#but his expression in the first makes my heart soar | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nanamis-angel · 9 months ago

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𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐭 ♡︎

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ৹ you and megumi have been dating for nine months. you're happy. he's happy. you're perfect for each other. the only issue? he craves affection and he's not sure how to ask for it.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ৹ megumi x fem!reader, shy megumi, fluff, very very slight angst, cuddling, yuji and nobara mention (they share one braincell).

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ৹ 1.4k

𝐚/𝐧 ৹ sorry I haven't written in a while, i'm currently on vacation and haven't been writing. this was in my drafts so I figured I'd post it. I'll be back soon with some more. I hope you enjoy! hearts divider by @/s-h-o-w-y

You and Megumi had been dating for quite a while now. Just two weeks ago, you had your nine-month anniversary together and you were the happiest you had ever been.

The relationship was very low-key. PDA was almost non-existent—the most he’d ever do in public was hold your hand and even then, he kept his hands to himself most days.

Affection was present in your relationship but you mostly had to ask for it. He’d give it to you without a second thought but he rarely initiated any form of affection besides a few hugs or kisses here and there.

To be honest—it bothered you at first as you believed it was something about you that made him not want to be affectionate but then you realized it was just hard for him to show physical affection because he never really knew how. He was an amazing boyfriend—he just had some struggles.

You were fine with this now and it didn’t bother you, knowing that he still loved you very much.

But what you didn’t know was how badly this affected Megumi. His fear of initiating physical affection was eating him alive from the inside out.

Megumi had a lot of emotions—believe it or not—but he didn’t know how to handle all of it so he just shoved it all down where nobody could find it. He never learned how to deal with any of it so it seemed like the only quick solution.

His mother passed away at a young age and affection or even emotion (besides anger, disappointment, or his father being unamused) was not common from his father and stepmother. Growing up he got the occasional pat on the head or a hug from Gojo and his older sister Tsumiki tried her best to show her love for him when she could—but that had ended all too soon.

He would never admit it but he absolutely craved affection—specifically from you. The poor boy was so touch-starved. His heart soared whenever you asked for a hug or to lay down together. And it tore away at his heart how badly he wanted to ask you for love but for some reason, he was scared to do so.

But one thing about Megumi was that he was persistent and he was going to get through this and overcome his anxiety one way or another. After all, you were already his girlfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

Right now, you were on a walk with him, Nobara, and Yuji. Shoko had insisted on the four of you going out and getting some sun and none of you were about to argue with the intimidating school doctor so you all quickly got out there.

You walked alongside Megumi while Nobara and Yuji goofed off a couple of feet ahead of the two of you, not paying attention to either of you at all. Megumi quietly walked with a stoic expression, keeping his hands in his pockets. He had barely said anything but that’s because his mind was racing.

You didn’t mind it at all as long as you were with him. Megumi’s gaze kept flickering down to your hand, which was at your side as you walked. He wanted to just reach down and grab your hand tightly but something stopped him. Why? He had no idea.

You were his girlfriend, he had held your hand before and nothing happened. So why would it be any different now? Anxiety over simple things never made anyone think sensible thoughts. But it was enough to make him nervous to simply reach out and grab your hand.

And the worst part? You had no idea. You simply kept walking with a big smile on your face as the two of you walked together.

Before he could stop himself, he just took his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your hand rather abruptly, not saying a single thing as if trying to ignore what just happened.

You were a little stunned—just because it was so sudden. And he had just grabbed your hand rather than lacing his fingers together with yours or something like that so you looked at him with a little bit of confusion. “Megumi?” You asked.

Noticing your eyes on him, he just avoided eye contact, feeling his cheeks heat up for some reason. All he was doing was holding your hand! Well, more like gripping it at this point.

“You don’t have to grip my hand like that, I’m not going anywhere.” You chuckled, trying to make him loosen up a bit so you could intertwine your fingers with his. Really, you were just glad that he was holding your hand and had done it himself.

Megumi didn’t reply but his grip loosened up so you could intertwine your fingers with his, properly holding hands now. You gave his hand a little squeeze and a reassuring smile. To be honest, it was really cute to see him like this but you weren’t going to say anything about it and just decided to leave it as it was.

Holding hands—it was such a simple thing but Megumi’s heart felt like it was racing. He was proud of himself for initiating things but boy was his heart pounding.

But feeling his skin against yours was so nice; feeling the warmth of your hand against his, it was so comforting. Goodness, he loved you so much. He just didn’t know how to say it sometimes.

The two of you held hands until you got back to the school. Nobara and Yuji rushed inside, not wanting to be out in the heat anymore while you and Megumi took your time getting inside. Sometimes you believed Nobara and Yuji shared one brain cell between each other—and they probably did, to be honest.

Megumi’s hand fell from yours when you got inside, which was okay, you were going to sit down to cool off anyway.

You made your way inside and to one of the rooms, walking over to one of the couches. Thankfully you had nothing else going on for the rest of the day so you could just practically pass out on the couch for a little while.

Before you sat down, you looked at Megumi, who was just standing there looking at you. “You okay, sweetheart?” You asked, slightly confused. He had been acting odd all day and it confused you. What was going on?

Again, no reply. Instead, you felt his hands suddenly grab your waist and pull you close to him, his arms enveloping you in a big hug. You stood there stunned for a moment before wrapping your arms around him tightly. It was clear that he really needed this hug.

“Megumi—,” You spoke but he cut you off.

“Don’t say anything.” He said softly, “Just don’t say anything.” He breathed out, not wanting to be asked any questions right now. All he wanted to do was hold you.

With you still in his arms, he moved and sat down on the couch, putting you on his lap and burying his face into the crook of your neck. It was so comforting, so nice. He just wanted to stay like this forever, in the safety and comfort of your arms.

You were still stunned that he was doing this but you didn’t question a thing, continuing to keep your arms locked tightly around him. Eventually, your hand made its way up to his scalp, gently raking your nails through his hair. You could feel him practically melt into your touch and you let out a little chuckle.

“Cute,” You mumbled, your voice could barely be heard.

Megumi let out a little huff and just kept his arms around you, his cheeks warm from embarrassment.

You weren’t sure how long you two were like that and eventually, you had somehow shifted to where the both of you were laying down, still holding each other in your arms. Megumi had practically fallen asleep, comfortably cuddled up right in your arms.

And he would’ve fallen asleep—had Yuji not walked into the room and seen the two of you lying together on the couch. Poor, innocent Yuji who could physically never bring himself to be quiet. “Ooh, Fushiguro! Getting comfortable with [name] there huh?” He said lightheartedly, thinking nothing of it. He really was just teasing.

Within an instant, Megumi was sitting up with an unamused expression, reaching to grab the nearest thing he could, his face pink and flushed “Shut up!”

Yuji was out of that room within seconds, just barely dodging the magazine Megumi had thrown at him.

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solxamber · 6 months ago

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The Fairest of Them All || Vil Schoenheit

You've chosen Vil!

Navigating the chaos of Night Raven College, you somehow end up stealing the heart of Pomefiore’s untouchable Housewarden.

w.c: 5.3k

1k Masterlist ; Prologue

It’s the night of the opera, and you’re anxiously adjusting your outfit for what feels like the hundredth time. Vil had invited you—Vil Schoenheit, the epitome of elegance and poise—and you’d spent hours ensuring you looked halfway decent next to someone so effortlessly perfect.

When the knock at the door comes, you barely manage to keep yourself from sprinting to open it. And there he is.

Vil stands on your doorstep, dressed in formal wear that could kill a victorian child, his golden hair tied back with precision that seems almost unfair to the rest of humanity. A soft scent of bergamot and cedar follows him, making your brain stutter.

Your jaw goes slack, and you freeze, blatantly staring like a deer caught in headlights. You’re trying to say something, anything, but the only thing leaving your mouth is the sound of air escaping your lungs.

Vil’s lips twitch into the faintest smirk. “Good evening,” he says smoothly, clearly noticing your state. His eyes sweep over your outfit, and he nods in approval. “You’ve done well. You look rather lovely tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to squeak, still staring. Internally, you’re screaming: What do you mean rather? Lovely?? Have you looked in a mirror recently?!!

He gestures toward the waiting car. “Shall we?”

You nod dumbly, closing the door behind you before following him to the sleek black vehicle parked outside.

The interior of the car is as polished as Vil himself, the soft leather seats and faint glow of the dashboard making it feel like you’ve stepped into another world. You try to focus on the excitement of the opera, but the quiet presence of Vil next to you is making that exceedingly difficult.

As the car glides through the city, your hands brush accidentally, a fleeting touch that sends a little jolt through you. You glance at him, expecting him to pull away or comment, but he doesn’t even blink. If anything, his expression softens, his gaze fixed out the window.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage, and slowly slip your hand into his.

Vil raises an eyebrow ever so slightly, but his grip tightens around yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Excited, are we?” he murmurs, the corners of his lips tugging upward in that signature, knowing smirk of his.

You nod quickly, your heart pounding. “Yeah! I mean, it’s my first opera. I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

“Good,” he says, his voice a touch softer. “You’ll appreciate it more than most.” He pauses, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “And… it’s refreshing to share it with someone who isn’t afraid to show their enthusiasm.”

You smile at that, feeling a little less nervous and a lot more giddy.

The grand opera house is breathtaking, its towering marble columns and gilded details glowing under the warm lights. You almost trip on the stairs trying to take it all in. Vil’s hand at your elbow steadies you.

“Careful,” he says lightly, his lips quirking in amusement. “I’d rather not have our evening interrupted by a sprained ankle.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, your face heating up as you let him guide you to your seats.

The opera begins, and it’s as magical as you imagined. The singers’ voices soar, weaving a story so full of emotion you feel like you’re holding your breath half the time. But despite the beauty on stage, you find your attention drifting.

To him.

Vil sits beside you, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the stage lights. He’s transfixed, his violet eyes glittering as they follow the performers. He’s utterly ethereal, and you’re entirely doomed.

When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, your gaze snaps back to the stage so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. But you can still feel him looking at you, and when you sneak another glance, you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

Your heart does a little flip.

It's time for the intermission and you slowly stretch out your legs.

“Let’s take a walk,” Vil suggests as the lights come up. You nod, following him out of the auditorium and into the grand halls of the opera house.

The murals lining the walls are stunning, vivid depictions of myth and music that seem almost alive under the flickering chandeliers. Vil walks beside you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back to guide you through the crowd.

It’s subtle, effortless, and completely unfair. You’re hyper-aware of the warmth of his touch, the gentle pressure that somehow manages to make your brain short-circuit.

“Relax,” he murmurs, leaning closer so only you can hear. His breath brushes against your ear, and you nearly trip over your own feet. “You’re walking like you’re in a dream.”

“I feel like I am in a dream,” you blurt, before immediately regretting it.

Vil chuckles, a soft, genuine sound that makes your stomach flutter. “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He pauses in front of one particularly grand mural, his hand lingering at your back as he studies it. You glance up at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he takes in the artwork.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, though you’re not entirely sure you’re still talking about the mural.

“It is,” he agrees, his gaze flickering down to meet yours. “Though not nearly as much as some things.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by the amused glint in his eyes, he’s thoroughly enjoying your reaction.

The show ends, and you’re still buzzing from the experience as you climb into the car. You hum the aria under your breath, the melody still fresh in your mind.

Vil sits beside you, one arm resting casually against the window as he watches you with quiet amusement.

“You enjoyed it, then?” he asks, though it’s clear he already knows the answer.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!” you say, turning to him with a wide grin. “I mean, the costumes, the singing, the—”

You stop mid-sentence as Vil leans in, his face so close you can feel the warmth of his skin.

Your heart skips a beat. “W-What are you—?”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. “You’re a mess,” he says, though his tone is far too fond for the words to carry any bite.

He leans back, smirking at your flustered expression. You can practically feel the heat radiating off your face as you bury it in your hands.

Vil walks you to your doorstep, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his features. He looks so effortlessly regal, so infuriatingly perfect, and you know you’re going to be replaying this night in your head for weeks.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say, turning to him with a smile. “I had a great time.”

“The pleasure was mine,” he replies, his voice smooth as ever.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you take his hand, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it. “Goodnight, Vil.”

You dart inside before you can see his reaction, but as you peek through the curtains, you catch him standing there, a small, genuine smile on his lips.

And just like that, your night feels even more magical.

The evening starts peacefully at Ramshackle, with you sitting on the couch, Grim sprawled on your lap, and a carton of apple juice in hand. The tranquility is shattered by what sounds like a battering ram hitting the door.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“HENCHUMAN!” Grim screeches, bolting upright and scrambling toward the door. “Somebody’s tryin’ ta demolish our house!”

“Calm down, Grim!” you shout, rushing to the door. As you open it, you find Epel standing there, out of breath, his hair disheveled like he’s been running for his life.

“EP—”

“I NEED SANCTUARY!” Epel cries, practically diving inside before slamming the door behind him. “Please, hide me! Don’t let him find me!”

You blink at him, baffled. “What—who—huh?”

Grim squints up at Epel, unimpressed. “What’d ya do this time, farm boy?”

“I didn’t do nothin’! Vil’s gone mad again! He wants me to do some eight-step skincare ritual with somethin’ called snail mucin!” Epel flops onto the couch dramatically. “SNAILS, Prefect. SNAILS. I don’t wanna look like no slimy critter!”

You try to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible. “Epel, you know he’s just trying to help, right?”

Epel grabs a carton of apple juice from the table and downs some of it like it's vodka. “Help? Help turn me into a snail, maybe!”

Grim nods sagely. “Yeah, I dunno what a ‘mucin’ is, but it sounds slimy.”

The atmosphere is almost cozy again as the three of you sit around, sipping juice and joking around. But then it happens.

Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

This knock isn’t like Epel’s desperate pounding. This knock is sharp, precise, and terrifyingly composed.

Grim lets out a dramatic gasp. “IT’S HIM!”

Epel pales. “Don’t open it. Please don’t open it!”

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you cautiously crack the door open. Sure enough, there stands Vil Schoenheit, looking like he just stepped out of a photoshoot, his expression as serene as a summer lake—but with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Good evening,” Vil greets you with a polite smile. “Would you kindly return my wayward dorm member?”

You glance over your shoulder at Epel, who is shaking his head violently and mouthing, “Don’t you dare!”

“Uh,” you begin, already feeling trapped. “I mean… what if—what if he just stayed here for tonight?”

Vil raises an elegant brow. “I see. Is that how it’s going to be?” He steps inside with the grace of a cat, his gaze shifting from you to Epel. “I’m sure you think you’re very clever.”

“Lemme be free,” Epel whines, hiding behind the couch. “I ain’t ready for snails on my face!”

Vil’s smile turns sharp. “Snail mucin is a highly effective hydrator, but if you insist on being dramatic…” He turns to you, his eyes narrowing in thought. “You. Are you willing to try the skincare regimen in his place?”

“Me?” You blink, startled.

Epel perks up from behind the couch. “YES. TAKE THEM!”

Vil tilts his head. “If you’re willing, I’m confident I can achieve better results from a subject who isn’t fighting me at every turn.”

You shrug. “Sure, why not?”

Before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, Vil has looped an arm through yours, gracefully pulling you out the door. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

Epel waves dramatically from the window. “Bless ya, Prefect! I owe ya big time!”

Grim just yells after you, “DON’T LET HIM TURN YA INTO A SNAIL!”

Pomefiore is somehow both intimidating and gorgeous at night, much like Vil himself. He leads you to a lavishly decorated room that smells faintly of lavender and something you can’t quite place but know costs more than your monthly groceries.

Vil gestures for you to sit, and you do, feeling slightly like a sacrificial lamb.

“This won’t hurt,” he says smoothly, rolling up his sleeves. “Now, sit still.”

You expect him to just slap some moisturizer on your face and call it a day, but no. Vil moves with precision and care, his fingers brushing gently over your skin as he applies cleanser, toner, and a series of serums that feel more expensive than anything you’ve ever owned.

“This feels… nice,” you mumble, your eyelids growing heavier.

Vil hums, clearly pleased with himself. “Of course it does. Skincare is an art.”

Somewhere between step five and six, you lose the battle against sleep, dozing off in the chair.

You stir awake to find Vil leaning over you, his gaze soft and almost… fond. He’s saying something about your skin glowing, but you’re too distracted by the feeling of being watched so intently.

“Vil?” you murmur groggily.

“Yes?” he replies, his voice softer than usual.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you sit up, noticing something on your cheek. “Uh… did you kiss me?”

Vil freezes for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. His usual composure slips, and he hurriedly swipes at your cheek with a handkerchief. “Don’t be absurd,” he says, but his tone is unusually flustered.

Except.

You glance at his lips, where the faintest smudge of lipstick is visible. “Riiiiiight.”

Vil notices where your gaze has landed and turns away, busying himself with the jars on the counter. “You’re imagining things.”

You smile, a teasing glint in your eye. “If you say so.”

But as he ushers you out of Pomefiore with a distracted wave and a faint blush dusting his cheeks, you know you’ve won this round.

The morning starts off with a buzz of activity at the botanical gardens. Vil, ever the professional, has arranged an elaborate photoshoot in the serene greenery. Props were meticulously placed, outfits were prepared, and lighting setups were already stationed. Vil even allowed himself to feel something akin to satisfaction.

That is, until afternoon rolls around.

Unbeknownst to Vil, the chaos trio (Ace, Deuce, Grim) and Jack had wandered into the gardens earlier for what they dubbed “a little harmless fun.” What they actually managed to do was:

Accidentally tip over a giant fountain while trying to see if Grim could swim (spoiler alert: he can’t).

Start a “friendly” game of tag that ended with Ace tripping over a prop table, sending vases and floral arrangements flying like shrapnel.

