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yandere-fetish · 5 months

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Yandere Chairman X Female Reader

Part One

warnings: cheating, mentions of death, family life

One day, you, a wealthy business woman, wake up with visions of the future.

Your husband left you for his childhood sweetheart, your son despises you for trying to split him and his lover up, your daughter was kidnapped and killed, and you were left to die, paralyzed, in some healthcare facility.

You're so scared that you decide to test your theory, just to feel better about your life.

You set traps for your husband.

You monitor your son's personal life.

You give your daughter bodyguards.

You continuously tell yourself that your dreams are just that; dreams. There's nothing to be afraid of, there's nothing to worry about because they're not true. You're not a fortune teller.

But it was all true.

Your husband was secretly meeting his childhood sweetheart while your son was deeply in love with the same woman from your nightmares. You were happy that your daughter hadn't been kidnapped, nor murdered. You were just in time.

And you were not going to make the same mistakes of the you in your dreams.

Of course, you want to give your twenty-three year old son a chance, but the moment you try to speak with him, he answers a call from his "friend" and refuses to acknowledge you. This happens several times until you've had enough of it. The two of you have a heated argument, to which he stomps away and your nineteen year old daughter is left with the task of calming you down.

Your heart hurts when you try to spend more time with your family, especially your husband, but he suddenly has a business trip coming up. He doesn't want to catch dinner because he's tired and is working early in the morning.

You can't help but think he's going to her.

But instead, you grow closer to your daughter, spending the entire week being pampered after feeling so down about the results of your life.

It isn't until a small dinner date with your daughter causes you to catch Yandere Chairman's eye.

Yandere Chairman had been dining with many of his peers when he happened to glance your way. Your radiant smile has him pause on his words while you gushed over the other woman you were sitting with.

Yandere Chairman assumes it's either your daughter or a sister since the two of you look so alike.

His demeanor completely changed after spotting the two of you enjoying each other's company. You both were such beautiful women that he couldn't take his eyes off of you two, especially you.

Yandere Chairman whispers to the waiter for the bill to your table and picks up the tab, his heart fluttering at the way you blush and thank the waiter. He finds your companion cute while searching for the mysterious and generous benefactor before giving up and calling it a night.

Yandere Chairman watches you leave with a look of longing in his eyes.

"Someone catch your eye?"

"Hm, *drinks his brandy*"

"The (H/C) women? ——, you should keep away. She's married."

*his eyes say elaborate*

"*laughs* That was Mrs. Kessler and her daughter, Cerise Kessler. They're the wife and daughter of Jonas Kessler, the one that runs the real estate designs.. ah, ah, Kessler Properties."

"The man who pitched the Ansel House?"

"Yes, that's him."

"What is someone like her doing with scum like him?"

"I think it was a business deal or something like that. Only one of the few families that still allows arranged marriage."

It was an especially lovely day when you had slapped the divorce papers on the table, as well as the photos taken of your soon-to-be ex-husband and his mistress getting frisky several different times. Your husband is appalled, but nonetheless denies divorce.

It isn't until you're able to cleanly give your husband what he wants (a certain property that ends up being infertile) before you're given your divorce.

Extremely happy after getting his signature and a divorce certificate after a quick and clean process with the lawyers, you’re off to have a few drinks, never looking back at the mistake you left behind.

What you didn’t see was the look of shock come across his face. Didn’t you say you were desperately in love with him at one time?

Before you knew it, you were celebrating your successful divorce alone at an elite sunroof bar.

It just so happens that Yandere Chairman had just finished a fruitful business deal with one of the top billionaires around for his own business. When he saw you sitting there at the bar all by yourself, he had to meet you. For some reason, he was drawn to you.

When Yandere Chairman takes a seat next to you and begins a conversation, he notices that instead of being sad or lonely like he originally thought you would be, you’re very bright with a smile on your lips and a gleam in your eyes. This only awakens a new want for you.

The both of you get to talking, even to the point of exchanging numbers. Yandere Chairman even goes out of his way to help you move out. He’s all ready heard about your divorce (first from his sources, then second from your mouth) so of course he’s going to help you move on! (Just wait until he gets you into his bed—)

Yandere Chairman goes to the extent of taking off his afternoon to help you decide what house would be perfect for you and your daughter, who he ends up confirming was the woman you were eating with that day.

Yandere Chairman even asks you to dinner to celebrate your achievements in such a short amount of time. He’s such a polite gentleman that he even allows you to invite your daughter.

The restaurant is as lavish as it can be when you meet him there. Your daughter is skeptical, knowing about the divorce and how her father treats her mother, she can’t help but want to be protective over you after another man has asked you out so soon. You’re her one and only mother, she couldn’t let you fend for yourself after willingly walking into a lion’s den.

When she meets Yandere Chairman, her mouth visibly drops. You have to pick it up for her as he helps the two of you settle in.

Yandere Chairman, on the other hand, can feel the intense stares coming from the table while conversing with you. It’s not until he opens the floor for her to begin her questions.

“Cerise, is there something on your mind?”

“Yes. *purses lips*”

“*smiles and takes a drink* Say it.”

“Why did you ask my mom out on a date when you knew she had just been divorced today?”

“Cerise! Don’t—“

“It’s okay, (Y/N). I can answer it. *turns to Cerise* I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

“So does that mean you can just toss her to the side whenever you want?”

“*silverware clatters* Cerise! Are you serious?”

“Mom, I don’t trust him! No matter how handsome or famous he is, for all we know, he could be waiting to take advantage of you like dad! I don’t want you to hurt again…”

“*swallows at her words, then smiles* Thank you for looking out for me, and while it’s very comforting, shouldn’t I be the one worrying about you getting hurt? Look at all the young men there are that barely have any brains, and even less when a hussy wraps them around their finger! Just take a look at your brother.”

*laughs*

“So stop worry about me and make your own mistakes okay? I appreciate you and love you so much, okay?”

“Okay, mom.”

“This. This is why, Cerise.”

*both turn to Yandere Chairman*

“What do you mean?”

“I’m all my years, I’ve never had someone in my life that cares so much for others, and whether it ends in marriage or a friendship.. I’ll still be satisfied as long as (Y/N) stays in my life for now.”

*smiles*

“And occasionally you too, Cerise—“

“Hey!”

“—if you’d like.”

After that dinner with Yandere Chairman, you both learned a lot about him.

His parents had been in an arranged marriage, and while his father kept mistresses outside, his mother suffered. He wanted to help you as much as he could to not become like his mother.

On many occasions after that, Yandere Chairman would be seen with you, and occasionally with your daughter as well.

Whether it was dinners, business parties, family gatherings, or charity events, Yandere Chairman had one or both of you by his side.

It was a small little family with smiles all around.

Yandere Chairman even plans a birthday getaway for you with your daughter.

The next thing you know, you’re getting in a plane with your daughter to an exotic island paradise. At first, it’s just you and your daughter exploring the town and marketplace, buying a few things here and there (your daughter refuses for you to buy anything and buys everything for you).

When you arrive to dinner, there’s candle lights with rose petals leading you to the table overlooking a beautiful sunset and beach. You’re breath is taken away.

Yandere Chairman gifts you a beautiful diamond necklace you’ve never seen before. Before you can deny his gift, he kisses the back of your hand — taking your breath away for a second time that night.

“You look so beautiful with the sunset behind you. Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

“*blushes* Thank you, ——.”

Your life with Yandere Chairman has only gotten better and better. Your daughter and him have a good father-daughter relationship, going so far as to your daughter asking to call him her “better dad”, to which you were strongly against until she had a shirt, buttons, office supplies, and anything else made with the logo on it for Father’s Day.

From then on, any Instagram post your daughter made with him had him dubbed as her “better dad” to the world. She had all ready blocked her real father and brother. She didn’t need scum like them in her life if her mother didn’t either.

Yandere Chairman couldn’t be anymore satisfied even though his relationship with you hasn’t been officially established to the public.

Yandere Chairman speaks with his staff about allowing you and your daughter to visit at anytime, and even claims the two of you as family when needed to give a reason (not that he needs to, he just wants to brag about you two). They all ready knew you two were special, but now it must be serious!

“Give them full access. Don’t let anyone not know who these two are. *points at a picture of you and your daughter.”

“Yessir. Is there anything else?”

“Don’t allow these two in or business to be done with them, no matter the circumstances.”

*leaves a photo of your ex-husband and your son*

He wasn't about to allow your ex to come back into the picture and ruin all his plans. You're his, and so is Cerise. He has a right to protect the two of you now that you two will no longer be a secret anymore.

Part two?

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 8 months

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AAAA are you planning on continuing the "How They Kiss" series? If so could you please do my sweet baby Hitoshi next? :cccc

Ooooo yessss - I've been wanting to write some Hitoshi fic for a while!! 💜

Shinsou x Reader | Headcannon: How Hitoshi Shinsou Kisses 💋

The first time Hitoshi kisses you – you totally don’t see it coming. It happens in the library on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Hitoshi is sitting in your favorite spot of the city's library – a cozy corner hidden from view behind the oversized art book section. He’s dragged two large beanbag chairs into the tiny space, waiting for you to join him as he studies for an upcoming Pro hero rescue certification exam. He’s flipping through flashcards when you arrive bearing a purple travel mug filled with his favorite caffeinated beverage. You know your friend is a chronic insomniac – with his permanently baggy eyes and constant yawns - so you decided to get him a refillable mug so he can keep his coffee close throughout exam week. You’ve stuck a cute sticker of a black cat with big eyes to the side of the mug, knowing his TikTok algorithm is almost exclusively cat videos.

“’Toshiiiiii!” You warble quietly as you drop your school bag next to your beanbag chair. “I brought you a ‘lil treat for studying so hard!”

Hitoshi looks up in surprise, his forehead still wrinkled in concentration. He puts down his flash cards and when he realizes it’s you standing over him, he smiles easily. Things have always been like this between the two of you – soft and comfortable.

“You brought me something?” He instantly locks on to the steaming mug of coffee, his eyes crinkling into a smile when he sees the cat sticker. “Is that the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service?”

“Yup!” you hand him the cup as you plop down into your chair and start shuffling through your bag for your notes. “You told me it was your favorite movie as a kid, so I found a little sticker of Gigi on Etsy.”

After a few moments of digging through your bag, you finally find the sheaf of notes you’re looking for and you yank them out – sheets of paper flying all around you. “Whoops!” You hastily gather the papers back into a neat stack.

When you finally look up, you meet Hitoshi’s eyes – he’s giving you an intense, searching look. His eyes are wide, and there’s a soft pink blush across the high points of his cheeks. He absentmindedly smooths a hand through his wild hair, seemingly lost for words.

“What?” You say, a little startled at the sudden tense atmosphere. “Everything okay? Is that not your preferred flavor of coffee?”

“Of course you remembered my favorite flavor.” His voice a quiet rumble and seems to catch in his throat.

You swallow, suddenly feeling hot around the collar as he continues to gaze at you through those bright violet eyes. You can see him biting back his next sentence, seemingly steeling himself to say something.

After a few moments, he takes a steadying breath and his eyes sparkle with a look of resolve. Hitoshi softly places the hot mug of coffee on the ground before leaning towards you. Instantly, he’s a breath away from your face – his delicate features magnified as he tilts his face towards yours.

“You’re just so…” He whispers, moving to brush his thumb against your cheek. Your skin feels like it’s blooming with tiger lilies at the contact. “…sweet.” His tired eyes flutter shut and he leans into you – guiding your lips to his.

The first kiss is feather light – tentative. He wants to make sure you want him back – he needs you to want him with the same deep intensity he’s been feeling in his gut for you for so long. His lips are impossibly soft and taste like a light berry lip balm, and you find the flavor absolutely delicious. When you respond eagerly he smiles into the kiss, blissful. How lucky is he to get to kiss your pretty face?

