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ittybittyfanblog · 8 months ago

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Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)

Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man. Anyway, enjoy! This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's close to midnight, and you're being followed.

On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega, a little over a mile away from your apartment, for about, three? five minutes—no, maybe even longer.

Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets are any indication.

As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.

You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.

This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar?

Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even is this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they're in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were.

But then, what are they here for? The dangers you're more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.

While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.

With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.

You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack.

A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!

You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle.

“Now, now— the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip.

“I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.”

You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur.

Ch-chloroform?

You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you.

“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”

Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.

The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin.

The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.

The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips.

From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen.

_____

In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City.

Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All hold significant power, all hold ulterior motives.

A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn.

Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval.

“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp—then, “sir.”

All in reverence.

He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference.

“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters.

“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.”

The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I suppose that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.”

Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response—but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to.

Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger.

He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection.

The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial.

All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man—no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear.

The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.

Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.

Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.

_____

Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust.

Having been awake for longer than your captors are aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience.

“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?”

“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.”

Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you.

In short, you have no idea where you are.

Fuck—this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own.

Think, think! What can you do?

What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic—

Wait a minute. Sylus.

You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.

Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–

“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”

Fuck. No use pretending anymore.

You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.

His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin.

“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.”

You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?”

The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”

He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity.

And here, the opportunity presents herself.”

You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.”

You feel it before you hear it.

“Perhaps not.”

Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.

But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.

Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.

Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.

A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room.

Suddenly—

Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise.

Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness.

His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You—”

Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool—lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him—as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction.

You meet his eyes. “You came.”

An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.”

You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud.

“Luke. Kieran.”

“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.

The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.”

“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly.

A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.

They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.

“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state, at least.

Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer.

He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin.

“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”

You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.”

“I will.”

With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out.

A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?”

“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.”

Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.”

Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look.

“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.”

You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three.

“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake.

You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed.

“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor.

–––––

There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.

He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.

Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.

The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for.

But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for—and someone has tried to steal it.

Harm. the treasure. To get to him.

It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from.

One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of.

And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.

The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is now stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel.

And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets.

They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.

Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them.

_____

You arrive a quarter past four AM.

Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.

“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.

In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.

You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.”

(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.)

With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed.

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh.

Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.

You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”

Speak of the devil.

Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.

“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe.

Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler.

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.”

Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes.

He’s joking. Right?

You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.

Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?”

Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He hums. “Do you really want to know?”

You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly.

You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.”

Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.

Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian.

Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his.

Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.

Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose.

He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you—half-lidded and tender.

In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”

The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”

He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.

“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.

"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."

“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”

While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.

You hum sleepily.

“Of course you would, Sy.”

_____

“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.”

“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”

Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.”

“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.”

“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #sylus #sylus qin #love and deepspace fic

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internetladyfables · 11 days ago

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[Headcanons] Hugo Vlad: Kissing

cw: self-indulgent, possible OOC, fluff, female reader.

Hugo kisses like he’s in complete control. What he likes is to build anticipation: brushing his thumb against your lips, leaning in close only to stop just to watch you squirm a little and yearn.

Kisses on your knuckles and the back of your hand. What a gentleman he would be without kissing your hand? Whether he’s greeting you at the door, or bidding you a farewell, declaring his love to you. Gloved fingers take your hand. He bows slightly. His lips graze your knuckles as he holds an eye contact.

Forehead kisses. These are sacred. When you’re half-asleep, just woken-up with groggy eyes, or when you’re anxious, scared or tired after a long day. He presses his lips there and lingers, murmuring some words of encouragement. “You did well today, my love.”

Stolen kisses. He’s a Phantom Thief after all. Gives after one of his dramatic entrances through a window. Or steals them from you when you least expect it. When you say something and he cuts you off mid-sentence; when you’re busy with something and he comes to you to distract you with his lips.

Teasing kisses. When Hugo is in an extra playful mood, he kisses just next to your lips, in the corner of your mouth; and before you can even react and chase it, he pulls away quickly, smirking like he knows what he's doing.

Neck Kisses. A favorite place when he’s being extra mischievous. He’ll press a slow kiss to your neck or trail soft kisses down your jaw or nip lightly at your neck just to make you shiver.

After a successful mission, face flushed with adrenaline, eyes wild with thrill, he pulls you into a breathless, almost desperate kiss, as a reward. “Another perfect escape, and with my favorite prize.”

With those vampire-like vibes and sharp teeth, he’s not shy about a gentle nip to your bottom lip mid-kiss. He lives for your reaction and flustered state, and smirks at your wide eyes.

When it’s just the two of you, and his guard is down and he’s vulnerable, Hugo’s kisses are tender. He gently cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, he leans down and kisses you, slowly, as if savoring you.

#x reader #female reader #zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz x reader #hugo vlad x reader #hugo vlad

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kiwriteswords · 2 months ago

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The Prophecy [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 4k|| AN: This is for the lovelies who have also felt unlovable, defeated, and gotten their heart broken time after time. This was originally supposed to go in an entirely different direction when I started writing this during the week, but now it is purely self-indulgant...BUT writing this was cheaper than therapy. I also might be embarrassed by this in the morning and delete this--idk LOL. Tags/Warnings: female reader, alcohol tw, reader has self-worth issues, reader goes on bad dates, might be slightly ooc for hotch idk, hotch is no.1 reader defender, hotch falls first, whipped!hotch, insecure!reader, heartbroken reader, protective!hotch, mainly hotch's POV, reader is 100% a mary sue--sorry, not sorry. Summary: Hotch watched you get treated incorrectly time and time again by your poor choice in men. Over time, he begins to try and show you what you deserve.

In the cool, dim light of the early morning, Aaron Hotchner walked into the BAU roundtable room, his footsteps quiet against the polished floor.

The team was already there-

Everyone but you gathered around the table, their voices a low murmur of concern. He paused at the door, observing them--

A rare moment of unguarded conversation among the agents.

Your name was circling the room. He knew his team wasn’t one who gossiped, per se. But this was different than workplace chatter; this seemed…this seemed important.

"Did you see her last night?" JJ asked, her voice tinged with worry. "Spencer found her crying in the parking lot.

Across the table, Spencer nodded, his youthful face more solemn than usual. "She was in her car. Just...sitting there. It was late."

Penelope shook her head, her vibrant accessories jangling softly with the movement. "That guy she's been seeing, the one who keeps popping in and out of her life? He stood her up again. I mean, who does that to someone as wonderful as her?"

Derek’s jaw tightened visibly. "We need to tell her to cut him loose. The guy's no good."

Emily leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "It's not our place to say who she should see, but it's tough watching her go through this."

Rossi, ever the sage, swirled the coffee in his cup before speaking. "The heart has reasons that reason knows nothing of, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch someone you care about get hurt."

Hotch stepped into the room fully, the conversation pausing as all eyes turned to him. He moved to his usual seat, the chair's soft scrape punctuating the sudden silence.

"How is she this morning?" His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of concern that matched his team's.

No one seemed ready to answer. It was a telling silence, one that spoke volumes about their collective unease for your well-being.

Clearing his throat, Hotch folded his hands on the table, his gaze settling on each of his team members.

"We're a team, and we look out for each other. It's not just about being agents; it's about being there for one another as people." His eyes darkened with a quiet intensity. "We need to make sure she knows she's supported, not just as a colleague, but as a friend."

Just then, the door opened again, and you stepped in. There was a slight redness around your eyes, a testament to the previous night's tears, but you masked it well with a brave smile.

"Morning, everyone," you said, your voice steady despite the slight quiver you hoped no one noticed.

The room filled with choruses of "Morning," each agent offering you a smile, but their eyes were too knowing, too filled with empathy.

As the meeting proceeded, Hotch found himself watching you more often than usual.

You were the glue of the team--

Always brightening up the room.

Always making sure everyone else was okay.

It pained him to see that light dimmed, even just a fraction.

He made a mental note to check in with you later, privately, to offer a listening ear if you needed it.

Throughout the briefing, your contributions were as insightful as ever, but Hotch noticed the small things--

The way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

How you were quieter than usual.

Less inclined to join in the lighter moments of banter.

When the meeting broke up, Hotch lingered, watching as you gathered your notes and prepared to head to your office.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead. It was not just about being a leader now; it was about being a friend and maybe--

Just maybe, something more.

In that quiet, somber room, as the early rays of sunlight began to filter through the blinds, Hotch realized just how deeply your well-being affected him.

The realization was sudden, like a shift in the air--

A silent acknowledgement of a burgeoning concern that felt a lot like the beginning of something far deeper.

Not even a week later, the office was nearly empty.

The hum of computers and the distant sound of night shift agents were the only accompaniment to the soft clacking of Hotch’s shoes against the polished floor as he prepared to leave for the evening.

It had been a long day, filled with the usual demands and stresses, but none of that seemed to matter now as he rounded the corner and stopped short.

There you were, pacing the bullpen in a dress that took his breath away--

A stunning array of shimmering fabric that cascaded down in elegant folds, catching the dim office light and throwing it back out in soft, glowing ripples.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen you wear; the dress made for a special occasion, its beauty stark against the backdrop of the BAU’s utilitarian surroundings.

Looking at it, it reminded him of your personality. A reflection of light on everyone around you. Made up of so many pieces--beautiful in itself, but for others to appreciate as well.

Your face, however, told a different story.

It was etched with disappointment, the hurt in your eyes stark and unguarded as you moved restlessly across the floor. Hotch’s concern deepened, his initial pause turning into a determined stride towards you.