Release a flock of doves intended for Vil’s grand finale by opening the wrong cage ("I wanted to see if they could do tricks!" Ace insists as Deuce facepalms).

Grim, somehow, set a bush on fire. Jack put it out, but the smell of burnt shrubbery lingers ominously in the air.

By the time Vil arrives, the scene looks like a tornado hit. The once-pristine gardens are a disaster zone. Props are broken, flowers are trampled, and there's a trail of muddy footprints leading in every direction.

Vil steps into the carnage, his designer boots squelching in mud. His expression is eerily calm at first, but the sharp inhale he takes speaks volumes. He surveys the devastation with a look that could wilt the few surviving flowers.

“My vision,” he whispers, his voice tight with suppressed rage.

You stand beside him, trying not to laugh because you’ve never seen him this close to a meltdown.

“Vil,” you say cautiously, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s not that bad—”

“Not that bad?!” he snaps, whirling on you. “Look around! This isn’t a photoshoot location; it’s a war zone!”

From the corner of your eye, you spot Cater peeking in, phone out, clearly recording the unfolding drama. You make a mental note to confiscate it later.

Vil pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, “I should have known better. Trusting anything to others. Utter folly.”

“You’re gonna burst a blood vessel,” you warn him, earning a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Alright, alright,” you say, rolling up your sleeves. “Stop sulking and help me salvage this.”

Vil blinks at you, incredulous. “Salvage? You can’t possibly—”

“Watch me.”

With that, you march into the chaos. You grab what props can be salvaged, rearrange a few backdrops, and even craft makeshift decorations out of the remaining flowers and ribbons.

Vil watches in stunned silence as you hustle, barking orders at a very confused Sebek, who you dragged out of the equestrian club to help.

“Sebek, I need that saddle cleaned now!” you shout.

Sebek grumbles, muttering something about “desecrating noble horse equipment for frivolity,” but obeys when you glare at him.

Within the hour, you’ve transformed a patch of ruined garden into a new set: a rustic, equestrian-inspired photoshoot featuring horses. Vil looks around, stunned, as you pat one of the horses on the neck.

“Well?” you say, wiping sweat from your brow. “It’s not the flower themed you started off with, but it’ll work, right?”

Vil stares at you, a strange softness in his eyes. “...It’s perfect.”

The photoshoot goes off without a hitch. Vil looks flawless as ever, draped elegantly across a horse in one shot and holding its reins with regal authority in another. You even manage to convince Sebek to lend Vil his equestrian jacket for a dramatic flair.

As you predicted, the photos break the internet. The combination of Vil Schoenheit and majestic horses sends fans into a frenzy. “A SUPERMODEL AND HORSES??? THE WORLD ISN’T READY FOR THIS!” one comment reads.

But what really goes viral isn’t the official photos. It’s a video Cater secretly took of Vil watching you as you worked to save the shoot.

In the video, Vil stands in the background, holding a bouquet prop. His usual composed expression is nowhere to be seen—he’s looking at you with undisguised fondness, like you’re the only person in the world. The caption?

“The real shoot is happening behind the scenes #VilSmittenheit”

When you show Vil the video later, he groans and buries his face in his hands. “Of course Cater would...”

But you just smile, because even Vil can’t deny the truth caught on camera.

The potionology exam looms like a thundercloud, and you’ve made the questionable decision to study with the first-year gang. It feels like babysitting a tornado of chaos.

You’ve got your notebook out, ready to tackle the mysteries of potion ratios and ingredient compatibility. Then you look up.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim are locked in a heated debate over whether it’s morally acceptable to substitute powdered phoenix feather with breadcrumbs.

“Grim, breadcrumbs aren’t even magical!” Jack groans, rubbing his temples.

Grim huffs, waving a paw dismissively. “It’s got crunch! Everything’s better with crunch!”

“Breadcrumbs in a potion?!” Sebek barks, slamming his fist on the table. “Such idiocy would never occur in Lord Malleus’s presence! Do you know the kind of potions he could make? Far superior to this nonsense!”

Epel, slouched in his chair, mutters, “What’s the point of potionology when you can just punch your problems or fly away?”

“Guys,” Jack says, his patience clearly thinning. “We need to focus! We’re all going to fail if we don’t—”

“I’M NOT FAILING!” Sebek bellows.

“Then stop talking about Malleus for five minutes!” Ace snaps.

You close your notebook. You know when to admit defeat. You’re getting nothing done here.

Plan B: The Vil Schoenheit Method

You march straight to Vil in Pomefiore. He’s seated in his lavish lounge, sipping tea and reading a book on advanced alchemical techniques that makes your brain hurt just by looking at it.

“Vil, help me,” you say, dropping dramatically to your knees like you’re auditioning for a tragedy. “I’m going to flunk potionology, and I can’t rely on Ace, Deuce, or Grim because they’ve got the collective intelligence of a soggy paper towel.”

Vil arches an eyebrow, clearly amused. “And why should I help you?”

“Because you’re the best potionologist I know,” you plead. “And because I’ll owe you one. A big one. I’ll even—” You pause for dramatic effect. “—tell you where Epel is when he runs away.”

Vil narrows his eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, but your desperation is mildly entertaining. Fine. But I won’t go easy on you.”

You gulp.

Vil is intense. He doesn’t just teach you potionology; he micromanages your existence.

“Back straight,” he snaps, tapping your spine with a ruler. “You’re hunched over like a gremlin. And stop stirring like you’re mixing pancake batter. Precision is key!”

You mutter something about gremlins under your breath, but Vil hears it. “I can make this more difficult if you’d like,” he says with a sweet yet menacing smile.

He quizzes you relentlessly, correcting every little mistake with the sharpness of a dagger. “If you confuse Mandrake extract with Mandragora root one more time, I’ll have Rook carry you back to Ramshackle while reciting a poem about your incompetence.”

But by the end of it, you’ve actually learned. You’re tired, your hands smell like sulfur, and your posture is permanently straightened, but you’ve learned.

You ace the exam. You don’t just pass; you get one of the highest scores in the class.

“THAT’S MY HENCHHUMAN!” Grim crows, puffing his chest out like he took the test himself. “We’re unstoppable!”

Ace and Deuce, however, are staring at you like you’ve just revealed you’re a double agent.

“You went to Vil for help?!” Ace squawks. “That’s betrayal! Treason! You’re a traitor to the First-Year Study Group™!”

“You think you know someone,” Deuce adds solemnly, shaking his head.

“It’s not my fault you two were trying to use breadcrumbs in a potion!” you fire back.

“That’s not the point!”

Ignoring their melodrama, you bolt to Pomefiore to thank Vil.

Vil is sitting by the window, gazing out at the gardens with a cup of tea in hand. He looks up as you burst in, all smiles and gratitude.

“Vil!” you exclaim, practically skipping toward him. “I passed! Thank you so much!”

He raises an elegant eyebrow. “Of course you did. I wasn’t about to waste my time on a lost cause.”

You throw your arms around him in a quick, impulsive hug. “You’re amazing, seriously. I’ll thank you properly later, but for now—” You lean up and kiss him on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

Before Vil can react, you’re already sprinting out the door, leaving him sitting there with a stunned expression.

Moments later, Rook appears, materializing like the cryptid he is. “Ah, Roi du Poison,” he coos, his smile wicked. “You’re absolutely smitten, aren’t you?”

Vil sighs, shaking his head, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Be quiet, Rook.”

“Ah, silence is the language of love!” Rook declares dramatically. “But your face says it all! Mon dieu, how adorable.”

Vil doesn’t even bother denying it. He simply takes another sip of tea, thinking of your smile.

It’s 4 a.m. The witching hour. You’re blissfully cocooned in your blankets, dreaming of peaceful, non-chaotic things, when a sharp tap tap tap jolts you from your slumber. At first, you think it’s your imagination, but the tapping persists, growing louder and more insistent. You crack open one groggy eye, then the other. You blink at the sound’s source.

Your window.

“Window?” you mumble in confusion, still half-asleep. Then you see him. Rook Hunt. Perched precariously on the ledge like some kind of medieval gargoyle but with better fashion sense. He’s waving at you with such enthusiasm you’d think he were auditioning for a cheerleading squad.

Your brain, still booting up, goes: Of course. This is perfectly normal.

Then, a second later: WAIT A MINUTE—WHAT?!

“Rook?” you hiss-whisper, stumbling to the window. “Why are you—” You stop mid-sentence because his face is a mask of sheer panic. “What’s wrong?”

He places a dramatic hand on his chest, his voice trembling with urgency. “Mon amie! It is an emergency of the highest order!”

Heart pounding, you throw open the window. “What happened?! Is someone hurt?! Did something explode?! Is Vil—”

Rook nods gravely. “It is Roi du Poison.”

Your stomach plummets. He doesn’t have to say anything more. If something’s wrong with Vil, you’re going to help. You’re his friend, his confidant, his designated earplug during Rook’s poetic soliloquies.

You don’t hesitate; you grab your coat and shoes and sprint out the door, trailing after Rook, who somehow manages to make a full-on run look like a choreographed ballet.

The journey to Pomefiore is a blur of panic and adrenaline. You’re preparing yourself for the worst. Was Vil poisoned? Did he collapse during some over-the-top skincare ritual? Is it gasp the end of his perfect reign? By the time you burst into Vil’s room, you’re practically on the verge of tears.

“Vil!” you cry, rushing to his bedside. “Are you okay? What’s happening?!”

Vil, propped up against a mountain of silk covered pillows, looks up from his tissue box, pale but undeniably still Vil. His expression is unimpressed, though there’s a faint red tinge to his nose that he’d probably die before admitting to.

“I have a cold,” he says flatly, voice slightly nasal.

You blink. Once. Twice. You slowly turn to look at Rook, who is leaning dramatically against the doorway, one hand over his heart like he’s auditioning for Hamlet.

“A cold?” you echo.

Rook nods solemnly. “Oui! But what is a mere cold to a shining star like Vil? Even the smallest ailment feels like a tragedy!”

Without breaking eye contact, you grab a tissue from Vil’s nightstand and throw it at Rook’s head. He catches it mid-air with a flourish.

“I thought he was dying!” you snap, your voice somewhere between exhausted and hysterical.

Vil sighs deeply, like you’re all inconveniencing him. “Well, I feel like I’m dying,” he mutters, reaching for another tissue with the elegance of a dying swan.

Despite wanting to throttle both Vil and Rook, you stay. Because deep down, you care about Vil (and because Rook is lurking in the shadows, making escape impossible). Armed with tissues, herbal tea, and the resolve of a saint, you declare yourself Vil’s official nurse.

“Do you need anything?” you ask, pulling a blanket higher up his shoulders.

Vil sniffs. “I need… another pillow. This one is too flat.”

You grab another pillow and fluff it to perfection. “Better?”

“No, this one is too fluffy.”

You fight the urge to scream. But you adjust the pillow again. And again. And again.

Moments later:

“This tea is too hot.” You cool it.

“This tea is too cold.” You reheat it.

“This lighting is too harsh.” You dim it.

“This lighting is too dim.” You—wait, what??

For hours, you cater to his every whim with the patience of a saint. Vil complains about the temperature, his blanket, the angle of his tissue box. He’s fussy, demanding, and dramatic, but you take it all in stride.

Why? Because deep down, you know he’d never ask for help unless he really needed it. And because Vil, even at his most irritating, is still someone you care about. Maybe even have a crush on but that's a problem for future you.

Rook occasionally pops in to offer poetic encouragement. You ignore him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Vil falls asleep, his perfect features soft and peaceful. You, however, collapse on the couch in the corner of the room, absolutely spent.

The next morning, Vil wakes up feeling… better. His fever has broken, his headache has subsided, and for the first time in days, he doesn’t feel like his body is actively rebelling against him. He sits up and looks around, finding you passed out on the couch, still clutching a crumpled tissue in one hand.

He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the way you’re curled up in an awkward position, the slight shiver in your frame from not having a blanket. And for the first time, Vil feels something unfamiliar. Guilt. And a deep affection.

As the morning light filters into the room, he glances at you one last time, his expression softening. “Once I recover,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, “I’ll tell you.”

And with that, Vil Schoenheit makes a silent vow. The next time you nurse him through anything, it will be with him as your devoted partner—and not because of a misunderstanding orchestrated by a certain overdramatic huntsman.

It hits you like a truck in the middle of class: you’re in love with Vil Schoenheit.

Not a crush, not admiration—you’re down horrendous. Butterflies are doing pirouettes in your stomach every time he talks to you, and his slightest smile makes you feel like you’ve been hit by a blinding spotlight.

You try denial. (“It’s just his aura. He does this to everyone!”) You try avoidance. (“If I don’t look at him, I can’t fall harder, right?”) But none of it works. Every time he critiques your posture or gives you that sly smirk, it’s game over.

Finally, you give in. “Okay, fine! I’ll confess!” you announce to Grim, who’s lounging on the couch.

“Good luck,” Grim snickers. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I am about to be sick!” you shriek. “This is Vil! What if he laughs? What if he just… stares at me in that terrifying way he does when Epel says something stupid?”

“Then I’ll eat your dinner as consolation,” Grim says, ever supportive.

You prepare like your life depends on it.

Step One: Flowers. You pick out the most gorgeous bouquet, ones that practically scream, I’m hopelessly in love with you, please don’t let me die of embarrassment.

Step Two: A handwritten card. You pour your heart onto the paper with the eloquence of a poet. “You’re incredible,” you write. “Not just because you’re beautiful, but because of your strength, your kindness, and the way you inspire everyone around you. I… I love you.” You almost combust just writing it.

Step Three: Look your best. You pick an outfit that’s just shy of trying too hard and hope it’s enough to make you look like someone worthy of confessing to Vil Schoenheit.

“Alright,” you say, holding your bouquet like it’s a shield. “Here goes nothing.”

“Don’t trip and fall on your face!” Grim calls after you.

You’re halfway to Pomefiore, sweating bullets and trying to remember how to breathe, when you see him.

Vil is walking toward you, dressed impeccably as always, carrying… a bouquet of his own?

Your heart skips several beats, and you’re suddenly extremely nervous—the kind of nervous that makes your palms sweat, your knees weak, and your brain do somersaults. You feel like a malfunctioning automaton.

“Oh,” Vil says, his gaze locking onto you. He stops a few feet away, his eyes flickering between you and the bouquet in your hands. “Out for a stroll?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer, gripping your flowers tighter.

Vil tilts his head slightly, and you swear he looks… annoyed? “And the flowers?” he asks, his tone calm but sharp, like a scalpel. “A gift for someone special, perhaps?”

You freeze. “Uh—”

Before you can answer, Vil’s gaze shifts to the card sticking out of your bouquet. He reaches out and plucks it before you can stop him. Your soul briefly leaves your body.

He reads it silently, his face betraying nothing, until—

“Oh.”

His tone is quiet, and you’re horrified to see a flicker of heartbreak in his expression. “I see.”

“Wait! It’s not what it looks like!” you blurt, waving your hand like a maniac. “The flowers are for you! The card is for you! I just… forgot to sign it.”

Vil blinks, his lips parting slightly in surprise. Then, to your immense relief, he chuckles—a soft, melodic sound that sends your heart into a frenzy. “You forgot to sign it?” he repeats, amused.

You nod vigorously, clutching the bouquet like your life depends on it. “I was too busy panicking, okay?!”

Vil shakes his head, his smile widening. “Of course. Only you would confess in such a manner.” He steps closer, his own bouquet now visible. “It seems we had the same idea today.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he means. “Wait… those flowers…?”

“For you,” Vil says simply. “Though I’ll admit, for a moment, I thought they might be unnecessary.”

You stare at each other, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. Then, Vil takes your bouquet from your trembling hands and replaces it with his own.

“They suit you better,” he murmurs.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, he leans in and presses his lips softly against yours.

The world seems to blur around you, and all you can feel is Vil—his warmth, his scent, the tenderness of his touch. When he pulls back, he’s smiling at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.

“Let’s not wait so long to be honest with each other next time,” he says softly.

You nod, dazed and giddy. “Y-Yeah, totally.”

As he intertwines his fingers with yours, leading you back toward Ramshackle, you realize one thing: The first year gang is never going to let you live this down.

But to be honest, you really don’t care. Not when Vil Schoenheit is looking at you like you're the only ones left on the planet.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x you #vil schoenheit #vil #1k event

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arixella · 5 months ago

Text

Seeing Luffy after the 2 year timeskip

Pairing: Luffy x GN! reader Contains: fluff Wc: 620 A/n: I think im going to start doing angst stuff, give me some suggestions if any!

The air on Sabaody Archipelago was buzzing with excitement as you stood near the Thousand Sunny, your gaze flicking between the crowd and the horizon. The two years apart had felt endless. Life without Luffy was quieter—too quiet. Yet, you knew this separation was necessary. He had his dreams to chase, and you supported him with every ounce of your being.

Still, two years was a long time to go without his infectious laugh, his carefree grin, and the way he made you feel like you belonged.

“Oi! Watch out!” someone yelled nearby, but you barely heard it before a familiar, chaotic voice cut through the noise.

“Sorry!”

You turned toward the sound, your heart leaping. And there he was, sprinting through the bustling crowd like a kid on a sugar rush. His straw hat sat perfectly on his head, bobbing with each step, and his grin stretched wide across his face.

“Luffy!” you called, your voice louder than you intended.

His head snapped toward you, and for a second, he froze mid-stride. His big, brown eyes lit up with unmistakable joy, and then he was running even faster, barreling straight toward you.

Before you could fully prepare yourself, he launched into you, his arms wrapping around you with enough force to nearly knock you off your feet.

