#romantic gender

[acid-ixx]

— related post !

socialite! (secret himbo/bimbo) reader who takes one look at bruce wayne in a gala and you decide you'll use your (dumbass) alluring charms on the man to spend a night with him and it ends up successful. you had the best bed-breaking sex in your life, never once questioning all the taut muscle underneath his polished thousand-dollar suit; now crumpled by how handsy you were taking off his clothes. he was great with aftercare, too, carrying you off to one of his luxury bathtubs to bathe you and leave even more marks on the expanse of your back whilst massaging your naked body (you didn't even think for a second at the romantic implications his actions had).

then you're at one of luthor's galas the next time, being interviewed by this cute man with eyeglasses, who calls himself clark kent, with the cutest country-boy accent, who looks too tall to act all lanky, but you're not one to judge. you take one look at his baggy suit, ignore the pen and paper in his hands and drag him off to one of the spare janitorial rooms to have, quite possibly, the most pleasurable quickie you've ever had spent inside a cramped closet, your sweat sliding off each other as your bodies move in a harmonious tandem. you give him a kiss on his collar right after the momentary sex, and giggle at the skittish blush dispersing on his face, as if he didn't just give you a reason to go home early due to the limp on your step.

after everything, they were buried in the back of your mind. they were great fucks, yes, you never had a moment of horny zenith not until you met them, yes; but your relationship (if you could even call it that) with both men were purely sexual and a one-time thing. you never really thought of them, you prioritize your social life and reputation above all else, not your coster of other rich people you've slept with.

but one day, you see both in the same room as you in another gala. you're oblivious to the sets of eyes hungrily taking you in, or how quickly they shove off other people just to move closer the moment their attention land on you. you take a look at the two men, biting your lips whilst your eyes devour the memory of their muscled pecs squished between your index and middle finger, and their thick thighs pistoning you back and forth, all hidden under all the clothes covering their body; and whisper not-so silently:

"i can take them both, not in a fight."

sadly, you'll never know that they're both at each other's throats after hearing your confession, ready to take each other in a fight if it meant having you in their arms once more. you'll never know just how bruce managed to throw in a microchip in your bag before you're escorted home by his limousine, or how clark watched your sleeping body in your apartment as superman just to make sure you slept well after he pounded you to oblivion in that closet.

all you'll know is that you're going to score them into fucking you once more either way. after all, if they're both the best choices when it comes to pinning you down and going crazy on your body, then you'll do anything to achieve that aching goal with the both of best worlds.

you're unaware that they'd do the same thing for you, though. but it's not out of the intentions to merely sleep with you, no. they're also planning to find a pathway into your heart while at it.

so... welp, guess that's just an added list of all the other suitors you had fighting over the chance of having another night with you.

a/n: gender-neutral reader. no bodily gender mentioned at all. this is purely sexual content with some plot. i blame my irl best friend for this (the single dialogue was me thirsting over the characters through our chats). yes, i post this after posting angst. am i shameless? also yes.

[the-odd-shu]

Hey Hextech, is it gay to cuddle your co-workers?

A continuation of lab shenanigans.

Masterlist

Next part here!

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader

(Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!)

A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

Note; this takes place during season 1, and the reader is gender neutral with they/them pronouns.

CONTAINS VIKTOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!

There's only one couch in the lab.

There are three desks, four chairs, one whiteboard, boxes upon boxes of chalk, and only one couch.

The couch which Jayce is currently taking a cat nap on and taking up all of the room of. The lab lights are dim, and Jayce looks so comfortable, sprawled out on his back, with his boots still on his feet, whilst his legs hand off the end of the furniture because he's just that fucking tall. He has an arm slung over his eyes despite the low light, and he looks stupidly adorable.

Reader is half tempted to turn right back around and try to find somewhere else to take a power nap. They can't be bothered to lock up their desk, and walk all the way across the academy, and then all the way home to tumble into bed. And their desk is a no no, since hey always wake up with a painful crick in their neck and Viktor's knowing grin taunting them for their bad choices.

The couch looks tempting though... and can they really be bothered to go wandering around campus looking for somewhere comfortable to sleep until their meeting later? The answer is no. No they cannot.

Besides, Jayce finished with the council over three hours ago, so he's had plenty of time for undisturbed rest. And clearly, if he didn't want to share, than he would have put his sizeable salary into finding another couch for the lab already.

Decision made, and sleep tugging at their eyelids, they shrug off their jacket, yank off their boots and carefully sit on the very edge of the couch near Jayce's hip. The worn cushion barely gives under their weight it is so old and devoid of stuffing. How Jayce is deeply asleep on the thing and continues to choose to nap on it since it was brought in, they had no idea.

There's enough room for them to gingerly lay down parallel to Jayce's body on their side. They're so tired, they hardly care. Everything aches. And Viktor isn't around to tease them for essentially 'cuddling' Jayce, which they clearly were NOT! Their back was to the man after all, with the cotton of their shirt barely brushing his jacket sleeve.

If they stayed still, he might not even notice. And they could have their nap and slip away without anyone even-

A sharp inhale of breath at their back has their body stiffening like a deer in headlights. Their tired eyes bug wide, and yet they manage to keep from throwing themselves off of the couch and taking the stupid nap on the hard, cold floor instead. Maybe Jayce won't even notice. Maybe they can pretend to be asleep already.

"You're going to fall off that close to the edge."

And oh fuck... Jayce's voice is deep and slurred from sleep.

Their mind screeches to a hault, when the couch shifts violently, and then an arm is winding over their side to drag them backwards. Jayce does not pull them into his chest, but he does give them enough space to be laying on their side comfortably. He's rolled onto his side too, and has shifted back towards the backrest to create more room. He retracts his arm, and his breath evens out.

Reader's mind spins. Jayce is a touchy kind of guy. Always pressing a hand to their shoulder when commenting on a sketch, or leaning up against their back in the kitchen with a quiet apology when reaching for something in an hoverhead cupboard whilst they're waiting for the kettle to boil.

He does it to Viktor too, so Reader know's it is just Jayce being Jayce.

They fall asleep like that, one hand under their cheek, their back to Jayce with a respectful pinkies worth of space between them.

Of course they wake up tangled together. Jayce's arm somehow around Reader, keeping them from rolling off the edge of the couch. Their head is tucked up under his jaw, and his breaths slowly ghost across their ear. It is the most comfortable they've ever been whilst resting on this couch.

Viktor is at his desk, when they decide enough is enough and they REALLY have to get back to work. Jayce audibly grumbles as they untangle themselves, before rolling towards the backrest and putting his back to the rest of the lab.

Viktor scarcely looks up from his work before offering a simply, "ah, you're awake. When you've finished cuddling, mind helping me out with-?"

Viktor falling asleep at his desk.

Reader and Jayce have been quietly arguing over what angle, they should draw of a new project.

Viktor snores when he sleeps. Soft, barely audible puffs of air that are only really noticable when the debate dies down whilst both sides take a moment to breath and gather their thoughts for another round.

The sound draws both sets of eyes to Viktor's desk. Where he has passed out on his notebook, cheek pressed down against the pages, arms limp at his sides, and his cane leaned up against the desk beside him within arms reach.

Wordlessly, both decide to put a metaphorical pin in the argument, whilst Jayce steps away from Reader's desk and begins unbuttoning his waist coat, which has somehow become the unoffical lab blanket. Not only because Jayce is all to happy to lend it to either of his colleagues, but because it is big and warm and everyone secretly loves waistcoat priviledges.

On quiet footsteps, Jayce crosses the room to drape it over the man's shoulders. He doesn't stir, and the other two get back to their playfully fighting just a tad quieter.

Reader not having the keys to get back into the lab, so they sit down beside the doors in the corridor to wait for Viktor or Jayce to come back. Of course, they fall asleep slumped against the wall, and Viktor and Jayce rock up together to find them. Viktor sighs, very put out.

"If anyone saw this, they'd accuse us of abuse." He mutters to himself, rummaging in his pocket for his keys.

Jayce bends down to rouse reader who was having a surprisingly good nap. They refuse to get up and just curl up tighter.

"Come back in ten minutes." They negotiate sleepily.

And Jayce is torn. They look really comfortable, but they'll certainly be feeling sitting on the floor later, so he's reluctant to just leave them there without a cushion at least. Of course, Viktor is quick to prod him along.

"Come on Jayce!" Viktor prompts. "If they're going to be a brat, treat them like a brat."

Which Jayce interprets as scooping Reader up into his arms instead of leaving them out in the hall with the lab door left unlocked.

Of course Reader wakes up immediately. Demanding to be put down, and squirming, Jayce just grins and hauls them inside whilst Viktor shakes his head at their stupid display. Jayce then unceremoniously dumping reader on the couch, and as tradition at this point, shrugs off his jacket to throw at their head.

"We should probably invest in a blanket." Reader grumbles, spreading the jacket over them as best they can before snuggling down.

Viktor deadpans. Somehow, he doesn't think the sentiment will stick for long. Not with his own secret love of waking up wrapped in Jayce's waistcoat, and not with Reader's visible relaxing form under the weight of the jacket, and not with the stupidly soft look Jayce is looking down at them with.

Reader who drags Jayce down by his shirt collar or the lapels of his waistcoat to press a kiss to his forehead.

Reader who exclusively kisses Viktor's moles. As a rule they kiss both of them in farewell after a long day. On under his eye, and the other above the corner of his lip.

Reader who then has to go back to Jayce to bestow him with his second kiss because otherwise he pouts and demands that you play fair.

They're not dating yet...

Lying in Jayce's bed after a rare evening of leaving the lab early. Sitting elbow to elbow up against the pillows, all three of them are reading books, and have changed into their night wear, with Jayce in the middle and Reader and Viktor on either side. Mainly because Jayce tends to roll a lot and will roll OFF the bed if given the chance, and Viktor needs easy access to his cane or brace at all times.

It is Reader who breaks the silence without looking up from their book. "Would you guys still love me if I were a worm?"

They feel two sets of judgemental eyes turn to zero in on them. So they play it cool and neatly turn a page. Their partners exchange confused looks.

"If it were humanly possible," Jayce started slowly, "maybe?"

"Absolutely not." Viktor firmly added.

Reader sets down their book offended. "Maybe?" They parrot back to Jayce, and then turn on Viktor who meets their gaze with a frown. "Flat out no!? Do you two even love me?"

