#romantic gender

[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

[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!"

[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.

[dinklebat]

guys please watch romantic killer on netflix it’s the most bisexual show I’ve seen

[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. 🥺

[trix1erose]

my condolences

[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.”

[stardustmuseum]

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

[secret-sageent]

Rattling off my sexuality and gender when asked like it’s my freaking coffee order

[bamboobooshark]

MOON BOYS X READER

₊˚.⋆🕯️⋆⁺. KISSING PREFS : 421 WRDS

A/N : These are based off of personality and guess what? I’m finally writing romantic relationship content! Yay!!! I swear I’ve only been avoiding it because my brain is not the most knowledgeable on romantic relationships SPARE ME PLEASE

STEVEN GRANT .

Although Steven does enjoy the more passionate kisses you two share, he’s such a sucker for gentle kisses or even little pecks.

He’ll give you them anytime, anywhere.

Sometimes it’ll be a silent reminder that he loves you, that he’s here for you, he thinks you look nice, etc. This man will find any and every excuse to give you a soft kiss.

His favorite place to kiss is your nose; after he does, he’ll stare right at you with those big brown eyes and give you a gentle smile. Sometimes even nuzzle against your nose with his, or butt his forehead against yours.

MARC SPECTOR .

Marc will never deny a few minutes away from a crowd or away from his phone if it means you’ll share a loving, deep kiss with him.

He’ll kiss you in different positions almost every time you kiss. On his lap, laying under him, laying on him, sitting next to him, anything.

However he’s very fond of having you sit on his thighs or in his lap. He loves being close when you two kiss.

There won’t be a single time where he doesn’t wrap his arms up under yours to pull you flush against him. He might wrap his arms around your waist and have his hand rest on the small of your back so he can push you closer.

He will do anything you think of, or he thinks of himself, to make you invade his personal space to the furthest extent. It makes him feel like he’s protecting you and showing you all his love for you just with his lips.

JAKE .

Jake loves to give you hickeys and kiss you as a “surprise gift” while you do something.

His target is usually your neck or shoulders, but depending on how you’re sitting or standing, he won’t hesitate to give you a good, deep kiss.

As an example, if you’re cooking, he’ll do the generic move of wrapping his arms around you from behind.

If you’re reading, he’ll pull the book out of your hand or push your hands down so he can get to your face.

But… he loves to add his own touch.

He might tell you that you smell good, that he loves the way your skin feels against his lips, maybe even mutter something in Spanish too quiet for you to hear.

He can get a bit handsy as well, but nothing too suggestive. The most he’ll do when he gives you surprise kisses is squeeze your thighs, waist, or hips.

[opultea]

Reasons to Keep a Spare Hairtie

Gaming x Gender Neutral Reader

No pronouns - Romantic - Drabble - Fluff

Word Count: 550

“Aw, man!”

You turn, curious and surprised. Gaming hardly ever acted so down. As you turn on your heel, you can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips at the sight of his usually neatly tied hair covering his face.

“Trying something new?” You tease, approaching to inspect the issue. Gaming blows air through his lips, lifting a brown tuft from his face momentarily.

“Ha ha,” He laughs dryly, before giggling sincerely. “My hair tie broke. And of course I left my headband at home today, so I guess I’ll just have to make do,”

You hum in consideration, secretly taking a moment to admire the way his hair drapes over his shoulders and forehead when down. Although, you did miss seeing the red undertone that was made visible by his usual style.

Watching Gaming try to tuck the fluffy hair behind his ears felt like watching a puppy try to find its way out of a big blanket. Cute, but very much making you feel obligated to help. Each time he managed to clear his face, the fluffy stands would pop back in front of him within seconds.

“Turn around,” you say warmly, tracing a loop with your forefinger to indicate the motion. Gaming stares at you for a moment, evidently wondering what for. However, it doesn’t take another second before he relinquishes control, turning so his back is to you.

You push his shoulder lightly until he sits down on the stone ledge under him. Gently, you scoop the soft brown hair from around his neck and face and pull it back into a ponytail.

Your fingers don’t linger long enough to feel the heat that erupts from his cheeks.