“Y/N!” he yelled, his voice practically vibrating with excitement. “I missed you!”

You laughed, clutching at his vest to steady yourself. “I missed you too, Luffy.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders. His eyes scanned your face as if committing every detail to memory. “You look the same!” he said, his tone as blunt as ever.

“And you look stronger,” you teased, poking at his arm. “Have you been working out?”

Luffy flexed dramatically, puffing out his chest. “Yup! I’m way stronger now! You won’t believe the stuff I can do!”

“I’m sure I’ll see soon enough,” you said with a grin, your chest warm from his boundless energy.

Luffy tilted his head, his expression softening. “Are you okay? Did anything happen while I was gone?”

You hesitated, surprised by the question. Luffy wasn’t usually the type to ask about emotions directly, but the genuine concern in his eyes made your throat tighten.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, smiling. “It’s just... it’s been a long two years.”

His grin faded slightly, replaced by a rare seriousness. He reached up, placing his straw hat on your head—a gesture so intimate it made your heart stutter. “Well, I’m back now,” he said simply, his voice steady. “And I’ll make sure to stay close this time.”

You blinked, your vision blurring slightly as tears welled up. “Luffy...”

“Don’t cry!” he panicked, flailing his hands. “I didn’t mean to make you sad!”

You laughed through the tears, shaking your head. “I’m not sad, you idiot. I’m just happy.”

His face brightened again, and he pulled you into another hug, this one softer but no less warm. “Good. ‘Cause we’ve got a lot of adventuring to do!”

You wrapped your arms around him, breathing in the familiar scent of sea salt and sunshine. “Yeah, we do.”

He pulled back, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the ship. “Come on! I gotta show you everything I’ve been training for!”

You let him drag you along, your heart soaring with every step. Luffy’s laughter rang in your ears, and for the first time in two years, you felt whole again.

Whatever lay ahead, you knew one thing for certain: as long as you were by Luffy’s side, you could take on anything.

♡♡♡

#anime #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy fluff

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glasvera · 2 months ago

Note

Smut and fluff with marvel rivals iron fist (lin Lie) x fem superhero reader, please and thank you ❤️

I uh... went a lil crazy on this one LOL

我的月亮 (Wǒ de Yuèliàng)

Iron Fist x Fem!Superhero!Reader

Description: What better way to recover after a grueling fight with Chīyóu's demon army than a dip in a hot spring?

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), brief combat, cursing, vaginal sex, standing sex, sex in a hot spring, reader has a moment of self-consciousness, lots of fluff and comfort, super lovey-dovey

A/N: Fun fact about me: I took Mandarin as a second language starting in middle school. I don't remember much of it (though I can ask you if there's a bathroom somewhere or when your birthday is), but it was really fun going back and recognizing things like words or grammar. I was basically the Chinese equivalent of a weeb in my younger years so this was a major throwback LOL

Word Count: 4.7k

Relationships between superheroes was… not something most would recommend. Passionate at best, and tumultuous and unpredictable at worst. You might go for weeks, months, without seeing one another, and it was a death sentence to allow that gnawing worry over the other’s safety to take hold of you.

It’s why you were so eager to be sent on a mission in Yúnnán Shěng. It was Iron Fist’s mission, to be fair, but your ability to fly would help give him the extra edge he needed, so he was quick to request your assistance. You spot him as you soar over the bustling tourist city of Kūnmíng, crouched on top of the spire of a lone temple. It’s quieter here, with the sound of chirping insects and wind ruffling the leaves of bamboo stalks the only things to pierce the relative silence of the night.

“There you are, wǒ de yuèliàng,” he greets you as you come to hover by his side. Your heart flutters and you blush at the nickname he’s given you. My moon.

“You know I will always come when you need me, Iron Fist.” It almost pains you to call him by his hero name, but you knew just as well as any superhero that it was always better to be safe in public even if you seem to be alone.

He smiles gratefully, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know. Doesn’t change how happy it always makes me to see you, though.”

You flash him a brilliant smile in turn. “Perhaps we could take advantage of the scenery once our mission is over?” you suggest, batting your eyelashes at him and giving him pleading eyes.

He snorts a playful laugh at your display before tugging your floating form towards him for a quick kiss. “Let’s see how things go first. I’d hate to get you all excited for a hike only to have to carry you the whole way,” he teases with a cocky grin before brushing his nose against yours affectionately. You stick your tongue out at him in response and blow him a raspberry, which he quickly pulls back to avoid as he wipes the spray of spittle from his face. “Hey! I’m only kidding!” he protests with a jovial laugh.

With your hands on your hips, you cock your head to one side and quirk a brow. “If anyone’s gonna end up being carried, it would be you, you know. I can fly, after all.”

His laughter dies down, and he regards you with the softest hint of concern in his eyes before they flicker down to watch as he wrings his wrists together. “Well, let’s make sure it doesn’t come to that at all, okay?” His gaze meets yours once more, and you can see the worry that crinkles between his brows. “I’d rather not see you get hurt at all.”

Your expression softens, and you place a comforting hand on one of his broad shoulders. “I know, wǒ de lòng.” The gentleness of your voice soothes him, and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. My dragon.

“Your pronunciation has gotten better,” he compliments before reaching out and caressing your cheek.

“I had a pretty good teacher,” you respond with a cheeky smile that he’s quick to mirror.

Your tender moment is broken by a monstrous roar in the distance followed by devastating crashes and screams. Both of you snap your heads towards the source of the sound. Whatever it was, it was big.

“What did you say we were fighting again!?” you exclaim even as you whip behind him and hook your arms around him, lifting you both into the air. Shockwaves nearly throw you off course as this monster continues its rampage, but it’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. You inhale deeply before propelling the two of you like an arrow straight through the wind currents that dare to fight your trajectory.

“Demons,” he responds, his voice straining to be heard over the roaring winds. “But it looks like Chīyóu isn't playing around this time.”

“Does he ever?” you groan.

Closing in on your target, you can really see just how ugly this thing is. Gigantic, vaguely humanoid, with decaying skin stretched taut across its emaciated skeleton, it roars into the air before pummeling its scythe-like arms into the ground below. It doesn't seem to care about the smaller demons that flock beneath it, destroying foe and ally alike.

“How did it get to be so massive!?” you shout in disbelief. You'd been unfortunate enough to see Chīyóu's army in the past, but they usually looked more like the infantry below.

“Don’t know, don't care. At least, not until I pummel this thing into the earth!” he replies confidently. “Take care of the small fry, would you? I've got the big one.”

You know better than to protest. He is the stronger out of both of you, and your airborne agility would give you enough of an edge to dodge any stray swings from the big guy while you take care of your foes.

“Okay. I trust you… but come back safe,” you urge before soaring up high enough to launch him at his target. He climbs up the demon's large frame with ease, running up his torso before laying into him with blow after blow straight to the face. You can’t help but smirk as you hear it cry out in pain even as you propel yourself back down towards your smaller enemies.

“Alright… who wants to go first…?” you taunt as energy crackles in your palms.

-----

Not surprisingly, you're done with your fight long before Iron Fist has finished his. You desperately want to help, but you weren't unscathed, panting heavily as you hover nearby. It had taken more out of you than you'd expected; they were far more coordinated than they should have been. Thankfully, your injuries were limited. You were simply exhausted, forced to use your power beyond your normal limits to keep up with each and every demon that launched and swiped at you.

Iron Fist seemed to be doing fine. It was simply a very tough fight, but it was one he was slowly winning. You felt the energy pulsating off of him as he summoned the blade shards from his fists, and the demon cried out in agony as his punches grew faster, deadlier. It wouldn't be much longer now. Suddenly you hear a loud and sickening crack!, and slowly, stumbling, the demon lets out a final, guttural groan before plummeting to the earth. Iron Fist wears a triumphant grin, and you begin to fly towards him to catch him before he joins the demon's descent.

He lands into you with an “oof!” as you steady him, hugging him tightly with your arms wrapped around his chest. “See? Not a problem at a--!”

But your victory is interrupted by the sudden shockwave caused by the demon's body collapsing to the ground. You're too exhausted to react in time, and it sends both of you hurtling through the air as you let out a startled cry. The force of it knocks you miles away, holding on tight to one another and spinning towards an unknown destination. You begin spiraling towards the ground, trying and failing desperately to stop your momentum, and panic rises in your chest.

“Y/N!? We're gonna crash!”

“I know!” you snap back. “I'm trying!”

You're pretty sure your life is beginning to flash before your eyes as the rocky mountainside gets closer and closer. Frantically, you pour all of your willpower into the energy pooled within you, using whatever you have left and centering it so it coalesces at the soles of your boots. It’s just enough to generate a bit of friction, and finally you find yourself slowing before touching down safely on the ground.

Wide-eyed and shaky, you nearly collapse before Iron Fist catches you and helps you stay upright. Even under his mask you can see the way his brow creases with worry.

“Th-that was… that was close,” you stammer out. “S-sorry.”

Seemingly a little less disoriented, he chuckles. Once he’s sure you can stand on your own, he cradles your face in his hands, and those brown eyes gaze warmly into your own. “Hey, we’re alive. That’s what matters.”

A trembling titter passes through your teeth, and you shut your eyes and lean into his touch. After a long sigh, you nod. In the silence that follows, a soft, distant trickling sound catches your ear, and your eyelids flutter open to find its source. Liè hears it as well, and a knowing smile draws upon his lips.

“So, about that sightseeing you wanted to do…” he begins, and you give him a curious look. He’s up to something, but you have no idea what it could be.

“I don’t think I’m in any state to be sightseeing right now--”

He puts a finger to your lips and you hush immediately, feeling your cheeks warm in response. His hands fall from your face before he suddenly scoops you up into his arms, bringing a startled yelp from you before he begins bounding down the mountain.

“H-hey! What are you--!?”

But as he carries you over the rounded stones and lush foliage towards the base of the mountain, that trickling sound grows louder, and you gasp as the leaves part to reveal a hot spring bathed in the light of the full moon. Even at its edge you can feel the humid warmth of the steam seeping into your weary body.

“Ever bathed in a hot spring before?” he hums, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down your body as he holds you.

“No, I can’t say I have,” you respond honestly, feeling a heat born from something other than the nearby steam.

He lowers you to the ground gently before taking a few steps forward with his back facing you. His fingers get to work unwrapping the yellow bandages coiled around his arms, letting them flutter down like ribbons onto the stone beneath you. Next, he unties his mask, discarding it in a similar fashion, and then you hear the clinking of his belts before the thud of leather hits the ground.

“Liè…?” you whisper, not trusting your voice fully as he continues to undress before you. He merely turns his head towards you and smirks, and with a rustling of fabric he stands shirtless before you. Moonlight glistens and illuminates his defined muscles, rippling with every movement he makes, and your breath catches in your throat.

“People don’t typically bathe with their clothes on,” he teases, making it sound like the most obvious explanation in the world for him stripping so sensually in front of you. When you still don’t seem to make any sort of move, he turns to face you. The two of you had never… well, you’ve never even seen him shirtless like this before. You try not to let your gaze linger overlong at his broad chest or travel down too low to see the V of his hip bones disappear beneath his trousers--

The pad of his index finger finds your chin and lifts your head to look at him. “My eyes are up here, yuèliàng,” he chides with a snicker. Though, his own eyes find themselves flickering down to your lips.

“You’re so unfair,” you accuse with a breathy laugh.

“Says the one still fully clothed,” he retorts with a purr as his arm wraps around your waist.

You brace a hand against his bare chest, reveling in the warmth of his skin as your tongue wets your bottom lip. “I didn’t realize it was a race,” you tease. Self-consciousness floods your thoughts at the realization of what was happening, and unwittingly your fingers tense against him. Concern softens his expression, and the hand at your chin caresses your cheek.

“Y/N…?” He smiles tenderly. “Are you nervous?”

Your eyes flicker back up to his. “I’ve just… you and I, we’ve never…” Unable to find the words, your voice trails off, fading into the sounds of the bubbling spring. “What if I’m not…?”

“Not what?” he inquires, searching your eyes for the answer you seem unable to give him. The hand at your waist rubs soothing circles into the small of your back.

It grows more difficult to maintain eye contact, so you find yourself staring instead at where your fingers rest upon his skin. “Not… not good enough? Pretty enough? I don’t know…”

“Wǒ de yuèliàng…” he murmurs softly, shaking his head and embracing you into an almost smothering hug. “Zài wǒ xīnzhōng nǐ shì rúcǐ měilì. Nǐ hěn wánměi.” His breath whispers against your hair as he buries his nose into it. Your Chinese is limited, but you don’t have to understand much of it to know what he’s trying to tell you. Beautiful. Perfect. It wrenches at your heart. You’re misty-eyed when he pulls away, resting his hands on your shoulders. “But if you’re not ready--”

You silence him with your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands slide down your sides and rest at your hips, and strong fingers grip you tightly. When you pull away, he regards you with hooded eyes and parted lips.

“I… I’m ready,” you breathe out. “But… do you mind turning around while I undress?”

Liè chuckles but nods wordlessly, pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your forehead. He turns back towards the hot springs, shimmying out of his boots and pants and giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his toned ass before he disappears beneath the spring's waters.

You take a deep breath before divesting yourself of your superhero suit, fumbling a bit with the buckles and zippers. Your hands are trembling with nerves when you hook your thumbs into your panties and drag them down your thighs. If only you could see Liè's face; his skin is flushed, and his eyes are squeezed shut to help him resist the temptation to sneak a peek at you. He's just better at masking his nerves than you are.

Steeling your resolve, you exhale shakily. “Okay, I… you can turn around now.”

The water sloshes with how quickly he moves, and despite the humidity of the hot springs, he grows parched at the sight of you. Your arms and hands drape demurely over your breasts and between your legs, and you look away shyly under the intensity of his stare. The moonlight bathes your skin in its silvery splendor, and the trees behind you seem to almost bend around you and frame you perfectly in their lush foliage.

“Wow…” he breathes quietly, at a loss for any other words. He steps towards you, making his way to shallower waters as his chest and hips reemerge in a cascade of water droplets, seemingly unperturbed by his own nudity. His cheeks turn a deep pink as he drinks you in. “Nǐ hěn wánměi.” You are perfect. He brings his hands up to cradle your face and stare deeply into your eyes. They're warm, wet from the spring, and the feeling is oddly grounding while droplets trickle down your cheeks. Slowly, your arms fall to your sides. You bat your eyelashes at him with the tiniest of smiles.

“You're one to talk,” you tease, your gaze flickering back down as your fingertip traces along his collarbone and follows the contours of his pectoral muscles.

The ego boost brings a cheeky grin to his lips, but he doesn't indulge it further. Instead, he brings your faces closer together and kisses you deeply, hungrily, groaning when his hands begin to wander. They tangle in your hair, wrap tightly around your back, grip at your waist… he's determined to feel every inch of you, and quickly the fire within you urges you to do the same to him. A surprised squeak sounds in your throat when he grabs your ass, kneading the plush of your skin in his palm.

“Liè!” you gasp as his lips press at the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, and finally nipping and sucking at the column of your neck. He lifts you by your rear, earning a giggle from you before you wrap your legs around him, and walks you back into the water to envelop you both in its steamy embrace. His arousal rests hard and hot against your stomach, and desire replaces any remaining reservations you had. All you could think about now was him, of his skin on yours, his lips hot and wet on your neck, his broad shoulders beneath your fingertips.

With the water to help support your weight, he holds you against him with one hand as the other trails back over your ribcage, resting beneath your breast before cupping it and squeezing gently. Breathy moans slip from your lips and grow louder as he leans down and takes the stiff peak into his mouth. His tongue flicks up and down over the sensitive bud.

“Yes, oh…”

He hums against your skin, gazing up at your face with blown pupils. Every expression, every melody you sing because of him, is intoxicating.

“Mm… how did I get so lucky?” he muses while pressing tender kisses in the valley of your breasts. “To have such a beautiful, strong woman in my arms, singing me her praises…” He adjusts his hold on you, sliding you down just a bit and bringing you face to face again. The water laps soothingly against your bare skin. Your eyes flutter closed when the backs of his fingers brush gingerly along your cheekbone.

“I hear being the Immortal Iron Fist helps one's chances,” you giggle, and he scoffs in mock offense. Your smile widens and you press your forehead to his. “But being Liè, my dragon, my…” You choke on your words for a moment, but only a moment.

“My love…”

You feel your face heat up at your own words, but they were words long coming. “... that's all it takes. All I've ever wanted.”

“Yuèliàng,” he exhales sharply, the term of endearment a reverent hiss upon his lips. Those same lips crash upon yours once more, and your arms wrap eagerly about his neck. His brow furrows, and between kisses he whispers those sweet words. “Wǒ ài nǐ.”

You grip the black hair at the nape of his neck tightly, but not nearly so tight as the hold this man has over your pounding heart. Your mouth slants over his, kissing him deeper, delving your tongue between the seam of his lips. He meets your efforts eagerly, curving over you as your back arches and your chest presses against him. One hand finds the small of your back to draw you impossibly closer. When he pulls away from your devouring kiss, you're both panting for air.

“Let me make love to you,” he begs breathlessly. His nose nudges yours affectionately and his brow creases. “Please.”

Never in a million years would you say no to that. You kiss him tenderly before nodding softly. “I want you, Liè. All of you.”