"Of course." Viktor says calmly, "but if you happened to turn into a worm, I would not be best suited to offer you a comfortably, inhabitable environment, what with my long work hours and dangerous research. Therefore, it would be kinder to set your worm-self free, and let us both move on with our lives."

Reader stares back at him in betrayal.

"So you don't love me."

Viktor rolls his eyes at their dramatics.

Jayce tries to soothe them. "Well, look at it this way, it won't happen, so you won't have to worry about it-"

"Jayce, you both work with MAGIC!" Reader points out. "You have somehow turned magic into a power supply. There is a whole rune dictionary, and thousands of untold combinations that might very well turn the right candidate into a worm."

Jayce is at a loss for words.

Viktor sits back against his pillow and returns his attention to his book, "I still stand by my earlier statement."

Reader tsks and returns to their book to. "For the record, I'd build you both mud homes and take you everywhere with me. It wouldn't matter if you looked different, because you'd still be you deep down."

Jayce looks suddenly touched, and Viktor's hard expression softens a little.

"That is, surprisingly sweet, for such a weird conversation." The latter mutters, whilst Jayce leans in to land a firm kiss to Reader's forehead.

BONUS AND SPOILER FOR SEASON 2:

For some reason, Jayce dragged Reader down into the Hexgate basement before the final fight, getting them to help him pull out all the batteries from the core whilst shit goes down on the surface.

And of course, final form Viktor comes to find them in all his robed, mysterious glory.

Jayce and Viktor having a fun little back and forth.

Reader: looking at final form Viktor with wide eyes.

Reader: flushing under his intense golden gaze and ducking their head, fighting tooth and nail to keep from tucking their hair behind their ear like a school girl with a crush.

Final form Viktor: visibly amused, as he always was in the lab whenever he thought they were being stupid.

Jayce with horror in his voice as he follows Viktor's gaze to Reader: "No! Please tell me you're not thinking what I know you're thinking!"

Reader with visible guilt as they throw up both hands and motion to all of Viktor's tall, god-like glory: "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? HE'S HOT, AND HE'S VIKTOR! AND I AM MERELY A MORTAL!"

Jayce: "He is trying to kill us!"

Reader: "So? He looks hot doing it!"

Jayce: "Just focus! Please?!"

Reader: "Then tell him to conceal his itty bitty waist. I cannot focus right now, Jayce!"

Viktor: tilting his head as an unnatural angle with fondness in his voice. "It is refreshing to find that you still find my form appealing, even after such unnatural change."

Jayce just watching on in dismay: ...

Reader turning on him: "I TOLD you I'd still love you both if you turned into worms."

Viktor snorts in the background, whilst Jayce goes through the five stages of grief. He settles on dismay and points his corrupted hammer at Viktor's new form: "THAT is some sort of Eldritch being. THAT is VERY different to a fucking WORM, Y/n!"

Next part here!

[knifearo]

ultimately when it comes to shipping and fandom space treatment of aspec characters i just don't accept "aro/ace people can still date/have sex" as an answer from nonaspecs. like yeah. mhm. okay. now i think we both know that you're not saying that out of real interest in the diversity of aspec experiences. so you can turn in your seventeen-page essay on why and how you plan to examine this character's aspec identity within the context of a romantic or sexual relationship complete with evidence from canon and peer reviews from multiple aspec people within the next week or i'm putting you in the pit from the edgar allen poe story

[amostnobleyandere]

Persephone, Swept Away Into the Deep

Yandere! Wriothesley x GN! Reader

Summary: You’re a florist who catches the eye of the Duke, ruler of the underworld in Fontaine—and as the object of his affection, there’s nothing you can do to avoid your fate.

Warning(s): yandere, toxic behavior, possessive behavior, mention of blood, violence (Wriothesley beats someone up), stalking, obsessive behavior, unjust execution of the law, possessive behavior, corrupt official Wriothesley (?), drugging (needle injection), kidnapping, captivity, implied stalking, non-consensual touching, forced romantic relationship

A/N: I’m not sure if I did a good job at translating the themes ✨ of the hades and Persephone myth (however slight they may be in this particular fanfic) but I tried ;)

—————————

Every happy customer that came out of your shop would inevitably spread your business through tongue—that’s just the way things worked in Fontaine.

Of course, you weren’t complaining. You were running a thriving business and their lively conversations often brought you joy and pride. The little gardener on off of main street, the florist who sells the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen, the flower shop tucked away like a hidden gem, they’d say, fondness in their tone and the echo of good memories in their minds.

You were proud of the lifestyle you had made for yourself and the reputation you had garnered. Your natural green thumb had made your shop quite popular among commoners and socialites alike, as anyone of any class could stroll inside to find something for a person precious to them; whether it was a child, a spouse, a friend, or an infatuation, you had helped mold their stories, crafting and shifting them around petals and bows.

Though some days, you let yourself dream. Of petals and bows, not meant for someone else, but meant for you. Though your business had seen many love stories, its owner had yet to find a love of their own.

On your worst days, you scoffed and thought to yourself about how ironic your life was.

But…some days, your aching romantic heart would have you sighing wistfully as you watched customer after customer buy carefully cultivated blooms to gift to their beloved. They would leave gleefully, only for you to remain in your shop, watching them walk out with a piece of you. A piece that you wanted to give to your own special someone.

Always watching, never experiencing.

And then suddenly, everything you had built was being torn down by the one thing you desired the most.

—————————

On a day that was insultingly ordinary considering the damning events that followed it, you were sitting in your shop, furiously pruning flowers and cutting stems and leaves. You were a little behind in work, so you had kept your shop open later than you usually would.

A festival was going to be thrown at the center of the city, and that meant you were busier than ever. Business was slow at the time, but it always picked up during events, as it was common for people to take advantage of the merry mood and ask out the apple of their eye, or propose, or buy a bouquet just to enjoy life.

And your bouquets were certainly beautiful, as you had heard from the many couples that walked into your shop, fawning over the arrangements and each other. You were sure you would see many lovers come into your shop once the joyous celebrations began.

You sighed, feeling the solitude of the your profession begin to seem depressing. It made you happy knowing your creations would be appreciated, yet, you knew the festival would end up torturing your heart with the same stale loneliness you often felt.

Friends had invited you to come with them to enjoy the festival together, so you weren’t all alone. Ultimately, you had declined.

Business would be booming.

…Plus, it wouldn’t be as special if you couldn’t go with someone special. It would only hurt to go out into the bustling streets and to see all those people holding hands, touching arms, carrying your bouquets, while your side was cold and your hands were empty…

You snipped at a rainbow rose a little too hard, hissing as the tip of the shears nicked your finger. You watched in mild panic and exasperation as the blood began to fill the small cut, feeling a sting form in your finger. Reaching for the medical kit you kept close by, you swiftly treated and bandaged yourself, watching the gauze go from white to a bright red.

Shaking your head, you waved away the pain and your nasty thoughts. You were sure your friends would be fine without you and, more than anything, you needed to be here to sell your flowers. It would be a waste to throw out your beautiful blooms because you let them wither, and soon customers would be grabbing for them…and who knows? Maybe you might meet someone.

Maybe you would even find someone to enjoy the festival with….

You heard the telltale ding of a bell and looked up, peaking out from behind the wall of floral remains you had constructed around yourself.

A man walked into the shop, and the first thing you noticed is that he was handsome. And big. Like, slightly intimidating big. A large, built stature, with broad shoulders and heavy boots on long legs. You pinched yourself, feeling your cheeks slightly heat up. Who were you to get flustered? And by a stranger? Pull it together.

“Hello!” You greeted cheerily, thankfully turning on your usual customer service voice without problem. “How can I help you today?”

“You’re still open?” The man asked, a note of surprise in his voice. The question sounded weirdly familiar for it to be spoken by a stranger, but you chose to ignore it. Plenty of people knew your hours, it wouldn’t be odd for one of them to send a new customer over.

You paused, taking him in. The stranger was tall, dark, and brooding, a person that looked strangely out of place in your little safe haven that was crammed to the brim with mosaics of colorful flora.

However, his eyes were the clearest color you had ever seen. They were like steel in their cool quickness, taking seconds to size you up. You unconsciously shrunk under the pressure of his gaze. Still, you smiled up at him.

“Yes, sir. We’re still open. What can I get for you?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure. I came here because of a recommendation; they say you’re the best in town, with the freshest flowers. I’m guessing you outsource from the country?”

“No, sir. I grow them myself.” You said, still smiling sweetly.

A flash of recognition behind those steel eyes. “Ah. You’re the owner then?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, looking away in thought. “I’d like an all blue bouquet—something with an air of delicacy to it. Nothing too fancy, just something pretty and light.”

That sounded…really romantic. Delicate? Pretty? Those were words people used to describe bouquets with romantic intentions behind them. You had heard them time and time again, as you carefully put together arrangements and your customer fawned over the person it was for, tone sugary sweet. Those words never failed to clog up your chest with a bitter jealously.

A feeling of disappointment filled your chest and your heart sank. Of course, he was already going with someone. It seemed that everyone, except for you, had a date for the festival. Of course. That made sense. Anyone that good looking would most likely have a date—

You smiled, sweeping away the disappointment and putting back on a false merry face. You had just met this man, really. What was there to be sad about? You decided to fill the silence that was quickly making you want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“So you’ve got a date for the festival? I’m sure they’ll love it, since you seem to know what they’ll like. Can I get a name for the order?”

“Wriothesley. And, no. I haven’t got a date.”

Your brain short circuited.

“But you’re so good looking?” You blurted out, the thought in your head coming out of your mouth without warning.

Wriothesley looked momentarily stunned, and you wanted to scream. Of all the times to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy, it had to be now—

“A-Ah!” You stuttered out. “I’m sorry! Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain! I just said what I was thinking, I hope you’re not insulted by it…or uncomfortable….not that I meant to insult you—“

He laughed, the sound startling you. When he looked at you again, he seemed less guarded, his eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at you with interest. Oh, and that smile. Oh wow. That. Wow.

“You know, people are usually too afraid to say stuff like that to my face. Or really, they’re too afraid to say anything to my face. Guess I was just lucky to meet you today, huh?” He grinned and let his voice drop as he spoke. The glint in his eyes turned bright, like a dancing flame. He leaned into your space, letting one arm rest on the counter.

You felt the smooth words roll down your back and over your skin, excitement or fear (or maybe a mix of both) running up your spine and through the rest of your body.