You didn’t notice him at first, lost in your troubled thoughts. When you finally saw him, the surprise on your face quickly morphed into a strained smile.

"Oh, Hotch, I didn’t see you there."

"Clearly dressed for a special occasion," he commented softly, his voice carrying a note of concern. "You look...beautiful."

He meant it, but the compliment was tinged with…worry as he took in the full picture--

The meticulously done makeup, the curls in your hair falling just so, the perfume that seemed a touch too poignant for the empty office.

You chuckled weakly, the sound hollow.

"Was supposed to be a special night. I had a date, but..." Your voice trailed off, and you shrugged, a brittle edge to your movements. "He cancelled. Less than an hour ago. Guess it wasn't as special to him."

Hotch frowned, noting the weariness that seemed to seep through your attempt at humor.

"You shouldn’t have to feel this way," he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering. "You put so much into this, into everything you do. It's not right, him not seeing that."

Your smile faltered, and you looked away, a self-deprecating laugh escaping you. "Maybe I’m just too much, you know? Maybe it’s just... me--”

"No." Hotch said firmly, cutting through your words. His expression was stern, but his eyes were kind, a rare show of open frustration mixing with something softer. "It’s not you. It’s him. Anyone who fails to see what they have right in front of them doesn’t deserve it."

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the bullpen seemed to hold its breath. The air between you was charged, filled with the unspoken thoughts and emotions swirling around.

"You deserve someone who sees you," Hotch continued, his voice emphatic--passionate even. "Not just the effort you put into one evening, but every day…the way you look out for everyone here, how you keep us…together. You deserve much more than last-minute cancellations and excuses."

The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and sincere. You swallowed hard, the impact of his words slowly sinking in. The corners of your mouth twitched, a ghost of a genuine smile beginning to form. "Thank you, Hotch," you murmured, your voice thick with unshed tears. "I...I needed to hear that."

Hotch nodded, his posture relaxing slightly as he sensed the shift in your demeanor. "Anyone would be lucky to have you," he added, the truth of his statement clear in his steady gaze.

As the silence stretched between you, a palpable connection in the quiet of the almost deserted office, it was clear that something had shifted.

Not just in the night. But perhaps, just maybe--in the space that lay between personal heartache and the promise of something deeper, something real that was just beginning to take root in the dim light of the bullpen.

About a month had passed, and Hotch kept a close eye on you. He hated that not much had changed for you. He wanted to see you return to the office with a smile on your face one day.

That you’d share you met someone who charmed you and held space for you in a way you deserved.

Someone that treated you right.

The way he wishes he could tattoo it into your brain all of the ways he knows you should be treated. The way he wishes he could treat you that way--

Just to show you.

Or what he told himself when he began thinking about how he wouldn’t stand you up.

How he’d hold every door open for you.

How he’d be prompt and make sure you knew you could take his word.

Yet here you were.

The local bar was buzzing with the usual Friday night crowd, the atmosphere lively and the lights dimly lit, casting a warm, inviting glow over the small group from the BAU.

Laughter and chatter filled the air as the team, having wrapped up a particularly grueling set of cases, gathered around a large table cluttered with empty glasses and half-eaten appetizers.

Hotch, who usually opted out of such gatherings, found himself not only attending but also genuinely enjoying the camaraderie.

His eyes frequently searched you out, making sure you were handling the evening well.

As the night progressed and the drinks flowed more freely, the conversation deepened into personal territories. You, slightly more uninhibited from the alcohol, began to share more openly about your recent dating woes.

"And then," you laughed, though the humor didn't quite reach your eyes, "he just disappears. Poof! Like magic. One day, it's text after text, and then nothing. Like I made it all up in my head."

You laughed. It echoed. He watched, heart sinking. You were drifting. Away.

The team's laughter quieted down as they listened, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and discomfort. Rossi raised his eyebrows, shooting a look at Hotch, who was watching you intently.

Your smile faded as you continued, the alcohol loosening your tongue further. "I don't know, maybe it's just me. I dunno…Maybe I'm just...unlovable."

A heavy silence fell over the table, the word hanging in the air like a thick cloud.

The team exchanged awkward glances--

Clearly at a loss.

Hotch's jaw tightened as he saw the self-deprecation take a darker turn, his concern deepening.

"That's not true," Hotch finally said, his voice firm and commanding attention. "Being ghosted says more about his character than it does about your worth. You are... incredibly important, not just to anyone you date but to all of us here." His voice softened, "You light up every room you enter, and if someone can't see that, it's their loss, not yours."

The table went quiet, everyone looking between you and Hotch, sensing the weight of his words.

Your eyes welled up with tears--

The kindness in his voice breaking through the veneer of humor you had used as a shield all night.

"Excuse me," you muttered, quickly standing and making your way to the bar without meeting anyone’s eyes.

As you stood and made your way to the bar, the rest of the team exchanged knowing looks, their earlier conversation giving way to a shared understanding of what needed to happen next.

Derek caught Hotch's arm as he started to follow you. "Man, you see the way she lights up around you?" he said in a low voice, his gaze serious. "She deserves someone who's going to show up for her, really show her how she should be treated."

Emily chimed in, her expression earnest. "And not just show up, Hotch. You need to say it, too. She needs to hear how you feel about her. It’s obvious to all of us, and honestly, it’s been a long time coming."

Rossi, ever the sage, gave Hotch a firm pat on the back. "You’re a good man, Aaron. You both deserve a shot at happiness. Don’t let your chance slip by because you’re too cautious to take the next step."

Hotch looked between his friends, their faces reflecting a mix of encouragement and insistence.

The weight of their words settled over him, reinforcing what he already felt in his heart.

He nodded, a resolve firming in his eyes as he turned to follow you to the bar.

"Thanks," he murmured, grateful for their support.

The team watched for a moment longer, satisfied with their intervention, before they started to gather their things, their subdued waves goodbye mingling with quiet hopes for what might develop between their stoic leader and the woman who had brought a new light to his eyes.

Hotch watched them leave before turning his attention back to you--

Now alone at the bar.

Throwing back another drink.

With a newfound determination, he was ready to take the advice of his team to heart and to make this evening a turning point--

Not just for tonight, but for all the days to come.

He approached quietly, taking the seat next to you. The bartender moved away to give you some privacy, sensing the shift in mood.

"You don’t have to try so hard to be okay all the time," Hotch said gently, his voice barely above the noise of the bar. "It’s alright to not be alright."

You turned to look at him, the dim light of the bar highlighting the vulnerability in your expression. "I just don’t want to be this person, Hotch. This...sad, pathetic person who gets left all the time."

"You are not pathetic," Hotch countered softly, his tone earnest. "You’re human. And being human means you feel things deeply. It’s one of the things...one of the many things that makes you so special."

Your eyes met his.

A mix of gratitude and sadness swirling within.

"Why are you so good to me?" you asked, a small, wistful smile playing on your lips.

"Because you deserve someone to be good to you," Hotch replied, his gaze steady. "And I'm here as long as you need."

The conversation paused as you both sat, the noise around you fading into a background hum.

Hotch’s offer hung in the air.

Sincere and simple.

A promise from a friend that felt like it could be the start of something more, something neither of you had expected but perhaps both needed.

You did not take much convincing to get home. Hotch watched your balance waver. Your eyes glassy. Your yawns. Your red-rimmed eyes.

The silence in the car was thick--

Only occasionally interrupted by the soft hum of the engine and the faint sound of passing traffic.

Hotch kept stealing glances at you. His concern evident in the crease of his brow and the tight set of his jaw.

You stared out the window, your reflection ghosting back at you, tinged with the glow of the streetlights.

Breaking the silence, your voice was soft but filled with a weariness that seemed too heavy for one person to bear.

"There was this guy I really liked," you began, your words slightly slurred from the drinks. "He always kept me on the back burner. I'd wait by the phone. Hoping he’d call. But he never did. I hate that I've turned into the girl I used to judge…the one who cares too much about people who don't care about her at all."

You paused, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you continued.

"I’d give up anything just to love someone who loves me back. It feels like I've taken a back seat in everyone else's life because they've all found love. And me? I’m just... I'm so alone. It’s like this loneliness follows me into every room, no matter how many people are there."

Hotch listened, his expression somber, the usual reserve slowly melting away under the weight of your heartfelt confession.

After a moment, he spoke.

His voice low and filled with an unexpected vulnerability.

"I understand what you mean," he admitted. "After my marriage ended and Haley...after she died, I was thrown into a kind of loneliness I had never known. When you spend so much of your life with someone, you don’t realize how much of yourself is intertwined with theirs until they're gone."

He paused, choosing his words carefully.

"And you’re right, no matter how full other parts of your life are, nothing can truly fill the void that’s left by a lack of romance or intimacy. It’s a different kind of emptiness, one that seems to echo louder the quieter it gets."

Your head turned slowly to look at him, surprised not only by his openness but also by the resonance of his words with your own feelings.

There was a comfort in knowing you weren’t alone in your loneliness.

That someone as composed and self-assured as Hotch could understand such deep, personal pain.

"The hardest part," Hotch continued, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road, "is learning how to fill that void in a way that’s healthy, without losing yourself to it. And I see you trying to do that, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now."

The car pulled up to your place, the engine idling as you both sat in silence for a moment, letting the weight of the conversation settle.

"Thank you, Hotch," you finally said, your voice softer, tinged with gratitude and a newfound respect. "For understanding. For being here."

