted that. You have the stupid envelope in your hand with the picture and the note, slightly crumpled because you might have balled it up and thrown it in an attempt to forget about it.

It clearly didn’t work, though, because here you are. As you step out of the car, a black Ford Bronco you might be a little too proud of for someone who could snap their fingers and create a portal to wherever they wanted to go. The words of the prophecy float around in your mind as you walk towards the compound. The Hunter. That was you, wasn’t it? According to Agatha it was. And if you were the Hunter, then your mother was the Dark Mother and she planned on bringing about the end of the world. What a wonderful family tree so far. You can’t help but think that your actions these past 10 years might have aided in the resurrection of your mother. You shake your head, that is not something you need to think about right now.

Instead, you think about what little you know of your mother. Your mother has always been a mysterious figure in your life. The only experiences you have with her are in your dreams and you don’t really think that counts towards actually knowing your mother. Even if it did, you hadn’t had that type of dream in at least 8 years. You know that she died when you were a child and that no one ever wanted to let her around you or give you the chance to meet her. You have no memories of being with her, you could have been plucked from her arms as soon as you were born for all you know.

You remember hearing hushed conversations between Agatha and… someone else when you were still living with her about how your mother was growing ‘worse’ each day and that the situation was ‘getting more out of control’, but you don’t remember anything specific about what was worse and out of control. You guess this may have been what they feared happening. Everyone always seemed to fear your mother– or you turning into your mother. The teachers at the Xavier school certainly did. Not that it matters much to you, your feelings towards her are practically non-existent. She was absent, how else were you supposed to feel besides nothing?

Before you can get to the door, it’s opening and Agatha is stepping out, “Y/N, dear, I’m glad you got my letter.” She looks exactly the same as when you last saw her, if not a little older, but she certainly does not look like she’s aged 15 years. Your movements stop for just a second before you take a deep breath and continue walking towards her, “Agatha.” You nod in greeting, slipping the envelope into your back pocket and then crossing your arms over your chest. “Would you mind explaining what exactly you expect of me right now?”

“You’ve certainly grown since the last time I saw you.” She smiles and motions for you to follow her inside. She ignores your question just like she ignored Wanda’s as she begins walking with you in tow. “I assume you’ve read my note and looked at the photograph. Do you know what the book is telling you?” She glances at you and you let your arms fall to your sides before settling your hands in the front pockets of your jeans as you walk. “Yes… no, maybe? I’m not sure,” you’re not sure why you’re talking to Agatha so easily, like all these years haven’t passed, but you think you like the familiarity, “It’s a prophecy of sorts, correct? I got the gist of what it meant, but I don’t even know what language that is let alone what the words actually say. I just… understood somehow.”

Agatha hums and takes a mental note of how similar yours and Wanda’s answers were. You two may not be happy to meet each other, but the universe has always meant for you to be together, and to her this was just another piece of evidence to support that theory. This may go better than she expected. “Yes, dear. Your mother… Lilith, she wasn’t always destined for this path, but the Darkhold got her before I could stop it. I had always feared this day would come, but when she died, I assumed it wouldn’t be something you ever had to worry about. It was foolish of me, I know that now. I should have kept you with me, to prepare you for this if nothing else, and I will always regret that, but now we must face the consequences.”

You stay silent as you let her speak, afraid that if you say something it might be out of anger, something you’ve learned not to let consume you. Instead, you take in the information she’s giving you, trying to understand what exactly is so dire that she contacted you out of the blue like this. And trying not to think about the fact that you wish she had contacted you because she wanted to, not because she had to.

Agatha continues, “This, of course, makes you the Hunter. You are Lilith’s only child and one of the only people that can put a stop to her. I understand that this is a lot to take in, but I really do think that stepping into the Light, even if only for this, will be something you won't regret.”

“As opposed to all the other things I've done and regretted?” You bite back before taking a breath, “don't… answer that. Alright, let's do this, shall we?”

All heads turn towards you as you enter the war room, as Agatha had called it and you let your eyes scan over every person individually, none of them give you the impression of a witch. You wonder where she could be, you assumed she'd just be waiting in here like everyone else seemed to be. “Where is she exactly?” You tilt your head inquisitively and look around.

“Oh, this is rich,” laughs a man who looks to be about 6-feet tall before he presses the button and calls from someone named Wanda. The Witch, you can only assume. ”Tony Stark. Billionaire, ex-playboy, philanthropist.” He introduces himself, and you give him an apprehensive look before nodding slightly. “Y/N, I'm not any of those.”