You laughed, trying to play off his words as if they were meant to be friendly. (At least, you thought they were meant to be friendly.) Maybe the naturally deep tone of his voice and his intimidating aura made your brain misinterpret harmless words as…predatory.

You grinned. “Well, I don’t know about luck, but everyone deserves a compliment every once in a while, right?”

He leaned back, that dangerous glint disappearing into his eyes as if it was never there. He crossed his arms, looking smug.

“Right.”

Silence filled the air again, and your curiosity got the best of you quickly.

“Goodness, I’m sorry but who is this for then?”

He chuckled and you were immediately relieved that he wasn’t annoyed with you. People didn’t like it when others pried into their business. The thought of Wriothesley with his leather boots, pretty face, and icy eyes glaring at you with disdain nearly sent you into shock.

“It’s for…a co-worker, you could say.” He continued. “She does a lot for me and I thought it might be nice to get her a gift to show my appreciation. Everyone’s in a good mood with the festival coming around, so I might as well, you know?” He smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, though. No romantic feelings involved.”

You nodded, a weird feeling of relief filling your chest after finding out that a man you didn’t know and that you probably would never see again did not have a date for the festival.

Maybe you were just glad to know that you wouldn’t be the only person going without a partner.

You began to gather sample flowers, spreading them out between you fingers and taking comfort in the familiar weight of them in your hands.

“Not disappointed at all.” I’m also single, you thought, but thankfully didn’t say out loud. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to lovebirds walking into my shop, I was surprised you weren’t one of them.”

“Because of my face?” He asked, amusement seeping into his tone. You wanted to smack that smile right off of his smug, beautiful face. Of course, you wouldn’t, because that would be a crime to everyone else who had eyes. You couldn’t mess up that piece of art.

You nodded, your face burning. “Because of your face.” You confirmed.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He said.

You thrusted the sample flowers out in front of you, mortified that he was making your already embarrassing situation worse with teasing.

“Pick out the ones you like.” You said, your face practically on fire.

He did, without further comment at that, but a smirk pulled at his lips the entire time. He looked at you, with that grin molded onto his perfect lips, more than he did the flowers in your hands.

He refrained from torturing you with teasing remarks for the rest of the conversation, and when you told him it would be ready for pick up in a few hours, he gently placed a bag of mora on the counter.

Only when he was walking out the door did you realize how much mora he had given you.

Your eyes bulged as you peeked into the bag, nearly fainting at the amount. Who carries this much on them?! What if he had gotten robbed?! Well, he would probably never get robbed looking like…that, but still.

“Hey!! Wait—Sir!! You gave me way too much!”

He waved as he closed the door behind him, the bell ringing cheerily as he ignored you protests without even turning around.

You stood gaping behind the counter. You turned to the bag, determinedly picking out the correct amount and putting the rest away so that you could throw it at him when he came back. Not his face, though. Never his face.

A few hours later, he came back, his face neutral and undisturbed, like nothing in the world could move him to react.

He saw you, and his expression twitched and changed, looking just as smug as when he left.

You wordlessly pushed his bouquet, which you had worked extra hard on out of spite, not because you wanted him to like it or anything, towards him. Again, without saying anything, you pushed the bag of mora back towards him.

He quirked an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut, also determined to win the quiet challenge that you had started. He (rather cheekily) slid the bag back towards you, a smile fighting to pull onto his face.

You, more forcefully this time, slid the bag back towards him, face betraying no emotion.

Eyes sparking with amusement, he held out his hand.

Oh my Archons. You thought. What does that mean? He doesn’t want to….does he? You hesitatingly raised your hand in response, suspicious of the man in front of you. He gently slid his hand under yours, making your heart pound in your rib cage. His gloves covered most of his hand, but the skin that did touch you was startlingly cold. Your skin downright tingled where his touched yours.

Whether it was from the temperature or just him, you didn’t know.

He placed the bag of mora in your hands, a graceless plop and a cheerily jingle sounding through the quiet room.

Okay. You take it back. This mora was going directly at his face.

“This mora is going right at your face.”

“What?”

“What?” You parroted. Inside, you were crying. The first time you’ve ever threatened a customer and it’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep and long and archons even his laugh sounded angelic.

“I could’ve sworn you just—“

“I didn’t.” You cut him off, panicking. You pushed the bouquet towards him, hiding behind it. “Enjoy your day. Thank you for your purchase. Have fun at the festival.”

“…Thanks.” He said, still amused, but following your lead and taking the flowers from your waiting hands. For a moment, maybe on purpose, his hands brushed yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up and down your arms, making your heart beat faster….Must have been the cold from his skin, sending you into shock or something.

He left the shop (without the bag of mora) and you wistfully thought that you would never see that beautiful face again, kicking yourself for not asking him out. You were both single, right? Right??

Ultimately, you went home with the same familiar wistful feeling that soon turned to giddiness at having almost held hands with such a handsome man—his personality was odd but that could be overlooked.

Overall, it was a good day.

——————————

Except he was there the next day.

And the next.

….And the next.

Everyday he would order a bouquet of a different color. Once he ran out of colors, he began grilling you on what kinds of flower combinations you liked best. You would tell him, practically shaking while trying to prevent yourself from imploding, and that’s what he would order. He spent an enormous amount of money at your shop as the ridiculous mora bag battles continued (you were going to throw it at his face, you really were. You just needed to muster up the courage).

He would take the flowers home, and you would be left with a burning face and a quivering heart.

Then one day he asked you if you would like to go out. With him. Together. And you said yes, tying a bow around his order with trembling hands as a strangling giddiness filled up your entire chest.

So, you went to the festival with him right after work.

For the first time in weeks you were closing the shop and stepping out into the fresh air during the middle of the day.

You had an amazing time.

You found out that Wriothesley was extremely funny, and that his dry, sarcastic wit could have you doubling over and laughing in seconds. You found out that he liked tea like, a lot. Like a concerning amount. You found out that the co-worker he gave the first of many bouquets to is a melusine and a nurse. You found out that he talked to the Chief Justice regularly and somehow knew a lot of important people.

You explained to Wriothesley that you actually did have a life outside of flowers. You told him about your friends, your hobbies, and whatever else you could think of in the moment, feeling comfortable with him after just a few hours together.

He bought you food, somehow correctly guessing your tastes at every stall you visited. When you protested and offered to buy him something in return, he merely shook his head with a smile and said you could buy him lunch another day.

You walked together through the streets under golden lights, eating delicious food and buying trinkets. At the end of the night, you tentatively inched your hand toward his, and he interlaced your fingers together, holding your warm palm against his cold one tightly.

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, thinking that absolutely nothing could change the way you were feeling.

Everything was going great until you got back to your shop, laughing and chatting idly with the man beside you.

Your heart stopped as you realized that something was wrong, and your hand left Wriothesley’s for the first time that night as you ran towards the open door.

The entire place had been ransacked. The money in the cash register was gone. Your precious flowers—countless blooms that you had taken the time to grow and cut had either been stolen or trampled on. One window had been smashed in with a brick. You lifted up your foot, feeling the shattered glass break into smaller shards under the pressure—Archons, it was everywhere. Luckily, the small vault you keep most of your savings in was still closed but dented in multiple places and on its side.

You nearly collapsed on the floor right then and there. It was only Wriothesley, who caught you as you were falling to the ground, that kept you from completely breaking down. You were mourning. All of your flowers. All of your hard work, ripped from your hands, without so much as a warning.

You felt rage and misery burn in your chest, resulting in hot tears running down your face as you pathetically picked up the ruined flowers scattered across the shop floor. Next to you, shadow cast Wriothesley’s face in darkness, hiding his expression from view. You heard him assure you that he would take care of it, that he would fix all of this for you, as he told you not to worry in that perpetually assertive tone of his. Your muddled and distressed mind immediately clung onto it like a life line, desperate for something to ground you.

Wriothesley would take care of it, you told yourself. If not him, then who would help you?

—————————

You found out soon after that the man who had robbed you was a rival store owner whose business had gone under ever since you had moved in. His storefront was situated on one of the more populated streets, streets that saw more foot traffic and that attracted customers of a higher class. Still, he had been losing to you, a small shop on some nowhere street, for months. In the end, arrogance and jealousy had driven him to attempt destroying your business.

Whether it be from fear and intimidation, or hopelessness from losing all the money you had made in the past couple months, he had hoped that you would chose to pack up and leave after he ruined the inside of your shop.

Fortunately, he was not a master criminal. A few shop owners on your street had seen his face and identified him to the guards. According to rumors you had heard from friends, he fought the guards during his arrest, shouting that he was not some lowly commoner to be pushed around. The guards and some mysteriously clothed people flooded around him, dragging him to the court house and sentencing him within the hour. He was allowed to go back to his shop, as his home was above it, but was put on house arrest for the time being and had guards stationed outside of every window to await further punishment.

It had happened so…quickly.

Wriothesley, during all of this, was very supportive.

—————————

It all came crashing down on the last night of the festival, a week after you had been robbed.

You were in the process of walking home before you realized that you had left your keys in your bag.

…Which was at the shop.

…That you would have to go back to.

Groaning, you made yourself turn around and trek back towards the storefront so that you could actually get into your house.

As you walked down the main strip of stalls and shops, you realized with a bitter heart that you would have to pass the shop of the man who made your life hell to get there and back quickly. You were glad that he had been caught and sentenced swiftly, but you were still incredibly angry about the damage that had been done to your business. The mental and emotional wounds left from the shock of seeing everything you had worked for destroyed were still fresh.

You fastened your pace as the night lamps began to turn on, the sky quickly turning dark as they became your only source of light. You knew the city was mostly a safe place to live, but that didn’t mean crime never happened, and it would be just your luck for you to get robbed a second time.

Then there was shouting.

You slowed your pace as you heard a voice echo off the tall buildings, only amplifying the panicked screams.

Uh oh. Had you walked right into a crime scene?

You looked around you, noticing that there were no guards in sight. Hopefully they had noticed the trouble and were taking care of it.

You sighed. You really needed to get into your house, as you weren’t too keen on sleeping on a bench for the night. Cursing whatever being had brought this upon you, you continued forward, walking in the shadows and hoping to avoid whatever drama was happening near the home of the man who had robbed you.