Hotch nodded. A gentle smile touching his lips. "Always," he assured you. "Let me walk you to the door. Just to make sure you're okay."

At your door, you turned to face Hotch--

And without a word, you wrapped your arms around him in a grateful hug.

It was more than a simple gesture of thanks; it was a release of some of the night’s accumulated tension and loneliness.

Hotch, caught slightly off guard, heitated for only a moment before his arms came around you, returning the embrace with a protective warmth

He could smell the faint mix of your perfume, now mingled with the sharp scent of alcohol, and it stirred something in him--

A concern deeper than the usual care he held for his team.

As he held you, his hand gently patting your back in comfort.

Hotch found himself wishing he could do more.

Wishing he could step inside. Make you a cup of coffee. And talk through the night until you felt better.

But he held back, acutely aware of the boundaries that his role as your superior and his professional integrity dictated.

As you finally pulled back, looking up at him with eyes that showed a flicker of something like relief and comfort, Hotch realized that his feelings were perhaps more complicated than he had admitted to himself.

There was something magnetic about you.

Something that drew him in, far beyond the simple need to protect a team member.

It was a pull he hadn’t expected, one he hadn’t felt in a very long time, and it left him momentarily unsure of his next words.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” he asked, his voice low, filled with genuine concern.

“Yes, thanks to you,” you replied, managing a small smile that seemed to brighten the dim hallway. “Really, Hotch, I can’t thank you enough for tonight.”

“Just doing my part,” Hotch said, trying to sound more casual than he felt. “But if you need anything, or just want to talk, you have my number.”

You nodded, and there was a lingering look, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had deepened tonight, before you turned to open your door. “Goodnight, Hotch,” you said, stepping inside.

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching the door close gently behind you.

He stood there for a few more moments, lost in thought.

The night had revealed layers of both your vulnerabilities and strengths, and Hotch felt a renewed commitment to supporting you, not just as a leader but as someone who genuinely cared.

As he walked back to his car, the quiet of the night surrounding him, Hotch felt a mixture of worry and something akin to anticipation. It was clear now that his concern for you went beyond the professional; it was personal, and it was growing.

He hoped that would be the end of it. He wished it would.

He just wanted to see you happy.

Glowing from within like he knew you could and often did.

Hotch approached your desk, his steps deliberate, echoing softly in the nearly empty bullpen.

The rest of the team had already left for the day, leaving behind a quiet that seemed to magnify the frustration evident in your posture.

As he drew closer, he saw your face buried in your hands. Your shoulders tense.

The office was quiet. The clock ticked loud. Each second echoed. You sat, staring. Lost.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his tone laden with concern as he stopped beside your desk.

You lifted your head, your expression a mixture of bitterness and fatigue. "Guess," you said, voice tinged with a harsh laugh.

"A guy?" Hotch guessed, his brow furrowing as he watched your reaction.

"Yup," you replied bitterly. "Got a lovely message today. Apparently, I'm not pretty enough and not compatible enough for him. And oh, he couldn't possibly date someone who works for the FBI." The frustration in your voice grew with each word. "And to top it all off, I'm losing my reservation at this place that took ages to get into."

Hotch's expression shifted from concern to disbelief, then to a visible annoyance. "Where do you find these guys?" he asked, his tone sharp. Boys. He wanted to say. "I'd love to have a chance to talk to them, give them a piece of my mind."

Your eyes widened slightly, taken aback by his intensity.

Hotch's jaw was set, his eyes hard with indignation on your behalf.

After a moment, he softened slightly, gesturing to your things. "Collect your things," he instructed.

You stared at him, confusion etched across your face--

"What?"

"We’re going to that dinner reservation," Hotch stated firmly, as if it were the most natural decision in the world. "It’s important to you, and you deserve at least one night where someone can attempt to live up to what you deserve."

The sudden shift in the evening's plans left you momentarily speechless, your previous frustrations giving way to a surge of something else--

Surprise.

Perhaps tinged with relief.

You slowly began to gather your belongings, still processing his words.

"Hotch, I..." you started, unsure of how to express your gratitude or the flurry of emotions his gesture had sparked.

"No need to thank me," Hotch interrupted gently, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he saw the change in your demeanor. "Let’s just go have a good evening, okay? No expectations, no pressures. Just dinner. As friends."

The word 'friends' hung in the air, safe yet filled with unspoken possibilities.

As you followed him out of the office, your steps matched his in rhythm.

A silent acknowledgment of the shift in your relationship.

As they walked out of the BAU, Hotch's actions spoke volumes about the kind of evening he intended to provide.

He held every door open for you--

His movements graceful.

Assured.

A soft but firm hand on your back guiding you through the thresholds.

At the restaurant, he pulled out your chair, a gesture that might have seemed outdated to some, but from him, it felt respectful.

A nod to a gentler time.

A time he still lived in and was raising his son to live in.

Once seated, the conversation between you flowed effortlessly.

You spoke animatedly about the dishes, your favorites, and the memories associated with them, lighting up as you described the people woven throughout your life.

How highly you spoke of them and how important they were to you.

These memories that made you who you were.

Hotch watched you, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips, captivated by the light in your eyes and the passion in your voice.

As the evening progressed, Hotch found himself offering compliments, each more personal than might be usual for a boss.

“You have an incredible way of seeing beauty in simple things,” he remarked sincerely, watching as a blush crept up your cheeks.

It was cute. He’d never seen your cheeks turn that color pink before.

Sweet, even.

You seemed taken aback, almost shy, under the weight of his words. "I...thank you," you stuttered slightly, your smile bright but your eyes reflecting a hint of disbelief. "I-I’m not used to hearing that kind of thing."

Hotch's expression turned quizzical, his head tilting slightly. “Really? I find it hard to believe no one has ever told you that before. To me, you are so many things…”

Your eyes widened, and a vulnerable honesty shone through as you responded. "I've never been complimented like that. And from someone like you--Hotch,” You laughed, almost at yourself, “you’re... you’re attractive, smart, important. For you to see me like that, it’s... i-it’s everything. And hard to believe."

Hotch paused, the weight of your words settling between them. His brow furrowed slightly, not in frustration, but in a thoughtful reassessment of how he had come to view you--

Not just as a subordinate or a friend, but as someone deeply impressive in your own right.

Someone he cared for more than just a team member or friend.

Something so much more, he’d realized.

“You should believe it because it’s true,” he said earnestly. “And I’d tell you more often if you’d let me.”

The air around you seemed to charge with a new energy, a mixture of surprise, anticipation, and a burgeoning realization of the mutual respect and admiration that might be blossoming into something more.

The way Hotch looked at you in that moment--

With a profound seriousness tinged with warmth.

It made your heart flutter in a way that no hollow compliment from anyone else ever could.

Dinner continued under this new, uncharted atmosphere, each of you navigating this subtle shift in your dynamic, exploring the boundaries of a relationship that was, perhaps, no longer just professional.

As the night drew on, the conversation deepened, not just into personal likes and aspirations but into what made each of you the person sitting at that table.

As Hotch drove you back to the BAU parking lot after what had unexpectedly turned into one of the most memorable evenings of your both of your lives.

The night air felt charged with a new, electric energy.

He had been the perfect gentleman throughout the night, insisting on paying for dinner and ensuring every part of the evening felt speciall.

Standing beside your car under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, you turned to him, your heart full of gratitude. "Thank you, Hotch. This was...this was the best not-date, date ever," you said, the words not quite sufficient to express the depth of your feelings.

Hotch smiled, a hint of something more serious in his gaze. "It can be considered an actual date, if you want...or I could plan one that could be our actual first date, if that would be something you’d be interested in," he proposed, watching your reaction closely.

Your expression shifted to one of disbelief, a mix of joy and astonishment dancing in your eyes. "Y-You...would want to go on a real date with me? But look at you? You're handsome, sexy, smart, experienced... and I'm just me?"

Hotch shook his head, his expression softening with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. "I can’t believe you don’t see what I see," he said earnestly. "You are incredible, truly. You’re beautiful, smart, and absolutely wonderful. I so lucky if you’d have me."

The words washed over you, stirring a mix of emotions so intense they nearly overwhelmed you. "This feels too good to be true, like a dream," you murmured, the vulnerability in your voice mirrored in your eyes.

Like he said the words you’d been waiting for…for so long.

Hotch stepped closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. "Honey, this isn’t a dream. This is real, all of it," he assured you, his call to affection so genuine it carved a warm path straight to your heart.

The air between you had thickened, the kind that could change the course of a life

You felt the intensity of his gaze, the palpable connection sparking between you, and in a moment of need to ensure this wasn't a figment of your imagination, you blurted out, "Pinch me, I must be dreaming."

Hotch chuckled softly, his eyes alight with affection and amusement. "I’ll do you one better," he said, and before you could respond, he leaned in.

His lips met yours in a kiss that sent sparks flying through every nerve in your body.

A kiss so profound and filled with emotion it felt as though everything but the two of you had melted away.

A kiss that put all other attempts from others before to shame.

As you kissed under the soft lights of the BAU parking lot, it was as if the world had come to a standstill, the only sound being your combined breaths and the faint rustle of the night wind.

It was the kind of kiss that marked the beginning of something new and beautiful.

A moment neither of you would ever forget—

The world seemed to realign itself slowly as you both pulled apart.

Breathless.

The air was still thick with the electricity of the moment, and the soft glow of the parking lot lights cast a gentle halo around you.

He gazed down at you, his eyes searching yours for a reaction, a sign of how you felt after such a profound connection.