Hitoshi climbs into the beanbag chair with you deftly, moving his hands to cradle your face. He moves his mouth against yours slowly, purposefully – almost lazily. It’s such a Shinsou way of kissing that it makes you giggle.

“Hey, now.” He breaks the kiss, bringing his forehead to yours as he takes a shaky breath. “Is my kissing that bad?” He’s smiling, but you can tell he’s the tiniest bit nervous for your answer.

You lean in to kiss him again and he pulls back, his lips just out of reach – teasing.

“Your technique can use some refining. But I know someone who can help you practice.” You grin, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him back in for more. He loves that – the banter, the ways you are able to both make him feel comfortable and keep him on his toes. He deepens the kiss, and you know it will be a while before you get back to studying. His flash cards lay abandoned on the floor by your stack of notes.

---------------------

After that, he’s hooked on you. Any trace of nervousness is nonexistent. In just one afternoon, Hitoshi Shinsou has become a lean, mean, make out machine. He absolutely cannot be stopped. He kisses you everywhere he can – in the library, in dark corners of your favorite bar, at the convenience store. He’s constantly trying to sneak away with you so he can crash your lips together in that way that makes his brain feel all blissed out and fuzzy.

I think we’ve all seen just how much determination Hitoshi has – it takes a lot of unwavering dedication to claim a spot in the hero course. He’s just as determined to figure out how you like to be kissed. He pays attention to what makes your pulse race – maybe he kissed your neck a certain way and you moaned? He’s filing that away in his brain so he can do it again and again and again. You don’t like it when he bites your lower lip? He takes note and never does it that way again. He’s committed to figuring out exactly what makes you tick and how he can maximize your pleasure every time. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have the affections of someone like you – someone so sweet and gorgeous and goddamn perfect.

Of course, once he realizes you find him irresistible – he’s smug AF. He becomes such a goddamn tease. You’ll get a rare private moment and move in to kiss him, only for him to dodge your advances until your lips form a disappointed pout. He absolutely revels in how much you want him and loves to build up the tension between the two of you. He’ll kiss you playfully on the cheeks before your disappointed look causes him to concede. “Sorry, Sweetheart.” He says in his low, gravely whisper. “You know I love to tease.” And then he’ll kiss you with as much passion as he can muster, until your legs turn to jello. After all – it’s not in a hero’s nature to do anything half-assed.

----------------------------------------

Thanks so much for reading!!

Interested in some ~smuttier~ Shinsou content!? Check out my story:

Never Too Tired To Love You💜

My Master List! 💜

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sohyxn · 2 months

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WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS⠀───⠀JANG WONYOUNG.

SYPNOSIS : jang wonyoung is a hardworking student who rarely takes time for herself. when her best friend convinces her to take a trip to vegas, wonyoung reluctantly agrees. but her simple getaway takes an unexpected turn when a beautiful stranger offers her a drink.

TAGS : wlw, fluff, strangers to lovers, uni student! wony x bartender! reader, reader is the same age as wony.

NOTES : inspired by the movie what happens in vegas? read the continuation here 👩🏻‍🦯

it was supposed to be just a simple girls' trip to vegas - wonyoung's friends had practically dragged her kicking and screaming to the club, despite her protests. but the moment wonyoung stepped inside, she felt completely out of place among the pulsing music and flashing lights.

that is, until a gorgeous bartender caught her eye. "you look a little lost," the woman called out, flashing wonyoung a playful grin. "can I get you a drink?"

wonyoung hesitated but something about the bartender's warm smile, inviting demeanor put her at ease. "uh, yeah, sure. a vodka tonic, please."

as the bartender mixed the drink, their eyes kept meeting, and wonyoung felt a spark of electricity between them. "I'm yn, by the way," the bartender said, handing wonyoung the drink.

"wonyoung," she replied, taking a sip. "thanks for the drink. and for not judging me for looking so out of place."

yn chuckled. "hey, we all need a break from being the responsible one sometimes. why don't you let me show you how to have a little fun?"

before wonyoung knew it, she was laughing and dancing with yn, all her inhibitions melting away. the night flew by in a blur, and when wonyoung finally stumbled back to her hotel room, her head was spinning - both from the alcohol and the intoxicating woman she'd just met.

when wonyoung awoke the next morning, she was disoriented, her mouth dry and her head pounding. as she slowly opened her eyes, she realized she wasn't in her own room - and there was a warm body next to her under the covers.

wonyoung's eyes went wide as she recognized the familiar messy dark hair and chiseled features of the woman beside her. "yn?" she breathed, her heart racing.

the bartender stirred, then blinked her eyes open, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. "well, good morning, ms. jang."

suddenly, the memories of the previous night came rushing back - the drunken stumble to a 24-hour chapel, the impulsive "I do's", the hazy recollection of yn's lips on hers. "oh my god, I got married?" wonyoung squeaked.

yn let out a low chuckle. "looks like you're stuck with me, babe."

as the reality of their situation sank in, wonyoung felt a mix of panic and something else - a flutter of excitement at the prospect of being "stuck" with the captivating bartender. but before she could sort out her feelings, her phone began to ring, yujin's frantic voice on the other end.

"wonyoung? girl, what the hell happened last night? I just got a wedding certificate in the mail - and your name is on it!"

wonyoung winced, glancing over at yn. "you're not gonna believe this..."

the memories came flooding back - the hazy, drunken stumble to a 24-hour chapel, their laughter echoing through the dimly-lit halls as they giggled and leaned on each other for support.

"are you sure about this?" the sleepy-eyed wedding officiant had asked, eyeing them skeptically.

"absolutely!" yn had slurred, flashing the officiant a dazzling smile and pulling wonyoung closer. "this is the love of my life right here."

wonyoung had tried to suppress a giddy smile, her inhibitions lowered by the alcohol coursing through her veins. "yes, yes, we're sure," she'd insisted, gazing adoringly at yn.

the next thing she remembered was the officiant pronouncing them wife and wife, and yn swooping in for a passionate kiss as wonyoung melted into her embrace.

now, as wonyoung met yn's sheepish gaze, the memory of that spontaneous, alcohol-fueled union sent a thrill through her. "I, uh, I guess we got married last night," she admitted to yujin over the phone, unable to keep the hint of a smile from her face.

wonyoung took a deep breath, trying to process the whirlwind of events from the previous night. "yujin, I... I got married to yn. the bartender from the club."

there was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. "you did WHAT?!" yujin finally exclaimed. "wonyoung, what the hell? how did this happen?"

wonyoung glanced over at yn, who was watching her with an amused expression. "we, uh, we were pretty drunk last night. we ended up at a 24-hour chapel and... well, we got married." she let out a nervous laugh. "I'm as shocked as you are."

yujin let out an exasperated sigh. "unbelievable. so what are you going to do now?"

wonyoung chewed on her lip, considering the question. "I... I don't know," she admitted. "this is all so sudden. I mean, I just met yn last night, and now we're..." she trailed off, glancing over at her new wife.

yn reached out and gently squeezed wonyoung's hand. "hey, it's okay," she murmured. "we'll figure this out together, alright?"

wonyoung felt a flutter in her chest at yn's reassuring touch and words. there was something about this woman that made her feel safe, even in the midst of this crazy situation.

"yujin, I... I think I need to talk to yn," wonyoung said, her voice soft. "can I call you back later?"

"yeah, sure, girl. just be careful, okay?" yujin replied, her tone softening. "this is a lot to take in."

"I will," wonyoung promised. she took a deep breath and turned to face yn fully. "so, what do we do now?"

yn gave her a warm smile. "well, first of all, good morning, wifey," she said with a chuckle. "and second of all... I think we should take things one step at a time. no need to rush into anything." she reached out and tucked a stray lock of wonyoung's hair behind her ear. "why don't we start with getting some breakfast? I'm starving."

wonyoung felt a blush creep across her cheeks at yn's gentle touch. "breakfast sounds good," she agreed, a small smile playing on her lips. as she followed yn out of the hotel room.

#angelicvity #gg imagines #gxg #gxg imagine #ive x reader #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung x fem reader #wlw imagine #wonyoung #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x you #wonyoung x fem reader #ive x fem reader #ive wonyoung #ive wonyoung x reader

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achromatophoric · 2 months

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— The annual Nevermore Video Scavenger Hunt has just begun. —

Wednesday: *scowls at a slip of paper* This alleged clue does not make sense.

Principal Weems: That’s the point, Miss Addams. Think of them as riddles. It’s your job to interpret them correctly and record your evidence.

Wednesday: Will this evidence be permissible in court?

Principal Weems: Court? Of course not. Need I remind you that this is a game, Miss Addams?

Wednesday: Hm. And the prize?

Principal Weems: A $200 gift certificate to any store in Jericho, such as Uriah’s Heap or Hawte Kewture.

Wednesday: Enid does adore that store.

Wednesday: Very well. *tosses her clue to the ground and storms off*

Principal Weems: *sighs* That child. Honestly.

— Minutes later. —

Bianca: *hurries up* Principal Weems!

Principal Weems: Yes, Miss Barclay?

Bianca: We’re all having trouble reading the clues. Did Ajax write them?

Principal Weems: Yes, Mister Petropolus was one of our volunteers.

Bianca: Have you seen his handwriting? And his spelling??

Principal Weems: No, but it can’t be that bad.

Bianca: Don’t believe me? *spots and grabs Wednesday’s discarded clue*

Bianca: Here. Look. He put in an extra “T” and left out an apostrophe.

Principal Weems: *goes pale* Dear god. Miss Barclay, have you seen Miss Addams?

Bianca: Yeah, I just saw her following Xavier by the lake. Why?

Principal Weems: This was her clue.

Bianca: Ohshit.

Both principal and student break into a panicked run for the lake as the slip of paper flutters to the ground. A near illegible scrawl faces up and reads as follows:

A ttempted mans laughter

#video scavenger hunt #attempted manslaughter #incorrect wednesday addams #incorrect wenclair #incorrect wednesday quotes #wednesday addams #principal weems #bianca barclay #wenclair #incorrect quotes #wednesday netflix

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suguwu · 6 months

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MOON EATER I TWO

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

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

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

masterlist

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x f!reader

notes: hopefully this posts bc dividers are giving me trouble but mostly i hope you enjoy!

content: marriage of convenience, politics, some manipulation, pining, jealousy, some blood and gore.

wc: 5k

You take the Ragnvindr name on a mild autumn day.

It’s a simple thing, Diluc thinks. Two signatures side by side, yours jagged like a cliff face, his flowing like a peaceful river current. He watches the ink sink into the paper as Jean clears her throat.

He glances up at his old friend; her eyes—the gentle blue of the early morning sky—soften. He stiffens. Jean has always worn her heart on her sleeve and now, the smile that curves her lips is a dandelion thing, delicate and fleeting. There’s something melancholic to it.

“Congratulations,” she says, quiet but firm. “May the breeze bring its blessings to your union.”

The wind curls in through the window, catching against the marriage certificate, the edges of it fluttering in the sudden puff of air. The breeze swirls through the office, tugging at your simple dress with cheeky fingers, sending your earrings dancing. You laugh, free and delighted, and Diluc’s chest tightens.

(Your little sailboat spun around in the current, small enough that the water churned around it like a storm-struck sea.

“I’ll get it!” Diluc called as he rolled his pant legs up, exposing skin as pale as the moon, dusted with freckles, cinnamon on top of cream. He waded into the river before you could protest. The water was cold, eddying around his legs, and he grunted as he reached for the toy. It drifted away from his grasping fingertips like a crystalfly rising to the sky, just out of reach. He reached out further, stretching as far as he could over the deeper water, where the current grew teeth. He grit his teeth as the boat bobbed along, buffeted on all sides by the rippling water. He stretched further, rising to the tip of his toes, a stubborn ballerina.