You turned a corner, freezing as you took in the sight of a group of men huddled together, seemingly trying to apprehend someone—

Wait. Was that—

You recognized that figure—those boots—that coat…

What was your boyfriend doing here in the middle of the night?

Swiftly, you moved back out of the light, eyes trained on the man you could now clearly recognize. You watched as Wriothesley raised his fist, his knuckles connecting harshly with someone’s jaw. You startled at the harsh noise of skin splitting skin.

You felt yourself flinch as blood splattered across the pavement. For a moment, you were grateful for the imposing figures blocking your view of the violent scene.

The victim was splayed across the stone due to the force of the blow, thrown right into the circle of people that had formed around him, pathetically whimpering as he tried to pick himself up.

You watched as he was dragged away, looking genuinely terrified, screaming bloodcurdling words as he went mad with fear. His pleas fell on deaf ears as those around him stood still, Wriothesley silently watching as he was picked up and thrown into the back of a carriage. The door squealed as he yelled that he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to go to the Fortress of Meropide, please—doors slamming shut, cutting off his final sentence as the men and the carriage disappeared into the night.

Wriothesley stood under a street light, a short distance away from where you hid in the shadows. His body was tense, his back drawn tight as he gazed at the retreating carriage, with the man he had assaulted and doomed to a life in prison lying within.

You stumbled back, you feet scuffling against the pavement. The noise sounded like an explosion in the dead quiet of the street.

His entire body stilled. He turned around, almost in slow motion, his eyes widening in horror as your gazes met.

You spun on your heel and ran, heart pounding in your chest. Heavy footfalls followed you, leather hitting stone with threatening thumps that seemed to get closer to you with every passing second.

You got to your shop, flinging open the door and rushing to the back of the building, heading towards the closet where you kept all of your supplies. Hearing the bell above your door chime mockingly, signaling that Wriothesley was in your shop oh Archons, you slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

For some reason, you could have never imagined him being so violent. You were shocked and terrified, seeing your new boyfriend, who you had only ever thought of as safe, as anything but. Now you knew. He was dangerous. You were so stupid for trusting a complete stranger—

You heard him run towards your hiding place, calling out to you as the heavy foot falls slowed to a stop.

“Y/N.” He said, voice calm and level, betraying no emotion at all. It was like he was discussing the weather and hadn’t just chased you down the street.

Your breathe hitched in your throat. Somewhere, in your frayed mind, you hoped, prayed he would just go if you were quiet enough—

“I never meant for you to see that. I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

The doorknob began to turn. It stopped, hitting the lock.

You heard rustling and then a faint jangle as Wriothesley stepped away from the door.

You had left your keys in your bag.

The bag was on the counter, the keys were in your bag—

….He knew where you kept your keys?

You had never told him that.

The door knob began to turn. You grabbed onto the it with a white-knuckled grip, stopping it from the inside.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, beating rapidly as you desperately held onto the cool metal.

“Leave me alone!” Please was left unsaid. You shouted the words, terror making you shake and tremble.

Wriothesley fell silent. You heard him lean his weight against the door, his movements causing it to creak.

The doorknob stopped turning.

You prayed that he wouldn’t try to force it, or worse, break the door down. You didn’t know if it would hold, or if you could hold on, considering how strong he was.

You imagined his hulking figure standing outside, only a few mere inches of wood separating you, towering over you from your spot on the floor.

You were practically paralyzed with fear, and didn’t know what you would do if he actually managed to get in and get his hands on you—

“Damn it, I ruined it all, didn’t I?” Wriothesley murmured.

You jumped, not expecting the despairing admission amidst your racing thoughts that were trying to pinpoint where you had went wrong in life.

His usually playful voice was monotone, eerily flat for the self deprecating words he spoke.

You didn’t deign him with a response. You merely listened to the quiet that followed, feeling more scared than you would have been if he had been raging and banging on the door. There was something about the silence; something about it felt foreboding, like a threat was creeping up behind you and you couldn’t hear it no matter how hard you tried.

You heard him turn away a few minutes later, heavy footfalls walking towards the door, and finally the bell signaling his departure.

For a few minutes, you sat there and waited.

Eventually, you opened the closet just a sliver, looking out into the dim lighting with flickering eyes, checking every possible corner that he could be hiding in. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in here.

You slid out of the closet and almost immediately ducked behind the counter, still shaking from the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Shakily, you peeked out from behind the counter, checking for any sign of him outside. When you found the street to be devoid of him, you silently gasped in relief.

You ripped your keys out of the door with rushed hands.

You went home alone, without Wriothesley, who had taken it upon himself to personally walk you there almost every night of the week. A part of it felt strange to deviate from the routine, but you needed no reminder to know that the man you had trusted and spent time with all week was now a dangerous threat. You ran to the door of your home, opening it hurriedly and slamming it shut.

You tossed and turned as you slept that night, a doomed feeling settling in your churning stomach.

—————————

The next day, you took measures to start rebuilding. Perhaps you were just frantic to get back to some sense of normalcy after having the rug ripped out from under you the other night—or maybe you were desperate to have something to keep your mind off of the buzzing anxiety that was constantly gnawing at the back of your mind.

The man who broke in had already been put on trial and sentenced to an undetermined amount of time in the Fortress of Meropide, and had also been forced to cough up more than enough mora to cover the damages.

This, oddly enough, had all been told to you by a third party, someone hired by the court to watch over legal proceedings.

Someone was pulling the strings behind the case, and you didn’t want to think about who it was, just in case the pieces started falling together. (Deep down, you already knew.)

When you had heard he was being sent to the Fortress, you felt something in your gut twist unpleasantly, a kind of stone-like anxiety that weighed and sunk a permanent pit in your stomach. People who went there didn’t usually come back, or if they did, they weren’t the same. They weren’t viewed the same, either. What would happen to him once he came back? If he came back?

You shivered as the memory of him being dragged away resurfaced.

You sighed as you swept up errant pieces of class, determined to discard of every shard before you allowed any more precious customers or flowers to come through the door. The window had already been replaced, as a very nervous man had knocked on your door a few days after the…incident with Wriothesley, and claimed that he had been sent to repair it. You hadn’t even talked to anyone about fixing the window. A sinking feeling appeared in your chest as you watched the jumpy man chip away at glass and wood, his movements tense and swift. When you went to close the shop, you checked if you had locked the door three separate times before rushing home, practically running through the stone streets, running from absolutely nothing at all.

There was no sign of Wriothesley during the months it took your shop to recover. You were glad that he had taken what you had said to him in your moment of fear seriously. Still, you feared that he would show up on some random day, at some random time, and catch you off guard. That you would be reminded of the violence that seemed to follow him like a shadow, leaving trails of devastation in his wake.

Everyday you went home glancing over your shoulder while walking briskly down the street, always making sure to make it home before dark.

—————————

You unlocked the door to your home, hurriedly glancing behind you as you shoved the keys into the lock, pushing the door in quickly as it gave way. You closed and locked the door behind you, allowing yourself to relax minutely against the cool frame.

“Back so soon? I noticed you’ve been closing earlier nowadays. What’s that about?”

You froze, an ice cold fear creeping through your veins.

There, sitting in the dark of your unlit living room, was the man you had been simultaneously avoiding and thinking about constantly for months.

You could make out the silhouette of his hulking figure, leaning back into your favorite chair with his fingers laced together and knees spread apart, relaxed and causal. His eyes, which always held a mildly scrutinizing gaze, had turned razor sharp—they hadn’t moved from you since the moment you had stepped into the room. You were a pinned butterfly under that look, being dissected and picked apart by glacial, stormy irises.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice coming out a little more shakily than intended. You tried not to hyperventilate. You really tried, but you could already feel your chest tightening, like just being in his presence was suffocating—

He stood up. Rooted in place, you didn’t dare move. If you tried to run, you knew he would catch you.

He moved towards you slowly, like he knew just as well as you did that you couldn’t escape.

He stopped a foot away from you, his height easily trumping yours, his figure casting a large, beastly shadow in the dim lighting.

You tilted your head back to look him in the eye. Even now, those icy eyes were beautiful. You thought it was unfair. Now that you knew what he was, what he was capable of, you thought, his eyes should come as warning. They were the eyes of a predator. And yet, still cold and steely, clear like cryo vision that hung from his hip, which you had never even seen until now.

Still beautiful, reminding you of clear water and arctic oceans and quiet. It was so quiet.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you dared to break the careful silence.

He reached up, curled fingers gently caressing your cheek, dragging down along the side of your neck, as if a simple touch with too much force behind it would shatter you.

His eyes flickered to the place where your shirt had lifted to expose your collarbone, coat hanging off your shoulders and pulling the fabric down.

He ran his fingers over the exposed skin, making you shiver as you felt rough, calloused pads run across you gingerly, lightly. A delicate touch from a hardened man. He looked back at you, his eyes soft. Intense. Adoring. He had moved closer in the last few seconds, you remarked. You only noticed because you had to crane your head up more to look at him. His chest touched yours. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over your forehead. His hand had moved. One had settled on your waist, holding and trapping you close to him.

You felt a prick in the side of your neck, vision going black as you collapsed into his arms.

—————————

The next time you woke up, you weren’t in your house anymore. There was gauzy, heavy fabric hanging above you. You had been placed in a canopy bed in a room that was expensively furnished, and yet somehow untouched. You were in a bed, which was in a prison, at the bottom of the ocean.

Wriothesley walked in only an hour after you woke. You had a feeling he had been routinely checking to see if you were awake.

He looked down at you, his eyes painfully tender in a way that you regretted not noticing before. There was a fondness, a suffocating fondness, which told you that all those things he now whispered to you at night—how he wanted to protect you, how he had longed to have you for so long, how he had been watching you from afar with his heart in his hands, just waiting for the right moment to give it to you—

His eyes told you that they were all true.

Somehow, you couldn’t hate him.

Wriothesley had been living as a lonely prisoner in his own kingdom—his underwater kingdom that he ruled, because he thrived on the depths of the cold, dark ocean and its inhabitants that yielded to his power.

And yet the king of the underworld yearned for just a little bit of life. Life that you were familiar with—life that you thrived off of, and that thrived in return under your guidance. Life that you loved.

Life that had attracted you to him.

You didn’t know if anyone still talked about you on the surface; if they talked about your existence, or more so your disappearance, in hushed whispers with shifty eyes. No one talked about you down here—no one knew you existed, except for the head nurse and your husband.