“You're the Hunter, though, right? I'm just gonna call you Hunter.” And you only sigh in response, you weren't aware that any of the Avengers were this arrogant… or annoying. As a way to defuse any tension before it's created, the rest of the Avengers begin introducing themselves before Natasha walks into the room. She gives you a slow once over before giving a small nod, “Hm.” and then she's walking over to lean against the wall. She sounds almost impressed. Of what, you have no idea.

It's only a few moments later that Wanda walks into the room and you turn your head to look at her. The Witch. You can sense it, the energy she radiates. The two of you make eye-contact, Wanda frozen in her spot as she sees you, for what seems like an eternity before it's interrupted by the annoying voice of Tony Stark, “turns out your new loverboy isn’t a boy at all, Maximoff! How funny is that?”

Wanda tears her eyes away from you and fights the urge to roll them, “Very funny, Stark.” She crosses her arms over her chest, “you’re the Hunter?” She doesn’t really have to ask, she already knows the answer. As soon as she laid eyes on you, she knew exactly who you were. She could feel it was you, just like you could feel it was her, and suddenly she's reminded exactly why you're here. Not by chance or coincidence, but because of some damned prophecy. She hates that stupid book and its stupid prophecies and she hates that she can tell you’re destined for each other even before you’ve spoken to her.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you take a breath, the Scarlet Witch is not exactly what you were expecting her to be, “yes, but my name is Y/N in case you’d like to use it,” you give a side glance to Tony as you say your name, but he just makes a face. Perfect, it seems that name is never going to leave you.

Wanda was… breathtaking. If this were any other situation, you’re sure you would have made the decision to court her regardless of any consequences. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, you’re not sure whether that feeling is because it’s something you truly feel or because some strange book told you to. You were called the Lovers, after all. Still, you can’t deny how beautiful Wanda is.

“Alright, Y/N. I’m Wanda,” she knows that you know already, but it felt awkward not to introduce herself as well. She takes a second to ask her next question, because it’s not something she wants to talk about at all, really, “I suppose you know about the prophecy?”

#alice's series !#alice's fics !#wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine

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dragon-ascent · 1 year

Text

The novel

You happen upon a cheesy novel about Rex Lapis...so of course you show it to Zhongli.

★彡flustered zhongli, mentions of sex and spiciness but just trust me it's fluff

The first thing you do when you return home is kiss Zhongli and say, "Guess what I found!"

Zhongli, smiling at your enthusiasm, cocks his head slightly. "What did you find, darling?"

Grinning deviously, you set a book down on the table. "Gold, my love, literal gold!" Your husband glances over at the cover of the book.

"What is-" His smile falters and his cheeks heat up as he takes in the...rather suggestive illustration. It depicts Rex Lapis in partial human form, with long golden horns and a brown tail, holding in what seems to be a death grip a petite young woman wearing a sheer nightgown. Also, Rex Lapis is shirtless.

"Morax is my Mate," you read the title aloud for him, "it's a sappy, crappy romance fanfiction about you and some random female OC!"

Your husband blinks. "Romance? I - he looks like he wants to kill her."

You shake your head with a snort. "That sultry look is meant to be hot and threatening towards rivals!"

"Rivals," Zhongli repeats. "What, pray tell, is this story about?"

"It's about this village woman becoming Morax's mate, as the title suggests. Celestia appointed her as such, and thus her ordinary life gets thrown out of whack! And Morax is like, obsessed with her for no reason other than she's his mate. She has no personality outside of biting her lip and tucking her hair behind her ear every other page!"

Zhongli's brow furrows. "I...see..."

"And guess what," you say, flipping the pages until you get to the part you want, "the smut scenes go on for pages and pages! This one in particular spans thirty-four pages."

"Thirty-four!" Zhongli repeats, paling. "And it is one scene! What could these characters possibly be doing?"

You stare him down long and hard, smirking. "Do you really want to know, darling~?"

Zhongli's cheeks go from pale to deep red. "On second thought, I do not wish to-"

"Fingering, overstimulation, tail-play-"

"Oh Celestia, please spare me from-"

"-Edging, double penetration, oral-"

"I have had quite enough of-"

"Bondage, bathtub sex, usage of titles like Sex Lapis-"

"S-Sex Lapis..?" If Zhongli could drop dead right now, it would be because he cringed himself to death. In fact, he sits down to process this.

Trying not to laugh, you sit beside him. "You look a little under the weather, hehe."

Zhongli, rubbing his temples, is the very picture of 'under the weather,' if not more so. If he were human, he would possibly have thrown up at least twice by now. "Give me that," he says, taking the book from you and skimming through the prose for a semblance of sanity.