He groans and rolls his hips, his evident desire sliding along your heat and drawing a gasp from your lips. You were no virgin, but he was thick, and your mind was long gone with fantasies of how he would feel inside of you. Not that you would have to wait long for those fantasies to become reality, of course; he peppers your face and neck with kisses while he continues to grind against you. His hand reaches down for a handful of your ass, guiding your hips as you join him in the search for that delicious friction. The hot spring water only makes your movements easier, and on more than one occasion he nearly slips right in. When the bulbous head presses up against your clit, you whimper and your thighs tremble, and you can feel yourself growing wetter even without the spring's help.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. He holds you still, and you brace your hands on his shoulders while he begins deliberately guiding the head of his cock up and down your slit. Your hot, slickened folds are too inviting to resist, and slowly, torturously and slowly, he sinks the tip into your heat. You steady your breathing and force yourself to relax the tension in your body at the sudden intrusion. His hips rock into yours, finding it hard to breathe himself as he stretches you out inch by inch.

“Liè, oh gods--” you hiss before your jaw goes slack with a moan. He’s sheathed himself in you completely, and you've never felt quite so full. He stills inside you instantly as worry etches his features.

“Are… are you okay?” he stammers out, tenderly cupping your cheek. It’s obviously difficult for him to keep himself from rutting into you like a wild animal, and you feel his cock twitch impatiently while your walls clench around him.

“I-I’m fine,” you breathe out. “You're just, um… shit… you're so big…”

His concern fades instantly and is replaced with a cocky grin much more becoming of his handsome face. A groan of approval growls in his throat and he’s grinding into you again, the water splashing gently with the movement, angling his cock back and forth with shallow thrusts.

“Is that so…?” he muses coyly. His thumb traces your bottom lip. “I hope that won’t be an issue.”

You keen as every move he makes leaves his cock dragging languidly back and forth against that perfect spot. “N-no, I--”

He interrupts you by taking your lip between his teeth and tugging on it softly. A staggered breath whispers from you.

“Good,” he purrs. He sucks on your bottom lip before darting his tongue out, inviting you to part your lips and let him in. A devouring groan hums and vibrates from him into the kiss. Your tongues dance sensually, feverishly, and he starts thrusting into you with renewed vigor. Shutting your eyes tight, you tangle your fingers in his short black hair, and your high pitched whimpers pour into the kiss.

It's easy to forget the battle you had fought not even an hour ago. It certainly doesn't feel like he was fighting for his life against a demon twenty times his size. His seemingly endless stamina ripples through bulging muscles to help him piston in and out of you. His movements favor precision over speed, deliberately drawing back and making sure you feel every inch before he slams back into you.

You're so lost in pleasure, but when he pulls away and stares into your eyes your breath hitches in your throat. There's so much adoration in those brown eyes, so much love and affection reserved for you and you alone. Your hands draw back to cup his face gingerly while he bounces you up and down.

“Liè…” you breathe softly. He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm.

Half-lidded eyes blink slowly, lovingly at you. “You feel perfect,” he praises.

“Mm…” you moan with a dreamy smile, “More, Liè, please.”

A low chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Can you hover in the water?”

You blink curiously at him. “I… yes, of course, but--”

“Just do it, trust me,” he states with a coy smirk.

Your hands fall from his face to rest at your sides, and it takes a surprising amount of concentration to summon the energy to fly, even if you're just hovering in place. Whether it's due to exhaustion from the earlier battle or simply that he's fucking you so well… it's hard to say. After a few moments, he feels your weight lifting from his firm hold. His thrusts pause, and he huffs out a laugh when you whine at the loss of stimulation.

“Keep your legs up like that. Hold onto my shoulders if you need to. Otherwise,” he pauses, cocking his head to the side and flashing you a cheeky smile, “...just remember that you asked for this, yuèliàng.”

You barely have time to ponder what he means by that before both of his hands grip you by the waist and his hips slam into yours. A soundless scream leaves your jaw agape as he pours every bit of his strength into his thrusts. Despite the roughness of it, you can feel the way your cunt squeezes him tighter, sucking him in every time his cock drags back out. Skin slaps against skin, and it takes every last bit of concentration and willpower you have to keep yourself aloft. The hot spring's waters splash and spray about with the frantic pace he sets, disturbing the peace of the night with the cacophonous symphony of your lovemaking.

Now that he doesn't have to hold you up himself, one hand rests on your stomach as his thumb seeks out your clit. A shock of pleasure courses through your body that leaves your toes curling. Aided by your slick and the warm water, the digit glides effortlessly in circles, and soon he's timing it perfectly with every deep thrust of his length. You find your voice again even if all you can muster are broken moans.

“F-f-hah-uh-ugh-uck!” you babble, each stammer coinciding with the hammering of his cock deep within you. It chisels away at all sense, leaving you raw and vulnerable but hotter and hotter. It burns and licks as the fires of pleasure spark brighter and more intense. Nails dig into his shoulders to keep you from wobbling mid-air.

“Shit,” he curses, hissing in pleasured pain at the feeling. “Gǎnjué zhēn dì nàme hǎo ma?” Does it really feel that good? His breathy teasing is accompanied by a confident smile even as he grits his teeth with the effort of fucking you.

His tone tells you all you need to know even if you don't recognize all the words. The low, possessive growl in his voice leaves you a whimpering mess, and you feel yourself creeping closer and closer to the precipice.

“Liè, oh, f-fuck--!” you gasp. “Right there, yes!”

An airy chortle hums in his chest between grunts. “Nǐ zhēnměi.” He takes your breast in his palm before tweaking the bud between his fingertips, and he leans in to kiss and suck at your neck. The sensations overwhelm you as your moans and whimpers grow higher and higher in pitch. His movements are messy, more instinctive than deliberate, as he gets closer to his own release.

“Yes, yes, oh, yes--!”

He can’t help himself from biting down at the sensitive spot he’s discovered at the crook of your neck, and it has you seeing stars. You send him into a frenzy with your sweet song, a siren calling him and begging him to ravage you utterly and completely. And gods, does it feel better than anything you’ve ever felt. Your body feels like it’s floating even beyond the literal sense of your powers, cresting higher and higher and--

“Cum for me, yuèliàng.” His voice is right there at your ear, a low, seductive growl, and the cord within you finally snaps.

“Liè!” you scream, your body convulsing in a mind-shattering orgasm. His thrusts falter as he feels you clamp down and flutter around his cock. A broken groan cracks in his throat and he doubles his efforts, pistoning into you relentlessly as you cry and babble out moans from the overstimulation.

“F… Fuck, Y/N, I--shit!” He quickly pulls out of you before taking himself in hand, cursing and exhaling guttural moans as he strokes himself feverishly beneath the water’s surface. He maintains eye contact with you the entire time, drinking in your half-lidded expression. With a final string of huffs and grunts he cums with a cry of your name, emptying himself into the spring. His forehead falls against yours, out of breath, pulling you into his arms as the two of you come down from your high.

You slump back down into the water and allow yourself the comfort of his embrace. He starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to your lips, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, drawing giggles from you that bring a goofy smile to his face. The peace of the night returns, and the only sounds around you are the bubbling of the spring and the soft, chirping chorus of insects and amphibians about. Your heart feels full, warm, and your eyes find his as you gaze at him reverently.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His doe eyes soften before he gives you a deeper, more insistent kiss. “I love you too.”

#iron fist x reader #lin lie x reader #marvel rivals #iron fist #lin lie #marvel rivals x reader #marvel rivals iron fist #marvel rivals lin lie #marvel rivals fanfic #marvel rivals smut #glasvera writes #glasvera indulges in a cheaper town home #writing request

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 11 months ago

Note

HEAR ME OUT

“Don’t you think I’m scary?”

“Scary? My god you’re divine”

AHHHHH

FuskqosnisisbssbjHWISNSKSOAOAKWAJ 😭😭🤭🤭😋😋

I love two lovestruck idiots who don’t know they’re in love w each other and it’s grumpy German shepherd x golden retriever 😻😻

PLEAAASEE german shepherd x golden retriever is one of my faaavvv tropes OAT !! it’s so so adorable and especially with katsuki cus i know he just thinks he’s so scary ! i got a lil idea after the recent manga chap that just came out, so this might be a liiiiiittle super small spoiler but i think its so cute ! hope you enjoy anon tysm for the ask ! much luv xxx

fem reader, super duper minooor spoiler but katsuki has stitches !, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft katsu (cus he has to be but also cus he’s whipped) (but hes still a little piece of shit) reader is a lil sweetie, short lil fluffy fic, touchy katsuki bc i cannot help myself, lmk if i missed anything else !

before the war, bakugou had made a lot of new little habits.

he’s made it a habit of waiting for you to head out of class so you could walk together. he’s made it a habit of sharing just a portion of his lunch with you, because apparently he’s constantly been making too much, ignore the fact that he only let’s you have those ‘extra’s’ that doesn’t mean anything.

he’s made it a habit of carrying around an extra water bottle with him because you always forget to keep yourself hydrated after training, he’s also made it a habit to scold you for it endlessly. he’s ruthless even as you whine about how mean he is, saying that “he wouldn’t need to be on your ass so much if you just remembered to grab your damn bottle.” he ignores the fluffy feeling in his heart and tells you to shut up when you tell him that he always has your back anyway, swiftly looking away from you and cheeks turning red.

and since you're on the way to his house, he's made it a habit of walking you home. you call it hanging out after school, he calls it 'just making sure you don't get lost somehow..hah ?! don't ask me how ! your dumbass would probably find a way to !'

anyway, he's made it his mission to grace you with his presence every day after school. you always bid him a cheery goodbye, "see you tommorow !" you say, and he always looks forward to it, even when he turns away, nonchalantly throwing you a quick wave over his shoulder.

usually you wake up at completely different hours, so he doesn't pick you up the morning. you always wished you could see him first thing in the morning, but seeing him waiting by the school gate's was more than enough to make your heart soar, you were more than happy with that.

but today you can finally go back to school. after dealing with non stop fighting for what felt, and probably was, hours and hours on end during the events of the war. and being stuck in the hospital for a few weeks, it feels nice to wear your school uniform and feel somewhat normal again. you'd get to see all your friends again and you'd official be a second year. you smile softly to yourself in the mirror.

katsuki had sent you a text a few minutes ago. he'd asked if you were almost ready, and you'd responded that you were only for him to leave you on read. you didn't mind much and shrugged it off.

but today, when you walk out the door, you see katsuki waiting for you on the sidewalk.

you blink twice, eyes widening. katsuki turns and looks up from his phone screen at the sound of the door he also blinks, although he's more unbothered then you as he simply stands up, pushing himself off his knees with a groan "took you long enough." he drawls. his eyes are warm and his lip twitch just the slightest bit at your expression "thought you'd keep me waiting forever."

"katsuki !" you exclaim, eyes still wide "what're you doing here ?!" you quickly walk to him, standing close enough to see the marks on his face, and the unmistakable stitches on his cheek.

he raises a brow like you're crazy, tilting his head "m'walking you to school."

"bwuh-are you even allowed to go to school ?" you sputter, realising he had his school uniform on, you liked it when he started making it a habit of wearing his tie more often. katsuki grumbles at your worries "shouldn't you be in the hospital ?" he scoffs at your fretting, but his eyes soften as he leans in closer to you. you see his battle scars better that way. you gulp at the sudden proximity, he's never been shy about getting in people's faces, although it was never meant to be intimidating when he did it with you, if the pink tint of his cheeks meant anything.

"doc said it's fine as long as i keep quiet.." he scoffs after finishing the sentence, rolling his eyes and causing you to giggle. hearing the sound he hadn't heard in what felt like ages made him sniff in amusement. you reach for his hand then, and he doesn't take his eyes off you while intertwining his fingers with yours. both your eyes shining with longing and affection for the other. you smile brightly at him and even though the doctors had told him to be careful with his heart, it seemed you were gonna make that hard for him. it didn't matter though, he was always up for a challenge.

pulling him along, you decide to tease him "guess that means you're gonna have to be on your best behaviour today, huh ? so you can't go gettin' mad at kaminari for no reason !" you playfully scold.

he rolls his eyes at the mention of your friend, though he doesn't hold back his smirk, he's definitely more open then he was compared to when you'd first started school. thinking about how far you've come together makes you happy, but it also feels bittersweet. "dunce face s'the who keeps pissin' me off, not my fault he can't handle it." you snicker and he snorts in amusement, squeezing your hand and making butterflies squirm around in your stomach. you don't mention the tight grip he has on your hand, probably because you're gripping his just as tight with no intention of letting go anytime soon. you probably look like a couple to the people walking by, you realise. and the thought does not displease you at all, far from it. it makes you a little too happy.

"behave." you squeeze his hand.

"i do." he growls, squeezing back, "he keeps trying me." you respond with a snort. your eyes occasionally fly towards his face, to the stitches on it more specifically. he's caught you looking multiple times on the way to the bus stop, not like you were exactly being subtle. your stare makes him nervous and he decides to finally confront you about it when you get to the bus stop.

"spit it out." he says, hands clammy in your grip, he hopes and prays you don't notice because it's so unbearably embarrassing to have to admit he was worried about what you'd think about his new look. he'd been anxious on your doorstep but you didn't give him much of a reaction, too shocked to even see him at the time, but your constant shifty glances made all the anxiety crawl back up again. so he speaks, keeping these distracting and frankly irritating thoughts to himself just irritated him.

you blink, humming curiously. katsuki grumbles to himself, keeping his eyes from yours. "ya keep staring at me, so what's up ?"

"it's strange seeing you with stitches." you answer bluntly. usually, he likes how honest you are, but right now it does nothing but stress him out. "i heard you messed your face up pretty bad, but i'm glad it didn't leave too much of a nasty scar." you muse. katsuki hums but his eyebrows furrow as he catches your last words, he's a little pissed off that you'd heard about what happened during the war. he'd wanted you to know as little as possible to keep from worrying you, or at the very least he'd wanted to tell you himself. he'll make sure to thoroughly question his fuckass friends later. of course, it also could've been her.

"..how'd you-"

"your mom told me."

he grunts. of course, it was his mom.

that damn hag..

"of course." he mutters bitterly. you don't respond, and to him that's all the answer he needs. a pit settles in his stomach.

"yeah, it's weird, isn't it ?" he agrees bitterly, unconsciously tightnening his grip on your hand. "it looks kinda creepy, right ?"

"what do you mean ?" his jaw tightens " i mean..like, on my face..." he sputter and mutters to himself, unable to properly say what he wants. you understand him though and immediately you turn till your face to face with him. your expression determined as you grab his other hand, both of his scarred hands now in your grip. his eyes widen in shock, embarrassment creeping up on him.

"there's nothing wrong with your face, katsu." you reassure, you'd made it a habit of calling him all those stupidly endearing nicknames, and it doesn't help taming the blush on his face slowly bleeding onto his cheeks. he pouts, fixing his gaze onto you and towards the floor.

"but doesn't it look..i dunno," he mutters, suddenly feeling self conscious "scary ?"

"scary ?" you tilt your head, he squints and looks away.

"i guess." he grunts with a nod, trying to save face. obviously it doesn't work by the look on yours. you're always so bubbly and sweet, he hates seeing such a pained expression on your face. you tug at his arms to get him to look at you "scary ? there's nothing scary about you.." you say sweetly, shaking your head. "i personally think you look really cool.." you mutter. katsuki feels his face heat, but his heart soars nonetheless. his eyes have been stuck wide for a second.

cool.

you think he looks cool.

"i was just wondering if they hurt ?" he tilts his head back in thought at that. instictively running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"nah, just felt weird when they were numbing it. but i didn't feel a thing." he shrugs, he suddenly smirks, the stitches being pulled up by the movement "wanna touch em ?" he teases, pulling you closer by the grip he still has on your hands. your eyebrows shoot to your hairline and he barks out a laugh.

"i-i can't do that ! what if i touch them and they come loose or something !" katsuki rolls his eyes at your jittering, using the hand still in his grip to bring it near his cheek, you desperately pull back and his evil smirk widens.

"katsuki, no !" you protest. he cackles meanly.

"it's fine." he insists, your pointer finger grazes his cheek and you turn your head away.

"i don't wanna !" you shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you hold back a giggle.

"yn. you're fine." he insists. he'd made it a habit of calling you by your first name after you'd started hanging out more. you called most of your friends by their first names pretty quickly into the year, your cheeriness making it easy for you to get along with everyone but you always were a little on guard with katsuki at first. he'll never admit it, but he was a little jealous that you'd call everyone in your shared friend group by their first name except for him. the sweet bubbly tone in your voice when you called for sero or kirishima made a nasty feeling bubble up in the pits of his stomach he'd desperately tried to push away. until one day he'd snapped during your group outing at the mall (outing he was coerced into going to by kirishima after finding out you where going too)

he'd regretted how whiney and bitter he sounded at the time, but he thinks it was worth it every time you'd look at him and say his name so sweetly, definitely worth it, as embarrassing as it was. and he'd started calling you by your first name too shortly after. all your friends do, but it felt so, so different with him.

finally your fingers make contact with the staples on his cheek. you peek up to look at him then. you run your fingers across them ever so softly, making sure not to hurt him. katsuki slowly let's go of your hand. unmoving and unnervingly still as you take your time scanning his face.

"so ?" he raises a brow, smirk slowly melting into a softer smile as he sees you smile to yourself.

"it's..not bad.." you tentatively start, still too worried to move too suddenly. he hums playfully. "and you don't feel it at all ?" you ask

"at all." he softly shakes his head. you don't realise you've gotten closer to his face but he sure has, and you end up realizing a little too late, but neither of you move away. you try to, but katsuki pulls you back in before you can get far. "do i still look cool up close ?" he jests, but there's some seriousness and vulnerability in his gaze. you smile warmly.