“Be careful!” Kaeya called from the shore.

Diluc startled. He tumbled into the deeper water, yelping as it swallowed him in its frostbitten mouth. The current spun around him, sinking its teeth into him, but he sputtered his way to the surface. It tugged at him as he treaded water. Diluc spat his soaked hair out of his mouth as he looked for your boat, but it was long gone.

Kaeya and you met him in the shallows. Diluc stood, grimacing as his clothes suckered to him, still heavy with cold water.

“Are you okay?” Kaeya asked.

“Yeah,” Diluc said. He looked at you. “Sorry about your boat.”

You stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. Then you laughed, loud and echoing, as bright as the sunlight reflecting off the river’s surface. Diluc’s heart fluttered against his ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, but there was almost something fond in your voice. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Diluc beamed.)

The wind dances around Jean’s office for a moment more. It undulates around you, ruffling the pristine cecilia pinned sweetly into your hair, and your laugh billows out like campfire smoke once more. The breeze plays over Diluc’s neck, tugging at the crimson strands of his hair, making them dance like flames.

Finally, the breeze dies out, but only after it makes the marriage certificate flutter once more.

“Well, well,” Lisa purrs from her place beside Jean, gazing out from beneath the rim of her hat with a bemused expression. “A blessed union indeed.”

“You think so?” you ask, and you’re back to that rosebud smile.

Lisa nods. “Of course, cutie. With that timing? There’s hardly anything else it could be.”

Diluc meets Jean’s wide eyes. He thinks of fish mouthing along the top of a pond, but the expression is quickly gone as Jean gathers herself.

“Well,” you say, glancing over to Diluc, your eyes shining, reflecting his own image back at him. Your ability to be unreadable has plagued Diluc over these last few months; he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised you give nothing away now. “An auspicious start to our union, husband.”

“Yes,” he says, unable to conjure up any other words, too caught on being called husband by you.

Lisa chuckles before reaching out for the certificate. She signs as a witness with a flourish, even though her handwriting is atrocious. Jean takes it next; her signature is looping and beautiful, curling like sweet pea tendrils.

You tilt your head. “Is there anything else needed?” you ask Jean.

“No,” she says, handing off the certificate to the Knight’s clerk that has just appeared at the ring of a bell. “You’re legally married. Congratulations again.”

“Thank you,” you say. “You’ll be at the party, yes?”

Jean nods.

“Wonderful,” you say. “We’ll see you then.”

“Actually,” Jean says, “I was hoping to speak to Sir Diluc for a moment.”

He blinks.

“Of course,” you say, before murmuring a goodbye. You sweep out of the office, brushing past Diluc as you do. He breathes in and the scent of you fills his lungs, with the sweet addition of the cecilia’s pollen. The door closes behind you.

“What is it?” he asks Jean roughly.

“Sir—”

“I’m not a knight anymore.”

She flushes, the apples of her cheeks pinkening like ripening strawberries. The air goes ozone heavy, the breath before a lightning strike. He glances at Lisa; she smiles sweetly despite the static electricity crackling around her. Jean lays a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course,” Jean says to Diluc as the ozone starts to fade away. “My apologies, Master Diluc.”

“What is it?”

She coughs. “I understand that you don’t like the Knights, Master Diluc, but it’s important that they’re present at your wedding celebration.”

He stiffens. “Why?”

“There will be several diplomats attending, including representatives of the Qixing,” she says, looking mournful. “The Knights will need to be present as a protective measure.”

“My staff are—”

“Not Knights of Favonius,” Lisa says. Diluc frowns at her; she flashes her teeth in a lazy smile. “It needs to be the Ordo, not civilians.”

“Won’t the Qixing have their own people?”

“Yes. But the Knights will need to provide an escort anyway.”

Diluc grits his teeth.

“Master Diluc,” Jean says, far too gently. “It is only for a night.”

He bristles. “One night is one too many,” he snaps.

Jean’s face hardens. “This is a matter of national importance. It is not a suggestion, Master Diluc. There will be Knights present as security at your wedding celebration.”

(The blood on his face was still hot.

It dripped down his cheek, but Diluc paid it no mind. He reached out with a shaking hand to his father, his body propped up against the carriage like a broken puppet. The gash on his father’s side was deep enough that Diluc could see the white glint of bone, like teeth in the crimson mouth of the wound.

“Father,” he gasped.

His father grabbed his wrist as he reached for the wound to put pressure on it. “Diluc,” he wheezed, his rich voice breaking over the syllables. “Please.”

Something opened in Diluc’s chest; it poured, and poured, and poured.

He knew what he had to do.)

Leather creaks as he clenches his hand into a fist at his side. Jean’s eyes dart to it, but she stays firm, her lips set into a thin line. In this moment, he realizes she looks every inch the Grand Master, with her head held high and her blue eyes burning like a comet through the sky.

“I’m sorry, Master Diluc,” she says. “We cannot budge on this. And your wife has agreed.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “But only for the celebration, not before or after.”

Lisa opens her mouth, but Jean holds out a staying hand. “Very well,” she acquiesces.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, Master Diluc,” Jean says, her voice soft and a little bit sad. “That’s all.”

He strides from the room without a goodbye. The door clicks shut behind him, the guard outside it coming to attention. Diluc pays no attention to him, heading towards the exit.

He’s almost to it when he realizes there’s no sign of you. He halts, glancing around with a furrowed brow. There’s not even a hint of your scent to guide his way. He closes his eyes for a second, resigned to his fate, but before he can ask the guard if he’s seen where you went—

“My, my,” a velvet voice purrs out. “Lost your new wife already, Master Diluc? Impressive.”

He sighs. He turns around to face Kaeya, meeting his pale lilac eye with a scowl. The other man smiles, an indolent curve of his lips, a fat cat lounging in a golden patch of sunlight.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Kaeya asks, raising a perfect brow. “I’ve barely said anything.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Kaeya laughs. “I’ll keep your wife’s message to myself, then, shall I?”

“Didn’t know you were a delivery boy now.”

Kaeya’s eye crinkles with his smile. “I made an exception for her.”

Diluc takes a deep breath and ignores that. “What’s the message?”

“Oh? I can talk now?”

“Sir Kaeya.”

The knight hums. “She’s at Good Hunter. She says you should join her for lunch. And surely you won’t keep a lady waiting, will you?”

Diluc turns on his heel. Behind him, Kaeya laughs, an airy puff of sound.

“You’re welcome!”

Diluc ignores him and makes his way to Good Hunter. Most of the townspeople leave him be as he strides through town. He takes the long way around, trying to give himself time to shake off the remnants of his conversation with Jean. He comes to Good Hunter from the opposite side, and he catches sight of you from the terrace above the little plaza. You’re chatting with Sara, a small smile on your lips. He pauses to watch you for a moment. The afternoon sun is casting shadows around the plaza, but it haloes you, burnishes you gold.

Sara laughs, barely audible over the hubbub of the plaza. Your smile quirks at the edges, picking up on her joy, and Diluc thinks of how the moon has no light of its own, that it only reflects what it’s given.

As if sensing his gaze, you glance towards him. You wave, elegant and sure, and Diluc nods back to you before he realizes that the two Fatui stationed just beside the terrace are waving back. He grits his teeth. He stalks past them on his way to the stairs; they quail before the scowl he knows is carved into his face.

By the time he reaches you and Sara, though, he’s managed to calm himself. He comes up beside you and tries to ignore the soft heat of you.

“Master Diluc,” Sara says. “We were just discussing some menu possibilities for your reception.”

Diluc raises a brow. “I thought Adelinde was taking care of the preparations?”

“She is,” you say smoothly. “I told her I’d bring some of her notes to Sara when we went into town today.”

“I see.”

“Is that all you need?” Sara asks.

“Actually, I was thinking we would get lunch here. What do you think?” you ask, turning to Diluc with a little smile.

“I had intended to go to the Angel’s Share to check in,” he says.

“Oh,” you say. “Let’s get something to bring there, then.”

Diluc sighs. He wonders briefly if Adelinde had put you up to this—she’s always vexed by how often he forgets to eat while he is working.

“Very well,” he says. “Sara, we’ll have an order to go.”

She nods and takes your order. As she steps away to prepare it, you and Diluc step to the side as well. The two of you are quiet for a few long moments. Diluc tugs on his glove, fixing the way it sits on his wrist, the buttery leather sliding back into place.

“I had hoped to return to the winery by midafternoon,” you say. “Will your work be finished by then?”

“You don’t need to wait for me,” he says. “I can take a horse if you wish to take the carriage.”

You blink slowly, a gentle sweep of your eyelashes. They catch the sunlight, the fan of them casting sweet shadows on the top of your cheeks. “I don’t mind waiting for you.”

“Oh.”

You smile, a slow bloom of your lips. “Besides,” you say, “I should think it would be interesting to see exactly how Master Diluc runs his tavern. I’ve heard you bartend. And that you’re good at it.”

He can feel the tips of his ears start to heat. “I do bartend on occasion.”

“You’ll have to make me a drink sometime.”

“As you wish.”

Sara calls out for you then, her voice a sharp, bright chirp that cuts through all the plaza’s noise. You hum, stepping back to the counter. Diluc follows you quickly, pulling a pouch of mora free from his belt. He reaches around you to hand it to Sara.

“Thank you, Master Diluc,” she says, sounding amused. She starts to count out his change as you whip around to look at him.

“I could have paid,” you say, nose scrunching up the smallest bit.

(“Don’t do that,” you said, nose scrunched up into something crinkled and ugly as you batted Diluc’s hand away.

“Sorry,” he said softly, drooping like a wilting flower. You glanced up at him. Sighed.

“Just sit,” you said. “You can watch.”

“Okay!”

Diluc plopped down beside you. You were pressed shoulder to shoulder; you were a long line of cool skin against the pyro-enhanced heat of him. He leaned into you to better see what you were doing and grinned when you didn’t pull away.)

“I’m aware.”

You examine him for a moment before shaking your head. “Thank you,” you say to him. “I suppose.”

Diluc accepts his change from Sara, leaving a hefty tip, and then hoists the basket of packaged food onto one arm. Tentatively, he offers the other to you; you tuck your hand into the crook of his elbow without hesitation. He catches himself before he makes a sound.

The walk to Angel’s Share is quiet. You return any greetings you receive, but you don’t stop, allowing Diluc to continue leading you. He’s deeply aware of your hand on him; it feels as if you’ve sunk beneath his skin, singed a mark into his bones. You give a little squeeze that makes his breath stutter. He walks a little faster, but you don’t seem to notice, matching his pace unconsciously.

“Morning, sir,” Charles says as the two of you slip inside Angel’s Share. He pauses for a moment as he takes in your presence. “Miss.”

“Good morning, Charles,” Diluc says as he locks the door behind him; he’s long learned that people will try to come in no matter the posted hours. “How is set up going?”

“Business as usual, sir. Is there something I can do for you? Wasn’t expecting you today. Didn’t realize you were in town.”

Diluc clears his throat. “We had an errand to run,” he says. “I thought I’d take a look at the books while I was here. I’ll—we’ll be in the office.”

“‘Course.”

Diluc starts to head towards the office. You follow him after a moment, calling out a quiet goodbye to Charles. The door to the office sticks a bit; as always, Diluc makes a note to get it fixed. You watch him force it open with a little smile on your lips, but you don’t say a word. He watches you take in the small, meticulously organized office before you cross the threshold and settle in one of the chairs before the desk. Somehow, you make it look like a throne.

He sets the basket of food on the desk, careful to avoid the few papers lying on it. “I’ll get some utensils,” he says.

You nod. He stands there for a moment, unsure if he should say anything else, but you’re starting to unpack the basket, carefully moving the papers to the side. He steps out of the room and blows out a quiet breath. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s rubbing at the crook of his elbow, where your hand had rested.