For a few heartbeats, neither of you spoke.

You were both caught in the gravity of what had just happened.

The kiss lingering like a promise between you.

Finally, Hotch broke the silence, his voice gentle, tinged with hope.

"Was that better than a pinch?" he asked, a tentative smile playing on his lips.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound light and filled with the fluttering of a thousand tiny butterflies in your stomach.

"Much better," you admitted, your voice a whisper as you dared to meet his eyes again. "Hotch, I...I didn't expect this. A-Any of this."

Hotch's smile grew warmer, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Neither did I," he confessed. "But I'm glad it happened. You're...you're more amazing than you realize. And I want to explore this, explore us, if you're willing."

The sincerity in his voice, the earnestness of his gaze, it all made your heart swell even as a sliver of uncertainty lingered.

"Are you sure? I mean, you're you, and I'm...well, I'm just me. Are we really good for each other?"

Hotch’s expression grew serious, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. "You are not 'just' anything," he said firmly. "You are incredible, and yes, I am sure. More than I've been about anything in a long time. I admire you, respect you, and I am drawn to you. I hope to make up for all those who failed so miserably at trying to hold something as special as you.”

His words, so full of conviction and depth, washed away the last of your doubts.

"O-Okay," you whispered, a smile breaking through your initial apprehension.

As you both lingered by your car, neither of you in a rush to end the night, the conversation drifted to lighter topics--

Plans for your next outing. Favorite movies, books, the comfortable chatter marking the ease that had always existed between you, now deepened by the new, flourishing intimacy.

Finally, with a last, lingering look, Hotch said goodnight, promising to call you tomorrow.

As you watched him walk away, his figure receding into the night, you felt a warmth spreading through you, a mix of excitement and peace, the night’s surprises leaving you eager for what the future might hold.

And for Hotch, he knew he had a 1 in a million chance of a lifetime to prove to you over and over again what you deserved. He never wanted to see the light in you dim again. If anything, he wanted to be the one to help you burn brighter.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216 @sweethotchlogy

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crheativity · 3 months ago

Text

SUMMARY: Something goes wrong, and you’re in tears. How do the Overblot boys help you?

WARNINGS: Tried to keep things vague but sorry if it’s a lil too specific sometimes. Reader is Prefect. Written under a romantic presumption but could possibly be read platonic. The Hell Word pops up in Leona’s and Idia’s. Book 3, Book 4 and Book 6 spoilers in Leona’s, Jamil’s and Idia’s respectively. I wrote all of these late at night also, so fair warning

NOTES: sorry it’s been a while, life go brr. This is heavily self indulgent, and sorry if it’s OOC. Might do the others (First, Second & Third years) if enough people want it.

Also, if you like this, please feel free to check out my Valentine’s Day Event!

He hesitates for a moment, hands hovering beside you as he thinks carefully about what to say. As he speaks, his voice begins to shake.

“Thank you for trusting me of all people with your feelings and circumstances. I… I am so, so sorry, Prefect. I’m-- I wish I was good at this - there are no rules for comforting someone you care about - but I’ll do my best. I— I can’t imagine what it’s like, going through what you’re going through. What you’re about to be going through. But— of course, all of Heartslabyul and I are at your disposal. Anything, anything at all that would bring you a moment’s comfort or peace, please come to us. I— all of us care about you deeply. Please tell us what to do to assist.”

If you want it (and are willing to excuse a slightly flustered Riddle), he’ll give you a tight hug, trying to convey how much he cares about you. He hates that he struggles to talk about things like this. For you, he’ll do anything. Anything to bring your rosy smile back. And if anyone dares oppose him? Heads will roll.

He’s been strangely quiet during your explanation, venting, tears - all of it. He waits until you’re finished - and then a moment longer, to consider his words. He reaches up to dry your tears. With his spare hand, he takes yours and pulls you a little closer, speaking in a low, gentle voice.

“Oi, Herbivore, c’mere. It’ll be alright, you hear? You’re strong, shameless and crafty. Hell, you give that Octotwerp a run for his money. If you gotta fight tooth and claw to get through this, then I’ll fight with you, okay? Just— no more waterworks for now. Yeah, it sucks. But you’ve cried about things, so now you should have the strength to get up and stick through them. If that’s all you can manage, I’ll get Ruggie to take care of the rest. Just don’t push yourself right now, ‘kay? Good, now rest. You’ll need it after a sob-fest like that.“

He pulls you into a surprisingly gentle hug, rubbing circles on your arms. After a while, he’ll ask if you want to nap with him. Once you fall asleep, he’s calling Ruggie and making plans. No way in hell are you dealing with more than you have to. He’ll fight for you himself if he has to.

Hearing the pain, the anguish and the tears in your voice, he has to fight back tears himself. He hesitantly reaches out for you. Pausing for a moment, he begins to speak, voice filled with emotion.

“This is— I’m very, very sorry, Prefect. You do not deserve to go through this— any of this. Should you request anything at all, the Mostro Lounge will provide, free of charge, of course. If there is anything we— I— can do to ease your burdens, please do not hesitate to ask. The world can sometimes be a deeply flawed, unfair place. I wish that I had the power to better shield you from this side. I’m truly, very sorry, Prefect. Please know that I— we care about you. This world is a far better place for your presence in it. Please, let us return the favour for you.”

He (with permission) gently pulls you into a hug, holding you as though you were glass. He was going to find who- or whatever caused you to hurt like this and make their pitiful existence miserable. Those poor, unfortunate souls.

As you confide in him, Jamil seems to turn strangely quieter than usual. His solution oriented mind begins to whir, thinking about what he can do to help, the logistics of it, etc. Your sniffling snaps him back into reality. Putting solutions aside for now, he reaches for your hands and squeezes them gently, offering you a small, sad smile.

“Hey, everything will work out. It sucks right now, obviously, but in a while, it’ll all be okay. That’s just the way life goes, for some reason. World shattering events can happen, but time marches on anyway. It’ll always drag you with it, too. What I mean is that because you’ll be okay eventually, it can help you be okay now. I guess. And we at Scarabia are always here for you, okay? Kalim’s… Kalim, and I’m always here for you if you need to vent or complain or if you need help. I’m never too busy if it’s you, alright? Just don’t bottle it up… that works out well.”

He smiles a little ruefully at that last comment, then takes off his hoodie and drapes it over you. He tells you to keep it - that way he’s always there with you if you need it. He squeezes your hands and rests his forehead against yours, comfortingly. Jamil wasn’t used to being quite so… hopeful. But you had helped him become better, and he wanted to return the favour.

Vil may be a good actor, but his thoughts were shockingly readable as you vented to him. He seemed to react correctly in all the right places, asking questions but never pressing for answers. When you finish, he gently reaches out and starts stroking your hair. He pulls you a little closer for comfort. He pauses for a moment, then begins to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Prefect. You do not deserve this - any of this. Pomefiore’s students and I are always here for you, no matter the need. Anything you need, it would be our honour and privilege to provide. In times such as these, I find taking care of oneself is extremely important. Not to the extent of perfectionism necessarily, but enough to bring you joy. So please, if it’s not too much trouble, please find one indulgent thing each day. Not something so unhealthy it’d ruin you, but something gentle and sweet. Like a bubble bath, or watching that movie you’ve mentioned wanting to see. It’s important to keep yourself as happy as you can, when life is attempting to do the opposite. And if you can’t think of anything, then please, come to me. Let me take care of you.”

He then, with permission, sweeps you into the biggest, comfiest, warmest hug you’ve ever experienced (Ghibli-style), and stays that way until you move. He wants to do so much more for you. He knows where you’re at, and, being the kind of person you are, he trusts you’ll know what’s best for yourself. He only hopes you let him take care of you, too.

Bro was low key in panic mode. What the hell is he supposed to say/do??? He really, really can’t afford to screw this up. He’s pretty sure he’d get a -1000 debuff to his Charisma stats if he doesn’t say the right thing. Usually, he wouldn’t particularly care if it was just some NPC he had to comfort - but this is the protagonist we’re talking about! And Ortho’s not here, just his luck! He sighs and his mind races back through every Otome/VN game he’s played and every shoujo romcom to figure out what in Twisted Wonderland he’s supposed to say.

“Uhh, that’s not very… plus ultra? Shoot, I mean-... That sounds really tough. I’m sorry, Prefect… Stuff like that is rough… I’m, uh, not the best person to go to for advice. Not particularly known for my ability to… handle stuff. mentally. But uh, I’m always here for a distraction if you need. That’s what I typically do. Distract until you don’t feel anymore haha… but uh, that’s probably not a good thing. Still, though. I’m always happy to play games or watch anime with you.. Or something. Those are my favourite things, not necessarily yours. We don’t have to. It’s honestly enough just to hang out with you… ugh, that was cringe, wasn’t it?”

Once you assure him that it was very much not cringe, he sighs in relief and gives you a small, soft smile - not an expression you’ve seen often on him. He reaches over and pulls out two controllers, throwing one to you. He boots up a game, commenting how he’s not gonna go easy on you just because you’re sad. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You cautiously ignore the thunderstorm brewing outside as you vent to Malleus about your problems. You carefully construct your words and phrases, to protect Sage Island from month-long hurricanes. After you finish, Malleus asks if you are comfortable with physical affection. With consent, he pulls you into a hug.