"yup," you say softly, you hear katsuki inhale sharpy, eyes never leaving yours "definitely still the coolest. not scary at all" you giggle, he rolls his eyes but chuckles. before you can question your positition or move away (or closer) to him you see the bus arriving in the distance. he notices it too and you share a look before you take a step back, smiling shyly at the floor while he keeps his gaze on the bus on the way.

until—

"OW, fuck !!"

your eyes snap up to see katsuki holding his cheek in his hand, your heart hammers and your eyes widen. you're next to him in two steps. "what, what—why-what happened ??!" you stammer, your hands reaching up to grab ahold of his face though you stutter, maybe it was your fault ?!

until—katsuki bursts out laughing. mean, but undeniably cute watery cackles that have you furrowing your brows in confusion until your jaw drops in realization.

the. asshole.

"you're not funny !" you whine, pushing at his arm although pushing might be the overstatement of the century. it could be more comparable to a nudge because even though he is an asshole, you wouldn't want to hurt him. even if he deserves it, you're better than that. you'll just think about hurting him.

katsuk chuckles breathelessly, grabbing your arm while you walk closer and stretch your arm out to signal the bus to stop. "it was funny, admit it !"

"you suck. you're the worst." scanning your bus ticket and walking ahead ignoring him, katsuki quickly scans his ticket and follows diligently behind you.

"you thought it was hilarious." he smirks.

"the absolute worst, the lowest of the low." you huff, ignoring the persistant heat of his eyes on you. he only snickers.

"i see you laughing."

today, you arrive to school with katsuki not at the school gates waiting for you, but walking together with you to start your new school year as second years. and you both hope you can make a habit out of this.

#thanks for the ask anon!#it was super fun to write and a fun way to come back from break !#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou drabble #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n

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smokeypeaches-and-honeyplums · 8 months ago

Note

may I request headcanons for Wukong, MK, Red Son, and Macaque finding out their crush or S/O has a snort laugh that they try to hide?

please and thank you

PLEASE?????????????? GOD I HAVE A SNORT LAUGH TOO AND THIS FEELS SO PERSONAL I'M GONNA BLOW UP

Reader is Gender Neutral by default

S/O

MK absolutely LOVES to make people laugh and you are no different

So when he finds out you have a snort laugh, he REVELS in it

To him, it's a sign that he's doing a really good job and! It's really fucking adorable for him

If you're self conscious about it, he won't push you too much about it

He'd never want you to feel uncomfortable while you're with him, so he'll never push further than he's allowed

He'll always express how much he loves it when he gets the chance to though, don't get me wrong

Eventually, it gets to the point he develops his own and it's a never ending cycle between you two

It feels nice to have a bit more of a positive about your snort, but it does hurt after a while--

MK gets worse when he purposefully does what he knows makes you laugh the most

Your nose and throat hurts by the end of it

If you're laughing especially hard, he'll be grinning ear to ear at just the sound of it

He's glad to have ONE consistency in his life, what with everything that goes on

So if he can listen to your laugh before the next crisis, that's enough for him

(THEY TOOK MY YELLOW TEXT--)

Crush

(darkskinredsontruthertilIdie)

You so happened to slip up one day when Redson heard it the first time around, immediately trying to hide it right after

He didn't think much of it, not in the way you'd think at least

He always associated it as another irritating staple that he loves so much about you and infuriates him that it is

Like, excuse me

How dare you have the most charming, cute and cheeky laugh he's ever heard?

A peasant like you shouldn't be making his heart soar so much and so easily all the damn time

What the fuck >:(

Redson wouldn't trying to fish for it as much as the others, his pride prevents him

But he does savour the moments you do do it, don't get me wrong

However, when he sees you hide it every time right after, a part of him wants to try and ease your worries. At least, that's what he thinks

"You know... you shouldn't feel like you should hide your laugh."

"For all the annoying little quirks you have, this one is..."

"It's... endearing."

Silence.

Silence...

"Redson? Are you going soft on me?"

"NO! No- Do not-"

"D'awwww, you care!!"

"Redson cares for me!!"

"Know what?! Forget I said anything."

Cue the laughter, only this time with a bit more snorting given his reassurance in his own special, Redson way

In your fits of laughter, you miss a small smile growing on the demon prince's lips

In all your teasing, it's worth it to see you like this

Crush

Wukong has a tendency to be cheeky to the tenth degree and then some

So trust and believe he already knows

And he REVELS in it

He likes the sound of your laugh in general, so the fact he manages to get you laughing so much that you start snorting makes his heart do flips

He doesn't like that you try to hide it, but he'd be the last person to talk about not hiding something you're self conscious about

Given the whole shared headcanon of glamour, it becomes pot and kettle

Has that ever stopped him tho?

So why would it now?

He tries to get you to feel more comfortable with your laugh because he finds it very important to him

Is it another reason amongst a sea on why he loves you?

Yeah

Will he admit it?

No-

Well?

Not now-

Ahem

Anyways, when he hears your genuine laughter, he's shining like the sun and absolutely BEAMING with joy and whines when you hide it

"NONONO, don't hide it! I love your laugh!"

"Don't hide it please :("

Pulls out the big guns (puppy dog eyes) just to make you agree

"Fine"

Happy Monkey <3

Of course, he genuinely does try to make sure you're comfortable about it and reassures you in his own Monkey King way, so don't be too worried.

S/O

Like Wukong, Macaque is the last person to tell you not to hide something, the scoundrel

Motherfucker is hiding EVERYTHING

Smoke and Mirrors the character™

But, that has never stopped him before

With that established, given how all doom and gloom this brooding monkey is, he finds solace in your laughter, and he's picked up on your snorting even when you try to hide it

He hears all

But, unlike the others, he won't push you or try to convince you to reveal something you don't feel like revealing

He would know how that feels personally

And if Macaque is anything at all, he's self aware. enough

He'll let you get comfortable laughing in front of him to your fullest at your own time, while giving you quiet reassurance now and again

Once you're sure he won't judge you for it and you're fully comfortable, your laughter makes him the warmest he's felt in so long

Who would've thought? The Six-Eared Macaque has a heart!/j

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crescenthistory · 7 months ago

Note

e.9 w/ regulus pls, i'm on my knees 😭

this is technically a steamy prompt, but gosh this grew real sugary sweet really fast lmao. hope you enjoy the drabble, love<3

Prompt: E.9 "Use your words, sweetheart"

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: implied smut (mdni), not proofread, loads of cursing, talks of sex, background dorlene and rosekiller, established relationship, slight implied d/s dynamic where reader is d, regulus is a Quidditch Player™ but also easy to fluster, marlene is not a quidditch player in this (blasphemy, i know), gn!reader

Note: i could make a part 2 with actual smut, but this is what came to me rn

Perhaps your favourite part of your boyfriend is how multifaceted he is.

Because when you first met him, in all his moody brooding, repressed emotions, dry sarcasm and school-orientation, you never could have imagined how fervent Regulus Black could get about quidditch. The same Regulus who rolled his eyes painfully hard at his brother and friends's jock habits, as he referred to them as, the same Regulus who polished his Head Boy pin multiple times a day. Somehow, it was the same Regulus you saw run into a slam-hug with Barty on the field once they landed, with wild eyes and tousled hair after catching the snitch that just barely secured Slytherin’s victory against Gryffindor.

“Bloody fucking yes!” You could hear the boys’ exclamations clutter against each other in the air as they hollered their celebrations.

A wide grin was glued onto your lips as you cheered and clapped with the crowds surrounding you in the stands. Marlene’s voice was bursting your eardrums as she cheered specifically only for Dorcas while grumbling over Gryffindor’s defeat – a complicated day for the blonde.

On the field, Regulus turned from his friends to scour through the stands before his eyes found yours and somehow he smiled wider. Your heart soared every time you saw his carefully crafted mask slip to reveal true enjoyment. His smile grew cheeky as he blew you a kiss with a flourish you knew he would never let fly so publicly had it not been for the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“Breaking from Slytherin’s passionate celebrations, Regulus Black is taking the opportunity to show his wonderful partner some love.” Pandora’s soft voice booms through the amplification spell as she wraps up her commentary for the game. You grow bashful in your cheering, especially when Marlene elbows you with her wolfish grin, but you don’t cease your clapping – and you don’t break eye contact with Regulus as he walks backwards towards the locker rooms, only tearing away when he has to.

The team are some of the last people to enter the Slytherin common room for the rager that always follows matches with Gryffindor. This time, it was put together by a few fifth years who seemed to consider them their personal heroes – you had overseen some of the decorations just to ensure there were no pictures of Evan with hearts drawn around them, lest Barty get murderous in his partying.

They were a sight as they walked in with their wet hair from showering and still that crackling atmosphere of sheer joy and perhaps a twinge of earned arrogance.

Dorcas is the one who announces their entrance. “We won, bitches!”

The room erupts into cheers as Marlene runs to lift her girl up, twirling her around as they giggle through kisses. You would have smiled at them in admiration for longer, had your own attention not been reserved for a certain set of black curls.

Regulus is at the very back of the group, just behind Evan who had Barty all but draped over his shoulders, a small smile seemingly etched onto his lips. You were torn between petrifying his face so it could never move from that beautiful expression, and hiding it from the world with an array of kisses. You had a feeling he was partial towards the latter.

“Nice of you to finally show up at your own party, love,” you say cheekily, as he greets you with a murmured amour before pulling you into his arms for a tight hug.

He smells like his soap and cologne, having cleaned himself up as attentively as he always did. Maybe someday you could convince him to sit in the sweat for a bit, reeling in the victory.

“The hero who caught the snitch.” Your voice is low and teasing, only really intended for Regulus as your arms around his neck.

Barty is never one to miss something though, head picking up from his huddle with a maniacal grin. “Hells yeah,” he yells, cutting through the lively chatter of the room. “Reggie, our hero!”

Everyone erupts into cheers, hoots and whistles – definitely not for the last time of the evening – as Regulus bashfully hides his face in your neck, still not broken away from your embrace. You giggle into his ear, clearly pleased with the teasing attention he receives, to which he pinches your side. When you yelp and swat at him, he comes out of his hiding with a smile that he finally presses to yours.

His kiss receives some more hollers, but they are nothing but murmurs to you as his soft lips mould to your own. You deepen the kiss, trying to get impossibly closer as your blood warms. You’re sure he can feel it emanate through your clothes pressed to his or your palms in his hair.

“Hi,” he whispers when you pull back, foreheads pressed against each other.

“Hi there, seeker. Ready to go celebrate your acts of valour?”

His eyes remain trained on your lips as you speak, which only makes your smile more teasing. He doesn’t answer you right away, holding you close by the small of your back as the party picks up around you.

“Or did you have something else in mind, player?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

He realises you have read him like the books you bond over, and gives you a few rapid pecks to make up for it. “You know me too well,” he laughs.

“I think I know you the perfect amount.”

“Then you know the only one I want to celebrate with right now is you.” Regulus’s eyes are a beautiful mix of dark and soft as he stare at you, adrenaline seemingly ebbing out of him as he just melts into you and his prescribed lovesickness.

“Silly boy,” you whisper against his lips before giving him a slow, open-mouthed kiss where you tug his bottom lips between your own. “You already have me.”

“You know what I mean,” he all but whines back between kisses as you move to his upper lip.

“Hm, maybe.” He recognises the glint in your eyes as you pull back to look at him. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Almost all softness seep from his face as it takes on a hungry quality that his reserved for only when you use that tone.

“Minx,” is all he whispers before his hands slide to find yours, squeezing them as he begins to pull you through the crowd.

“Oi, Black!” Dorcas yells as she sees your figures sneak your way between people with apparent haste. “The fuck you think you’re goin’?” Just from her voice you know Dorcas has had a drink, as her accent has thickened.

Before either of you can respond, Evan drags her down by the elbow to the sofa he’s sprawled across as he drawls, “They’re going to celebrate dearest Dorc.”

A spat ensues between the two at the use of her least favourite nickname. Regulus has the decency to grow slightly pinkish at that, but his hold on you remains close and you can all but feel his jitters through his touch.

Barty looks at you two upside down from where he lays balancing on top of the sofa. “You nasty fucking pigs,” he grins. “Enjoy yourselves heartily, but get your butts down here to have fun with us too when the adrenaline wears off.”

You snort as Regulus only grows more red. You give Barty a wink as you begin leading the way, dragging your boy dumbly behind you. “We will, Junior, don’t you worry.”

“Bye, Treasure!” Barty calls behind you as you run up the stairs towards the boys dormitory. Regulus’s hand is hot in yours and your stomach tingles in anticipation – but more importantly, your heart aches with pride and love for your hero seeker.

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azrielsdove · 2 months ago

Text

Fated Souls: Lucien Ending

Warnings: Some Violence, Suggestive

Read Pt.1 Here

***

You looked in shock to Azriel, standing in the doorway as anger radiated from him like you’d never seen. “Keep your dirty paws off of my mate,” he growled. The sudden claim should have brought you joy, causing the mating bond to sing to life. Instead it laid dormant, as if it was too far gone.

“Get over yourself, Azriel,” you snapped, the thin string that had been keeping you together breaking. He looked at you with narrowed eyes, the shadows holding you captive tightening.

“I’ll deal with you later, whore.” Your eyes flung wide at his insult as anger flooded your system.

“Whore? You’ve acted as if I didn’t exist ever since the bond snapped, galavanting around with someone else in your arms. Someone else’s mate, if I may point out.” You wrenched your arms free from the shadows, the rest of them dissipating as if they sensed your rage. “You have no right to me or my heart any longer, Azriel.” You moved to stand tall in front of him, eyes locking onto his. Your mind was clouded with rage, but one thing stood clear.

“I refuse the mating bond.”

As if it had been waiting, the once-golden bond inside of you soared to life. For one second it shone bright between the two of you.

And then it shriveled to dust.

“Y-you can’t!” Azriel stuttered, a hand moving to rest on his heart as if it had been stabbed. “All i’ve ever wanted was a mate! You can’t take that from me!”

“Please,” you scoffed, “I’ve been here this whole time. If you wanted a mate so badly you could’ve come to me. It is not any fault of mine that you got it in your head that Elain should belong to you. You care not for her in and of herself, do you?” You stepped closer, voice lowering as you leaned your lips towards his ear. “You don’t love her, Azriel. You love the idea of her. Of you and your brothers having a matching set,” you hissed out, enjoying the way his body stiffened as your words rang true. You moved back, looking behind him to see Elain.

You could tell from her face that she had heard what you’d said.

“Azriel, is it true?” She asked, her voice so sad you almost felt guilty.

You felt a hand come rest on your waist, the comforting form of Lucien moving to stand next to you. The war raging in his expression was enough to wash any feelings of guilt away. Elain had made her own choices in this cruel situation.

Her watery eyes turned to look at Lucien, taking him in as if she had never truly seen him before. “You’re my m-mate, still?” She made a motion as if to move next to him, but the cold look he bestowed upon her halted her movements.

“As it stands,” he responded, his fingers flexing against your skin. “How interesting that you would suddenly care.”

She flinched as if he had struck her, bowing her head in shame.

“Enough,” Azriel commanded, bringing the attention back to him. Rage was etched onto his face, siphons glowing as he called upon his power. “You do not get to tear apart our lives for some, some fling.”

It was angers turn to take over your mind, your own power rumbling deep inside of you. “Have you lost your mind, Azriel Shadowsinger?” You asked, pulling away from Lucien for fear of harming him. “You have done nothing but cause me pain, and now you’ve decided I can’t make my own choices? I wasn’t aware it was up to you what I do with my time.” Your palms itched, begging for him to strike first.

“It matters when it’s being intimate with someone who’s not me!” He roared, the winds picking up around you as if they sensed his emotion.

“We are no longer mates, Azriel! You never truly had any claim to me! Get it through your thick, ugly skull!” The insult was the tipping point for the Shadowsinger, a low scream accompanying the blue bolt of power he launched towards you. You blocked it with a silver one of your own, yelling for Lucien to get off the balcony.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” you teased, anger and satisfaction burning through you. You had needed this. “I’m just as well trained as you are.” You sent a wave of power towards him, laughing when it caused him to stumble. “Some may say i’m better.”

The wind was whipping through your hair, pulling it free from the loose braid you’d had it in. You felt stronger than you had in years, standing tall against your mate. He sent shadows to twine around you, but you dodged them as easy as they came. Truthfully, you didn’t think they wanted to harm you. It was as if they knew the cruel way their master had acted. Azriel shouted in frustration at his shadows, sending bolt after bolt of blue towards you. You blocked each one, shooting your own in response. A shot of silver hit him in the middle of the chest, knocking him to his knees. The blue siphons decorating his body flickered, no match for the power you held.

You made your way to stand in front of him, silver still glowing in your hands. “Is that the best you can do, Az?” You pouted, using the nickname from when you were friends. He looked up at you, a million emotions running through his eyes.

“When did you become so skilled?” He asked.

You leaned in close, a wicked smile on your lips. “What else is a heartbroken girl supposed to do? You ignored me, so I became better than you. At first I thought it would impress you and you would want me instead of Elain. Now I know, it was all for this very moment.” You placed your heel on the center of his chest, kicking him onto his back as you called your power back into you.

“Leave me alone, Azriel. I’m making my own life now.”

You left him there, winded on the ground. Your heels clicked amongst the stone as you walked off the balcony, eyes sliding to catch Elain as you did. “Better call a healer. He should be fine, but his pride will be woefully wounded.”

***

Lucien found you in your rooms, eyes bright as he took in your windswept form. “That,” he said, moving to place his hands on your waist, “was the most intimidating thing i’ve ever seen. Somehow, it only made me want you more.” He accompanied his words with a kiss, your body melting into his.

“Hmm,” you hummed into his mouth, forcing yourself to pull away. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to do that.” You turned from him, resuming the packing you had been doing before he entered. Lucien took in the sight, eyes taking note of what you were doing.