“You’re lucky I have a spare hair tie on me. With how fluffy your hair is, you’d look like a lion by the end of the day,”

“Yeah, lucky,” the dreamy quality in his voice catches you off guard. Promptly, you distract yourself from the skip of your heart with the task at hand.

You find your hands slowing more than necessary, and you take your time brushing your fingers through the fine strands of his hair. Briefly, you wonder what his hair might smell like. You scold the thought before you bury it.

You step around to face him once you let yourself finish, smiling as you admire your handiwork.

"There, now you can see, and you don't look like a mop," Gaming chuckles and rubs the back of his neck bashfully at your joking.

"Wow, thanks! It feels pretty good, and I bet it looks way better than what I do for my day-to-day," He carefully feels around his head to appreciate your work. "Hey, let me treat you to dim sum! As payment for your expert styling skills,"

"Gaming, you've paid for my dim sum the last three times, just let me pay already!" You try to argue as you follow him but know it's practically useless.

"Nope! You worked hard and you deserve a reward!" He's started into a light jog now, and you know that if you let him get ahead, he'll order and pay before you even arrive at the restaurant.

Speeding up, you feel a smile lift with the butterflies in your stomach, and as you run after the beaming lion boy, you can't help but wonder if he feels the same.

[dinodaweeb]

LIES, SPIES, AND HOT GUYS |

Gn!Detective!Reader x Batman

summary: as a detective you make sure you prioritize Bruce Wayne’s safety but he assures you he doesn’t need it, prick.

You never expected to find yourself at one of Gotham's most glamorous events—a gala at Wayne Manor. Awkward and out of place, you struggle to fit in among Gotham's elite.

The moment you stepped into Wayne Manor, you felt like a fish out of water. The grand chandeliers, the polished marble floors, and the glittering gowns of Gotham's elite were a far cry from the gritty crime scenes and dimly lit precincts you were used to.

Far different. The air felt too expensive to breathe.

Why had you even agreed to this?

Oh right, the Commissioner insisted on having "a few of Gotham's finest" at the event, just in case. And with your gruff demeanor and awkward social skills, you had drawn the short straw.

Awkwardly, you stood near a large ornate column, sipping a glass of water and trying to avoid eye contact with the crowd. Despite the suit and tie—or, in their case, a somewhat ill-fitting tuxedo—they felt utterly out of place. The pants felt too tight around your rear and you got this done at the shop. How could they screw that up?

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, searching for anything—or anyone—out of the ordinary.

Just as you were beginning to try to relax, you spotted a group of familiar faces. The Wayne kids—Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and a few others—stood near the large windows, looking far too at ease in the luxurious setting.

Summoning a bit of courage, you approached them. After all, if they were going to be stuck here, they might as well make some polite conversation.

"Grayson, Drake," You greeted with a nod, trying to sound casual but polite.

Dick smiled brightly. "Detective! Didn't expect to see you here!"

"Yeah, well… duty calls, I wasn’t exactly invited by you but..” You muttered, feeling a bit more self-conscious than you intended. Tim gave a small nod of acknowledgment, while Damian looked as uninterested as ever.

Why do you even try at this.

Before the conversation could go further, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Detective, welcome to Wayne Manor."

You turned to see Bruce Wayne approaching, his signature charming smile firmly in place. The billionaire looked every bit the part, effortlessly exuding wealth and charisma.

His looks lived up to the legend, pretty punk.

"Mr. Wayne," You greeted, doing their best to mask their awkwardness. Which probably failed. "Thanks for having me.”

"Of course. I always appreciate Gotham's finest keeping an eye on things," Bruce replied, his tone friendly yet distant. There was a glint in his eyes, something that set you on edge. Before they could respond, Bruce offered another smile, then excused himself, moving on to mingle with other guests.

You watched him go, your brows furrowing. Something about Bruce seemed… off. But before you could dwell on it, your attention snapped back to the task at hand: scanning the room for any potential threats.

As the evening wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. You kept a close eye on Bruce from across the room, noting how the billionaire seemed to glide through the crowd effortlessly, charming everyone he spoke to. But that nagging feeling in the back of your mind wouldn't go away.