Except, he only feels more and more nauseous with each paragraph he reads. Forced marking? A competing god? Toxic possessiveness? An uprising that somehow only this heroine with the personality of a broken vase can handle? His closes his eyes and wonders when he can return to the earth as dust.

Watching him intently, you ask as he closes the book with a long sigh, "So what do you think of this book that should totally be illegal?"

"Well..." Zhongli gulps and clears his throat, tapping into his rational side. "Freedom of creation and expression is a fundamental right which the citizens of Liyue are entitled to exercise. This...this novel has been appropriately tagged as a fictional work meant for recreational purposes, and therefore...it does not break any rules. It has every right to exist."

You flash him another devious grin. "Uh-huh. And what do you really think of it, Zhongli?"

He draws in a sharp breath. "It is pure and utter garbage and I sincerely wish to delete this from my memory forever."

"Aww, Sex Lapis doesn't like it?" you tease, poking his cheek.

"No, and I am not Sex Lapis..."

"Sex Lapis! Sex Laaaaapis!" Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Hmph. Are you aiming to be punished like in the novel?"

"Maybe..."

#sini writes #zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli fluff #fluff #fanfic #genshin #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #zhongli genshin impact #rex lapis #genshin x reader

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mitsies · 1 year

Text

FISHTAIL, WHAT'S THE MATTER ? ; aki hayakawa > aki might just change his mind about you if you keep on touching his hair like that.

the devil hunter's headquarters are quiet in the mornings.

there's no one here, not at 7 in the morning. the lobby is empty as aki shuts the door behind him. glass windows let the early morning light shine through, painting the receptionist's desk and potted plants white and pale yellow. the receptionists aren't here yet– it’s just him for now. he slides past the doors leading to the office portion of the headquarters, letting them click shut behind him.

the doorway takes him to the dreariest of dreary rooms he’s ever seen. cubicles followed by cubicles fill the centre of the room and line the walls. some are more decorated than the others– many are bare. a few have pictures hanging next to computer monitors. even less have flowers placed on the seats– memorials. aki walks past those ones a little faster. he’s a little distracted by his observations of his colleagues’ workspaces and he jolts a little in surprise when someone’s familiar voice calls out, “aki?”

he turns and sees you. a grimace passes over his face and a storm brews in his chest. you’re standing by the entrance to the office space, having entered a few minutes after him. you look tired, with eyebags colouring your skin with sleep and exhaustion pulling you down into a slight slouch. your arms are crossed over your chest and you blink at him slowly. and aki hates it because you look so lovely, even when you don’t try to. your hair might be mussed but you make it work, and you might be on the verge of passing out but at least you’d look good doing it. he snaps his gaze away from you in a vain attempt to pretend his cheeks from burning redder than red.

“why’re you here so early?” his question is responded to with a huff of laughter as you begin to make your way closer. a part of him wants to tell you to stay away but your increasing proximity is alluring, and he’s not a strong enough man to turn you away.

“i could ask you the same thing.”

he stiffens as you draw nearer. he doesn’t know why– you’re a respectable distance away. a colleague-worthy distance. a friendly distance. and aki’s frown deepens because he wishes that you’d be closer. “i had paperwork to get to.”

“you’re always working,” you muse, more to yourself, letting your head fall to the side a little. aki is only just a little mesmerised by how your hair shifts with your subtle movements, and he clears his throat. “someone has to pick up your slack.”

he winces internally at his own words– it wasn’t a respectable jab to take. you’re part of aki’s special division and you are, regretfully, a valuable asset. but you laugh, and he feels something coil and tighten in his chest, which he tells himself he hates but he’s never been too sure about that assertion.

“my bad, boss,” you respond dryly, with a half-smile that makes his stomach turn. “i’ll let you get to your paperwork. i’ve got my own, too,” you gesture vaguely to your tiny cubicle, a few feet away. aki glances over and sees a pile of white, official-looking documents with familiar seals decorating the wood. your cubicle is mostly bare, but there’s a single picture– it’s you and an older woman who looks a lot like you. you have a big, cheesy grin, little plaits running through your hair, and more smile lines than you do now. he wonders what you’ve given to stand where you are now, as you begin to move over to the spinning desk chair.