“Planning on leaving?” He asked nonchalantly, picking up the silk sleeve of one of your gowns.

You shrugged, folding the shirt in your hands. “I do not believe I will be welcome here after my attack upon Azriel.”

The fabric slipped through Lucien’s fingers as he moved to stand next behind you, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. “How is that fair? He gets to treat you terribly and yet you are expected to flee your home?”

You leaned into his touch, nodding in agreement. “Yes, but Rhysand would do anything for him. Everyone else comes after Azriel and Cassian. He may be mad at him for a moment, but in the end he’s choose him over me. It’s how it has always been.” You sighed, pausing your packing. “It’s a shame, truly. But they hardly cared while it was happening. Any one of them could have confronted Azriel about it, and they chose not to.” Lucien’s arms tightened around you at the sadness in your voice.

“Where will we go?” He asked.

“I was thinking I could head to Summer, Tarquin and I have always gotten al-“ You paused your words, turning in his arms to face him. “We?”

He smiled, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I do not wish to reside in a place where you are not. If you’ll have me, it would be my greatest honor to sit by your side wherever life may take us.” You didn’t register the tears falling down your face until Lucien frowned, wiping them away. “I do not need to come,” he said uncertainly, only wanting to cause you joy.

You gave a weepy laugh, shaking your head. “No, Lucien. I want you to be with me. I just haven’t had anyone who cared so much before.” You kissed him then, full of love and light. A feeling you thought you’d never find, after so long of living in the shadow of a failed mating bond.

He kissed you back hungrily, his hand moving his way down your leg. You pulled your mouth from his, kissing the soft skin along his neck. He groaned, the sound the most delicious thing you had ever heard. “What of Elain?” You whispered between kisses, so quietly you almost hoped he hadn’t heard. The hand on your leg moved to wrap around your neck, his thumb pressing lightly over your pulse point as he turned your head to look at him.

“What of her?” He murmured against your lips, fire burning in his expression.

“W-what of the mating bond?” You stuttered out, heart racing as his hand tightened pleasurably against your skin.

“There is none. I rejected it. Happily, if I may say so.” He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you moaned. “My heart and my soul belong to you, if you’ll have them.” His hand dropped from your neck, finding its new favorite spot on your waist.

You smiled back, taking in the unyieldingly handsome male in front of you. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

He kissed you once more, a sense of devotion behind it. You twined your arms around his neck, allowing him to lay you back on the bed behind you. Your fingers tangled themselves into the soft strands of his hair, arching into him as his hands worked your skirt up over your hips. You whined when his lips left yours, already pathetically needy for him. You quickly got over your displeasure when you felt them press against your inner thigh.

Lucien had his way with you there, painting the walls of your room in sin. The hallways would echo with the music of your screams, the imprint of you never truly gone.

Left, to haunt Azriel for all his days.

***

AFTER

You sat on the warm sands of the beach, shielding your eyes from the ever-shining sun. You watched your shirtless husband splash amongst the water, beautiful laughter trailing to your ears. The Summer Court had become home to you, a place where you truly felt you belonged. Tarquin had welcomed you with open arms, happy to give you a new start.

You quickly made yourself indispensable to his army, rising to a high leadership position within a matter of months. You worked to train the new recruits, showing them how to tap into their power. The fae who followed you adored you as much as you did them, the camaraderie you created priceless.

After a year of living here, Lucien had proposed. You’ll never forget the way his hands shook as he opened the ring box, asking you to do him the honor of being his wife. Your eyes sparkled with tears as you took in the golden ring he had made for you, tackling him to the ground in your excitement. Not too many months after you held a small ceremony, professing your eternal love to each other on a stretch of beach with the background of a sunset.

It had been some time since then, and your lives from before were but a distant memory. The thought of Azriel never crossed your mind, and you never felt the emptiness of the broken mating bond. You kept loose contact with the Night Court, more diplomatic than anything. You knew he and Elain did end up together, though you couldn’t speak of their relationship past that. Neither you nor Lucien bore them any ill will.

The little one squirming in your lap brought your attention back to now, pulling you from your memories. You smiled at the little boy, pulling him up into your arms. “What is, my little fire spot? Do you wish to be in the water with your daddy?” You cooed at him, smoothing back his bright red hair. You stood, making your way towards your husband and the toddler girl playing in the water. You laughed she splashed him, Lucien falling dramatically backwards as if she had gravely wounded him.

“Mommy!” She called, waving her two small hands excitedly in the air. “Be like you!” She gestured to your husband, still feigning that she had bested him. Your heart swelled with love for the family you had created, the joy for your children and husband.

“That’s my girl!” You called back, happy with the way she wished to follow in your footsteps. You walked into the water, helping Lucien up with your free arm. He wrapped his around your waist, pressing a quick kiss to your son before giving one to you.

As you stood in the water, listening to the glee-filled screeches of your daughter while your son tried to chew on your finger, you felt at peace. Your soul was complete, tied to Lucien of your own accord. You wished you could go back in time to the version of you that longed for Azriel to love you back, and tell her that a beautiful future she couldn’t even imagine was waiting for her.

***

give me more lucien SJM please i begggggg. i hope you all enjoyed this ending for him❤️

#acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #lucien x y/n #lucien x reader #lucien x you #lucien vanserra x you #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x y/n #fated souls

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illyrianshadow · 2 months ago

Text

Lost in Shadows (pt. II)

Summary: After centuries apart, you see him again — Azriel, the boy who once kept you safe in the shadows of Windhaven.

But now he’s a stranger and you’re left wondering: does he remember? And is your connection, fated or forgotten, still strong enough to bring you together?

Warnings: mentions of difficult home life, most likely angst in future chapters (and potential smut)

A/N: I still can't believe how many of you interacted with the first part of this! From the bottom of my heart, thank you!! A little bit more back story in this chapter. Hopefully the switching of POV's isn't too confusing. As always, any feedback more than welcome.

ps, let me know if you want me to make a taglist

Word count 2.25K

Part 1 | Part 3

—————-

The day you left Windhaven was one of the worst ones of your life.

You had overheard your father tell one of his friends that he had promised you to a male named Kaelen, a warrior from Frost Edge, a nearby camp known for its strong traditional views and values on the treatment of Illyrian females.

Now that your 18th birthday had come he could finally send you away, to him. You were to become his wife.

You’re a unique Illyrian female. Born to a high fae mother and Illyrian father, you never had wings of your own but did possess Illyrian anatomy, something that was extremely rare.

For centuries, your father had pursued high fae females in the hope he’d one day have a wingless child.

He picked young, impressionable fae, females that did not know about the dangers of giving birth to a winged babe. Your mother fell right into his trap and after a short courtship she fell pregnant. When you were born, wingless as your father had always dreamed off, he was convinced that they were cauldron blessed. It was so incredibly rare, the mother must have granted him the ultimate gift.

He became obsessed with having another child. Your mother fell pregnant again within the year and died when giving birth to your brother. You didn’t remember her, your brother didn't survive.

Your wingless back was your fathers pride, the ultimate “clipping”, a daughter born to serve on the ground not soar in the skies.

His voice was filled with pride as he told the other male that you were send away to be used for breeding. As if you were some prize mare that was only good for producing offspring. Wing clipping was standard in Frost Edge and wingless females were worshipped above all. They had heard of your rare anatomy and hoped you would be able to pass your rare genetics on to the next generation.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, he’d never seen you as anything more than a cleaner and a cook.

Your father did always say you had ridiculous notions. Wanting to have a job, wanting to travel and see the other courts. Whenever you expressed wanting to do anything besides cleaning his house and looking after him, he would shut you down immediately.

He had treated you like this from a young age, and as you grew older you became more and more isolated. Your father forbade you to interact with any of the Illyrian males in the camp, and the other females were afraid to come near you because of your father's reputation. Your friendship with Azriel was the only thing keeping you sane.

The colour drained from your face as you heard your father's words.

You knew you couldn’t stay. You would have to leave, get out as fast as you could. You headed back into your room and started packing the few belongings you had as the reality of it all hit you.

You could never come back, it would never be safe. Not until your father was gone, or dead.

You were furious, tears streaming down your face as you thought of what leaving really meant. You would lose him, Azriel.

You grabbed a pen and a bit of paper. You had to leave him a note, you had to tell him how much he meant to you. You stared at the sheet for what felt like an eternity, trying to find the words that could convey the depth of your feelings. Nothing came to mind. In the end you opted for a short explanation of the situation at hand instead. You told him you had to leave Windhaven for your own safety, and you told him that you loved him more than anything in the world.

When your father had left the house, oblivious to you overhearing his earlier conversation, you sneaked out into the forest to leave the note in your hiding place.

And then you were gone.

You fled to Velaris hoping you would be able to find passage on a ship that could take you to the day court. In your first days there you noticed one of Azriel’s shadows. He had sent one after you as soon as he realised you were gone and it had followed you all the way to the city. His gifts were still untrained and his shadows were young, but they were drawn to you like moths to a flame. Sending one after you to find you had been easy.

You felt its presence, being so used to the feeling of having them close. They couldn' t hide from you.

You whispered to it to return to its master, that it wasn’t safe for you to be tracked. You told it to tell Azriel that he needed to let you go. You made a promise you would try and find your way back to him one day when it was safe for you to return.

You had never thought it would take more than 500 years for you to do so.

—————-

Present day, Azriel’s POV

He knows you are here as soon as you walk through the door. His shadows calm in a way they have not done for over 500 years. A quiet, soothing feeling. It’s as if they say he can stop looking, he can relax, you are here.

“Alive,” they whisper in his ear; “found, safe.”

His heart rate picks up, his palms become sweaty. This is it, the moment he has been dreaming of for centuries. Confirmation that you are okay, that you are still breathing. Now that it has arrived he is unsure of what to do with himself.

Even though he can sense you are there he has no idea if you’ll remember who he is.

He’s sitting with his back to you and even though he is the Spymaster of the night court (and one of the most feared warriors in Illyrian history), the thought of turning around and looking at you leaves him feeling unsettled.

The reality of it all is utterly terrifying.

What if he finds your gaze and there is no recognition in your eyes? Or worse. What if you do recognise him and are disappointed by the male he has become?

He’d rather keep looking forward and stay oblivious for all eternity than live in that reality.

Azriel is so different from the boy he used to be. He’s learned to close himself off over the centuries. He’s become guarded, distanced, learned to keep his cards close to his chest. Some would even describe him as cold.

Years of training as an illyrian warrior and being the Spymaster of the night court will do that to a male.

The open vulnerability he had displayed towards you as a child was for you and you alone. When you disappeared out of his life you took that part of him with you.

How is he meant to live up to the image you undeniably still have of him?

The image of a boy untainted by murder and violence. Your best friend who would wrap you in his shadows and cloak you in darkness whenever you needed to feel safe. You once explained to him the feeling of them made you feel grounded, protected. You saw them as something beautiful. No one else had ever looked at them that way.

You knew him as a boy that had only ever used his shadows for good, not the illyrian warrior who had hurt and tortured countless people. Who had used his shadows to instill fear rather than offer them to people as a safety blanket.

The only similarity between him and who he had once been are the boyish curls framing his face and the scarred hands clenching his drink.

He is scarred, broken.

He tries to ground himself by bringing his attention back to his family. Mor is waving her arms around enthusiastically as she recalls something adorable Nyx had done when she’d last visited the river house.

He’s hoping his frequent nodding and occasional “hmhm-ing” will be enough to convince her he is fully engaged in whatever story she is telling him.

“And then Nyx picked up Cassian and threw him across the room.”

Azriel snaps out of his trance at her latest words. “Nyx did what now?”

“Finally! I’ve been spouting nonsense at you for ages. Rhys and I have been having a bet going for the last 5 minutes to see how long it would take for you to notice." She turns to Rhys with a triumphant smile on her face. “Pay up.”

Rhys rolls his eyes. “Don’t pretend I don’t already pay for everything your heart desires, dear cousin.” he says, a feline smile gracing his lips. “I think we can probably call it even.”

Mor gasps and grabs her chest as if wounded. “Me, spending your money? I would never.” she says in mock exasperation.

This immediately results in a discussion about Mor's spending habits as Rhys starts listing the countless things Mor has bought with his money in the last week alone.

Offering the perfect opportunity for Azriel to let his thoughts wander back to you.

His shadows start whispering again, reporting your movements to him. “Watching.” They whisper. “Staring.”

Is it because you recognise who he is? Or is it because the sight of an Illyrian sitting in a crowded bar in Velaris has grabbed your attention?

If your shared past is anything to go off, the sight of one of your own kind will undeniably have put your guard up. You might be watching him out of habit, to make sure he doesn’t do anything unpredictable.

Rhys’ voice suddenly crowds the space inside his mind. “As much as I enjoy watching whatever inner conflict you are having brother, I just wanted to inform you that there’s an incredibly beautiful female staring at your back.”

Azriel’s breath hitches at his brother's comment and he feels a pang of jealousy knowing that Rhys has seen you before he has had the chance. The high lord raises his eyebrows when he notices the effect of his words.

“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. Some Spymaster you are. Should I be reconsidering your position in my court?” he continues, a teasing tone lacing his words.

Azriel just glares at him in response, resulting in Mor pouting at the both of them when she notices the exchange. “Oi, stop having conversations in your head you two. It’s rude to gossip in the presence of a lady.”

Rhys just snorts at that remark and brings his attention back to her as their bickering continues.

This time the High Lord opts for commentary on the mountain of incredibly unladylike situations he has seen his cousin in while out at Rita’s.

“Moving.” his shadows whisper “Getting up. Walking.”

Azriel’s shadows start to stir, becoming restless just like their master. Were you leaving?

Still too scared to turn around, he sends one of his shadows after you to investigate your movements.

“Bar” it reports back and Azriel lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. You weren’t going anywhere.

Good. This was good. He just needed a little bit more time.

—————-

Reader POV

You need another drink. You’ve been staring at Azriel for god knows how long and since you can’t seem to find the courage to approach him, you need something to distract your busy mind.

A trip to the bar will have to do. Maybe an additional drink (or 5, or 10) will help you find the courage you need, or at least quiet down your anxious mind.

As soon as you start walking you think you notice something. A presence, something calming. The feeling disappears just as quickly as it had come on. You must be imagining things.

As you make your way over to the bar you realise that if you were to turn around and head back with your drink, you’d have to look at Azriel face on.

Flustered by the idea you decide to settle on one of the bar stools in the corner instead. You take a deep breath and when your drink arrives you hold on to it for dear life. You down it way too fast and order another one, which turns into a third and then a couple of shots.

The pace at which you're drinking seems to keep the other people in the bar at bay. No one really pays you any mind or approaches the corner you are sitting in. Good.

As the alcohol starts to cloud your judgement and you begin to feel its full effects, you decide that it’s time. Consequences be damned, you cannot leave here tonight without speaking to him.

You can’t lose him again.

You turn and jump up from your seat, misjudging the full effect the alcohol has had on you. You stumble forward and you would have fallen face first on the ground had strong, scarred hands not steadied you.

You are many, way too many, drinks deep.

Your eyes grow wide as you look at the hands holding you upright, knowing damn well who they belong to.

As you look up into a pair of hazel eyes, you feel your whole world slow. Your chest fills with warmth and you feel a longing, something familiar but also incredibly new.

It’s as if your heart is reaching out to his. It’s like something is tying your souls together.

It’s that familiar feeling his shadows used to give you. A quiet calm, a steadying comfort.

And that’s when you know. You’d probably always known deep down.

Mate.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x female!reader #azriel x f!reader

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sshushayla · 1 year ago

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after her father.

jude bellingham x fem!reader + mini daughter bellingham. fluff. jude who became a star for his daughter.

Your daughter giggled loudly, clapping her hand aggressively as Jude scored a goal for Real Madrid, his team. In your arms, your daughter jumped up and down showing off her growing teeth. You smiled widely, eyes twinkling in adoration to see your daughter being merry and joy at the loud cheer for her father.

Jude ran in front of the crowd, his eyes eagerly dancing through the crowd to find his girls to meet the gaze of his little one clapping hands like everyone else. As the whole stadium of Bernabéu roared for Jude Bellingham, his heart soared high seeing his daughter in the midst of the crowd clapping and smiling just for him.

He smiled, blowing a few kisses repeatedly toward your direction, your daughter excitedly nodded trying to catch his kisses. "Mommy, blow papa kiss." She mumbled, holding your cheeks tight with her small hand. With her order, you jokingly nodded following her action.

As the players gathered to cheer Jude, the billboard on the stadium captured your daughter with her doe eyes sparkling bright and her big smile. "Do the pose you prepared for papa." You whispered in her ears, as she giggled to your words tingling in her ears.

Jude is a superstar in her eyes. As he is away for matches or training, all she would watch is more contents of her father uploaded on social media. The constant giggles of Jude scoring a goal or making a scene with the referee. Your daughter learnt quickly about her father through youtube, regardless if it were some cuss words or some facial expression, she followed through.

Jude squinted his eyes gazing at his little girl as she swung her arm open wide just like her father as you strengthen your hold onto your baby protectively. People stood up from the benches cheering and applauding for Jude’s daughter. He stood in admiration to see how quickly his daughter is becoming like him.

"That's my baby taking after me, innit." Jude chuckled, going back to his position with the rest of his teammates laughing with him. This win is an absolute must, considering his daughter being in one of the benches where he has to still be the superstar that he is for his daughter.

You walked through the tunnel to meet Jude as your daughter waddled her way with her tiny little feet to meet her father. After the billboard incident, there were numerous people waving at your daughter with their phone hounding and recording her.