When he comes back to the office, you’re settled in the chair, the basket fully unpacked. You’re pursuing one of the books that had been stacked in the corner, your brow crinkled as you read. You glance up as he steps through the door and smile. It’s that rosebud smile of yours. Something in Diluc aches, deep in his bones.

(Kaeya’s smile was tentative as you tugged him along, your fingers laced together. Diluc frowned at the sight, running up to meet the two of you.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“We just went to the sandbearer tree, Luc,” Kaeya said, his violet eye wide.

“You didn’t wait for me!”

“You were taking too long,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “And we’re back now, aren’t we?”

“I guess,” Diluc said, kicking at the dirt of the courtyard. “Did you climb it?”

“Yeah!” Kaeya chirped. “We went really high, too!”

Diluc frowned, his brow thunderous. “I wanted to climb too.”

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s go, then.”

Diluc perked up. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Great!”

You smiled at him, as sharp and golden as the amber mountains of Liyue, and his heart pounded.)

You tilt your head in question. Diluc shakes himself out of the cobwebs of memory and steps closer.

“Shall we eat?” you ask.

“Yes,” he says, rougher than he means to be. “Let’s.”

You smile, flower petals yet unfolded.

He wonders if he’ll ever see you smile for real again.

—

This is, Diluc decides, worse than any battle with the Abyss has ever been.

Your wedding reception is in full swing, the music rising to the winery’s rafters, carried by the light breeze winding through the open doors. Beyond them, the sunset is pouring across the horizon, dotted with bruised clouds that are limned with orange, a fiery kiss on a painter’s palette. The crowd spills out into the vineyards like wine, pooling together in small groups. Several people are well on their way to drunk, and Diluc watches them with a frown, glad the harvest is already done.

The Knights, of course, are doing nothing. They’re stationed around the vineyard and the winery itself, but most of them are watching the festivities with wistful expressions on their faces. They’d be useless if they were needed. Diluc’s staff, on the other hand, are casually moving through the crowds, light on their feet, their eyes sharp. Someone shifts in the shadows at the top of the stairs; Diluc doesn’t need to look to know it’s Adelinde surveying the winery from above with shrewd jade eyes.

(“Young Master Diluc,” Adelinde said. “Young Master Kaeya.”

Both boys flinched. When they glanced up at her, she was watching with sharp, verdant eyes, the green of them gone to seaglass in the low light, washed out into something softer.

Diluc and Kaeya exchanged a glance. They’d been careful when they sneaked out the balcony door, tired of the never-ending parade of guests, desperate to loosen their starched cuffs. No one was looking their way.

Somehow, Adelinde always knew.

“Hi Adelinde,” Diluc chirped. “We were just getting some air!”

“Right,” Kaeya said, after Diluc jabbed him with an elbow. “It was…stuffy in there…”

Adelinde stared down at them before her stern face softened. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” she chided.

“Please, Addy?”

She sighed.

“Alright,” she said. “But I’m staying out with you.”

“Okay!”

She melted into the shadows. In time, Diluc forgot she was even there at all.)

Adelinde shifts again, stepping further back in the shadows, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight. Diluc watches, but she moves again, and she’s gone. Even with his discerning eye, if she’s there, he can’t tell.

He refocuses when you touch his hand. It’s a ghost of a thing, a gentle brush of your fingers over the back of his glove, but it scorches through him like a forest fire. He glances at you.

You’re resplendent in the candlelight, your skin aglow and your painted lips curving like the crescent moon. There are cecilias pinned in your hair again, the cream petals dainty as they catch in the breeze, revealing golden stamen tucked between the petals like treasure. He’s sure that if he touched one silken petal, it would bruise under his fingertips.

You wear them like they’re made for you, nature’s finest crown. The breeze ruffles the delicate petals once more, loosening a flower. The bloom threatens to fall, a collapsing ballerina, and Diluc reaches out without thought, pressing it back into place with careful fingers.

“Ah, the sweetness of youth,” someone says, and Diluc jerks back as if burned.

It’s a Liyuen who carries himself with the quiet confidence of someone with influence. He’s older, his hair gone gray as riverstones, but he stands tall. He speaks in Liyuen for a brief moment, the phrase just familiar enough that Diluc can recognize it as a formal greeting.

You smile, your eyes crinkling with it.

“Zhiming,” you say, bowing slightly. “Thank you for coming. I know the journey is long.”

The older man inclines his head. “Not nearly long enough to keep me away from something as important as this.”

You laugh, covering your mouth behind your hand. Your wedding ring flashes in the candlelight. “You’re too kind,” you say. “Diluc, may I introduce Zhiming of the Liyue Qixing? We work together on trade policy.”

Diluc gathers himself at the mention of the Qixing, though he’s very aware that the tips of his ears must be bright red. “A pleasure,” he says, nodding to the older man. “Diluc Ragnvindr. The Dawn Winery is very grateful for our continued partnership with the trading unions.”

The other man eyes him for a moment, his deep brown eyes keen. A hawk’s assessment. Diluc meets his gaze.

“As are we,” Zhiming finally says. “May it continue for many years.”

Diluc nods.

“Are you staying long?” you ask lightly.

“For quite a few days,” he says. “The Knights of Favonius have kindly agreed to provide me an escort around Mondstadt during my stay. Hilichurls have been gathering of late, apparently.”

Diluc can’t help his scoff.

Your smile ripples as Zhiming raises a brow. “Is this news to you?” he asks.

“No,” Diluc says. “My staff works hard to keep the road to the winery clear of them.”

“Not the Knights?”

“The Knights are inefficient at best,” Diluc says. “My staff is much more capable.”

“I see,” Zhiming says thoughtfully. His gaze darts to you for a moment, a lightning strike glance. “How unfortunate.”

“Diluc exaggerates,” you say with a little laugh, resting your hand on Diluc’s forearm. You squeeze and he stiffens. “He simply prefers his staff, since they’re handpicked. Now please, Zhiming, go enjoy yourself. Yumei is here.”

A flush settles onto the older man’s cheeks, darkening them. “Oh. It would be rude to not say hello, wouldn’t it?”

“Very,” you say, a smile curling on your lips. Zhiming dips his head in farewell before disappearing into the crowd.

Your smile shifts as you turn to face Diluc. He finds that you’re once again unreadable, a still, serene pond with murky depths. You lean in close; his heart skips. He can smell the cecilias, can smell the delicate notes of your perfume, the salt of your skin. He catches himself before he sways forward to be even closer.

“What was that about the Knights?” you ask.

“The truth.”

“I understand that you’re upset—”

“You understand nothing.”

You take in a breath. Your eyes gleam in the candlelight, knife-edged. Your mouth tilts, lips thinning into a gash, and Diluc thinks of the way the crab broke beneath your hands all those years ago.

“Your quarrel with the Knights is your own,” you say softly. “I will do nothing to involve myself in it. You may have your opinion of them, and have it freely, but you will never disparage them in front of a foreign guest. Do you understand me?”

Diluc sets his jaw.

“It is hard to have my opinion freely when you constrict it so.”

“Master Diluc—”

“I have a right to speak my mind on the Knights and their poor performance.”

“Do you truly have no thought for their image?”

“If the Knights are so concerned about their image, they should do something about it. Perhaps if they tried being competent—”

“Shut up,” you bite out, and Diluc is so taken aback that he actually does.

You meet his stunned gaze steadily, and suddenly, he is back in the dark of a thick pine forest, the crunch of fresh snow under his boots, the endless, unyielding cold sinking its teeth into his very bones.

He thinks he sees why the Harbinger likes you so much, now. You must remind him of home.

“I would ask that you think of the consequences of saying such a thing,” you say, voice frostbitten, so different from your usual careful tones. “Of what it means to dismiss our country’s protectors in front of a foreign agent.”

That gives Diluc pause. “I—”

“Hadn’t thought that far? Yes, that much is clear to me.”

Someone coughs. Diluc glances up and the grin he sees makes him want to groan. Kaeya tilts his head, his navy hair flowing down his shoulder like the night sky chases the sunset. His smile sharpens into something sly.

“Out of the honeymoon stage so soon? Such a shame,” he says.

Diluc resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “What do you want, Kaeya?”

Kaeya hums. In the candlelight, his lilac eye has darkened to the color of a fresh bruise. It glitters like frost. “Why, nothing from you, Master Diluc.”

Diluc frowns.

Kaeya turns to you. “From the bride, however—a dance?”

He holds out a hand, his long fingers unfurling like petals. He bows too, ever-dramatic; a smile flutters to life on your lips.

“Of course, Sir Kaeya,” you say, placing your hand in his. He curls his fingers around yours delicately and Diluc thinks of trailing ivy, how it swallows everything it touches.

He watches Kaeya lead you through the crowd, artfully spinning you through it, a thread through the needle’s eye. There aren’t many people dancing, but the musicians strike up a tune for the two of you. You murmur something to Kaeya; the man’s smile grows sharp, a fishhook grin. He whirls you away, your skirt flaring like a blossom. The two of you move like silk, rippling and flowing together. You laugh as Kaeya bends you back over his arm.

Diluc looks away.

—

It’s late by the time the reception begins to wind down, the silver moon a lonely mirror hanging high in the velvet sky. Diluc watches from the courtyard as people begin to drift home, laughing their way along the road to Springvale and the city, their joy spiraling to the sky like smoke.

You’re laughing too. He watches as you bid goodbye to a couple in Liyuen clothing, bowing slightly to them as they start down the path. The next group to leave is a group of merry-makers, their cheeks flushed with alcohol and their voices booming. He loses sight of you among them and takes a single step forward before he catches himself.

“I hadn’t thought of you as a worrywart,” Lisa says as she sweeps up beside him. He wrinkles his nose as the scent of the roses she’s wearing woven into her hair reaches him; they’re cloying, the aroma heavy in the air.

“I’m not.”

She laughs. “If you say so.”

He stares out into the vineyard again. The group has moved on, a few laughs coming from them as one of Diluc’s workers corrals them away from the vines and back onto the path. You have apparently had enough, as you’re coming back up to the winery, tugging at your dress to keep the hem off the ground.

(“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Kaeya said as he eyed the path up the mountain. It had churned into a thick, oozing mud with the rain that trapped the three of you inside yesterday. “If we get dirty—”

“It’s just clothing,” you said, already hopping over the worst of the mud.

Diluc hesitated. His father would scold them if they got too dirty. But you glanced back at him, a challenge burning in your gaze, and he scrambled after you.)

“Hi,” you say, a little bit breathless. “Is that everyone?”

“There’s a few more stragglers inside, darling,” Lisa says.

“Including you?” you ask, but you’re smiling.

Lisa’s lips quirk. “Including me. Jean’s helping clean up.”

Diluc frowns. “She doesn’t need to do that—”

“Oh, I know,” Lisa says. “But you know how she gets. I’ll convince her in a few minutes. I just wanted to see Master Diluc carry his bride over the threshold.”

Diluc starts. He glances at Lisa and for the first time, he notices the tipsy flush in her cheeks, the way her bright green eyes are hazy, a morning mist over a lush valley. Her smile is a little bit wicked.

“We hadn’t intended to—”

“Oh?” she says. “But it’s tradition, Master Diluc.”

“We’ve hardly been traditional,” you say wryly. “Stop trying to get a rise out of him, Lisa.”

The mage pouts. “You’re no fun.”

You smile serenely. “So you say.”

“I suppose I’ll go get Jean,” she says, “before she starts washing dishes.”

She sweeps off without another word. The scent of roses lingers behind her, sweetening the air. You sigh. “Sorry,” you tell Diluc.

“Is that something you would want?” he blurts out.