“Apologies, Child of Man, I am not familiar with methods of comfort. I will do my best - I only ask for your leniency if I say something wrong, and for you to understand that all I say is with the best intentions. I want you to know that I care about you. I believe it is important for those going through difficult periods of time to know where they have true friends. No matter what, Child of Man, I wish to be counted among those. If I am, and with your permission, I will enact all I can to assist you through and out of these situations. I only ask your patience. I promise, I will do whatever you require during this time. Only speak my name, and I will be there.”

Malleus continues to hold you gently, unsure about what to do or say from here, other than gently repeating he’s here for you. He stays there with you until you are ready to move on, then takes you for a walk around campus. And this time, he’ll only go on two tangents about gargoyles you pass.

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

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peachii-nitenite · 2 months ago

Text

Don’t Look at Me Like That (Viktor x Reader) sfw- suggestive

Summary: Viktor is scolding you for doing something reckless. Unfortunately for him he feels awful doing it. Fortunately for you, you think it’s a little hot.

Sidenote: extremely self indulgent. Slightly selfship coded. Might be slightly ooc. this has been sitting in my drafts since January and I'm sick of looking at it lol.

Content: pining, protective Viktor, mutual pining, fluff , suggestive thoughts, friends to lovers, technically dom!Viktor even though there’s no smut (yet)

Ao3 link

He had always known he should be stricter with you. He had a habit of indulging your whims too often, letting risky behaviors slide. But now he actually had to to it.

And he was failing miserably

He wanted to be upset. He was attempting to be upset. But now, as he glared down at you, he found he could not truly muster any sort of harsh feeling toward you. Not when you were looking up at him like that with wide, glittering eyes.

“…are you mad at me?”

“……”

It wasn’t fair. Not at all.

He was trying to be stern, to reprimand you for your reckless actions. You had tried to surprise him and Jayce by acquiring some rare metals to see how compatible they were with the new gemstones.

This lead you to the undercity, poking around where you likely shouldn’t have been. In your defense, you were also a Zaunite; but you hadn’t been back frequently for a long stretch of time, and it was evident in the way you carried yourself. All alone, too much of a bounce to your step, and no sharp edge to your voice.

A prime target

So when he came across you while out on his own errand, at a shady stall run by a large man with a crooked, rotten smile, he was startled.

He felt like a hypocrite for worrying, but he couldn’t help it. He makes trips to the undercity for supplies as well, but when it came to you it was…different. He almost felt childish for being too protective when it came to you.

His stomach lurched when he saw the way the shopkeeper leered at you while you were busy inspecting the metal for flaws. He was never one to judge based on appearances, however, he was nearly certain that you were dealing with a simple, honest merchant. He also did not like the way he began to notice bulky figures in the shadows, beginning to hover and slowly get closer and watch you innocently haggle.

A lamb in a lions den

How could you be so reckless, so carefree?

In that moment he was livid.

But that was short lived, and quickly replaced with a sense of urgency. He took the initiative to interrupt your dealings, coming up beside you to pluck the metal from your hands. There was a moment of shock and annoyance, as you prepared to argue with whoever would be so rude. But your expression immediately softened and warmed when she realized it was him.

“Oh! Viktor! Didn't expect to see you!”

The way you looked up at him, your smile surprised but no less warm than any other time that you looked at him. It was tender, like you were always pleased to see him. It was going to be the death of him, he swore it.

Oh, that face. The one that made him so incredibly weak. And those eyes. At times he felt like you could see him down to his core, through every wall he had put up.

It made something inside of him ache.

He had to quickly reign in the skipping of his heart, to complete his intervention and successfully get both of you back home. He said your name with a forced, stern edge as you locked eyes. He gave you a look of “you have some explaining to do later” and had to fight the urge to wince at the way you deflated, shrinking into yourself.

“A good coincidence. Come, we are going home, I need your assistance with something.” He kept his words short, to reduce the sting of saying it too harshly. He handed the metal back to the merchant, who cursed under his breath and grumbled as he put it away. His free hand found the small of your back, leading you away from the stall as quickly as his cane would allow.

The eyes peering from alleyways began to back off, but only shortly after he moved his hand from your back to your waist. He did not miss the quiet gasp you let out as he did, and he mumbled a low “sorry”.

Normally, he would had taken you by the arm, or by the hand, but in this instance he felt the need to assert himself; to say to everyone who could see: she isnt alone, she is taken-

That she was his.

His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly.

He had to swallow down such possessive thoughts. Lock them away, never to be indulged or acknowledged. It was such an ugly, poisonous feeling to him- one that never failed to fill him with shame. He took a heavy sigh as the both of you walked in silence. He mentally recited again and again:

This isn’t about you, this is about her

You are doing this to keep her out of harm's way

He could feel your eyes wandering back up to look at him, no doubt with furrowed brows and concern painting your face. He couldn’t bear to look at you yet, not when you weakened his resolve the way you did.

So the walk and trolley ride back to the lab remained silent. He noticed you open your mouth a few times to attempt to say something, but each time the words died in your throat. It was only on the trolley that he let go of you, immediately missing the feeling of your warmth under his palm.

And now, presently in the process of attempting to scold you, he wanted nothing more than to chase that warmth once more. But he could not get distracted, not when it’s already so difficult.

“What were you thinking, going to a place like that alone? At best you would have been scammed, at worst-“

“But I-“ you weakly interjected

“Do not interrupt me.” He quickly cut you off, causing you to close your mouth into a pout. “It was reckless, no matter how much you think you had the situation under control”

It was easy to be cold and hard with everyone else, but with you? It was asking the impossible.

Seeing the way you bit your lips and avoided his gaze made him feel wretched.

“I thought my lead was solid! I’m sorry, okay?” You pleaded gently, reaching for his free hand to hold it soothingly. “I didn’t mean to worry you, I just wanted to help you…”

You did not play fair. You may not have realized it, but you absolutely were not playing fair in Viktor’s mind. And once again, you were gazing up at him with those big, beautiful eyes. He had to huff and close his eyes to maintain his quickly crumbling mask of anger.

Your hands were so much softer than his, so much warmer. His resolve was crumbling. When he pulled his hand away, you reached out for him again as if by instinct. The pleading look on your face was too much for him.

Before either of you knew it, he had seized your wrist, backing you up against his work table. A few pens clattered to the floor as the backs of your legs hit the table, your free hand quickly finding a place on the cluttered surface to stabilize yourself. His face was so close to yours that it nearly made his head spin, seeing the way your eyes widened with shock and how your breath quickened as he cornered you.

Many of his more sordid daydreams had begun like this; with you pressed against his desk and with him pressed against you. It was only the tangible feeling of your hand in his that cemented that he was not, in fact, dreaming. The line between friendly concern and his true feelings was getting blurrier by the second, as something stirred within him once more seeing you like this. How far could he go before you pushed him away?

“I will not be so lenient with you after this. What you did was reckless and foolish-

He had to ignore how your breath hitched as he brought his face closer

“-Not to mention the fact that you should have cleared this idea with me or Jayce before you decided to-

He had to ignore how your lips were slightly parted and your cheeks were starting to flush

“-And on TOP of that, you-

And your eyes. Heavily lidded, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, glittering like jewels. As the sun painted you golden beneath him, he began to falter. He was lost in your eyes, no less adoring than they had previously been, but now clear and intense in the light. Your pupils were wide; much wider than usual.

“I…uh, that is to say….” He trailed quietly

An indication of affection.

Or arousal.

“W-well, uh…” he cursed his tongue for failing him.

He felt his face light aflame, pink spreading across his face to the very tips of his ears at the thought-or rather, the very real possibility that you saw him in that light.

He could not ignore it

Not when you were looking at him like that.

He pulled himself away before anything could escalate further, clearing his throat as he put a respectable distance between you.

“W-well you get it. No need to..eh, repeat myself…” he turned away.

What was he about to do? Was he truly so depraved? He mentally kicked himself for letting himself spiral. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were uncomfortable, and the mere thought of no longer bringing a smile to your face nearly broke his heart.

“I… I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted so severely…” he hung his head as he went to sit in his chair near the desk, still cautiously maintaining the distance.

“N-no it’s alright! Really! I uh…I needed it I think…” you timidly reassured him.

He could not help but observe the way you kept pressing your thighs together.

“…oh?”

“Y-yeah… you were right… I should be more mindful…and sometimes you should probably…uh…”

“I should probably what?”

You flushed, shyly looking over at him.

“You should be more stern with me…sometimes…” your voice trailed off as you bit your lip once more.

There was an expression he hadn’t seen before on that sweet face.

Longing. Yearning.

And your eyes? Desire.

….

Oh.

Oh…you sweet thing.

Viktor was not the kind of man to jump to conclusions merely when the outcome seemed desirable to him. But he was a man who could see and comprehend what was right in front of him.

You are not mad at him. Not at all.

You liked how he got authoritative with you.

He was reeling with this new information. The very task that tormented him was something that you were into.

Very into, from what he could deduce.

He could take a calculated risk. He could ask you directly, or…

He could get you to say it yourself.

He allowed himself to smile, finally, as he beckoned you forward. You came over immediately. Cute.

You shuffled over, standing before him with your hands clasped behind your back, awaiting his next request. He mustered up his stern voice once more, noting the way that it made you squirm.

“Elaborate. Now.”

You blinked slowly, carefully choosing your next words

“Well…you’re always so patient and kind to me, and I appreciate it a lot… but…”

“But?”

“But sometimes I feel like you’re holding back… so just then- when you got more assertive with me….i didn’t mind it.”

He simply allowed you to continue spilling your truth to him, noting your fidgeting. He didn’t want to scare you off with too many questions after all, not when he was so close to hearing what he wanted.