And then it happened.

A loud crash echoed through the grand hall, followed by the panicked screams of guests. The doors burst open, and a group of armed robbers stormed in, weapons raised. Chaos erupted as people dove for cover, and the orchestra’s music was abruptly silenced.

"Everyone down! Now!" one of the robbers shouted, firing a warning shot into the ceiling.

Instinctively, you reached for their gun, but the crowd's panic made it impossible to get a clear shot. People were scrambling, pushing, and shouting. In the confusion, you caught sight of Bruce Wayne, who had been near the doors moments before. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Damn it!

You pushed through the crowd, your focus entirely on finding Bruce. If something happened to Gotham's golden boy on your watch, you would never forgive yourself.

Thankfully, you managed to slip away from the main hall, only to find Bruce backing into a nearby room, the door clicking shut just as you reached it. They shoved the door open and rushed inside, finding Bruce standing calmly by the window, looking far too composed for someone who was supposed to be terrified.

His fingers twitched when he heard the door open though, so maybe he was alarmed. You couldn’t blame him, it was a scary situation for anyone.

"Mr. Wayne, are you alright?" You panted, closing the door behind them and locking it.

Bruce turned to face them, an almost amused expression on his face. "I’m fine, Detective."

"Good. Stay here," You ordered, pulling out their gun and moving to stand between Bruce and the door. "I’ll handle this."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "That won’t be necessary."

You frowned. "What do you mean it won’t be necessary? There are armed robbers out there! You need to stay put, or you could get hurt."

"I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Bruce said, his tone calm and almost… teasing.

The detective’s frustration flared. Here you were, trying to protect this man, and he was acting like it was no big deal. "Look, I get that you’re used to getting your way, but right now, you need to let me do my job!"

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly, the playful glint fading. "And what if I told you that I could handle this situation better than you think?"

You were about to snap back, but the words died in their throat as they realized what Bruce was implying. "You’re not seriously thinking about playing hero, are you? This is my duty.”

Marching up to him, you poked your finger repeatedly into his chest.

“I’m here to protect you, Mr. Wayne.”

Before Bruce could respond, a loud bang echoed from the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps approaching the door. With precision, you pulled Bruce by the waist and forced him behind you. You stiffened, turning their full attention to the door. "Stay behind me."

"Detective—"

"I said stay behind me!" You hissed, cutting Bruce off as you aimed your gun at the door. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins.

The door burst open, and you were ready to fire, but the figure that entered the room made them hesitate. It was Nightwing.

"Hold your fire!" Nightwing ordered, raising his hands as he stepped inside.

You lowered their weapon, exhaling a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?"

Nightwing glanced at Bruce, then back at you. A cheeky glint in his eyes. "I’m here to get him out of here.”

"Wait, you know him?" You asked, confused.

Nightwing’s lips curled into a half-smile. "You could say that."

Bruce stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, Detective, but I’ll be safe with him."

You opened their mouth to argue, but the calm, assured look in Bruce’s eyes stopped them. For some reason, you believed him—despite how absurd it all seemed.

But did you seriously suck that much at your job that he felt safer with masked vigilante than a GCPD officer? You felt your pride shatter.

With a bitter taste in your mouth and the slightest pout on your lips, you nodded. Giving Bruce a pat on the back.

Nightwing took Bruce by the arm, guiding him toward the door. "Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe."

You watched them go, their mind racing. None of this made sense. Why would Nightwing, of all people, be protecting Bruce Wayne? And why did Bruce seem so… unconcerned?

As the door closed behind them, You finally allowed yourself to breathe. The realization hit you like a freight train: Batman was out there, hunting these criminals, and Bruce Wayne was likely his next target.

"Idiot," You muttered to yourself, rubbing your temples. "Of course, Batman would want to protect him."

Then you felt your heart sink.

“Or harm him.”

But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bruce Wayne than met the eye. Something you couldn’t quite put you're finger on.