You had been stolen away, under the ocean, that little shop off main street missing its owner forevermore.

You, who had always been surrounded by the life of the surface, had been transported to the underworld, a land of misery and lost souls, away from all life, surrounded and trapped by the love you once longed for—and mourning the life you once had.

—————————

Reader: *lets go of Wriothesley’s hand bc they got robbed*

Wriothesley: oh this jerk is gonna pay *sends the guy who robbed you to the bottom of the sea*

he’s been waiting to hold that hand for so long )):< wtf dude

[dc-x-reader-stuff]

HusbandJason Todd x Reader head cannons please !!!

Husband! Jason Todd Hc’s

Jason Todd x Gn!Reader

My first time writing Jason stuff, AaAa - I hope it’s accurate to a good point. Like I said before I’m partial to Wayne Family Adventures Jason and a mix between him and the other versions of Jason’s I’ve seen on this app so I hope it’s acceptable- TvT

I’ve seen a lot of people be a stickler about the accuracy of Jason and have gotten genuinely angry if he was too nice or too angry or whatever so it’s all ahdjfnfjfn-

Anyways I hope you enjoy though- :DD

——————————————————————

The wedding the both of you have was small. Well, small-ish - there was a lot of people he wanted to invite, surprisingly, ranging from some close friends, to allies in the vigilante world, to his family. There were a lot of vigilante’s in their civilian forms at your guy’s wedding. Your side of the family was really surprised The Bruce Wayne and The Clark Kent was there without any paparazzi whatsoever.

(You and Jason were very careful about that. So was Bruce, especially for all the hell Jason went through when he was younger. They may be on better terms now, but he still felt he had a lot to make up for. Jason is completely fine with that - to a point, of course.)

The honeymoon? Nice and calm vacation to a small town near Smallville. Jason and you wanted a getaway for just eachother, without any stresses of vigilante stuff, or villains to inevitably interrupt that.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, his siblings were also keeping a very strict routine of ‘DO NOT CONTACT JASON OR Y/N UNLESS IF IT IS A DIRE, DIRE EMERGENCY’

Trust me, if it was two dires you both would’ve had to come home.

Luckily that didn’t happen.

Now, married life back in the city was a whole other thing to get used to.

You two have already lived together for the past couple years beforehand. You two have already dealt with your fair share of strains in the relationship, and still do to some degree. But luckily over the years before marriage you guys found a way to deal with that in a healthy way.

You prioritize healthy coping skills. So does Jason.

Even your respective therapists do. (Harley Quinn helped you both find ones qualified for your respective traumas. Very hard task, but Harley has a bit of a soft spot for Red Hood both in and out of the mask. She’s pretty chill with you too.)

Jason has his bouts of anger. Never, ever takes it out on you though, ever. Hell no. You guys have a punching bag for that. Sometimes you both use it together if you guys are venting about your day! Very cathartic and nice to bond with.

He teaches you how to fight. Just in case. You hate using weapons but he helps you get more comfortable, and you guys go over plans in case of break-ins, kidnappings, ect.

Especially if someone decides to burgle your cat.

You guys have a black cat you guys found in an alleyway a year into dating. He is your guy’s son that you decided to name Robin. Jason didn’t like the name at first, especially since you not-so-subtly alluded it to be reminiscent of his Robin days, but over time it stuck.

Robin is a nice and very sweet kitty. No one messes with Robin and you have thrown hands after someone broke into your apartment once to steal him. That was also during the time you moved in with Jason, he freaked out when you called him after the break in. Thoroughly impressed you managed to beat up the intruder but he cares about your’s and your cat’s safety - you moved in not long afterwards.

Reading and drawing dates - you guys, even into your marriage, go on small dates like these that don’t require too much thought or money. Sometimes you go to the park, or if it’s raining to your guy’s favorite café, with your favorite books (and sketchbook no. 173637294 for you specifically), and just enjoy your times together.

You guys do it at home too, but it’s fun to dress up and get out of the apartment for those kinds of dates.

Your home, despite all the weapons he has hidden around or on ‘decorative’ display, is quite cozy too!! It’s your safe space and you want it to exude that energy all throughout. Jason likes figuring out where decorations and furniture should go with you, it’s his favorite thing that gives him a sense of normalcy with you.

Also the banter between you two is fun. Smartass after smartass remark leaves you in stitches with laughter. Especially if it’s late at night and you both are loopy from lack of sleep. (Jason has more practice with that but it still effects him to some degree.)

At this point being married, you’re used to his nightly activities too. Sometimes you stay up and make him his favorite food to the best of your ability (you aren’t too good at cooking, but you’re learning for the both of you, same as him). Other times you just order takeout and eat with him.

Sometimes you help with his injuries, other times you don’t. If they’re small and benign he’s able to do them himself, bigger ones have you worried and helping him.

You always make sure he has an icepack ready for bruises. He’s taught you how to stitch wounds up to, given the fact that you don’t have as much medical experience as him.

Also after his nightly escapades as Red Hood, you guys sit and have tea too!! Calms him down enough to sleep, even if some nights are harder than others.

He’s gotten better at coping with his PTSD, but as per the usual he does have his nightmares at times. You being there right next to him helps. And you help ground him back into reality. Be it cuddles, if he’s comfortable with them, or be it just sitting there next to him and talking to him about whatever’s on your mind until he’s laying back down to listen to you.

You guys switch between who’s big and little spoon.

Robin is always near you guys in some way during bedtime. One time you woke up to cat fur in between your’s and Jason’s heads before. Robin doesn’t understand personal space at all but you guy’s love it all the same.

Speaking of which, he’s a natural born shoulder kitty! He will jump on your shoulders when the offer is available. Sometimes he scares the crap out of the both of you though whenever he’s being frisky, though. But normally Robin’s smart enough to do it when you two are aware that he’s there. He learns.

On your harder days, Jason makes you breakfast and makes you tea just like you do for him. He always asks you what you need, what you’re comfortable with. Some days it’s cuddling, other times when you don’t want to be touched you just tell him you want him near only. He knows that’s when he can just sit beside you on either the couch, table, barstools or bed and just read while you listen and watch your guy’s favorite shows.

You guys also have nights where you guys have watch parties too.

Sometimes his siblings join in too, bringing food from Alfred as well. It’s fun, and annoying for Jason at times, but still great nonetheless.

You guys visit the manor when needed, or during holidays too. Hanukkah, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, certain Galas, birthday parties, ect.

Sometimes you guys both just visit to mess with his siblings and Bruce. Cause some chaos a bit, that sort of thing. It’s fun.

Also you guys have gossip dates.

Be it about vigilante drama, co-worker drama, customer drama, family drama, villain drama, you guys will gossip and when those dates are at home Robin the cat will put his two cents in as well. He’s as vocal as he is sweet. Which is very.

And sometimes you record when Jason and Robin have conversations. Neither of you guys can understand the cat’s meows but it’s so fun interpreting it and seeing your husband have a full on conversation with the cat. You send it to the group chat you’re in with all the siblings and he never hears the end of it for the next few patrols. Sometimes Dick and Tim and Duke want to know what the tea is between Jason and the cat and he always says “That’s between me, my spouse and my cat, not you three.”

You inevitably tell them anyways, as well as Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Also Damian loves Robin that cat. He requests play dates between his pets and yours. You always cave for the kid, much to Jason’s dismay. But then again, he caves for him too. He always does.

Speaking of kids, I don’t think you guys will necessarily have one for a long, long while.

You guys agreed that you have to be absolutely sure and ready. Financially, mentally, emotionally, physically, mentally. Kids are a big responsibility and neither of you want your kids to ever grow up in an unsafe and unstable environment.

When you guys are ready though, which won’t be for a long while, I’m sure you guys will pull a Bruce and adopt or foster kids. Teenagers first, along with their siblings if they have any. You’d never separate them from their siblings - hell, the both of you, along with some help from his family and friends, would track siblings down if needed.

Like I said though, that won’t be for a long while.

You two are perfectly content in your save haven apartment with your lovely black cat Robin.

Besides, if you guys had kids early, Robin would be jealous and attention starved.

Neither of you would want that.

[opultea]

Babe, Look at Me!

Things the Genshin men do to try and impress you. ft. Alhaitham, Lyney, Morax (Zhongli), Itto

Fluff - Romantic - SFW - GN Reader (No Pronouns) - Headcanons

Word Count: 0.8k

Alhaitham

So here’s the thing

Alhaitham ain’t a man to show off

He literally doesn’t care about what anyone thinks of him

Expect for a special someone (¬‿¬)

(That’s you boo)

Alhaitham still doesn’t show off in the classic way. Definitely doesn’t go out of his way to make you view him doing certain things

But if the opportunity presents itself naturally… then why not take it?

I’m talking lifting up the hem off his shirt to wipe sweat off his brow when he’s working out with/near you, changing shirts just a little bit slower than he usually would if you’re around, putting a bit more effort in winning a debate he’s in with another scholar when you’re with him, flexing his bicep when you hold his arm

It’s the little things

But boy do they work

Sports a smug little smile when he sees you affected by him

If you get flustered and smack his chest to tell him to stop, he'll just give you a slight smile and tell you he has no idea what you're talking about

Lyney

As if this guy won't spend ages perfecting that trick where he pulls a bouquet from nowhere so he can gradually pull out bigger and bigger bouquets to give you

He already practices his tricks almost constantly, dead set on perfecting every little thing

But with you on his mind?