“It’s… a new side of you I haven’t seen before. It’s so…intense.” He could tell by the way you said it that you had a different word in mind, but deliberately chose a more benign one to spare further embarrassment.

He would be lying if he said it didn’t stroke his ego a bit.

“So…um…yeah I…would like it if you showed that side a bit more often…” you awkwardly concluded, hands still clasped tightly behind your back

You would like it.

You liked it.

The prospect rattled Viktor’s skull.

With that, he decided to take the risk.

“Tell me something.”

“Yeah?”

“If it were anyone else, would you still like it? The scolding.”

The silence that followed was deafening, as he watched you attempt to say something.

Until finally….

“No…no, I’m not sure if I would” you quietly admitted.

“Not even Jayce?” He was just teasing now, but his tone was as serious as a heart attack.

“No…only you”

Only you

Your voice echoed inside of him as his heart leapt.

He wasn’t the only one with these feelings; and that realization gave him a relief previously unknown to him.

He leaned forward and held his hand out for you to take, letting his stern mask fall a bit when he saw how you hesitated. You really were too cute.

“Come here” he murmured gently, beckoning you forward. You let your hand rest in his palm, and let him gently tug you forward until you were nearly straddling him. A shadow of a smirk graced his lips when he felt your pulse, your rapidly beating heart betraying you.

He slowly lifted the back of your hand to his face, planting a soft kiss and holding it there for a moment. When he looked up at you, what he saw was nothing short of perfection.

Your lips slightly parted as a sweet gasp left you, the eyes he was so weak to glued to his mouth against your skin;

It was too cute.

“I am not mad at you, despite how much I want to be.” He murmured against your hand before pulling away.

“Is it strange? I find I cannot remain upset with you for longer than a few minutes at a time.” he frowned, sighing and shaking his head “And now… you tell me you like it. How cruel.”

“I..” you weren't given a chance to speak before a high pitched whine escaped you as his lips brushed your hand once more. You could've sworn you saw him smirking.

“I was worried about you-” a feather light kiss on your knuckles “because I cherish you-” Another on your wrist “And the idea of anything happening to you frightens me-” another just below the cuff of your sleeve. “- so no. I am not mad at you.”

You sighed in relief, and felt ever so warm under his touch. His eyes darkened as he pulled away slightly, the serious edge returning to his voice.

“But you did scare me half to death. Never do something like this again without telling one of us, understood?”

You nodded, dazed and flushed; and satisfied with this response, he guided you to sit in his lap with a firm hand. The most miniscule of reactions were clear as day to him now, and he smirked as he noted the way you shivered in anticipation.

“Now, would you like to see how intense I can truly be?”

#pining #protective Viktor #mutual pining #fluff #suggestive thoughts #friends to lovers #technically dom!Viktor even though there’s no smut (yet)#arcane #arcane netflix #peachii fics #my fics #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor lol

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ordowrites · 30 days ago

Text

when they tell you to "strip"

cw: hints at smut, negotiated power dynamics&kink, slightly under negotiated kink, some D/s dynamics, afab reader, pet names, possessive behaviors and mirror kink (arlecchino), brat taming&spanking (kaeya), praise kink (diluc), consensual non-consent (wanderer). admittedly very self indulgent, possibly OOC

mdni, minors do NOT interact, blank blogs dni.

characters: wanderer, kaeya, diluc, arlecchino

(credit to cafekitsume for the banner)

sorry for bullying you, wanderer

Diluc had spent most of his day trying to find the right time to take on the role you had asked him to - ever so sweetly, with a bat of your eyes as you gestured to some graphic novel from Inazuma you'd been reading. At first, he had been baffled at the idea before slowly warming up to it and maybe even flipping through your various novels for some ideas.

Perhaps the two of you should have discussed what you'd wanted beforehand but you have mentioned that you enjoy the element of surprise. So instead of focusing on the meetings he had to be in, the man had spent the day imagining up various situations where he would come in, command you to do something, and you do it. Different scenarios that had him growing hot under the collar.

See, Diluc never wavers - not often but when it comes to you, he finds himself stuttering like a lovestruck teen and always caught off guard and it's hard not to be. Not when you smile at him, when you talk to him oh so casually. He grows shy around you some days, unsure of what to do when you quip back at him.

So, here he is - drawing in a few breaths as he pushes the door open and finds you in the library of his manor. You're reading a book - again - and he wavers for a moment. There's no way he could boss you around. What if he hurt you? What if you actually hated it and therefore, hate him?

Diluc draws in another breath, doing his best to center himself.

"Strip." He commands, doing his best to hold authority in his voice and you look up at him, your eyes wide. Diluc hopes he did not just completely ruin your guys' marriage.

"What?" You ask, as though you did not just him clearly telling you what to do. Perhaps he did cross a line and he's ready to apologize for saying such a thing though the fact you're putting down your book and reaching for the hem of your shirt indicates otherwise. "Maybe sit down?"

So, of course, Diluc does so - enamored with the way you slowly strip off your clothes. For some reason, he had expected a bit more of a fight from you - more...he supposes, brattiness. But he'll take this, especially when you get on your knees in front of him - how beautiful you look, reaching towards the zipper of his pants. "Good girl." he breathes. And you smile up at him.

"Make me." Are two words you know you'll always regret when Kaeya tells you to do something. Yet, you can't help it every time because you like the look that he gets, baffled, confused, and then that stupid, cocky smirk that forms on his face. He grips at your chin, forcing you to look at him in that blue eye of his, as he tilts his head to the side a bit.

"Could you repeat that for me, princess?" Kaeya asks, voice so calm and so light, as though he were holding a casual conversation about the weather with you and not looking as if he's about to throw you over his knee for your audacity to challenge him. "It's not rhetorical. Repeat what you just told me."

"M-Make me...?" There's less confidence in your voice and he fakes an exasperated sigh. Kaeya's lips brush against yours for a brief moment, teasing but he pulls away, his grip tightens for a moment before he releases you. Oh, maybe he's actually angry at you.

"So, here's what we'll do, princess," Kaeya says as he steps away from you and circles around you. Chills run down your spine, the atmosphere is much colder and you realize he's using his Vision. "You'll strip for me and you'll be good for me for the rest of the evening."

You nod, though it takes you a moment to gather yourself. You pull off your top and your skirt, so you're only in your underwear. Kaeya looks displeased and it's your turn to tilt your head to the side, mimicking him from earlier.

"I stripped," you point out. "You said to strip my clothes, so I did."

Kaeya slips his fingers beneath the collar you're wearing, being careful of pulling you towards him and with him as he sits down in the chair, sprawling you over his lap.

"Darling, you know what I meant." The sharp sting across your buttock has you gasping out in surprise, followed by a few more. A hand moves up to the strap of your bra and he snaps it. "Now, let's try this again. Strip."

You sniffle a bit, pursing your lips. Finally, you unhook your bra and toss it aside, before slipping out of your panties. Kaeya looks at you as if you are made up of marble and blessed by some goddess of beauty. He reaches out, pulling you close to him, pressing some kisses along your belly and peppers downward. It takes a moment but he ducks down between your legs, your hands perching in his hair.

Arlecchino never really has to ask you twice or even tell you to strip because one look, and you're already pulling your clothes off for her but today is a little bit more different. You're in clothes that aren't particularly your style but one she chose for you today. You try to be good for her, though you have your moments that are swiftly and quickly corrected. After all, those that belong to her, learn how to behave quickly without much complaint.

It's hard to not grow shy sometimes with her eyes on you, always watching and taking in your every detail, even has you fumble with the ties on the back of your dress. They're well knotted and you can't get them undone.

You know she did the ties on your dress the way she did on purpose, just so she could watch you struggle. But when she strides over to you, one hand rests on your hip and you watch her through the mirror, face flushing a bit as her fingers begin to deftly undo the knots on the ribbon, before pulling them out, slowly. The top of your dress begins to loosen, giving you better breathing room but as the fabric falls away, her lips press against exposed skin. A hand plays with your breasts as they get revealed to her, and all you can do is watch through the mirror.

The cinch at your waist lessens up and finally, the dress falls away and Arlecchino is pleased. She likes dressing you up, and stripping you down every night - always taking her time with you. Claws drag at your skin and you shiver.

Next comes your bra, easily removed without really any sort of theatrics. And then finally, your panties - those are slowly pulled down. And Arlecchino is pleased when you are fully bare to her - and only her.

Soft lips press along your neck and your shoulders, moving downward every so often. Arlecchino leaves marks in places nobody can see, but serve as a reminder of who you belong to, and no doubt that tonight is going to serve as a reminder for you to watch your tone and how you talk to other people and about yourself. Most wouldn't think it, but she is a jealous woman.

"Watch the mirror." she orders and you can only obey. "I will not have you insult, disparage or otherwise be cruel to what belongs to me. An insult about yourself is an insult to me."

All you can really do is nod in agreement.

Your breath catches in your throat as your thoughts catch up to the words that had come out of the Wanderer's mouth, and you snort.

"Come again, Hat Guy?" He crosses his arms over his chest as he regards you, lips pursed and eyes in a scowl. "You can't just come in here and make demands without saying please." Honestly it's hard to not taunt him when he's in one of his many moods, his reactions are so funny even if you end up not being able to walk very well later. "C'mon, I might consider it if you ask nicely."

A breath, a soft growl that makes your stomach do a flip.

"Strip, please." The Wanderer says, although not quite sounding defeated at your audacity to talk back to him without even an ounce of worry. "Now."