She paused, you bent down to meet her eye level, she wrapped her arm around your neck. “Mommy, can I go to papa?” She whispered as she twirled onto her hair playfully messing up the hairstyle you made for her. You smiled slowly letting go of her hand, seeing as a sign, she jumped before pacing forward to her father who had been waiting for her in the field.

You glanced worriedly but Jude had been on both of his knees opening his arm open for his little one to run into his embrace. All your worries vanished as she had landed on his arm safely. "I got you, i got you, i got you." Jude mumbled under his breath. You gently walked toward the father-daughter duo that were having their own moment. Jude glanced at the side to see you approaching before he motioned you to come faster.

"Hi" You whispered softly, wrapping your hand around his forearm. Jude smiled down, leaning in for a peck. Your daughter covered her eyes, "Papa, me first." Your daughter pulled Jude away from you, holding his cheeks tight.

In that moment, you were burning with love.

#jude bellingham scenarios #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jaehymrkwrites

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edenesth · 10 months ago

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Clumsy Hearts, Steady Love

Pairing: boyfriend!Hongjoong x fem!reader

AU: non-idol au

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: He was a great friend but a terrible lover, and he knew it. For the longest time, he believed he wasn’t cut out for relationships. But then you came along, and for the first time, he wanted to try. He wanted to be better, to be good for you, even if it meant being clumsy along the way. For you, he was willing to learn how to love.

A/N: Only @itstheghostofmypast knows this was initially meant to be a timestamp🤡

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Don't drive today, darling. I'll pick you up from work this evening."

Those words from Kim Hongjoong echoed in your mind. For the first time in a year of being together, he offered to pick you up. Your heart soared at the unexpected sweetness from him.

It wasn't that you thought he was a bad boyfriend, but you knew his nature from the very beginning. Your friends had warned you when you accepted him; he was a workaholic, someone who would always put anything and everything before you. A good friend but a bad lover—that was his reputation. Yet, you couldn't deny the way he made your heart race, the way his presence made everything better, the way he vowed to love you as you deserved, the way he promised he would try for you.

From the start, you knew what you were getting into. You didn't expect perfection. You didn't want perfection.

You just wanted him.

But loving Hongjoong truly was not easy.

It could be exhausting. Perhaps today was another one of those days.

You had looked forward to this day for so long, hoping he would be the boyfriend he promised to be. But deep down, you knew better than to have such high hopes.

Letting out what felt like the thousandth sigh of the day, you nearly froze to death from being soaked in the rain, your ankle throbbed from a sprained heel as you stood by the bus stop outside your office building where he was supposed to pick you up.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

Every call went straight to voicemail, escalating your worry to panic. You didn’t dare move, fearing he might arrive at an empty bus stop.

After hours of agony, trying to reach him, and calling all his friends, you got the same useless response: he was unreachable, and they had no idea where he could be.

Three hours.

You sat there for three hours, sick with worry about him, when you were the one who needed care, only to end up taking the bus home. So much for the excitement and anticipation of him picking you up for the first time. You should have been furious, but the pounding headache and rising fever stole that from you. Another heavy sigh escaped your lips, the disappointment of what should have been an exciting Friday evening turning into an utter disaster.

"Enough, my darling. I'm here now, am I not?" said Kim Hongjoong.

The audacity.

You had left work to be greeted by a heavy downpour, cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella. As if things couldn't get worse, your sprint to the bus stop where he promised to pick you up was interrupted when your heel chose that moment to snap. You yelped in pain, stumbling forward onto the wet ground, your belongings scattering everywhere. Crawling on the rough pavement to collect them, you finally stood up, only to feel a sharp throb in your ankle.

But it was supposed to be okay because seeing Hongjoong was sure to make everything better.

Ha, bitch you thought.

He left you panicking like a mad woman for hours, only to show up in the most infuriating way. When the 8pm bus finally rolled to a stop before you and the automated doors swooshed opened, you were busy dialling his number yet again.

"Come on, pick up pick up pick up—"

Wait a minute, is that...?

You did a double take when the very person you had been desperately trying to reach this whole time stepped off the bus with a sheepish smile, only for his expression to fall when he saw the miserable state you were in.

"Please throw your phone away if you have no intention of using it," you said flatly, walking past him and intentionally bumping his shoulder as you boarded the bus, no longer caring if he followed.

Of course, he did.

He cursed under his breath, noticing your limp, the heels in your hand, and your soaked, shivering form.

Settling into the last row of seats beside you, he quickly took off his jacket and wrapped it around you. You were too weak to fight back or refuse. His heart ached as he pulled you close, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. Silently, you accepted it all. Not only were you too exhausted to reject his gestures, but you also felt you deserved this and more after what you had endured. When you were warm enough, he immediately checked on your now swollen and bruised ankle, careful not to hurt you. The concern in his eyes was enough to melt your heart, but he didn't need to know that.

Once he was done fussing over you, he leaned back in his seat, offering his shoulder. Stubbornly, you turned away and leaned your head against the window instead. Knowing you needed time to calm down, he kept quiet and let you be, but not without staying close. He needed you to know he was there for you.

When you sighed again, he could no longer take it. He felt the need to explain himself.

"I know you're mad, and you have every right to be," he began, his voice soft and sincere. "I messed up, and I'm so sorry. I got caught up in something I couldn't get out of, and I swear I was going to call you, but my phone died and the stupid car broke down. God, I'm such an idiot. I should have tried harder to reach you or get to you sooner."

Still, you said nothing, your silence more punishing than any words you could have spoken. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss.

"I love you," he whispered, almost to himself. "I just want to make things right."

For a moment, you softened, but the memory of the cold rain and the throbbing pain in your ankle kept your resolve firm. He had to understand the gravity of his actions.

Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "You can't just show up and expect everything to be okay, Joong. You scared me. I thought something terrible had happened to you. And all the while, I was the one who was hurt and alone."

"I know," he said, his voice cracking. "And I'm so, so sorry, my darling. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

You turned to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time since he got on the bus. The sincerity and regret in his gaze were undeniable.

"One chance, Kim Hongjoong," you said firmly. "Don't mess it up."

He nodded, relief washing over his face. "I won't. I promise."

With that, you leaned back against the window, still not ready to forgive, but willing to see if he could truly make amends. And for the rest of the ride, he stayed close, his presence a silent vow that he would try his best to make things right.

As you slowly drifted to sleep, he guided your head to his shoulder, gently pressing his cheek against your forehead. Feeling your breath steady and the tension ease from your body, he allowed himself a small, relieved smile. He reached for your cold hands, stroking his fingers against your skin to warm you, finding it funny how he used to judge couples in public, but now that he had you, he realised he couldn't blame them—you were all that mattered.

The truth was, he had been late leaving work today, and to make matters worse, his car had broken down in the middle of heavy traffic. When he tried to call you, his phone had died. In desperation, he had caught the quickest bus he could find, but traffic had been relentless. He could have told you all of this, but he didn’t want to make excuses. He knew he should have done better.

Hongjoong glanced down at you, his heart aching with tenderness and guilt. He was still clumsy when it came to love, but for you, he would learn to be a better lover. Stroking your hair gently, he whispered, "I’m so sorry. I won't make you wait again. I promise to do better. I promise to always be there for you."

The bus ride continued in peaceful silence, the hum of the engine and the occasional jostle of the road the only sounds. He held you close, vowing silently to never let you down again. As the bus neared your stop, he adjusted his position, cupping your cheek softly and kissing your head, whispering, "We're here, darling."

You let out a small groan as your eyes fluttered open, unconsciously snuggling closer to his warmth and comfort as you tried to register your surroundings. If only you knew what your little actions did to his poor heart. Tightening his grip around you, he helped you up from your seat and carefully guided you out of the bus, ensuring you didn't put pressure on your injured ankle. The driver gave you a sympathetic nod as the two of you stepped off. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the night was calm.

As you walked the short distance to your shared apartment, you suddenly remembered what had happened and peeled his hands off you. You weren't necessarily cold to him but you still needed space to cool off. He gulped, his fear of losing you was apparent. "Please, you're hurt. Let me take care of you."

To be fair, he knew he deserved your reaction. You weren't upset merely because of what happened today; he believed this was you letting out all the frustration you had kept in for the entirety of your one-year relationship. And he knew now that if he wanted to keep you by his side, this was his sign to take things more seriously.

No more excuses.

You had been nothing but the best and most attentive girlfriend to him. So, what was stopping him from doing the same for you?

He knew you didn't want to be near him right now, but he also didn't have the heart to stay away. Offering his hand, he nodded toward it. "Come, let's go home."

Tired out of your mind, you swallowed your anger, deciding to save it for another time. For now, you needed him. You reached out with a pout, surprising him by holding onto his pointer finger. "Fine, let's go."

He chuckled, his heart bursting with affection at how cute you were. This was better than nothing. Walking slowly, he made sure you weren't hurting yourself, each step a reminder of his promise to himself and you.

As you entered your apartment, he helped you settle onto the couch, your injured ankle elevated and cushioned. He fetched a blanket and wrapped it around you, his eyes filled with concern. "I'll make us some tea," he said softly, heading to the kitchen.

While he prepared the tea, you watched him move with a newfound determination. You could see he was trying, truly trying, to be better for you. And that thought, more than anything, began to melt the icy wall you had momentarily built up in your heart.

He returned with two steaming mugs, setting them on the table before sitting beside you. He took your hand gently, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. "I know I have a lot to make up for," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I promise, I will. You mean everything to me."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the honesty and love there. It was a start, and as you sipped your tea together, you felt a glimmer of hope that things could truly change.

Just as you finished your tea, you sighed and looked up at him, intending to get up and head to your room. But before you could move, he gently squeezed your hand and stood up. "Let me help you," he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm.

You hesitated, feeling torn between wanting to assert your independence and appreciating his newfound care. "I can manage," you insisted weakly.

"I know you can, darling," he replied softly, crouching beside you. "But let me take care of you this time, please."

His sincerity was palpable, and despite your initial resistance, you found yourself nodding. He carefully helped you to your feet, supporting your weight as you limped towards your room. Once inside, he waited patiently as you freshened up and changed into dry clothes, his presence a reassuring warmth in the quiet of the room.

As you emerged, feeling somewhat more composed, you glanced at him gratefully. "Thank you, Joong," you murmured, genuinely touched by his unexpected tenderness.

He smiled softly, his eyes reflecting relief and determination. "It's only my job as your boyfriend," he replied earnestly.

Returning to the living room, you settled back onto the couch together. The warmth of his tea and his presence beside you enveloped you in a sense of security and hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, things could indeed change for the better between you.

You couldn't deny his affections any longer, his pleading look was enough to melt you into his embrace. As he gently pulled the throw blanket snugly around you, drawing you closer, your heart fluttered. His actions conveyed a heartfelt apology, reminding you why you could never leave this man, no matter how tiring things became. At the end of the day, you both belonged to each other, despite his occasional clumsiness; your love remained steadfast.

Nuzzling against his neck, you breathed in his familiar scent. "How's the car? Have you contacted insurance?" you murmured, slipping effortlessly into the role of the attentive girlfriend he knew so well.

With a tender smile, he shook his head. "Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it. Take care of everything. Take care of you."

His words made your heart skip a beat, and you tightened your grip on his sweater. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Kim Hongjoong," you teased gently.

He reassured you with a squeeze of your shoulder. "I won't, my darling. Not anymore."

Looking up at your boyfriend, you could see the honesty in his eyes. You knew perfection wasn't guaranteed from this point onward, but you at least trusted that he would always give his best effort.

And that was what mattered most.

"If you say so," you whispered, your eyes closing as he leaned in to press his lips against yours. Hongjoong understood your doubts, but this was where he would begin to earn your trust.

From now on, he would do everything to be the lover you deserved. He would learn from his mistakes and grow, all for the sake of the person he loved most in the world.

I swear, this came out of nowhere lmfao. I was supposed to be working on Jongho's TWTHH spinoff but this happened. Tbf, this has been swirling in my mind for the past week at work because something similar happened to me. I was soaked in the rain and my heel did snap. The 3-hour wait was also a past experience of mine, except that douchebag was no Kim Hongjoong HAHA

Thank you for reading and I hope you lovelies enjoyed this random little oneshot. As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte |

@bangtannie7

#edenesth #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #non idol au #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #ateez fic #hongjoong oneshot #ateez oneshot

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malfoysanctuary · 2 months ago

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The Way He Loves

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred Weasley has always been reckless on a broom, but when it comes to you, he's careful—intentional. He sees the little things, the way you endure the roaring Quidditch crowds just for him, and he makes sure you never forget just how much he loves you in return.

The Gryffindor stands were vibrating with energy. The air was thick with tension, and the roar of the crowd was deafening, a mix of cheers, groans, and the occasional spellfire of colorful charms thrown into the air in celebration. It was everything you hated.

And yet, there you were, tucked into the very front row, Fred’s old red and gold sweater drowning your frame, your hands clenched into the fabric as you watched him soar through the air like he was born for it.

You hated Quidditch. Loathed it. The dizzying speed, the crashing bodies, the way your heart jumped every time a bludger narrowly missed Fred’s head. The games were long, the crowd was loud, and frankly, you had a thousand things you’d rather be doing.

But you loved Fred Weasley.

And Fred Weasley loved Quidditch.

You watched as he grinned mid-air, swerving past a Slytherin Chaser with a level of recklessness that made your stomach twist. He was all confidence, all ease, the golden boy of Gryffindor with mischief in his eyes and trouble in his veins. And then, between the chaos, the yells, and the bludgers flying at ridiculous speeds, he looked at you.

Just for a second.

A split moment where he searched for your face in the sea of screaming students, and when he found you—watching, waiting, there for him and him alone—he smirked. That stupid, cocky smirk that made you want to both kiss and hex him.

Then, with one final, showy move, he sent the Quaffle flying straight through the hoop, sealing Gryffindor’s victory.

The crowd exploded.

Your stomach unclenched.

You watched as he celebrated with his team, as the Gryffindors around you went mad with excitement, but you stayed still, watching, waiting. Because you knew—no matter how many cheers or slaps on the back he received—Fred Weasley was always going to come to you first.

And he did.

Before the victory chants had even settled, Fred was running toward you, hair windswept, cheeks flushed, still in his sweaty Quidditch gear. You barely had time to react before he scooped you up, spinning you in the air as you shrieked in protest.

"Fred! You’re disgusting—put me down!"

He only laughed, spinning you once more before setting you back on your feet, his hands sliding to your waist as he grinned down at you. "You love it, darling."

You scowled, trying to shove him off, but he held firm. “You smell like a broomstick and sweat. It’s revolting.”

"And yet, you're still here," he mused, tilting his head. "Still sitting through an entire match, watching me be brilliant, all because you love me."

Your face heated. “You’re insufferable.”

Fred leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, and just like that, all your irritation melted. “And you’re my favorite person in the world.”

Your heart clenched.

Because Fred Weasley noticed things.

Noticed the way you endured the games despite your hatred for them. Noticed the way you never complained, never made him feel guilty for loving the sport, even though he knew you hated every second.

And because he noticed, he never let you feel like your efforts went unappreciated.

As the celebration roared on around you, he pulled you closer, lowering his voice. “Tomorrow’s all yours.”

You blinked up at him. “What?”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Tomorrow. No Quidditch, no flying, no rowdy Gryffindor nonsense. Just you and me doing whatever you want.”

Your chest tightened, warmth blooming beneath your ribs.

"You mean that?"

Fred’s expression softened. "I always mean it when it comes to you, love."

The next morning, true to his word, Fred met you outside the common room looking as far from a Quidditch player as possible. Instead of his usual uniform or training gear, he wore a cozy sweater, hands stuffed into his pockets, a lazy, easy smile playing on his lips.

“I am officially at your mercy today,” he declared, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. “I, Fred Weasley, solemnly swear to participate in whatever god-awful, non-Quidditch-related activities you desire.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Even if it means being dragged through a six-hour book-shopping excursion?”

Fred grinned, slipping his fingers through yours. “Even if it means suffering through your overly dramatic book obsessions.”

And that was how you found yourself wandering through the cozy, quiet aisles of the bookstore in Hogsmeade, Fred trailing behind you like a lost puppy, occasionally picking up the most ridiculous books he could find just to make you laugh. Instead of bludgers, he dodged your playful shoves. Instead of a roaring crowd, it was just you and him, tucked away from the world, his hand never straying far from yours.

And at lunch, when you sat together at The Three Broomsticks, he listened intently as you rambled about your latest book obsession, nodding along despite the fact that he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.

Because Fred Weasley made an effort.

Because he never let love be one-sided.

By the time dinner rolled around, the Great Hall was buzzing, students chatting excitedly about yesterday’s match. But as always, Fred didn’t care about any of it. He sat beside you, the rest of Gryffindor still riding the high of their victory, but his attention was only on one thing—making sure you had food before he even thought about his own.

You watched, warmth spreading through your chest, as he grabbed your favorites first, piling your plate high before finally grabbing his own. It was instinct for him, something so small yet so telling.

The little things.

The way he paid attention.

The way he always made sure you were taken care of, always put you first, even when you didn’t ask him to.

You swallowed, nudging his thigh beneath the table. "You really don’t have to do that every time, you know."

Fred simply shot you a look, as if the mere suggestion was absurd. "Course I do. You think I’d let my girl starve?"

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. "You’re ridiculous."

Fred leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear. "Ridiculously in love with you?"

You sighed, shaking your head, but your smile gave you away.

Loving Fred Weasley was easy.

Because when he loved, he loved completely.

And he made sure you never, ever forgot it.