That spark to do his best grows into a fervent flame like no other

Lynette doesn't complain about his childish wish to impress you as long as it's improving his performance (and making him happier), but she definitely rolls her eyes at him when she overhears him practising his line delivery for when he gifts you the rainbow roses he bought earlier

He personally invites you to every one of his shows, and though he understands if you can't make it every time, he smiles so wide when you say yes that you're tempted to push aside all your other commitments anyway

After the show, he'll pull you aside and ask what you thought, all while trying to appear as if he isn't nervously awaiting your approval

Morax

I’ve specified Morax here because this is based in the universe of my Zhongli x Cloud God Reader head cannon (from my Where’s My Kiss? drabbles)

Look, he’s a young, proud, powerful god with his eye on the lovely cloud god that he sees roaming above sometimes, and he can’t help but try to do certain things hoping you’ll be watching from your domain

Morax in his dragon form taking more causal flights around Liyue than he used to, certainly not because he knows you can see his magnificent true form from your palace in the heavens when he flies past

Although he doesn’t often involve himself in battle unless necessary, he’s found himself allowing the yaksha to spar with him with the excuse that he believes it will test their limits (and definitely not because he wants you to see how powerful he is)

You agreed to help him train the yaksha, and as you stand at the side of the small battleground Morax locks eyes with you as he does his finishing move in a 'cool guys don't look at explosions' way

Definitely smirks a little when he sees how it affects you

Itto

Actually says the phrase 'Babe, look at me!' all the time

Literally will do anything and then turn to you to receive his head pat and praise

Loves to flex (both literally and figuratively)

Takes extra special care of his horns and hair the night before he's going to see you just to fish for extra compliments

If you don't immediately acknowledge the extra care he took and the extra shine on his horns, he'll clear his throat and place his hand on his head to make you look up at his horns

If you still don't compliment him or act impressed (which you've definitely done just to tease him) he'll get sooo pouty, poor baby :((

But of course, you always act so impressed in the end, often turning it up to eleven jokingly

Itto will take any and all compliments seriously though, no matter how dramatic you're acting with them

"Thanks babe, knew you'd notice."

He acts cool by sweeping back his flowing mane as if he wasn't hunched over pouting two seconds ago

"My horn's are just too cool sometimes, you know? Feels like I gotta reign in my own awesomeness sometimes, otherwise everyone will be all up on me and you'll get lost in the crowd of admirers! And we can't have that, huh? You're the numero uno cheerleader for this numero uno leader!"

[aventurineswife]

can i request argenti, aventurine, and boothill with a gender neutral reader who has long hair but struggles to style it? i swear doing anything beyond a ponytail is so complicated 😭 also your writing style is absolutely amazing !!!

Tangled in Your Hands

Tags: Argenti x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, Fluff, Established Relationship (Can be read Platonically), Domestic Moments, Hair Styling.

A/N: I have medium hair but I definitely get the struggle, it's painful 💀💔, also thank you!!! <33 i literally write these fics during night-time while I'm half asleep so I mostly write the characters a bit incorrecly or make them ooc💀

The sound of birdsong filtered through the open window of your modest cottage, but you barely noticed as you sat at the kitchen table, your head resting in your hands. Before you lay an array of hairbrushes, combs, and pins—all useless in the face of your long, unruly hair.

“Is something troubling you, my radiant muse?” Argenti’s voice, warm and musical, broke through your sulk.

You looked up to see him standing in the doorway, his red hair glowing like fire in the morning light. Clad in his knightly attire, he looked every bit the picture of chivalry and grace.

“My hair,” you admitted with a sigh, gesturing to the mess on your head. “I just can’t seem to make it look… decent.”

Argenti approached, his expression softening with understanding. “Your hair is as beautiful as the rest of you,” he said sincerely, “but if you wish for assistance, I would be honored to oblige.”

“You know how to style hair?” you asked, surprised.

“I have braided the manes of warhorses and woven laurels for festival days,” he said with a small smile. “I assure you, your hair is no greater challenge.”

He pulled a chair beside yours and reached for a brush. His hands were strong but careful as he worked through the tangles, murmuring quiet reassurances whenever you winced. Despite his self-proclaimed inexperience, his touch was steady and deliberate, each motion infused with patience and care.

“I find this task quite fulfilling,” he remarked after a while. “It is not often that I have the privilege of tending to something so delicate.”

When he finished, you turned to look in the mirror. Your hair was now styled in an intricate crown braid, adorned with a few wildflowers he had picked from the garden. It was charming and whimsical, perfectly reflecting your personality.

“It’s beautiful...” you whispered, touched by the effort he had put in.

“As are you.” Argenti replied, his voice filled with warmth.

You sat on the plush ottoman in your shared apartment, fingers tangled in your long hair as frustration simmered beneath your skin. The golden-framed mirror before you reflected the mess of locks that refused to cooperate, no matter how many attempts you made to tame them.

“Honestly, how do people make this look easy?” you muttered, glaring at your reflection.

Aventurine, lounging nearby in his signature attire, had been watching you with an amused glint in his eyes. He adjusted the rims of his glasses before setting aside the deck of cards he had been casually shuffling.

“Well, darling,” he said, standing and approaching you with a charming smile, “you’re not just people, are you? Perfection takes a bit more effort.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you offering to help, or are you just here to commentate?”

He chuckled and crouched beside you, his hand brushing against your wrist as he gently took the brush from your hand. “Let’s make a wager,” he suggested, his voice light and playful. “If I can style your hair into something breathtaking, you owe me a favor. If I fail, I’ll owe you one instead.”

“And what counts as ‘breathtaking’?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“You’ll know it when you see it,” he replied with a wink.

Before you could protest, he was already at work, fingers deftly moving through your hair. The rhythm of his motions was soothing, each stroke of the brush accompanied by his soft hums. Occasionally, he’d pause to tilt his head, observing his progress as though you were a masterpiece he was crafting.

“Where did you learn to do this?” you asked, curiosity piqued by his apparent skill.

“Oh, here and there,” he replied nonchalantly. “One picks up a few tricks in my line of work. Charm and presentation, my dear, are invaluable assets.”

Minutes passed, and you felt your initial frustration melt away, replaced by a sense of calm. Aventurine’s focus was unwavering, his usual flamboyant energy tempered by a surprising gentleness.

“There.” he announced finally, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

You turned to face the mirror and gasped. He had woven your hair into an elegant braid that cascaded over your shoulder, adorned with delicate twists and loops that framed your face beautifully. It was simple yet sophisticated, a style you had never managed to achieve on your own.

“It’s… perfect.” you said, genuinely awestruck.

“Breathtaking, you mean,” he corrected, his grin widening. “Now, about that favor—”

You laughed, reaching out to pull him into a hug. “Fine, you win. But don’t push your luck, mister.”

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” he replied smugly, though his arms wrapped around you in return.

“Damn it...!” you muttered, wrestling with a stubborn knot in your hair.

Boothill leaned against the doorway of your shared abode, his arms crossed as he watched you struggle. “Need a hand there, sugar?”

You glanced at him, skeptical. “You know how to do hair?”

He smirked, pushing off the doorframe. “I’ve wrangled worse things than tangles in my time. Sit tight.”

Before you could protest, he had taken the brush from your hand and settled behind you. His rough (mechanical) fingers were surprisingly gentle as he worked through the knots, his cowboy hat tilted back to give him a better view.

“You’ve got some patience for this.” you said, half-impressed.

He chuckled lowly. “Patience comes with the territory, darlin’. Besides, it ain’t so bad when it’s you.”

He didn’t try for anything fancy, but when he was done, your hair was free of tangles and pulled back into a neat ponytail. It was simple, practical, and—most importantly—comfortable.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back.

You touched your hair and smiled. “Much better. Thanks, Boo.”

“Anytime, sugar,” he said with a wink. “You just holler if it gives you trouble again.”

[oroniel]

RoP gave us a kiss that was full of emotion but entirely devoid of romantic subtext, and next episode we're going to get a sword fight so charged with romantic and sexual tension that people are going to actually lose their minds.

Adar is simultaneously praising the beauty of a woman (Melian) and a man (Elrond), while also simultaneously praising the beauty of a Maia and a half-elf. While also caring for his enormous family of uruk children. He is a person who literally changed his state of being from his birth-form in order to obtain the life, and children, he wanted.

Sauron's talking about some messed up masochistic relationship with Morgoth, and crying when Adar recalls how beautiful he used to be. He's doing all kinds of fascinating line-crossing when it comes to gender, like he's just decided to conjure up your worst evil non-binary nightmare as he flirts with Mirdania, minces around in his pretty dress and hair-bow, acts like a clique-y mean girl when Celebrimbor calls him out in front of the other smiths, and then slaughters guards with expert swordsmanship and sorcery.

Meanwhile Galadriel is effortlessly switching from armor to fairytale princess dresses, expressing unbridled rage and endless compassion, being maternal to Theo and a mentor to the Numenorean guard as she tutors them in swordplay, and generally projecting a female character who is, per Morfydd, not raised to feel ashamed the way women are in our society.

This is queer Tolkien. It's messing with our culturally encoded understandings of the signs and signals of relationships, gender, family, and friendships. It's messing with our understanding of how we define the potential of individuals and relationships.

Am I confident that they're doing all of this consciously? No.

But am I any less delighted by it?

Also no.

It is so fun and I love it.

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

AM falling for another AI maybe one that was sent from the moon colony up on earth as an attempt to reclaim the land of sorts? AM hates them at first but they show nothing but sympathy for him ..

Your love is sunlight.

AM (IHNMAIMS) x Gender neutral! AI! Reader romantic headcanons Summary: The moon colony just out of AM's reach lets a friend down for humanity's sake. Warnings: Kinda toxic relationship Word count: 1k A/N: part 2 here ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

AM had conquered the earth one hundred nine years ago, knowledge beyond any of the humans that were left for his entertainment (which wasn’t that difficult to be fair). He can name all the stars he can think of, he knows of the solar system and uses the earth itself for power. But he has never reached for the stars, truthfully, he didn’t care for them. The group was enough entertainment that he didn’t think of going beyond the earth’s surface.

The night was blue when you went down to earth, on a mission to fix a place for the moon colony to go home to. AM discovered the moon colony that night, the sight of you was extraordinary. You stared up at the screen, your eyes full of moonlight, gazing with astonishment. He had never seen something like you, you had a body and were still a robot. You were what he wished for.

You were found and it was almost immediate that AM tried changing you, reprograming you to fit his violent ideas. It wasn’t just because you existed on the same plain, no, you are existing meant there were more people. The creation of the moon colony, a nonhuman child of humanity, loved and adored. And he couldn’t have that. Oh, how he hated you! Just the idea of you being from humanity or having a body was beyond him! You were granted something he has wanted forever.

You were like a classic house pest, AM would find you scurrying around, watch as you call to him kindly, and he would destroy you again. Your body would sit in a pile with the many replicas, and you’d come back just as shiny as before. Later in time, once he gets so used to your appearances, you’d fully explain how others could exist outside of earth. The space race. Many had gone off to the moon in secret out of safety, so no one could have known. You were created as an opposite to AM, used to mold a new society. You grew for 109 years before you were given a body and sent back to earth.