"The now negates the please." You tell him as you close your text book and stand up. "C'mon, don't you have better manners than that?"

The Wanderer rubs his forehead. "Don't be a brat." He tells you, a slight warning in his voice and you grin. You know he's trying to reign in his temper with you, unless he wants to ruin yet another outfit of yours though that's what you want him to do, but you're not going to say that. "Now do as I say or you won't like what I can do."

You yelp when he grabs you by the arm and half tosses you onto the couch, kneeling above you. Your heart pounds in your chest as his hand twists into the top of your shirt. That look on his face makes you feel much warmer than it should.

"You were warned." the Wanderer tells you, simply as he rips your top off with ease. There's a moment where he takes you in, like he's never seen you naked before. Teeth sink into the skin of your collarbone and he shamelessly leaves a mark there, before moving to your neck, making sure to leave purple marks all around just so you can't hide them.

Your skirt is yanked off next without a care from him, followed by your panties.

"Hey, those were expensive-!"

"I don't care." he grumbles into your chest, teeth digging into your skin. "Shut up." Despite his words, you know he'll be buying you a new pair tomorrow - possibly with some extra other things he thinks you need. "Now, be good."

"For right now." You grumble and he makes a noise in the back of his throat, and you meet those violet eyes of his. "I'll be good for now." You both know this is a lie, but you also know that the Wanderer enjoys a challenge. And the way he starts to ignore your words as he works down your body, mixing between worshipful and punishing, bright purple and blue from his teeth flourish on your skin. The Wanderer has always been good with his mouth, making you come over and over again until you're more than just a mess beneath him.

He does take you by surprise when he captures your lips with his - he hardly kisses you outside of a few pecks, but this only serves as a distraction as he pushes your knees to your chest.

"Beg." he commands.

At first, you think of telling him no, but when you're in such a vulnerable position and he's looking at you with a hunger you cannot quite describe, you don't want to keep pushing his buttons.

"Please." You breathe out with a shuddering breath.

"See what happens when you actually obey?"

Only for now, you think as you reach up and push some of his hair out of his face.

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kuro8066 · 15 days ago

Text

Mission successfully failed

dom! male reader × childe | Genshin Impact

In which the eleventh fatui harbinger was supposed to steal an important seal from the general of liyue, instead he got caught and worse he "accidentally " let out a moan when he's being restrained...

Tw: again self indulgent shit so childe might be ooc? But I do think he'd be the type to do this kind of behaviour. A bit suggestive. Not to the point of nsfw but iykyk

___________________________________________

It was just a simple mission. Sneak in, grab the seal, sneak out. It's just the place where the seal is kept is the house of the most feared general in liyue but that's not important. Nothing will be able to stop the eleventh harbinger from taking what he wants after all. Not even the general himself.

That is what childe thought until there's someone pushing him down from the back with great strength.

The general had caught him mid-reach, fingers just grazing the lacquered seal when a hand like steel clamped around his wrist. Before Childe could twist away, his body was bent, pressed flat against the desk with humiliating ease.

“Care to explain what you’re doing in my study, Fatui?”

The voice was deep. Cold. Too close to his ear. Childe’s breath hitched—partly from the pain of the hold, mostly from the sheer authority in that tone.

He could’ve played it cool. Rather he should’ve.

But then childe decided to replied with a cheeky "oh hi general. Didn't see you there." And the general’s knee is slotted between his thighs to restrict movement. A sharp shove to his lower back forced his chest flush against the polished wood. Childe arched—and moaned.

"Ngh!"

It was short. Sharp. A traitorous sound that silenced the room like a dropped blade.

"...Did you just—?"

“No!” he snapped, face burning hotter than the sun at its peak hours, wriggling like a fish on a hook. “That was—it’s cold in here!”

The general did not look convinced.

“…It’s spring.”

“Then your voice was too sexy! I mean—intimidating!”

A pause. The grip on his wrists tightened. Childe groaned again, this time in pure shame.

The general, usually composed to a fault, seemed at a rare loss. Brows slightly furrowed, lips parted as if trying to calculate what just happened.

“I have interrogated many war criminals,” he murmured slowly, “and none of them have… moaned at being restrained.”

“Well, maybe you weren’t doing it right,” Childe quipped before his brain could stop him.

Another silence.

And then—pressure. The general pressed his knee forward again. “You’re testing me.”

Childe grinned, breathless. “Maybe I am, General. Whatcha gonna do about it? Punish me?"

He should’ve been panicking. Cursing. Plotting an escape.

But instead, he was squirming under the general’s firm hold, chest flush to polished mahogany, panting like some low-ranking grunt caught red-handed—and enjoying it.

And Childe could bet his juicy ass he’d never felt this way in his life.

Sure, he’d flirted with nobles, courted danger, and danced the line between pleasure and peril for years. His record was a mosaic of near-scandals and sharp grins. But this?

This wasn’t flirting. This was being handled.

And fuck, did that do something to him.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden” the general noted, voice silk wrapped around steel. His grip didn’t waver. If anything, it pressed harder—as if coaxing the truth from every breath Childe exhaled.

“Just… appreciating the craftsmanship of your desk,” Childe muttered, voice breathy.

The general leaned in, low and deliberate. “You’re flushed. Your pulse is racing. state your purpose of sneaking into my study. What do you intend to do after trespassing on my property?”

Childe choked on a sound that was definitely not a moan. “T-to steal the seal,” he croaked out, though he wasn’t even sure of his goal anymore. “Obviously.”

“Hmm,” the general hummed, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like you’re about to melt into the woodwork, fatui?”

Childe clenched his jaw. This was humiliation on a national level. He should’ve been furious.

But his body was thrumming, nerves singing, something primal clawing inside his chest. Every second in that position chipped away at his pride, and yet—he didn’t want to move.

And that pissed him off more than getting caught.

He hated losing. Despised it. But if this was defeat, then maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t mind losing to this man.

Not if it meant being held down like this. Spoken to like this. Touched like he mattered and belonged under control.

His voice was barely a whisper. “You gonna keep manhandling me, General? Or do I need to break into your bedroom next time?”

Childe. One. Doesn't know if he's just curious to know what kind of beast he's trying to awaken. Or two. Wants the beast to wake up and ravish him. Or three. Maybe he wants both.

#genshin impact x reader #dom male reader #childe #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #childe x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #x male reader #sub childe #sub character #sub tartaglia #sub genshin impact

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bucketgetter535 · 27 days ago

Text

I don’t even like her

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

CW: Swearing/Subtle internalized homophobia

WC: 1021

Notes: basically Paige is an angsty sixteen year old who “hates” this girl who goes to her school and vents to her therapist about it. (Lowk ooc for Paige but this is self indulgent) anyway this could be the only fic I ever write cause I’m also using it for a creative writing project at school so… give feedback if you want more ig?

The carpet in the office was too clean. That was the first thing Paige noticed every time. Too clean and too soft, like she wasn’t allowed to stomp on it. Like it would judge her shoes for having walked through a parking lot. Her chair squeaked a little when she leaned back too hard, and the window always had that little hum from the traffic outside. It wasn’t annoying. It was just always there.

Dr. Reyes sat in the chair across from her, the same leather armchair every week, ankles crossed like she had all the time in the world. She had that therapist expression that wasn’t fake, but wasn’t… not practiced, either. It was the kind of face Paige found herself trying to match sometimes. Even now. Even when she didn’t want to be here.

“So,” she started, not even looking at her notebook, “how’s this week been? Any change from what you were feeling before?”

Paige shrugged. Her hood was up. Her sleeves were pulled over her hands. “Fine.”

“You seem tired.”

“I guess.”

Dr. Reyes gave her a minute. She always gave her a minute.

And Paige hated that it worked.

“I’m just—” Paige exhaled, tugged at a loose thread on her sweatshirt. “I don’t know. People are annoying.”

“People, like… your teammates?”

“No. I mean yeah, but not really.” Another beat. “Just this one person.”

Dr. Reyes didn’t say anything.

“She’s just—God.” Paige sat up straighter, suddenly full of words. “She’s not even that great. Okay? Like people act like she is. People think she’s like this goddess or something. And she’s not. She’s just a girl. She’s literally just a girl. A normal girl. She’s not even that funny. She just—laughs at dumb stuff. Like it’s charming or whatever.”

Dr. Reyes stayed still. Just listening.

“And she’s not as good as everyone says she is. Like okay, yeah, she’s good, but she’s not better than me. I’m better. I am.”

“You’re talking about—?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying her name.”

Dr. Reyes smiled just slightly. “Okay.”

“She walks around like she owns everything. Like she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. It’s annoying. It’s so—manipulative. Like, don’t act all humble and act like you don’t know what you’re doing when you wear those stupid crop tops or laugh like that or—” Paige stopped, red in the face now. “Whatever.”

There was a silence. The kind that only existed when someone had just told a really big truth disguised as a rant.

“You sound like you think about her a lot,” Dr. Reyes said softly.

“I have to. She’s always there. Practice. School. Online. My friends won’t shut up about her. Even my dad likes her.”

“And you don’t?”

“No!” Paige’s voice cracked on it. “I mean—God, no. I hate her.”

Dr. Reyes raised an eyebrow gently. “You hate her?”

“Yes. I hate her dumb face and her dumb smile and the way she always smells like coconut conditioner and how she somehow makes basketball graceful. Like it’s supposed to be messy. It’s supposed to be violent, and she makes it look like a ballet or some shit and it’s infuriating.”