As you exited the room, ready to join the fight outside, you couldn’t help but wonder: Just who exactly was Bruce Wayne? And why did they feel like they were in way over their head?

One thing was for sure: you were going to find out.

And when you did, you had a feeling it would change everything.

Red Hood stopped your inner monologue. “Yo, Hey, Dude— C’mon. Snap out of it.”

You blinked, your eyes reaching up.

“Now, are you going to stand there looking like a rookie, or are you going to help me with these goons?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, turning to see Red Hood leaning casually against the doorframe, his helmet tilted slightly as if amused by your daze. You cursed inwardly—first Nightwing, now Red Hood. How many of Gotham’s vigilantes were going to show up tonight?

“You’re here too?” you asked, exasperated.

“Yeah, and lucky for you. Looks like you could use the backup,”

Red Hood quipped, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Now, are we gonna take these guys down, or do you need a minute to process whatever conspiracy theories you’re cooking up?”

You shot him a glare but nodded. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Red Hood grinned beneath his helmet, drawing his guns. “Hell yeah.”

a/n: guys, asks r open :3 I wanna write more for my boysss 🫶😔 (no cursed shit plz)

[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

[bearw-me]

Can we have poly Asmodeus and fizarolli with a s/o who's a k-pop idol ?

my first polyyyy i'm so excited! bless anon!

𝐀𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐮𝐬 + 𝐅𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐇𝐜𝐬

𐐒 ft : (poly!) asmodeus x kpop idol!reader x fizzarolli 𐐒 cw : fluff, cuddling, slight angst 𐐒 summary : general hcs! 𐐒 note : may i be the first to say this was the most wholesome-heart squeezing thing ive ever written/imagined

Asmodeus arranges shows for you in his club in the Lust Ring, if you have time, and they are special events he doesn't host very often (mostly because he adores you and wants you to be shown off, but also because he hates the way his sinners view you in the Lust Ring: objectively)

He LOVES singing with you

Fizzarolli is the one to attend ALL your shows, waving his light sticks in the air happily, probably cheering the loudest.

Asmodeus doesn't really like PDA unless its for his shows or a performance out of respect for your public image, but Fizz is a little more weary, mostly because (like in the show) he doesn't want to be the one to drag the two of you down

They both LOVE your dances and choreography, and the fact you allow them to have opinions on your outfits.

Cuddle Hcs: Asmodeus loves to be in the middle, holding the two of your smaller bodies against him or both next to him on one side (he can definitely manage to wrap his arms around you both, so he does) and Fizz just likes having you both near him, having the smell and warmth of you both close is enough to have him finally fall asleep

If you're off on tour, Fizz has to call you every night and check in, holding you on the phone until you absolutely can't talk to him anymore (bonus if you just fall asleep with him and he can hear you snoring. it melts his heart) and he turns to Asmodeus until you're back

Despite being popular in hell themselves, Asmodeus and Fizz never actually try to "take advantage" of your fame, only support you when you need it

Your literal husbands

Fizz is clingy, while Asmodeus is a more possessive/jealous type

but also don't think Fizz will just stand there and let some guy try to eye-f*ck you either (he WILL strangle someone)

Asmodeus has a tattoo, or a mark on his chest, for the two of you

Fizz would love to manage your socials if you asked it of him (or give you opinions on your 'best' pictures)

Surprisingly, Asmodeus is the one who wears your merch (the most), mostly as a sleepy shirt, but he would wear it under his usual three-piece suit if he didn't feel like dressing that day

I feel like (obviously) As would rehearse your songs with you, giving you feedback on your notes and tone while you sang, While Fizz would help you with choreo!

Fizz likes to cuddle with you in bed, snuggling his face into your chest and vent about the day or what bothers him

Asmodeus loves to be involved with your career and brings you things you might need like body glitter or getting your nails done, even bringing you socks that match your outfit better.

The poly relationship would work really well, and Asmodeus and Fizz could really depend on each other when one of them wasn't their for you.

As feels like he needs to protect and be there for the two of you, and gets anxious or apprehensive when he's not there with you both

And Fizz knows he can depend on the both of you, comforted even if you both weren't physically there to hug him