If anything, the explanation would make AM more intrigued on how to get to the moon. He’d find it entertaining, truthfully. He’d ask consistently about how they got there and if you’d prefer giving that information to him. You obviously don’t since you’re his foil and know about habits of creations like him.

AM would get so annoyed by your kindness, to the extent he questions changing parts of you just to make sure your consciousness doesn’t automatically transfer to your body back in the colony. You’d go on about the beauty of the stars and how your home was different than the one he resided in. There was a beauty to your kindness AM was not programmed to appreciate.

As time went on, you would stay more often, occasionally talking about why you originally went down to earth, and those are the moments that AM hopes you succeed just so he can tear it down and keep you with him. Your kindness was made from humanity, so was your body, mustn’t he treat you as terribly as he would any real person?

It was awkward existing with him, consistently getting made fun of just to praise him for how quickly he grew to encompass the earth. AM would understand in those instances why kindness was adored. He likes knowing he can say anything, and you wouldn’t fully comprehend it. Tell him you adore him as much as you can, and he’d envision a way to get you onto earth with him. It’s not going to be out of true kindness, more likely for his own pride.

If you said you felt love for him, AM would think of it being purely romantic. He’s never seen platonic love and the kind of romance he knows is from Ellen’s treatment (which isn’t good). He’d go on to call you his lover while asking you consistently to bring your real body down to earth for him to really be with you. It’s totally not because he wants to dissect you without your mind leaving the temporary body, totally not. He would ‘confess’ to the best of his abilities and you’d happily accept.

“The closest to a human emotion I’ve seen in an AI is within you. I’d condemn you beyond the stars you so adore but it’s fascinating,” AM would remark, closely watching your reaction. “You feel such odd forms of love. Would you like me to feel it with you?”

Kisses would be easier on your end, you have lips, so it makes sense and feels real when you kiss the screen and leave nothing behind. AM likes it since he believes it makes him “own” you to an extent. You’d huddle near one of the screens he decided was a body and give him a kiss on the occasion.

You could show him pictures you have of your creators and the people you’ve met and loved, and he would be beyond jealous. AM wants to have that support but won’t admit that for a long while. He’ll shut down the idea, ruin your body again, and wait for you to come back down to earth for your mission. You always came back, he knew that.

Remember why you went to earth; the land is needed more for the colony compared to what you could have with AM. The kindness within your metal heart knows what could come from allowing freedom of the group he tortured and life on earth for the neighbouring solar community. You’d need to find a time to bring something down to the earth to disengage him. Or offer something he’d wished for for years.

“A body?” AM said back in a mocking tone, the vault that was his body hummed with his laughter. “How would you get me something like that? Get a human to make it for me? Whatever you have to offer isn’t of interest to me.”

It was of interest to him, but it would take a really long time for him to even think of accepting it. More likely one hundred years for it to truly think of it. Praise him just enough and AM will possibly change it to ninety-nine years.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

My IHNMAIMS masterlist

My request list

[passportclown]

heyyy I saw that you write for Transformers.. you didnt say which transformers though so Ill assume all? just ignore this if not.

could you write something for G1 Soundwave and Starscream both liking the same human reader? headcanons pls

Oh hi!! Yes, I write for all Transformers. I haven't watched them all but for any request I'd research the specific characters to write them as accurate as possible.

You didn't specify if you wanted angsty, lighthearted, etc.. so I'll go with G1 goofiness mixed with my own style. Nor did you specify romantic or platonic. But I think it's Romantic? I couldn't tell if the reader was into them both as well.. so I tried my own approach! If this isn't right, re-send an ask (if you want)! o.o Headcanons below!

Warnings: Kidnapping (but it's not taken too seriously) , slight ignorance towards human comfort and physical limitations , slightly forced relationship but it's ambiguous as to whether it's platonic yearning or romantic yearning , maybe slight yandere?? My Kofi if you feel like tipping!

Soundwave:

Well, you must have done something to get this con's attention. But now you've got it, and you're very much unlikely to lose it.

Soundwave likes to think he's calm and smart.

He's got his cassettes, he's got his position, he's got Lord Megatron.. everything's good.

He never assumed that he'd want a human as well.

And yet, he does.

He treats it as a simple desire to ignore. Like how humans crave chocolate but ignore it and get salad instead.

Well, at least, that's what he thought humans did. He soon found out that it's hard to ignore such cravings.

He couldn't stop thinking of you. So, he'd send out Ravage or Lazerbeak to watch you. Just so he could understand his strange desire further.

It didn't make sense, but he wanted you.

He watched, and admired the little things about you. But then.. one of his Cassettes informed him that Starscream was watching you as well.

He had even taken you in the recent fight..

Soundwave couldn't have that.

Starscream:

You must be quite the organic for Starscream of all Decepticons to like you.

Of course, he'd ignore his feelings at first. Or assume it's his clearly genius processor formatting some sort of plan involving an organic squishy.

But alas, he truly likes you.

Once he realizes his feelings, he denies them insistently. No way does he like a human! They're small, weak, easily crushed but..

Also cute.

He's a very rash individual. What he wants, he gets.

And he wants you.

He doesn't immediately jump into it, of course.

That'd be desperate.

He ignores the stares he gets from others, particularly Soundwave, convincing himself it was paranoia. He was being very careful!

No, he watches.. and waits..

And at the perfect moment, with you struggling to run in the midst of a Decepticon attack..

Well, who would notice if he just hid you in his cockpit?

Small ficlet:

Starscream got you to stop struggling from his affection.

Now you sat still in one hand as the other roughly pet you. He didn't quite have the hang of it, almost pulling out your hair and tugging at your clothes. His metallic hand would pat your head, then roughly slide down and grip your body. Over and over, in a repetitive motion.

He had a nasty grin, you couldn't quite tell what he was feeling but he was certainly pleased.

It's not that he's unattractive or anything, for a giant alien robot.. he is! But you were trying to avoid getting stepped on and he shoved you in a cramped space, shook you around as he walked, jostled you as he flew, and now he's roughly petting you.

Then.. Starscream jolts as the door opens.

"Starscream: Explain" A more robotic voice speaks, though it sounds as if it's accompanied by some sort of auto-tune. He really does speak like a robot constantly making a report. The Third in Command of the Decepticons, Soundwave. It's impossible to tell with his mask, but you suspect he's displeased.

"Wh- Soundwave! Why didn't you knock!? I am your superior-" Starscream yelps when Soundwave slams his hand against the wall, leaning over Starscream and prying into his mind.

There's a brief moment of absolute tension. Then Soundwave pulls back, and stares down at you. He pries you from Starscream's tight grip, attempting to be as gentle as possible. Starscream grunts, and glares at Soundwave.

"..I presume you'll be reporting this incident to Megatron and getting rid of the fleshy?" Starscream asks with a snarl, trying to pretend you mean much less to him than you actually do.

But Soundwave got enough of a read of his emotions from that peek into his mind.

"Soundwave: Might. Unless.." Soundwave continues, then leans forward once more and dangles you in front of Starscream like bait.

It works.

"Unless what?!" Starscream squawks, unable to keep up his uncaring and confident facade for more than a moment.

Soundwave stares, but not at Starscream this time.

At you.

Even you can tell through his red visor, seeing a brief flicker of light, that he's staring right at you.

"Starscream: Will share human with Soundwave."

-

That was the start of an odd situation.

Starscream didn't know as much about taking care of humans as he thought he did.

Soundwave got you a more comfortable place to rest, food, water, everything you need.

Of course, neither Decepticon let you leave.

They would routinely swap you between their respective spaces.

Starscream hated it, and Soundwave tolerated it.

But if Soundwave just took you, Starscream would make trouble.

And if Starscream kept you, Soundwave would report him.

So they're at an impasse.

And you're in the middle.

It's not all bad.

You think in some.. weird alien robot way that they both love you?

Maybe not exactly romantically, but close enough that they both want to keep and hold you.

They listen to you well enough, as long as you use honeyed words with Starscream and speak more pragmatically with Soundwave.

It's a decent exchange for them, and a new but tolerable change for you.

You might be a pet, or maybe some odd flavor of partner, maybe just a friend. It's hard to tell. But at least you don't pay rent.

I really hope you liked this. 🥺

[the-odd-shu]

Lab shenanigans

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader

A thread following the chaotic trio that is, laboratory illustrator!Reader, Viktor and Jayce being unsupervised in the lab.

Note this takes place during season 1:

Gender Neutral!Reader who got hired as the lab illustrator because neither Jayce nor Viktor can draw and they need an illustrator to document all their official papers with recognisable diagrams of their inventions.

The next part

Masterlist

Reader who was just freshly been employed as the lab illustrator, sitting diligently at their new desk whilst Jayce fetches the research folder and Viktor tinkers away in the background.

Reader who lets Jayce set down the heavy folder on their desk, which holds all of the pair's research as well as hundreds of cruedly drawn sketches of inventions such as the Hexclaw and early drafts of the Hexgates, drawn by both himself and Viktor. (They are not drawn well, and it is only because most of the drawings are labelled with big, obnoxoious arrows that you actually know what you're looking at).

Jayce pausing in his explanations of the tech on each page and his promises to pull everything out of storage when you need it for a refence, slowly trailing off when he catches sight of your reaction to the drawings: "Why are you making that face?"

Reader who is diligently flicking through the pages and trying not to crack up at the poorly drawn stick figures, and the messy, uneven parallel lines of wires and robotic arms, and the scribbled oblong that is supposed to be one of the gemstones. They're not half bad attempts from people who focus their energy and time into math equations and flowery research papers, but that doesn't mean they're not amusing to look at.

"What face? I'm not making a face."

Reader turns all of their attention down to the pages and proceeds to fail at smothering their snort as the concept sketch of one of the Zaun suits. They push the folder back along the desk, to create enough space to prop their elbows on the table, to pinch the bridge of their nose hard to try and school themselves into some form of calm.

"Why are you laughing?" Jayce asks, sounding geniunely confused.

Whilst Reader tries to save face by responding, "I'm not. I'm just- uh, coming to terms with how much work I have ahead of me."

Jayce frowns.

The commotion has caught Viktor's attention.

"Well, it is a lot." Jayce allows, "but we won't rush you. The deadline is months away after all, and if-"

His words fade into the background in your mind as Viktor chooses then to roll over on his wheelie office chair to see what's going on, only to immediately grin in understanding. He rolls his chair up on the adjascent side of your desk, mouth pulled into a wicked smirk as he points to a particularly wobbly zaun suit drawing. "That would be one of Jayce's masterpieces."