You blink. Light from inside slants golden through the windows; it highlights your eyes, makes them gleam. “Pardon me?”

“Being carried over the threshold,” he says. There’s warmth rising in his cheeks and he can only hope that his blush isn’t as crimson as his hair. “I can do that. If you want it.”

A smile unfurls on your lips. “It’s fine,” you say. “But it was kind of you to offer.”

Diluc nods, tugging at the cuff of his glove.

You tilt your head, that same little smile on your lips, but you don’t say anything. Diluc glances away, taking in the way the crystalflies are fluttering through the vines, glowing softly. They’re flecked through the darkness like stars. When he glances back, you’ve gathered your dress and are making your way towards the doors to the winery. He flexes his hand and casts his gaze back to the vineyard.

“Diluc,” you call. “Are you coming?”

He glances at you. You’re haloed by the light of the winery’s open door; it limns you with gold. Your face is hidden in a broad stroke of shadow, but Diluc thinks he sees the starlight gleam of your smile before you turn to step into the winery.

Diluc does the only thing he can.

He follows.

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

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neo-techculture · 2 months

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Me Or The PS5

Summary:- Your boyfriend has been glued to his PS5 for quite a while now. As his girlfriend, you've been feeling a bit neglected. You've given him an ultimatum - it's either you or the PS5. Now it's up to Colby to decide if he wants to level up in love or in Call of Duty.

Pairing:- Colby Brock x Reader

Warnings:- Slightly suggestive, angst if you squint; like really squint (if you look at it with a binocular or something).

Note:- EVENT: Fics inspired by songs - PS5 (TXT, Salem Ilese & Alan Walker)

It's me or the PS5

"Hey Colbs, are you up for watching a movie?" You inquire as you enter his room, spotting your boyfriend who is shirtless and wearing his glasses, engrossed in a game of COD with Sam and a few other friends. He mutes the mic briefly, glancing your way.

"Not now, love. How about tomorrow?" Not waiting for your answer, he focuses back on the screen. You let out a sigh, feeling a mix of annoyance and disappointment. It's not that you mind him playing on his PS5 with his friends, but it's the fact that this has been going on for almost a week now and you can't help but feel neglected. You've tried to be understanding and not come off as needy, but it's starting to become overwhelming. It's like he's completely immersed in a virtual world.

"Can I sit on your lap?" You ask, thinking he'd be too preoccupied to hear you. Instead, he surprises you by giving you a nod and smiling.

"Of course." He shifts his chair away from his desk, letting you straddle his lap before returning to his game. You rest your head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck, letting out a satisfied sigh. Despite being close, you've been feeling a bit lonely lately. Colby plants a kiss on the side of your head, and you briefly close your eyes, savoring the embrace of your boyfriend. You'd missed this so much.

Making up your mind, you lean back and grab your boyfriend's chin to get his attention.

"Baby-" Colby begins to protest, but you cut him off.

"I'm tired of this, Colby," you start. "You've been doing this for almost a week, and I feel neglected. I've tried to be understanding, but..." you end with a frustrated noise. "So I'm giving you an ultimatum- it's either me or the PS5."

Colby's eyes widen slightly at your words. "Baby, I-"

You cut him off again. "It's either me or the PS5, Colby. I don't have a problem with you playing, but it's the fact that this has been happening for a while now. We've barely spent time together. When was the last time we even went out?"

Colby's heart sank as he realized his actions had caused you to feel neglected and lonely. His palm cupped your face, drawing you in for a kiss before he murmured.

"Love, you realize we're in for a long ride, right? It's not as if I'm keeping secrets or lying. I promise not to make you feel neglected again. Just give me two minutes and I'll give you a trophy."

Your heart flutters. “Two minutes, huh? What kind of trophy are we talking about?”

His hands slide to your waist, and his gaze turns positively devious. “The ‘Best Girlfriend Ever’ award,” he whispers, leaning in for a kiss. “Plus, I’ll throw in a ‘Master of Multitasking’ certificate.”

"Two minutes, baby. I promise," he says again as he leans forward to capture your lips with his.

"Colby, are you there? Cover me, bro." Sam's voice crackles over the speakers. Colby turns back to face you, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Please? I promise to make it up to you, love.

You nod hesitantly. "Promise?"

"Un-huh, you're getting a trophy after this baby. For being so good and understanding." Your boyfriend leans in to kiss you again. You settle back against his lap, watching him play.

Later that night, he delivers on his promise- the trophy he was so eager to give you.

The first fic for the EVENT: Fics inspired by songs. Tell me how it is; likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Tysm for reading my works and each one of you are precious!! <3

HAVE A NICE DAY!!

Credits to the lovely @roseschoices for the purple swirly divider; make sure to check them out!

#colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock oneshot #colby brock x reader #colby brock x you #fanfiction #sam and colby #colby brock fic #event #fics inspired by songs #boyfriend!colby #girlfriend!reader

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skilliqcourse · 4 months

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Boost your app-making skills in Ahmedabad with SkillIQ's Flutter training. Learn cross-platform development and create awesome apps with our expert-led courses.

For more information:- https://www.skilliq.co.in/courses/flutter-training-in-ahmedabad/

#Flutter Course Training #Flutter Training Institute #Flutter Certification Course #Flutter Training in Ahmedabad

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lackingspace · 3 months

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Pernicious (Feyd-RauthaXReader)

Rated: M Word Count: 3.2K Summary: A summons from House Harkonnen is unlikely but never improbable.

Warnings: A lot of world-building and info dump like normal. Basically an OC, but reads like a xreader. Nothing until the Harkonnen show up, then bring on the violence.

Author Note: Hi, I've returned from the ether to drop this here. I watched Dune part II and they made Feyd a perfect little sociopath. Not my fault. ✧

AO3 link: Pernicious

Chapter 2: Admonish

The colds seeped in again.

The full body shiver emphasized that thought as the door slid fully open. The drop in temperature had slowly become noticeable as you walked closer to your lab. As you stood with the cold snaking through your dress all but sinking its fangs into your bones, there wasn't a question as to where it was coming from.

Of course…of fucking course this happens today. This was just what you didn’t need.

You had awoken in a foul mood. Cleo, your personal attendant, could attest to it by the scowl plastered to your lips and the curt responses you’d given. Breakfast had only made it worse. Your mother was a strain on your self-control normally, but today the addition of your aunt made the half hour you were stuck with them beyond grating. Their laughter and easy banter pulled giggles from the servants and mounting aggravation from you.

You’d decided during that unappetizing meal– staring at a serving of fruit and bread– that research was the best chance of a reset to your mood. To relax into your current fascination was the perfect escape. That had been the idea anyway. It seemed today was meant to be a trying one. A God somewhere must be laughing as they gazed down upon you.

Although you liked the lab colder than the rest of the compound, this was more than a downshift of a few degrees. Like stepping into an ice box the air was an assault on your senses. Warmth drained from your fingers before ice tried to claw its way up your arm and into your veins. Breathing turned into puffs of vaporous exhales as your lungs screamed in protest on your inhales. The type of cold that stung your eyes even without a breeze. Goosebumps made a home under the sleeves of your shawl.

Taking the first step inside had the lights flickering to life. Everything was the same as you'd left it. All equipment in its place, Petri dishes stacked neatly, specimen containers in the cryoseal locked tight, notes left open next to your microscope where your pen sat slightly askew.

Wrapping your arms around yourself in hopes of conserving a little warmth, you gazed across the room. Nothing visibly screamed that someone had made a trespass into your sanctuary. Besides, there wasn't anyone with enough contempt to see your work ruined.

At least not anyone in current residence that you were aware of. Your family compound wasn't hosting any non-relatives and all other Ezharien knew not to come between you and your research. However, that observation was quickly followed by the thought, ‘Maybe it's stupidity instead of hate. There's certainly a few individuals capable of that.’

Jaw clenching as faces flashed behind your eyes. They'd essentially sign their death certificate if you found anyone had been messing about your lab. Not even cousin Josephine’s rank as Jarl's daughter would save her.

If it did come down to someone tampering with the room’s stabilizer, there was a specific nuisance that came to mind.

Annoyance bubbled at the base of your skull as Yisella’s smiling face fluttered behind your eyes. Your mother's personal maid and your personal annoyance. Her lack of intelligence was only surmounted by her abundant compassion.

She had the tendency to create problems for you where previously none existed– but you could concede her heart was always in the right place.

The thought of her in your lab had an ache forming behind your eyes. Pinching the bridge of your nose to alleviate the building tension before it could evolve into a bigger problem as you thought of what kind of damage she’d do.

You could conceive a scenario where Yisella would leave a window open with the defense that you'd mentioned a cold lab has better working conditions. She would technically be right in that assumption. You did like a cold lab, better for specimen longevity, but this was a biting ache that dug too deep too quickly. It was detrimental to your own longevity.

The other houses had a saying that ice was in Ezharien veins. But even we couldn't withstand the tundra forever. Not without proper equipment or protection.

Yisella may not be a house member, but that wasn't any excuse. She was still Erifian. Not a tourist visiting the equatorial tropics. Every true-born Erifian knew that Erif IV’s tundra shouldn't be tested.

It would always win.

That's why the first house rule was so simple. Secure the compound.

A window left open or a door unsecured could jeopardize the whole house's integrity. Yisella must have had that drilled into her. It was no secret that to serve a great house, at least the Ezhariens meant intense training. However, time and time again she'd proven that conventional wisdom escaped her.

A sweet idiot. With a sigh you dropped your hands to your side, but an idiot all the same. She's lucky mother is of the same ilk.

Also lucky your lab didn’t have windows.

Rubbing your hands up and down the cloth covering your arms for some sort of heat as you mused, ‘If the thermostabilizer isn't tampered with, then it's likely the geothermal compressor…again.’

Walking towards the far left wall where the stabilizer console hung. You half anticipated the readout would show a manual override of your set temperature. The digital console slowly blinked to life like it was made sluggish by the cold as well. After a moment the readout staring at you confirmed it wasn't Yisella who had tampered with your lab.

The numbers were as you'd left it. Set to the standard temp, no overrides, only the ambient room temperature was concerning. Which meant that the compressor wasn't kicking on to compensate for the difference. It might not be Yisella's fault this time, but there was another imbecile to blame.

I told father the compressor should have been outright replaced, but did he listen? Another shiver racked your body as your brow pinched in annoyance. Your father's chiding refusal came back to you now.

He'd been stern in his dismissal as he often tended to be with most things, “Daughter, cousin Hans is the technician, not you. If this were some medical issue I would defer to your opinion, but as it stands, yours holds no weight. If he's certain a replacement is wasted here– it is wasted.”

Your eyes rolled at the memory, ‘Cousin would do well to watch his back from here on out.’

The longer you stayed in the room the deeper the icy tendrils sunk into you and the higher your contempt rose.

It wouldn't do to sit here and freeze to death. You'd not give anyone the satisfaction of such an embarrassing death. In only a thin dress and shawl you'd need to remedy it with layers. Moving back towards the entrance there was a cubby that served as a storage area.

You'd left thicker blankets, shawls, coats, and coverings for emergencies. Grabbing a thicker coat you slipped it on and eyed the few thermalheaters that typically saw no use. You couldn't remember if you'd ever used them in this room before.

Eyes narrowed as you grab one of the two small dusky orange orbs. Your fingers pressed against the tremellose casing as the hard inner machinery pressed back. It was gelid on your already frozen hand, but the thermal liquid still swirled beneath the surface.

Pursing your lips as you clicked the series of hidden buttons to turn the device on. A silent promise arose in the back of your mind as the orb began to glow. ‘If cousin is also wrong about these being enough to heat this space, the next time he's floundering at an inter-house banquet…’

You made a clicking noise with your tongue as the small device began to quickly heat in your palm before it lifted and slowly hovered around the room. Bending down to grip the second device and click it to life.