“wait.”

you stop, as you’re about to sit down, and glance back at him, waiting for him to continue. he can’t meet your eyes, opting to brush past you as he speaks. “bring your papers to my office. i have an extra chair.”

aki’s office is small and out of the way, compared to the other ones in the building. it’s on the ground floor but through a winding hallway, and he keeps in front of you, listening to your footsteps echoing through the otherwise empty halls. he opens the door to the space and clicks the light on, before moving to his desk.

he’s suddenly very aware of the empty mugs and full trash receptacle, and the smell of coffee hanging in the air, and he silently both hopes you won’t care and chides himself for offering you to come in the first place. because truthfully, why did he ask you to join him? aki was perfectly fine without company– in fact, he might’ve even preferred it. maybe you were becoming an exception. the thought crosses his mind, and he feels a surge of something so warm and overwhelming that he can’t quite discern how he feels about it. he thinks it might feel nice.

he pulls up a chair for you– a spare, right across from his setup, and sits down in his own seat too your credit, you don’t say a word. maybe it’s the early hour that renders you without much to speak about, as you unceremoniously plop your pile of documents and files onto the little clearing aki has made for you on the desk and slide into the seat.

the both of you work in silence for a while. he’s clicking away at his laptop, and you scribble onto your reports. it’s a silent system, and the only noises are the keys clicked and the soft breathing as the office building comes to life outside of the sanctity of aki’s office. people begin to arrive, and footsteps can be heard through the thin walls. people chattering quietly becomes audible from the room with the cubicles. at some point, your hand cramps and you slide back into your seat with a slight sigh. aki tips his head up to look at you, hair tied up with strands loosely escaping from the updo.

“doesn’t that bother you?”

aki blinks. “what?”

“your hair. it’s all in your face.”

he hadn’t noticed the loose strands until you’d pointed them out. absently, he brushes a longer piece behind his ear. “i’ll fix it later.”

he’s in a flow, now, breezing through the mountains of reports and paperwork he has to get through, and he looks back to his laptop screen. but you stand, suddenly, and walk around the desk to where he is. the already cramped space grows even tighter, and you’re infinitely close as you stand behind him, a hand on the back of his chair as he looks at you.

“what are you doing?” he tries to sound dull and stern like he usually does, but he feels the blood rushing to his face as he snaps his gaze back to his screen to avoid more humiliation.

“your hair, hopefully,” you hum. you’re half expecting him to tell you off when you deftly move your hands to his scalp, gently tugging out the black elastic that holds his updo in place. but he doesn’t say a word, simply continuing to scroll through whatever document he has open as you run your fingers through his scalp nimbly.

he’s trying his hardest to not react as your fingertips brush against his scalp, as your skin meets his, as your hand finishes its track and softly touches against the back of his neck. his brain is short-circuiting and sparking electricity in his head, and he feels so warm beneath your hands. and then you start braiding.

aki’s not too sure how he’s meant to work under these circumstances. deftly, swiftly, you section his thick, dark hair into parts and plait them. he tries to type, he tries to focus, but his mind is on you and your hands, you and your voice, you and your smile, you and yourself. he decides that he doesn’t mind thinking about you, and therefore doesn’t mind you much at all, not as much as he thought he did. and then you start talking, and he realises: he might even like you a little.

“my mom,” you start, “she taught me how to braid hair. used to let me do hers every morning.”

aki wants to respond but he’s not sure how. so all he says is a polite, “that sounds nice.”

“it was. maybe i should’ve been a hairstylist.”

“you could,” he says with a sudden rush of urgency. “you could be anything. you should be anything. you should leave.”

you blink down at him, and he’s not looking at you but he can see your expression in his mind’s eye. and you exhale like a laugh, and say, “and leave you here? no, thanks.”

the silence that follows your words is only permeated by the growing volume of conversation outside, and the mounting number of footsteps travelling down the hallway outside aki’s office. you plait his hair in the muffled noises of the morning, leading it up into a simple updo, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. you braid his hair like your mother did yours, and he feels the love that is carried through in the actions, in the repetition, in the language of little intimacies. you braid his hair, and aki loves you.

he’s embarrassed to admit he’s upset when you’re finished. you wordlessly grin at him and trail your hands across his shoulders all-too-quickly before moving to sit down again and continue your paperwork. but he’s not too mad, because at least you’re still there. at least you’re here.

aki decides that he likes his hair braided. and he thinks that he might be far too busy to learn to do it himself– it would be inefficient and a waste of time to even try. so, he thinks, the only reasonable course of action is to ask you. he bites the inside of his cheek to contain the unabashed surge of warmth, the feeling he recognises as pure joy and affection, at the thought.

he thinks that he’s beginning to look forward to mornings, just a little.

✄ this was written for the mitsies 3k follower event with the prompt 'you ask to do their hair and the whole time they're trying not to explode'

[⇥3K EVENT MASTERLIST] [⇥3K EVENT INFO]

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki hayakawa #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #csm x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #aki #hayakawa aki #aki x reader #csm #reader insert #mitsies 3k #title is from a song go away

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