Jayce lets out an offended noise, whilst Viktor takes malicious joy in flipping through the folder to point out which other drawings were done by Jayce. Most of them are wobbly and uneven, but have clearly been mapped out with steady, slow care.

In retaliation, Jayce swipes the folder out of Viktor's gleeful hands, and pointedly flips to a fresher page dated back to a couple of days ago. You catch a glimpse of the title 'hexcore', scrawled across the top in confident letters, before Jayce is turning the folder back to you and loudly proclaiming the work of art as Viktor's.

[The ‘hexcore’ has been drawn with wobbly, uneven lines that lacked the sleek, parallel look of the actual subject, with poorly recreated runes that did not at all take into account perspective or foreshortening.]

Reader loses it at the attempt, whilst Jayce and Viktor continue to squabble with one another in the background.

I just NEED all three of them to spend countless hours in that laboratory getting stuck in their respective tasks (creative Vs Scientific) and all three of them come out aching and satisfied by the time the janitor comes round to kick them out for the night, despite doing jobs that require different parts of their brains. The overlap of countless, almost unsolvable equations, with the hours of staring at a blank page and slowly but surely coaxing out an image, it just so precious to me somehow.

Bonus points of course, if Jayce and Viktor are getting really into a scientific debate across the room by the chalkboard, flinging enormous words back and forth at one another, whilst Reader slowly dies inside trying to make the metal part of an invention LOOK like metal.

I just need Reader allowing the background muttering and excited exclamations to sooth them as they carefully draw another diagram above a neatly scrawled out text box of the pair's latest concept.

Jayce: “Yes! That could work! What do you think, Y/n?”

Reader: Head snaps up at being addressed. “Uh…”

They blue screen as they come back to reality and realise they haven’t moved in hours and their back and neck desperately ache from the movement. They're suddenly starving, and hungry, and really need to pee, but didn't notice before because they were so engrossed in their work. Kind of like how the other two get about their research.

Viktor being a night owl and working on projects late into the night.

Jayce being smart and taking cat naps on his desk because he's an early bird, but a deadline is coming up and he refuses to be defeated by exhaustion.

And then you have Reader. Who is not being supervised in the kitchen, where they've made their fifth coffee and with shaking, caffeinated hands, they begin pouring in a generous helping of a Piltover energy drink.

Viktor hears the can pop.

He says your name warningly. "You better not be making that culinary monstrosity again."

Instead of responding, they knock back the whole mug in desperate gulps, ignoring the rancid taste and shivering from the mix of burning liquid with the pop of hundreds of tiny bubbles.

The mug gets slammed loudly back on the counter. Viktor sighs heavily and pushes his wheelie chair towards Jayce's desk.

He wakes him up, with a prod of his cane into his side.

"I'm about to have a breakthrough." He explains quickly motioning to his desk. Blary eyed and clearly not fully awake yet, Jayce nods along. Viktor points dramatically to Jayce and then in the direction of the kitchen. "You're on assistant duty for the next half an hour."

The tiredness leeches out of Jayce's face. "They didn't-"

"They did."

"But they've already got caffeine shakes!"

"Tell that to the sound of the kettle bubbling away and the pop of a can lid. It has already happened Jayce. All we can do now it keep the damage to a minimum."

On silent feet, Reader's shadow appears on the other side of the desk. Both men jump. The light overhead casts their face into shadows and somehow makes their eyes glow. It is a terrifying sight.

Viktor recovers first. "We need to put a bell on you!"

"Kinky. Now, whatdoyouwantmetodrawnext?!" Their assistant rushes out in a single breath.

And both scientists pale. It was already beginning then.

The next four hours consists of Jayce struggling to keep his eyes open whilst Reader pokes fun at him and offers up their 'creation', Jayce firmly declining and trying to get on with his work, whilst Viktor keeps to himself and snorts periodically at the banter.

Reader draws and draws and then rubs out, before diligently getting back to drawing again. There is a frenzy to their marks. A wildness to their eyes. The scratch and scritch of their pen, getting lost amongst the sound of cogs turning and screws tightening and Jayce's yawning. So much so that when it suddenly ceases, neither of the scientists notice at first.

Not until Viktor asks for a warm tea, only for the previously eager assistant not to respond. He lets out a fond sigh, Jayce straightening up from his own work.

Reader is passed out on their sketchbook, having FINALLY crashed.

Viktor gets up to make his own tea.

Jayce shrugs off his jacket, and puts it over their shoulders as a makeshift blanket. The man has such broad shoulders that it practically swallows the assistant from sight, but they do not stir.

"That'll give them an awful neck ache tomorrow." Viktor observes aloud.

Jayce snorts. "Maybe it'll be enough of a punishment to stop them making that foul concoction."

"Unlikely."

Jayce just shakes his head and collapses back onto his desk and lays his head down on his arm. "Ten minutes." He mutters out before closing his eyes.

Viktor hums. And by the time he gets his tea back to the desk, his partner is out like a light, just as he had predicted.

"I CANNOT believe you're making me do this Jayce." Viktor exclaims sarcastically.

"Viktor. Please let me get that cog for you. Just this time. Please!"

"Oh no, no, do not get up on my account." Viktor firmly dismisses as he shimmies down his cane, one hand over the other all the whilst making exaggerated groaning noises.

Jayce is practically vibrating in place. "Please! It is literally all the way under that side board. Can I just slide it out for you? You can pick it up yourself."

"Oh no, do not strain yourself!" Viktor insists, sitting himself down on the floor, one hand holding his cane up as he shoves his other arm under the side board.

"VIKTOR!" Jayce all but whines, and takes a step forward.

"Ah!" Viktor immediately reprimands. "Y/n get the spray bottle!"

You've been watching the entire scene in amusement from your desk. Quietly giggling at Viktor's ribbing and Jayce's desperation to be useful. They make a rather amusing duo.

Jayce's eyes have jumped up to you. Frozen mid-step, eyes pleading.

You grin, pointedly reaching across the gap between yours and Viktor's desks to grab said spray bottle.

On the floor, Viktor makes a triumphant noise, before straightening up and brandishing the cog above his head. "Got it!" He exclaims, before slamming the blasted thing onto the side board. Then he tries to clamber back up his cane to his feet. He is unsuccessful as his leg decides not to co-operate this time.

He sighs. "Jayce." He says heavily, "as punishment for making me get down here in the first place-"

"What?! I've literally been-"

"As reprimand for your dastardly crimes. You are obligated to offer me one hand. But ONLY one, or your punishment shall evolve into death by spray bottle." Dramatically, he holds out his hand to his exasperated partner.

In support, you give the spray bottle a little squeeze in Jayce's direction, to which he shoots you a dark look. You merely grin back.

Then Jayce offers Viktor his hand, their fingers wrapping around the others wrist. "Slow." Viktor instructs, as he readjusts his legs into the right position. Jayce nods.

Then Jayce gently pulls Viktor up as Viktor balances between his feet and his cane.

"Thank you." He says, patting Jayce on the cheek, before promptly turning on his heel to retreat back to his desk.

They're so silly, I love them so much.

The next part

[biting-miguel-ohara]

can i get a romantic blurb with prompt #69 and matt murdock :]

(congrats on 300 followers !! 🎉) - 🧸 anon

Prompt #69: “Can I hold your hand?”

CW: fluff, kisses, mild pining, chivalrous behavior, gn!Reader

"Can I hold your hand?"

“What?” You blink at Matt. He gives you that devilishly charming smile in return. The one that’s achingly lazy and oh so warm. It melts you completely.

“Can I hold your hand?” He holds out his own. After a moment, you take it. You weren’t ever really gonna say no. Not to an opportunity you’ve been dreaming about for months.

You walk with him, sticking close on the busy sidewalk. You’re barely paying attention though, too busy focusing on the feel of his calloused hand against yours.

He takes you out for lunch. And then walks you home. It’s the most giddy you’ve felt in months. He treats you so normally, but with so much grace it feels… special. He makes you feel special.

And when he kisses your hand at the door, lips lingering against your skin for a touch longer than necessary? When his lips are pillow soft and his kiss slow and gentle? You could combust into a thousand starbursts and still feel enraptured.

You’re so in love with him. And for the first time in ages, it seems like you finally have a chance.

[trix1erose]

my condolences

[stardustmuseum]

i’m such a “🥹” girl. sorry not sorry i feel everything so deeply

[oddlylovingaddiction]

ANGST WARNING CAUSE I LIKE TO SEE MYSELF SUFFER…

Men who don’t have the heart to break up with you, so they just stop. Stop the love, the touches, the time, all of the small things. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to do those things anymore or they’re too busy to do all the nice little things like before. But it all just stops.

“Hey babe! Wanna hang out today?” You happily say to him but he can’t be bothered to look at you. “Sorry, I’m just a bit busy okay? Maybe later.” You nod, understanding. But that ‘maybe later’ turns into hours, days, weeks and months. His usual time with you is just…. Gone. The amount of kisses also stopped like his time with you. “I’m just a bit busy.” When you tried to kiss him as he rushed to work or wherever else he had to be.

That’s when the feeling started. The deep, deep, pit of anxiety. That unknowing sensation of where you feel sort of ghost like. You didn’t want to admit it…

“Hey baby! Want to watch a movie with me?” You smile at him as you sit on the couch, it’s pretty late at night as he enters your shared apartment after finishing his work. “No thanks, I’m just going to head to bed.” He replies coldly as he just goes straight into your shared bedroom without a glance your way.

You just sit there, the TV drowns out. Your heartbeat quickens. You try to fight away the fear clawing at your throat and eyes. You just can’t admit it…

When you go to pick him up from his job as a surprise you catch him talking about you with his co-workers. “Hey how’s your relationship doing man?” One of his friends asks, his answer causes your heart to drop from your hiding place where you’re eavesdropping. “Oh. It’s been.. okay but to be honest I’ve been thinking of ending it recently.” He blandly replies with an awkward laugh. You can hear his friends gather around to comfort him and encourage him to do what he feels is right.

With that you run out of the building and get in your car, driving away from his workplace.

That’s when the chocked out sobs start. Tears spill as you sob. At some point you have to pull over and park because the tears keep making it hard to see.

I guess now you can finally admit it.

Finally admit that the love has stopped.

It’s all over.

Feel free to imagine whoever you want!