‘I'll let him choke.’

Straighten up, you watched the two orbs slowly dance around the space. The gentle pulses they radiated were divine but nowhere near a comfortable temperature. There wasn't much more to do than wait and hope. You couldn't call anyone for repairs at the moment and you didn't feel like heading back to your rooms.

Even if you’d wanted to place a repair request you couldn’t. Father was the only one with that power. Unless an emergency, which this situation didn’t qualify as, House Creed stated that repairs were something only the head of each family compound could request.

Supposedly a way to avoid bogging down the system with unnecessary requests. So nothing could be done as father had joined the Jarl for a logistics meeting. Luckily it was only a day trip and he'd be back in time for the family meal. So you'd wait.

Walking towards the desk your notebook sat upon, you pulled out the stool before taking a seat. Thankfully it was covered in black cloth making the cold less biting than naked metal would have been. Pulling your coat tighter, you flipped through the pages before settling a few entries before your last.

It'd been only two days since you were here, but brushing up on your train of thought wouldn't hurt. As long as the room continued to heat it might even be pleasant.

It must have been half an hour or so before the room was up to a reasonable warmth. Comfortable enough that you deemed it safe to remove specimens from the cryoseal chamber and began your observation.

It wasn't much longer after you'd placed the first slide beneath the microscope that the door to the lab opened. Quickly following the sound of steps was the scent of pleniscenta. It assaulted your senses with its exotic floral fragrance. There was only one person in your compound who wore that.

Without pulling away from the scope you asked, “Yes, Desil?”

The gasp he let out was likely less to do with your educated guess and more to do with the temperature of the room. “My lady, you'll catch your death sitting in this chill.” The temperature of the room indeed.

Adjusting the lens magnification while answering, “The thermalheaters are doing their job well enough. I'll be fine.” You could hear the frown in his response, “Your father is going to take issue with this.” You do love starting a conversation with a not-so-hidden scolding.

Rolling your eyes was the safest response as they were hidden from view. You'd have snorted if it wouldn't be deemed unladylike and damnable by present company, “And how would he know? Oh, that's right. Nothing escapes your daily report.” Watching the cells squirm as they reacted to the substance you’d injected. A few began to shrivel and succumb to death, “Tell me, will it be before or after you counsel Father on the best method to reprimand my poor attitude?”

A mix of a chortle and huff quickly followed your question. The sound full of his dismay and exasperation, “My lady, you well know that daily reports are expected in your father's absence.” A noncommittal hum left you, “And you do love not to disappoint him.”

If you'd bothered to look up, you'd have been graced with Desil pinching the bridge of his nose, “I take pride in looking out for the Ezharien name. That means detailing your stubbornness is well within my right.” You heard him step forward, deeper into the room, “As is checking whatever humor you find yourself in, lest it reflect poorly on your house.”

He wasn't wrong either. As much as you'd like to argue Desil was a good aide. From the outside, he may appear to be just another servant, but his position gave him unique privileges. One of which is the ability to speak freely.

If anyone asked your opinion on the matter, he took far too much pleasure in censuring you. But that could be your earlier irritation talking.

To be fair, if he'd cared to ask, you would admit your mood was soured which had your patience abnormally thin and tongue loosened. It was probably best to avoid whatever interaction was to take place if he didn’t want a verbal spar.

If he wasn't family, you'd be more guarded, but he was family and you were annoyed.

His tongue clicked in a tutting rebuke, “I really must ask that you return to your rooms until repairs can be slated, or have you given so little thought to your health?”

That kindled your earlier annoyance back to life full force. Sparking it as quickly as if he'd struck a match to paper. You would take his chiding on your attitude, your choice of words, or even your manner. You likely deserved it. But you wouldn't stand him questioning your judgment about this. He knew you well enough to know your triggers.

“Remind me,” Jaw clenching as you finally lifted your gaze from the magnified slide to catch the eyes of your father's personal aide. Tilting your head as you tried for calm, but the tone was too tight to be convincing, “Are you a Suk?”

His dusky olive complexion paled at your question. Sharp green eyes widened as his thin mouth dropped open, “I-I…I only meant tha-'' cutting him off with a raised hand. Your lack of patience couldn't take a sputtering rant, gaze turning flatter, while uttering a sharp call of his name, “Desil.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times in quick succession. Worry hung heavy on his brow. Visibly swallowing before he quietly muttered, “No, my lady. A Suk, I am not.”

Lowering your hand to the pen that sat on your notebook, “I thought not.”

Willing yourself to relax was more difficult than necessary. Neither your clenched jaw nor the irrational anger wanted to release their grip. Having your medical opinion questioned was always a surefire way to get under your skin. He was very much aware of your pet peeves at this point.

Desil was detail-oriented, he was good at tactfully phrasing things, and he had a gift for negotiation. It's why your father favored him for the 30-odd years he'd been in the position. Longer than you'd been alive. At this point, he was more family than many of your blood cousins.

Holding a breath before slowly releasing it was your attempt to save Desil from your bite. It was another moment before you pointedly said, “The thermalheaters will do fine for now.”

The tentative acceptance looked more like defeat on his features. His own jaw clenched before he countered, “As you say…” the look on his face said he had more to add as he continued, “But Sir Malakar will be unhappy with this either way.”

Eyes narrowing at his response, “Unhappy?” Annoyance coated your tone and a smile that was more of a snarl tugged at your lips. A barbed quip was on the tip of your tongue, a seething retort that was dying to let out your frustration, but Desil’s worried eyes gave you pause.

Taking another deep breath willing yourself to remain civil– that Desil wasn't the source of your irritation and although he was being a nag, he didn't deserve the venom that wanted an easy victim.

There was another moment of silence before you wrangled your anger enough to reply. Snarl settling down into a strained smile with a clipped tone, “Kindly advise my father that the next time I say a compressor needs replacing, he take my advice instead of our spice-addled cousin.”

The sigh Desil released was more relief than anything. His shoulders dropped and the worry that'd pinched his brow lessened, “ I will remind him as you say. But please keep the remarks of your cousin's proclivities to a minimum. It's unbecoming.”

Tilting your head and clicking your tongue at him before you answered, “Did you need something? Or was the chance to grate on my nerves your only reason to seek me out?” He shook his head, but the curled edges of his lips spoke of amusement.

You turned back to the table and picked up your discarded pen. Jotting down a few of your previous observations as you waited for a response. Desil was ruffling around his pockets before he began to walk closer, “you received a message-capsule.”

Your brow raised, but your gaze stayed locked on your notes as you continued to write, “What does it say?” His footsteps paused and your patience couldn't take another round of banter so you beat him to the chase. Eyes rolling as you spoke, “I know you read my messages and report to my father. Yes, yes, I'm sure it's something he requested, so just tell me what it says.”

The silence stretched before he answered in a quiet voice, “It's sealed. I thought it better you be the first to read it.”

Your pen paused on the page. Now that was interesting. “Oh?” Sealed missives were generally only for official house communications. Only the head title bearer of each great house held a seal. For the Ezharien, that was your uncle, the Jarl.

As far as you were aware there wasn't any scheduled event that you should be expecting an invitation to. If the message was addressed to you specifically that meant it wasn't a generalized request for assistance from Ezharien as a whole. This was likely personal, but if there was an occasion of special significance, generally an heir debutante, you might receive a personal invite. There were too many houses for you to remember who and when they were set to debut.

Desil's voice cut through your thoughts, “It bares the Harkonnen seal.”

Your pen pressed deeper into the page as your grip tightened, “Fuck.”

It spoke volumes of Desil's own anxiety that he didn't chastise your language. If the Harkonnen were seeking you out in particular this was personal. And personal with the Harkonnen’s was…difficult at best.

Official Ezharien relations between houses typically remained neutral. Better for the tourist business that'd established Erif IVs economy. We didn’t enter dealings that could ostracize one house or another.

The Harkonnen tended to make things less neutral.

The Baron had mastered staying within proper interhouse etiquette– barely. As an outside observer, it could even be considered impressive how he navigated the political sphere. Being put into his crosshair directly? It was an inconvenience at best and deadly at worst. If the missive wasn't some forgery, which there was little chance of to begin with, there was only one logical reason for it.

The small inked diamond on your forehead.

The cylinder came into view as Desil placed it next to your frozen hand, “I feel it pertinent that you open it.” Your joints protested but finally unlocked as the momentary shock wore off. Grasping it with numb fingers you broke the ram-headed seal and your eyes swept over its sparse contents.

“I have need of your skills. Come to Giedi Prime.”

If the seal wasn't enough to convince you of the missive's authenticity, the signature of Vladimir Harkonnen was. No one impersonated the Baron. In their right mind or heavily spiced— if one wished to continue breathing, that was a forgery you declined. Besides, you weren't important enough for that kind of trouble.

Desil stood watching you. Hands nervously wringing together, “Well?”

With a sigh you held out the cylinder to him, “It seems the Baron calls me to Giedi Prime.”

The Gods really were laughing.

#dune part two #dune #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd smut #fanfiction #expanding dune house politics #and making so much shit up because i can #this is gonna get dark when the Harkonnen drop in

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mymelodymia · 1 year

Note

Oooooh!!! Tony with his toddler daughter! I bet she was a sassy little young lady, and super cute!

Summary: tonys daughters toddler years

Warnings: cursing, Lil talk bout bio mother being an ass, tony being evil 👿,

A/N: after I get this out I might not post for a few days due to the hurricane, oof, but I'll be back. Love yall!

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

it was mid (birth month) when tony got a knock on the door, it was currently 7 p.m, he didn't have guests, he had no plans for tonight, "Jarvis, who is it?"

"It appears that no one is there, only a small basket on the front porch sir" the ai announced to the billionaire, who got up and walked to the front door. Opened it, and saw the small basket with....a baby.

You were holding a envelope in your tiny hands, sleeping peacefully, tony bent down and took it out of your grasp and read the letter inside,

'Dear tony, I dont care what you do with her, just get her away from me! I cant so it anymore, shes only 2 weeks old, shes yours now.' His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, along with the letter came your birth certificate, one thing he noticed was that the only name on it, was his.

He bent down once more to pick up the small newborn, raising you to his chest, cradling you in his arms. He looked around in search for anyone, closed the door and walked inside.

For a while he just stared at you, wondering how you could possibly be his, of course there was a huge possibility you could be the result of a one night stand, but he was still in shock. Your eyelids fluttered before you opened them fully, revealing large e/c orbs, looking up at your father, like he was the only thing that mattered in the world, and he looked at you the in same way.

He decided this was his chance to not be like his dad. He was going to keep you, and love and cherish you forever.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You were now 3, your terrible 2s had come and gone, right now it was around 8:45 am, when you usually wake up naturally, but tony took this opportunity and decided to have a little fun with you... 😈

You were a very intelligent child, you clearly had more of your fathers genes, you looked like him, you were smart like him, you were surpassing the expectations of a 3 y/o to an extent, anyway back to tony and you, he quietly creeped to your bedroom to wake you up, (just wait..) you had already been waking up a little already, your dream slowly fading away, when you heard the door creaking you snapped back into reality, he had clearly done this before because of the fact he can make a 3 y/o jump up like that 🤣

You sat up in your small bed, eyes wide, knowing what was coming. You repeatedly shook your head no as fast as you could, hoping tony would understand your message, tony nodding his head yes instead, you squealed in fright, leaning back into your wall of pillows/stuffed animals, pulling your blanket up to your nose, hoping that looking scared would trick him into just giving you kisses instead. (3 years old and already guilt tripping)

he had come very close to the rail of the bed while you were doing this. Slowly he leaned over the rail and picked you up, put his hand on your stomach (see where this is going) this is when you broke, screaming, you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, to no avail. He had began tickling the life out of you, there was no getting out of this one, your tiny muscles working hard to try and get out of his grasp.