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #shifting to hogwarts #hogwarts houses #gryffindor #slytherin #hogwarts oc #x reader #female reader #reader insert #fem reader #taylor swift #taylornation

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marsbutterfly · 24 days ago

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I have this head cannon where Moblit and Hanji are into the same type of girls but Moblit usually gets them cuz they end up being straight but then Y/N comes along and Moblit is madly in love with her, Hanji lowkey has given up when it comes to her and Moblit falling for the same girl. But then she confesses that she’s into Ms Hanji Zoe. 👛

Loved By You (And The Other One)

Summary: Hanji and Moblit have always had the same taste when it came to girls and it was always easier for him to get a chance with them. Until they both meet you, that is.

a/n: thank you for sending this in! I had a lot of fun writing it and a sudden wave of inspiration came crashing down on me a couple days ago. I plan on writing several of your other requests, so I hope you are ready!

my proof reader: @wizzy21 | wc: 2.6k | wattpad! | ao3! warnings: none, just fluff!

"I heard from a friend of a friend that Moblit has been keeping his eye on y/n for some time now," Levi says. His back is pressed against the wall as he sits on Erwin's bed, his legs are crossed while he continues to take a few bites of his bowl of noodles.

Hanji, who is sitting by the computer, lets out a long and pained sigh. They bring their hands to their eyes, lifting their glasses above their forehead and rubbing their eyes in the process. "A friend of a friend, really?"

The black-haired man carefully wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin, placing the bowl on his lap. Once he makes sure it's secure, he lifts his eyes to meet Hanji's face, realizing there is more than a subtle hint of hurt behind it.

"He told me during Criminal Justice class that he had a plan to ask her out," he says, his voice is now gentler than before, carrying with it almost a bit of pity. "He says he has been in love with her since the moment they met in Psychology class last semester. He's been trying to get with her but she might be a bit clueless about his crush or something."

Hanji's eyes sting with unwashed tears, frustration filling their body. This isn't the first time a situation like this has occurred, nor the second, or third. It has happened more times than they could count on one hand. They will fall in love with a girl, befriend her and, as they are about to confess their crush, they find out Moblit has already talked to them and they have planned a date or have already made out.

They know he isn't doing it on purpose, after all, they had never really talked to him about the entire situation. But when it came to you, things were different. They had been expressing their interest in you for the longest time, loud and clearly enough for anyone around to notice. Well, except for the object of their affection.

Just the mere mention of your name was enough to make their heart soar higher than a passenger plane, looking at you was like being mesmerized by the sunset at the beach and the sound of your voice could only be compared to the most beautiful melody ever composed by a human being.

"He knows how I feel about her," Hanji whispers, burying their face in their hands, slumping their body forward over their knees on the chair. It's a pathetic sight, but they can't help but feel pathetic in this moment.

Erwin, who exits the bathroom with his shorts on and a towel shuffling around his hair, has been listening in to their conversation while drying off from his shower and he can't help but sigh. He places his hand on Hanji's back, tenderly moving it up and down.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice filled with guilt, "I tried to dissuade him. I tried to tell him to just let you have this one, but he said he was really in love this time and he was willing to fight for her."

He can tell something is brewing within their friend's chest so he looks at Levi, who in response nods and tosses a pillow at the blonde man. He proceeds to hand the object to Hanji and they nod thankfully before burying their face in the soft surface, allowing an ear-piercing scream to exit their lungs. If it weren't for the pillow, one might think it was loud enough to shatter the dorm's windows.

In the meantime, you find yourself outside one of your classrooms, a very nervous Moblit making his way towards you with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. His face is sweatier and redder than usual, his breathing is quickening and you can tell his hands are trembling.

Though worried, you flash him the usual smile, walking in his direction. "Hi Moblit, are you alright? I didn't think you had class in this building today and this is pretty far away from your dorm, or any other of your classes, really."

"Y/N…" He begins, his voice slightly faltering so he clears his throat, "I have been thinking for a while and I wanted to talk to you about something!"

His words catch you by surprise, a bad feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. The flowers, his face, everything about his posture is screaming exactly what he wants to tell you and you sigh, clutching your books tighter against your chest. You lift your eyes to meet his while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, paying close attention to what he says while already thinking of the best way to reject him.

"I have had a crush on you since last semester and I am pretty sure I am fully in love with you and I really want to know if you would be interested in going on a date and maybe kissing and becoming boyfriend and girlfriend, I promise I can make you so happy, please!" He says, all in one breath. For a second there, his eyes go slightly crossed and you are afraid he's going to pass out. Your jaw tightens and you awkwardly shift around, licking your lips while still thinking about what to say.

"Moblit, I'm -" You begin, quickly being interrupted by his trembling hands as he hands you the flowers. You smile uncomfortably and nod, "Thank you. Look, we're good friends and I know you are a sweet guy but… There is someone else in my heart right now. Someone I have been flirting with over these past few weeks and, even if they don't seem to realize it yet."

You can nearly hear the moment his heart breaks, his face dropping slightly and, if you look hard enough, it seems like he is on the verge of tears. He takes a deep breath, "Thank you for letting me know. I… A-Appreciate your honesty and I… Wish you… Luck."

The scene is truly pathetic and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt in your heart as you look at him. With a sigh and a smile, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close for a hug. He doesn't even dare to wrap his arms around his waist, but he is grateful for the chance to be this close to you, even if just this once, even if just for a minute.

"We can still be friends if that's okay with you," you whisper softly as you pull away, your hands resting on his shoulders as you take a good look at his defeated expression. He nods somewhat excitedly.

"If that's ok with you," He sniffles, an embarrassed chuckle making its way past his lips, "Oh man, and I almost let Hanji dissuade me from confessing today. Maybe I should have listened to them, for once."

You pause, pulling your hand away. Your heart is now beating a thousand miles per hour and the fear of God has been struck into you, Moblit's words echoing in your brain repeatedly as you look at him. "I almost let Hanji dissuade me."

That meant that Hanji was aware that Moblit had a crush on you. That also explained why every time you smiled at them, or tried to flirt even in the slightest, they would only return the affection for a second before locking eyes with him and returning back to a sadder version of themselves. You look back on all the study sessions the two of you had by yourselves, where their bubbly personality came out. All of the times they playfully tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and when they would hold and wiggle the pencil in a certain way to make it seem like it was made out of rubber.

"Hanji knows you have a crush on me?" You whisper, goosebumps rising through your skin. You don't want them to think you like Moblit back, you like them! You can't help but be terrified of the idea of your chances being destroyed over a mistake that wasn't yours.

"Yeah, we usually get crushes on the same girls but this is actually the first time I've lost to them," Moblit says, still handing you the flowers regardless. They are sunflowers, the one specific kind that has always reminded you of Hanji. "Here, to whoever owns that special place in your heart. Give it to them."

His words hit you like a truck and you realize that this entire time, your feelings have been reciprocated. Hanji has had a crush on you for just as long as you have had a crush on them.

You clutch the books closer to your chest as you take the flowers, "Where's Hanji right now?"

Moblit looks at the watch on his wrist and, after some quick thinking, he is finally able to provide you with an answer. "Well, they didn't have their last class today since the professor lost the lecture's PowerPoint so I'm pretty sure they are just hanging out at Erwin and Levi's dorm."

You kiss his cheek as a token of your appreciation before bolting in the direction of your friends' room. On your way there, you try to think of what to say when you are talking to them. When you look at those coffee-colored eyes, will you be able to pour out your feelings? Or will you be too much of a scaredy cat?

It doesn't matter, nothing else matters. You need to tell them. So you continue to run, bumping against people and mumbling out half-assed apologies, your lungs burning as you try to breathe during your sprints.

Hanji now finds themselves lying on the floor with their headphones in, staring at the ceiling while blaring "All By Myself - Celine Dion". The song has been playing on a loop for the past twenty minutes and, even with the buds in their ears, every word of the lyrics can be clearly heard by anyone within a twenty-mile radius (or so Levi believes.)

"I can't do this anymore," he clutches the pillow over his own face, grunting loudly. He pulls away only to stare at the surface, a bit of a murderous look in his eyes.

"No," Erwin responds in a calm tone, though a bit of an assumed subtext to his word. Levi grunts once more, allowing his body to fall backward on the blonde's bed.

"I could make it super quick, they would not feel a thing."

"You're not killing Hanji."

Before they can continue going back and forth with Levi's decision, they hear footsteps running across the hallway and stopping right before their door, followed by a quiet and polite knock.

"It's open," Erwin furrows his brows, stopping in the middle of a complex equation and putting the pencil down. It takes a few seconds for you to gather yourself enough to open the door, your eyes quickly scanning the room around you.

One side is extremely tidy, not a single piece of paper out of place. The skin products are organized in order of usage, cleaning products are neatly stocked inside a basket under the desk and you can see a detailed schedule on the board above the bed dictating chores and what days they need to be completed by.

The other one is organized in its own way. Though seemingly a mess to some, you can tell there is a method to the madness. There are calculators in the open drawer, organized by the complexity of the buttons and the size. There are piles of paper on the ground, but they are somewhat color-coded, and many half-eaten snacks sit on each side of the notebooks, almost like he allows himself a "reward bite" out of his favorite candy for every equation he correctly solves.

Hanji's head rolls back slightly on the ground and their eyes make their way up your body, from your sneakers to your jean shorts with hearts on the pockets, your pink blouse, and finally, your face. You've got sweat dripping down your face but, as soon as your eyes meet, they gasp, pulling their headphones out of their ears.

"Y/N!" They sit up, their cheeks blushing as they smile at the mere sight of you. Their joy silently dies down as they remember you probably scheduled a date with Moblit and are there just to deliver the news that you don't have any interest in them at all.

"Hanji… Can… We… Talk…?" You say breathlessly, your lungs feel like you are breathing in fire. They don't want to, they are terrified of what you have to say but the idea of being alone with you, that up close, was enough to make them shiver.

They stand up and nod, gesturing towards the outside of the room before closing the door behind them. You can almost hear the exact moment Levi and Erwin press their ears to the surface, desperate to get the information straight from the source.

"Are you alright? Can I get you anything?" They look down at the sunflowers in your hand and offer you a sad smile, "Those are really pretty."

"They are for you!" Your voice goes higher than you ever thought it was possible. Hanji's eyes widen as you hand them the flowers, their fingers carefully brushing against yours, so gently that it could only be compared to the flapping wings of a butterfly in the wind.

"I don't understand…"

"Can I kiss you?" You ask bluntly. During your run, you realized there was no way you would be able to find the words you wanted to say without making a fool out of yourself. So you made the ultimate decision that actions speak louder than words. You want to kiss them badly, but you need to hear them say yes first.

"Fucking, please!" They carefully drop the flowers to the ground, hands immediately coming to grasp your waist while you cup their face.

After all the nights you had spent dreaming about this moment, you focus on the small details about them. Their lips are softer than you thought they would be, while their hands are a bit rougher from all the mechanical work they do for their projects.

Their nose bumps against yours as your tongues dance together to a melody of their own, a rhythm not known by any other living soul on Earth besides the two of you.

Their breath has a hit of caramel to it and you know it came from their coffee order before class. Their messy hair falls against your fingers and you can tell by how smooth their curls feel that they have recently washed it.

A few other residents and students walk by, some whistling, some grunting in annoyance, but most are unphased by the gesture. It is a college campus, after all.

When you finally pull away, you place your forehead against theirs, your thumbs gently caressing their cheeks as you smile, unable to help yourself from continuing to pepper their lips in small kisses.

"I don't understand," they whisper, their grip on your tightening, "I thought Moblit asked you out."

"Oh, he did," you confirm and when a puzzled expression takes over their face, you continue,

"But I have been hoping maybe you and I could go on a date instead?"

At that moment, it was the happiest Hanji had ever felt. For the first time, a girl had chosen them instead of their best friend, and, most of all, it was the most beautiful girl they had ever seen. They could not have gotten more lucky.

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ghxstlike · 3 months ago

Text

in hiding

synopsis: he finds you crying and comforts you.

featuring: dan heng & aventurine (seperate)

content: sfw. comfort, pre-established relationship, dan heng has feelings for reader, tiny bit of flirting/compliments from aventurine, aventurine is kinda awkward, social anxiety (aventurine), anxiety attack (aventurine), reader’s gender isn’t specified, not proofread.

author's note: this is super self-indulgent lol. also this is the first time i’ve ever written these characters, so i apologize if they seem ooc! this also has been buried deep within my drafts- i finished this MONTHS ago….i felt too nervous to post it 😭 anywho, enjoy!

dan heng

you're another member of the astral express crew.

you've known dan heng enough to get the gist of his distant personality, even though you find him slightly intimidating.

you still managed to develop a crush on the guy, so he can't be that intimidating.

anyway, dan heng was tasked to go and 'fetch' you (pom pom's words) so all of you could eat dinner.

you’re usually in ‘his’ room, reading a book on his makeshift bed. when he enters said room and doesn’t see you, he grows a little worried.

in fact, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen you in days. now, he’s really worried.

the only other place that you'd be is in your room.

when he finds you in your room, his heart sinks.

intensely worried about you the moment he realizes you're crying.

type of guy to immediately jump into action. he's not aggressive about it, no, he's gentle.

softly sits beside you where you're on your bed, his hand reaching out to touch you while asking to do so.

if you say no, he obviously listens to your wishes. would not want to harm you or make you uncomfortable while you're in this state.

he sits there, watching you cry in silence. it's a little awkward, having him watch you cry, but he doesn't know what else to do. he doesn't want to ruin anything.

he says a few things to try and calm your crying down.

"let it all out."

"it's okay, you're safe."

"i'm here for you."

if you say yes, his hand comes up to rub your back gently, making you scoot closer to him. also says comforting words in this moment as well.

after you're done crying, he listens intently if you start to talk about what is bothering you.

man's just wants you to feel better.

"i'm sorry," you mumble, wiping your snot with the back of your hand. you don't see it, but dan heng shakes his head while he smiles softly at you.

"no need to apologize." his deep, monotone voice instantly calms your nerves. "crying can be helpful to some. don't worry about it." he places a hand on your head, ruffling your hair ever so slightly. you sigh, then sniffle. even though he said it was okay, you still feel a little ashamed at yourself. you almost feel embarrassed. you sort-of know what you look like while crying, and you know it isn't pretty. your heart soars with discomfort as you realize that dan heng has witnessed you at one of your lowest moments in life.

"gosh, i probably look like a mess right now." you croak out, a dry laugh following short after. you try to wipe the dried tears off your cheeks but to no avail. you'll have to wash it off with some cold water later. you hear dan heng hum, which catches your attention. your eyes look into dan heng's. you notice how dan heng's blue eyes soften at your stare.

dan heng's hand reaches out to a strand of hair that's in the way of your face, pulling it back behind your ear. you feel your face heat up, and your heart skips a beat at the intimate eye contact. you notice how dan heng’s face is in a similar predicament to yours; a light pink blush covers his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"you don't," he whispers. "you're beautiful."

aventurine

guy doesn't know how to comfort other people.

type of person to let the person cry it out by themself, then come back later with gifts.

i've seen a headcanon where aventurine is bad at comforting other people due to his past trauma and i truly believe it.

aventurine can rarely take stuff seriously, what makes you think he can comfort someone?

anywho. he finds you curled up into a ball in an alleyway in penacony. he heard the sobs come from a mile away and was curious at what the sound was.

he honestly thought it was a stray cat.

he's seen you around before. yeah, he remembers! you walked up to him at the bar and complimented his outfit, telling him he looked like a peacock.

he thought that it was very cute when you blushed, explaining you didn't mean to say that outloud and kept apologizing.

but now here you are, sitting on the gross ground of the alleyway with your chin propped up on your knees, crying your eyes out.

aventurine bites his lip, trying to figure out if he wants to help you or just leave you alone.

but that's when you placed your hand flat on your chest, and he noticed how you began to breathe heavily.

he knows exactly what's happening, and he can't leave you alone now.

"hey, breathe. you need to breathe."

you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out to you, but it seems so far away. you don't understand what he says and try to brush it off. though, he doesn't go away. his legs are in your line of sight, and he doesn't seem to be moving. you watch as he crouches down, his hands shakily reach towards yours.

"i'm gonna touch you, okay?" he gulps, almost flinching at the skin-to-skin contact. you don't answer, you just continue to hyperventilate as your wide eyes dart across the environment around you. the man seems to notice this and blocks your field of vision with his face.

"y-you- you're-" you try to get out, but all you can manage is a few hiccupped mumbles. the man in front of you smiles.

"hi again." you can clearly hear his smooth voice now. "can you take a deep breath for me? i'll do it with you." you nod, looking into his multi-colored eyes. they're so pretty.

you follow his actions- breathe in for 4 seconds, pause for 4 seconds, breathe out for 4 seconds. you both repeat this a few more times until your breath doesn't sound choppy or uneven.

silence overcomes the two of you. your eyes glance down at your intertwined hands, then back up at the man in front of you. suddenly realizing he's still holding your hands; he quickly drops them from his grasp while clearing his throat.

"you alright?" he says softly. his eyes glance down at your body, trying to see if you're hurt anywhere. your words interrupt him.

"no, i'm fine now," you sniffle. "thank you, um.." you pause, waiting for the man to give you his name.

"aventurine. it's no problem." aventurine shrugs. he stands up quickly, holding a hand out for you to take. "now, can i get you a drink? you must be dehydrated." his gloved fingers wiggle slightly, encouraging you to take his hand.

he grins down at you, "you can also tell me why you were sobbing in the alleyway." you chuckle at his words.

without another thought, you take aventurine's hand.

#hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #honkai star rail x reader fluff #x reader #x reader fluff #honkai star rail x you

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