"No no no, your not getting out of this one"

"WHYYYAAHAHAHAH"

"Because i still have something left if stock for you." His smirk was evil, this whole sceam seemed evil to you, your heart pumping faster and faster. When he get a good grasp on you, he lifted your pajama shirt up, exposing your big belly. He lifted you up, and blew a giant raspberry on your belly, shaking his head to make it worse for you.

"NOOAAHAHAHHAHAH" Your screech was ear piercing, clawing at his hands holding you to him. When he stopped, he lifted his head up and pulled you toward his face. You squeezed your eyes shut as tight as possible, expecting the worst, tony chuckled at this.

"No more tickles sweetheart, just wanted to give you a kiss" he said kissing your forehead, you relaxed at this, trying to catch your breath.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You had just gone to the park with your father, that consisted of tons of slides, lots of swings, a couple of wiggly bridges, all the good stuff, you and your father were very worn out from this, though tonys tired-ness being from chasing you and yours from being chased by tony, you were both exhausted. You thought since he was tired he wasn't all there, so you took your chance.

"Daddy!"

"Hm"

"What da hell?? You didn't-"

"Hold it right there missy, where did you learn that word?"

"Rhody" you said with a small smirk on your adorable little face 🤗

"Oh my god" he said face palming and shaking his head, leaning on the kitchen counter.

+•°+*°•+

You both decided on a movie, (lion king 1994) tony laid down on his back, and you climbed onto him, laying on his chest, your head resting on his collarbone. Tony had one hand on your back, the other fiddling with the remote to put on the movie, you relaxed at the feeling of his warmth, listening to his heartbeat, so comforting.

Tony had lost track of time upon singing 'hacuna matana' with you (definitely spelled that wrong) it was past your nap time, and you were nodding off on his chest, you slowly felt your eyes fall, not having the strength to open them back up. You soon fell into a deep sleep, small snores coming from you, tony knew you would fall asleep at one point, you always cuddled with him when you were feeling tired. He also fell asleep not long after, your movie playing quietly in the background, it was also raining outside, creating a very comfortable environment for you two to fall asleep to.

A/N: im sorry I kept yall waiting for this one, but I'll be back fresh from my break soon enough my babies! Mwuh! ❤️

*title is Toddler years*

Tags:

@animealways

@white-wolf-buckaroo

@yummyangy

@zebralover

#dad!tony stark #daughter reader #tony stark x daughter reader #tony stark x stark!reader #tony stark #Tony stark x toddler reader #tony stark x reader #cuddles #marvel mcu

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mamayan · 1 year

Note

So, I was looking the tag "Across the Spiderverse" on the tumblr when I see a request for "Miguel’s reaction would be if you asked him if he’s ever masturbated before?". It got me wondering, how would Tomura, Dabi (and whoever else you want to write) react to this kind of question? - Anon 🌲[English isn't my first language, sorry if I wrote it wrong]

That is a very good question Anon 🌲!

Tag List: @sharpcheddarcheese (for Spinner♥️)

Tomura, Dabi, and Spinner’s reaction to being asked if they’ve ever masturbated before!

Warning: Low risk, slight nsfw

Tomura Shigaraki: “Do you masturbate?”

Best to ask this question in private, if you ask in front of a crowd or the League, he could become volatile.

Whether he has Father covering his face or not, he’ll turn red from the roots of his hair down to his toes.

Of course he’s masturbated, excessively even, nightly, and daily, and sometimes in the middle of gaming if he can do it single handedly.

He’s a pervert, but to ask him so directly to say that he is?

He will ask you right back to your face, “Do you?” because he wants to throw you off your game too.

If you become just as fluttered or more as him, he’ll feel better and possibly make fun of you to take the spot light off himself.

If you confidently claim that card, he’ll scoff and claim false bravado as well and own it too.

If you vehemently deny it, he could possibly react violently. Depends on who you are to him.

As his lover? He’ll lose it. You’ll be dragged into his lap and forced into his version of “teaching” you how to touch yourself. Expect to be teased and edged endlessly. He’s downright filthy about it.

Dabi: “Do you masturbate?”

Dabi’s answer depends less more on how you ask him.

Are you genuinely curious? He’ll look at you like you’re an idiot. “Of course I do.” He owns it shamelessly and without hesitation.

Are you’re trying to flirt? He may lie and pretend he’s never done it before, and even ask you to “show me how’s it done?” A great way to get in his pants. 10/10

Are you being condescending and acting like you’re above him? He’s not a patient man and will absolutely drag you to his level very quickly. If you’re not someone he’s into, he’s violent. If you are someone he’s into, well, he doesn’t have a framed certificate of Professional Brat Tamer on his wall for nothing. Prepare to be humbled.

Are you asking out of jealousy or anger? Hoho, it can go one of two ways.

a). He’s into it and will one hundred percent show you why you should appreciate the respite he gives by getting himself off instead of using you. He’ll stop masturbating for a whole month just to prove a point.

b). If he takes it disrespectfully, please refer back to his Brat Tamer certification.

Are you asking with a pout/sadness? He’ll show you so quickly how much better you are than his hand right then and there. Also, refer back to point a).

And finally, the worst scenario, are you asking in disgust? Oh, please, give him a reason. He will take it. He is more than happy to show you what happens to those with a holier than thou attitude. You wanna sniff your nose up in disgust? He’ll give you something to feel disgusted about. Every inch of his disgusting self, he’s more than happy to provide. You’ll be humbled faster and more violently than if you were just acting like a brat. This is a step too far over his mental line of cute bratty and disrespectful little shit. Dabi has a thing for making whiny messes out of those who want to stick their nose up at him. He’s happy to comply and wreck you.

Spinner: “Do you masturbate”

Be nice, he’s just a sweet lizard with a penchant for violent destruction and sharp objects.

Embarrassed no matter how you ask it, once again, be nice.

He 100% does masturbate, albeit far less frequently than most think! He’s busy thinking about his ideals and goals with the League, so give him a break.

He’s going to ask and stutter why you want to know?!

If you outright say you’re attracted to him and are flirting, he’ll make an escape attempt. Check the sewers later.

If you tell him you’re just curious and he can tell you really are, he’ll mumble and curse at you for being nosy and weird. He’s still stuttering and fumbling around. His actions will answer for him.

If you tell him it’s cuz you’re trying to not feel weird about it yourself, like out right admitting to being shamed for it, he’ll become angry on your behalf! “Who told you that it’s not normal?!” Once again, outs himself immediately. Depending on how distressed you are, he may say “Yeah, doesn’t everyone?” Awkwardly of course.

Bonus points if you get him to awkwardly deny it, and then tell him you wanna show him how to do it. He won’t even know how to breathe, let alone deny you if you’re bold enough. Have fun♥️

#bnha #request filled #shigaraki tomura #dabi #spinner #shuichi iguchi #spinner would be so cute about it #Dabi is an asshole and would take advantage anyway he could #Tomura is either on you or trying to be

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dulcewrites · 2 years

Text

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back (modern au)

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x reader (wc: 3.6k)

Summary: Sometimes Aegon is sure that the Gods like playing tricks on him. Your reintroduction into his life only proves that further

A/N: the time has come for my Aegon work!! I’m so excited because this also my first time doing an modern au. I explained the idea more here. This will include all the hotd hits: mommy issues, daddy issues, the Targs being an all around messy family. This is my contribution to the tgc Aegon universe 🫡. Slight house keeping: Aemond has both of his eyes in this universe but the sight in one eye is diminishing/has been diminished over the years. Also there are certain elements I will be taking from hotd/asoiaf and the Faith of the Seven is one.

Blog masterlist

You had always assumed that therapist offices would be sterile and cold. Or at the very least, annoyingly put together.

Cregan Stark’s office is nothing of the sort.

From deep red floors to the walls of antic books and shelves filled of knickknacks. The office is not what you expected to it be. It only makes you more anxious for this whole ordeal. The only indication of his credentials as a professional being the certificate from the University of Cambridge hanging on the wall. Even the laidback nature of him made you pause. Call me Cregan. Mr. Stark was my father.

Long brown hair pulled back, dark beard, stormy grey eyes, topped off with a flowy button-down shirt. He looks better suited chopping down wood somewhere than helping university students. Everyone seemed weary of the new addition to the dance department.

Your eyes flutter to the clock behind him then back to his warm eyes.

“I am sure you are wondering why I wanted to speak with you,” his voice is soft. There is an element of mirth that has you raising a brow.

You shrug in response. “Taking inventory of the inmates, I assume.”

The joke does seem not seem to land the way you thought it would. He gives you a incredulous look before shaking his head. Your mother always told you that your inability to keep to certain thoughts in your head would get you in trouble sooner or later.

“My new position here is to help the dancers, especially ones transitioning out of school, handle this year,” he begins. “A sounding board if you will. Listen to any problems. Assist with finding resources and opportunities beyond this point.”

You nod slowly, still not understanding why this meeting is cutting into your warmup time. Instinctively, you point then flex your foot in your fuzzy black boot. Your eyes go back to the clock. Gods, Aemond is going to tear into you if this does not wrap up soon.

“Most of the notes were positive,” he replies quickly, reading the furrow in your brow. “Bright, hard-working, and diligent were just a few things said.”

You let a breath you were holding in. Of course, that was what was said. You have dedicated your life to this; you expect nothing less than comments like that. They are sentiments you should not think but you know you are one of the most talented dancers in the program.

But then your mind drifts to something.

“Most?”

He gives you a pained smile. “There were a couple of comments that expressed concern about your… intensity and your health.”

You blink blankly at him.

“I don’t think I am any more intense than any other student here. We are all very serious about our art.”

Cregan nods. “I was informed about an incident that happened in your second term here. Something quite awful.”

Your blood runs cold, and you sniff stiffly in response. Please don’t you think.

“I am sorry for your loss.”

You try to keep your eye from twitching. There was a time in your life where all you wanted was someone to tell you that. To let you know that they feel bad for the situation you found yourself wallowing in… for the situation Marina found herself in.

That time is over.

“It has been over a year and a half,” you plaster on a smile. “Thank you for that, but I am doing fine.”

It was not lie. It really wasn’t.

Cregan hums softly. “Why don’t you and I make a deal. We meet each other once a week for the rest of the term. We can talk about how you are doing, and work towards you graduating.”

You feel your patience wearing horribly thin. It is not that you have a problem with therapy or counseling. You just don’t need it nor want it.

“Look, I appreciate the concern. I just don’t have time for weekly meetings. I have auditions for companies, finishing my classes strong. Also, an end of the year project… which is not going well so far.”

Your eyes go back to clock above him. You are so fucked.

“I do not have the time,” you repeat, not even clarifying if you mean for the meetings or this conversation. “I have too much on my plate.”

Cregan smiles, easy and cool. It softens the sternness that has settled into his long face.

“That is exactly why we need to do it.”

A sinking feeling gathers in your stomach. He is not going to take no for an answer, is he?

As you leave the room, new schedule in hand, all you can think about is how much you despise Cregan Stark. Your ire extends to whatever instructor told him you needed help in the first place. The walk to the practice studios is cold and damp. Somber weather matching the way you feel.

You must take a deep breath before going into the practice room. Aemond, perched at the piano, shoots you a glare. Ignoring his eyes burning into your back, you sit on the floor to put on your pointe shoes.

“I know you have little care for my time,” his voice cut through the room. Low and condescending. “But if you want to get through this, the least you can do is show up on time.”

You do not answer immediately, eyes focused on your shoes.

“It is just common sense.”

Aemond continues to lecture you about the importance of respecting people’s time. Perhaps if you told him about your meeting, he would let it go. But then again based off the few weeks you have spent with him, you know once he gets started, it is hard to stop him. His voice fades in the background as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

In your head, you repeat the affirmations you recite every morning.

You are talented, you are grounded, you are alive.

Aegon could not help but stare at the rain as it fell and splintered on the large class windows of the meeting room.

When he was younger, he hated the rain. The endless rolling clouds and damp days made him feel like he was in a bad nightmare. But the older he got, the more he started to appreciate the rain. Utterly soothed by the tip tap of rain against something solid. He could make a melody out of it. Plus, it helped him sleep.

He rarely got good nights of sleep.

The somber weather only added to the uninspiring atmosphere in the room. Aegon tried hard to listen. He fought hard to keep his eyes from glazing over. Placing fonder thoughts in his head kept him from outwardly expressing his boredom. Today, he thought of what he should get to dinner. Something hearty… or maybe something spicy. The thoughts lead to him texting his brother.

I can drive up. Want that Thai place around the corner from yr place

It took Aemond minutes to reply, but when he did it was a simple no. His brother was always a man of few words.

I’ll pay :)

He watched as the dots appear then disappear then reappear again. Aegon smiles at his phone when Aemond eventually says yes. He gives Aegon strict instructions to stay in the car and wait on him to come out.

“Aegon, are you listening?”

Aegon’s eyes shoot up from his phone to meet one that resembles his too much for comfort. Rhaenyra is eyeing him exasperated. There was slight tension at the beginning of the meeting when he gave her a funny look after she sat in the seat their father normally does. But he had no interest in arguing with Rhaenyra, at least not today.

“Yes, I hear you,” he clears his throat, and rubs one of his eyes.

“Long night?”

The smile is there when she says it but the words are condescending. Her smile works on others, but Aegon knows what lies beneath it. Such a delight to work with, Viserys would beam. Everything was easy when her eyes softened, and the corners of her lips go lopsided in a good-natured way. Aegon knows she must that to survive in this environment. Mask all her slender and confidence with smiles. He would respect it more if she did not try to play him like she does the other men in the firm.

Like he is one of father’s mindless cronies.

They share the same blood. Which means he knows they are both predisposed to thinking they know best by nature.

“I want to talk about reconsidering the pro bono option,” ok, maybe he does want an argument. Bothering Rhaenyra sparked a unique kind of joy in Aegon.

Rhaenyra’s brows furrow. Their brains had been hardwired differently by now; her business-oriented ideals sometimes working in direct contrast with the direction he thinks the firm should go in.

“I think the idea is one we should consider,” Tyland Lannister pipes up, voice chipper and full of mirth.

Rhaenyra’s gaze turns to him, completely unimpressed. Aegon had to bite back a smile. Tyland had a habit of siding with Aegon in meetings like this. The Lannisters, a family that has dipped their foot in any lucrative business they could find, not only had a history with Targaryens, but with the Hightowers as well. Rhaenyra had expressed to their father how much it bothered her. All she received was a wave of the hand; for all the special treatment he felt Viserys gave his eldest child, Aegon can say Viserys has never been good at laying down the law within the firm.

How he managed to run the company with that attitude was beyond Aegon.

With the slight support of Tyland, a couple of the other suits in the room nodded in agreement. Rhaenyra swallows, eyes shifting back to Aegon’s. When his sister is upset, he has noticed her eyes shift to a chill blue to a tempered iris.

She looks at him with a look that Aegon could only describe as pure exhaustion. The type of exhaustion that happens when you deeply resent someone. Somewhere down the line they took a sharp turn right, and never got back on track.

The irony of the distance between them, is that it was not always like that. His first memories of life are not with his mother, father, or even with the siblings he grew up in the same household with; they are with Rhaenyra. He has fuzzy recollections of teenage her blowing raspberries on his belly when he was a baby. They used to share knowing glances when their father went on tangents. She used to take him on trips to the park. Now Aegon finds himself wondering what things Rhaenyra whispers in Viserys’ ear when he is not around.

Maybe that was the last time Rhaenyra genuinely liked him. When he was younger with no motives or true thoughts of his own. He supposed he can’t blame her; that was the last time he liked being in his own body too.

There are times he looks at his sister, and he wants her to bring him into a hug. Rhaenyra always gave the best hugs, only rivaled by his mom. He wants to burst into tears and tell her that she was his first friend. That he needed her years ago. But then he remembers the look of disbelief he received when Viserys said Aegon would be working for the firm.

The coldness is better. His heart doesn’t break multiple times over anymore.

“Aegon and I can discuss that later,” Rhaenyra says after a minute. She stands to leave. “This meeting is over.”

She’s frustrated. He can tell by the way she leaves the room without a single glance his way. One thing they do have in common is the bone-chilling urge to flee a place whenever things get too difficult or when they get too annoyed. Could be self-preservation. Could be them sparring others the anger Targaryens are known for.

Aegon sits for a moment as everyone else filters out of the room. The rain comes down harder against the windows. He closes his eyes listening to way it bangs against the building.

Tip tap tip tap

He identifies with the rain. Moody, surly, gloomy.

———

By the time Aegon packs up to leave for Aemond, the rain had stopped. The clouds clearing out as the light leaves the sky.

He lets the top down on his car. The cool air nips at his tip of his nose and cheeks. It burns in the best way. Aegon sits at the front of the building that he knows Aemond will be in. He sits patiently for minutes, but then curiosity and impatience take over.

Whenever he is on the campus, he can’t help but want to take it all in. Look at all the buildings he can. Explore as if he was child again. He always thought it would be him to follow in his mother’s footsteps coming here, instead it was Aemond. He tries not to let the scratching bitterness work its way up his throat whenever they go home. The way Alicent frets and gushes over Aemond holds a special place in brain.

Her sweet, talented boy

He still does not know if she says it in front of him on purpose or by accident.

The building was nothing like the firm. Warm wood opposed to the glass and shiny metal he was used to. It was easy to know where Aemond would be, most of the lights in rooms dimmed except for one at the end of the hall.

He follows the piano he can hear faintly. Even though they are brothers, Aegon often feels like he is encroaching on something deeply personal when he hears Aemond play. Like he was hearing a part of Aemond he kept hidden from world. It made him peak in the room versus walking straight in.

He sees Aemond, eyes closed, playing a melody he does not recognize. It’s beautiful. But that is nothing out of the ordinary for Aemond.

Before he can finally make his presences known, a pair of legs obstruct his view. A graceful turn, followed by an acrobatic leap. All Aegon can is stare in slight awe, but he can’t help his mind from drifting to his mother. It reminds him of the black and white photos of her hanging in the foyer of their family home. Or the old videos of she used to show them when they were little.

He doesn’t know what he misses more - being that young or when Alicent wanted to share those things with them.

Before Aegon can finally walk in, the dancer stops abruptly turning to Aemond.

“Hmmmm,” she hums lowly. “I’m just not feeling it.”

Aemond lets out a guttural groan in response. He stands from the piano, roughly closing the top.

“You have not ‘felt’ the last two things I have composed.”

The dancer shrugs, not fazed by Aemond’s temperament. “Nothing has inspired me yet.”

He mumbled something under his breath, and Aegon watches as a head full of hair pulled pack in a ponytail snap back to his brother.

“What was that?”

Aegon knows that tone well. Him and Helaena would use it often when Aemond did that. They both hated when he would mumble under his breath. It always led to arguments that Alicent would have to break up. Aemond starts to gather the music sheets on the piano.

“Could be your tired routine that has everything feeling uninspired,” Aemond says louder.

“Oh please,” there is something so oddly familiar about the voice as it rings out. The insults don’t match the clear and sprite like nature of it. “If anything is tired, it is the cheap Rachmaninoff imitations you keep composing.”

“Gods, you’re such a….”

“Awe, what am I Aemond,” she doesn’t miss a beat. “tell me, so then I can tell you what you are. Because trust me if you think calling me a bitch is going to hurt my feelings, you should hear what people say about you.”

It makes Aemond falter. Aegon knows that deposited the tough face his brother puts on; he gets bogged down with what others think and expect of him. Aegon decides that maybe he should step in now.

“I think you both looked and sounded great,” he winced as soon as the words came out. His voice loudly ranges through the studio. Not entirely the smooth entrance it should have been. Aemond’s eyes shoot to Aegon; he seems to be getting that angry look from all his siblings lately.

Aegon freezes when his gaze meets big eyes staring at him incredulously. He recognizes the gentle slope of her nose, and the softness of her pretty face.

“Oh, fuck me.”

Aegon has a special talent for being foolishly. A knack for being numbingly unintelligent when it comes to feelings. At least that is what Daeron tells him.

“For someone so bright in other ways, you can be real stupid.”

But managing to include himself in the mess that is Aemond’s university life must be a new kind of low. This must be the Gods punishing him. The false promises he dishes out to women coming to finally bite him in the ass.

Her eyes go from Aegon to Aemond, then back to Aegon before she left out a chuckle of disbelief. “My life must be joke.”

Aegon opens his mouth to say something, but then realizes his mouth is the thing that got in him into this mess in the first place. His mouth on yours, his mouth on you, and his mouth’s ability to say sweet nothings at the drop of a hat. So all he can do is watch as you angrily put on your coat and tear off your dance shoes. While putting on your boots you turn to Aemond.

“Figure your shit out before reaching out to me again,” you hiss at him.

You don’t even spare Aegon another glance as you storm out. Leaving him with just the quick whiff of your sweet perfume.

The two brothers stand there in silence for a moment before Aemond finally speaks.

“I thought I told you to stay in the car?”

The drive to the Thai place was filled with Aemond cutting Aegon off by turning the radio louder and louder. He asks for what happened but seemingly shut down when the implication of what happened became clear.

“So, you fucked my project partner,” he mutters bitterly. “And then completely ghosted her after you promised you wouldn’t. On top lying about your last name.”

Aegon shakes his head, mouth full of tom kha khai. When he says it like that it sounds so awful.

“We did not have sex,” Aegon repeats. Then his shoulders slump. “But yes… we might have done… other stuff and I may have… not called when I said I would.”

Aemond scoffs, picking at his half-eaten curry. The brother bonding not going how Aegon wanted it to.

“I can apologize. I can send flowers.”

“No, absolutely not.” Aemond blanches. “You need to leave her alone. We are already not on the same page, the last thing I need is more issues with her.”

He did have a nice night with you. One of the better ones he can remember. It could why he was so apprehensive to reach out. It was just Aegon’s luck. He manages to fuck things up even when he says he won’t get attached and involved.

“Well, I guess I feel a little bit less bad about what I was going to tell you,” Aemond says, then clears his throat. “Criston asked about you again when we talked.”

Aegon says nothing in return. This dinner was a mistake. He had already had a bad day at work; everything has down spiraled from there.

“I invited him to my recital in a couple of weeks. I just thought I should give you heads-up if you decide to come.”

Aegon shrugs. “It is your recital; you can invite whoever you want.”

“Funny, mother said the same thing,” Aemond smiled, it not reaching his eyes. “I don’t get why you guys must take your feelings out on him. He was nothing but kind to us. Especially to you, he taught you everything you knew about drumming. He didn’t make you go ha-“

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Aegon snaps.

What he really wants is a cold pint or a glass of wine, but he knows the look Aemond will give him if he orders one. Before a head-splitting headache comes on, Aegon asks for the check.

He wants to forget about the dinner. To forget about all the feelings that get stuck is him brain and keep him from functioning the way he wants to. Some nights he dreams about his siblings all being together, their father a distant memory. Other nights, he has nightmares of Alicent’s face contorted in pain and tears. Scared and disappointed.

But tonight, brought something different. Visions of soft lips, and a warm laugh flood his mind. Everything syrupy, and hazy in the best way. Not even Aemond’s words could break the succession of them.

Stay away from her

Aegon has always had trouble doing what he supposed to

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