Paige was breathing faster now, curled slightly forward, like the truth was physically pushing its way out of her.

“And I hate how she looks at me like she knows me. Like she sees through all my shit. I hate how she’s nice to people. I hate how she’s mean when she’s mad. I hate how I know her favorite color is pink and she loves chocolate and eats some kind of treat every night because she’s got the worst sweet tooth. I hate how she texts with perfect punctuation. I hate that she doesn’t get pimples. I hate that she calls me ‘P’ like she’s allowed to.”

Dr. Reyes tilted her head just slightly. “She calls you that?”

Paige blinked hard. Her voice dropped. “Only sometimes.”

The room felt smaller now. Warmer. Or maybe that was just her.

Dr. Reyes was quiet, letting it stretch. Letting Paige decide where to go next.

“I—” Paige’s voice cracked again. “I think about her too much. And I hate that.”

“What do you think about?”

“She’s just always there. In my head. Like I’ll be in math or on the bus or listening to music or brushing my teeth and she just shows up. And it’s not even like I want her there. She just is.”

“And when she’s there?”

Paige swallowed. Her voice went small. “Sometimes I’m mad. Sometimes I just want her to look at me. Like, actually look at me. Not like a teammate. Not like a friend. Like… like I’m special. Like I’m more than just good at basketball.”

Dr. Reyes didn’t move. Her stillness was the safest thing in the world.

“And that makes me mad, too,” Paige whispered. “Because I shouldn’t want that from her. She’s her.”

“What’s wrong with wanting that?”

“Because it’s her.” Paige’s eyes were glassy now. “And if it’s her then—then maybe I’m not who I thought I was.”

Dr. Reyes’ voice was gentle. “Who do you think you are?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

The room went still again. Paige wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“I hate her,” she said again, softer now. “I hate that I know she’s everything I want to be. I hate that she makes me feel safe and out of control at the same time. I hate that I see her name and my stomach flips. That I hear her voice and everything feels quieter. I hate that her hands are so gentle when she rebounds and that she lets me win arguments because she knows I need to. I hate that she smells like home. And I hate that Azzi Fudd might be the only person I’ve ever—”

She stopped. Bit her lip. Looked away.

Dr. Reyes let her.

When Paige looked back, her face was blotchy, and her voice was nothing more than a thread of air.

“I don’t even like her,” she whispered.

And for the first time, Dr. Reyes wrote something down. Just one word.

Love

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #uconnwbb #uconn wbb #pazzi fics #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #dallas wings

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fallenprophets · 4 months ago

Text

televangelism

Rust Cohle x reader

» can be read as in the same timeline or whatever as midnight, lose my mind but nothing vital will be missed

summary : lying in bed with rust, you allow yourself some good ol' self-indulgent staring. featuring some very (un)scandalous physical contact

no use of y/n, gender neutral reader, 1.3K words (she's short but hopefully sweet)

warnings : n/a

A/N : she's not proofread, she's short, she's so self-indulgent, but that's kind of on brand for me at this point. listened to ethel cain while writing this (obviously). title is just a song that fits, has nothing to do with anything LMFAO. if insanely ooc, blame it on the boogey i had nothing to do with it

⭐︎

Rust Cohle doesn’t sleep.

At least, that’s what I’ve been lead to believe- through Marty’s rants in the car on the way to crime scenes, through the whispers of coworkers in the precinct; hell, Rust himself has said it more than once, eyes glazed over, the words mumbled around the cigarette trapped between his teeth. Those words- Rust don’t sleep- had become, over time, something I knew rather than thought- words whispered in my mind every time I looked at him, took in how tired he looked.

At this point, though, I’ve seen him asleep enough to know that that’s bullshit. Hell, I’ve seen him asleep enough to know when he’s pretendin’, eyes shut but aware of everything around him. He did it a lot, when I started staying over at his or he at mine; I’d close my eyes and feel him shift, and I just knew he was watchin’ me, thinking all his lonely thoughts. I remember wishing I could reach through his eyes, sift through his mind.

He started trusting to me, I like to think. Took time; months of me watching him pretend, him watching me doze. Finally, though, he slept, and now, we’re at a point where I know when it’s real, when it’s faking.

He doesn’t exactly look at peace, when he’s really asleep. That’s what you expect from people (although, at this point, I should know not to compare Rust Cohle to the others I’ve known); the lines of their face soften, the hardness of their eyes hidden. I remember watching my daddy sleep; was the only time I saw him lookin’ relatively normal.

But no, Rust doesn’t sleep like that.

His brow is furrowed, as when he is awake, as if he’s in perpetual thought. His mouth is pressed into a thin line; even the tic in his jaw is still there, appearing occasionally. He has a hand pressed to my leg, fingers curled around the inside of my knee. It is the only part of him touching me; I don’t blame him for wanting a little space in this heat.

When he’s asleep, he looks like he’s fighting. Like he’s gripping onto something, and it’s slipping; like he’s Sisyphus pushing that damn rock in the underworld, always returning to the beginning. Or Orpheus, walking blind towards the light, watching his Eurydice slip away from him at the last moment when he succumbs to his love for her, turns to see her one last time.

When I was a kid, we had a dog; my ma always told us to stay away from him if he was in a deep sleep, ‘cause we’d startle him and bite our noses off.

Now, I feel the same longing mixed with caution swirl in my stomach. My fingers twitch where they’re curled against my stomach, aching to reach out and touch his face. I shuffle a little closer; his grip on my leg shifts, thumb dragging against my skin softly. He doesn’t seem to have been woken. I swallow. I’m close enough to feel his warm breath fan across my face, my neck; close enough to see every minute detail of his face, even in the semi-darkness of my room.

This is one of the rare moments where I’m just able to look. To trace the line of his nose, his eyelids, the way his eyelashes look when his eyes are shut. The curve of his mouth, the tired, slightly haunted look that follows him into sleep. His hair is shorter; he let me cut it, suggested it out of nowhere the other day. I hardly said a word as I did it; he told me about whatever his latest thought was, the words thick as he smoked. I listened, threaded my fingers through his hair; kissed him when I was done, tasted the smoke on his tongue.

I give in to the want choking me and raise my hand, reaching out to touch his cheekbone with my fingertips. I’m careful not to wake him; keep my touch light as I brush down, stopping at his mouth. It makes me feel almost physically sick; the thought that I’ve kissed him, that he’s asleep in my bed, after so much time spent haunting the precinct, trying to catch glimpses of him at his desk, ducking away when his eyes met mine. I was always too ashamed to look; and now, here I am, and here he is.

I rest my hand where his jawline meets his ear, his pulse against my palm, fingers in his hair. The sun has almost set completely outside, but I know he’s still there, skin hot against mine. I close my eyes and still see him, burned into my eyelids; reminds me of staring at the sun too long when I was a kid, eyes stinging. Only this don’t hurt as much.

I think he wakes while I doze. He doesn’t move, doesn’t pull my hand away from where it rests against his pulse. He watches me, like he always does; I can picture him, his gaze unfiltered and thick through his eyelashes. I wait, not wanting to break the spell of silence.

But the waiting, as always, becomes unbearable, and I open my eyes. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him, despite how I have grown so used to being near him. I shift my hand to trace my fingertips down, dragging them across his collarbone, pressing my palm over his heart. His eyes stay fixed on my face, assessing, admiring, examining.

He pulls his hand from my leg, and my skin tingles, aching for the warmth of it. Wordlessly, he nudges the hem of my too-big t-shirt up, to settle his hand again on my bare skin, fingers curling at my back. It’s so strangely intimate; the way he touches me without breaking eye contact, the way his jaw clenches and unclenches as he does so. I wonder if he feels guilty, for allowing himself this pleasure (and I am assuming that’s what this is- not just a thoughtless stunt of his, but something he wants to do, just as much as I do)- wonder if later, when he sits in his truck with a cigarette clamped between his teeth, he’ll let the regret wash over him, and never look me in the eyes again. Does he regret this? It’s hard to tell, with the way he watches me, heavy-lidded, his thumb tracing circles on my waist.

I think of the way he kisses me. The first time, he was taught, every muscle alert, like an animal ready to bolt. But when I smoothed a hand over the tick in his jaw, he seemed to let go, to give in all at once. Now, when we kiss, he’s always almost greedy, brow furrowed, cursing himself and yet, and yet, and yet. I almost smile at the thought.

I don’t think he regrets this, because he’s lying in my bed in his wifebeater and an old pair of my sweats, and the smell of his cigarettes linger on my skin and in my walls, and because of the things he whispers to himself when he thinks I’m asleep. I don’t think he regrets this, because although he never outright says I love you the way most people might, he shows it in other ways, in his strange, Rust Cohle way.

And that’s enough for me.

I shuffle closer, press my forehead to his, and he closes his eyes. I watch the furrow in his brow fade, his jaw clenching and unclenching still, the palm of his hand on my bare waist, his fingers rough and warm against my skin. He lets out a long breath, a release of something that I don’t understand.

I suppose I must love him- not the way I’ve loved past boyfriends; certainly not the way I loved my fiancé, before he ran off with someone from California. But his heart beats against the palm of my hand, and I know he'll be right here in the morning.

#rustin cohle #rust cohle x reader #rust cohle #true detective #true detective season 1 #rust cohle x you #shoutout to knuckle velvet and the preacher's daughter album for fuelling this #matthew mcconaughey #rustin cohle x reader #rust cohle true detective #bloodhoundsandplagues writes

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ghxstlike · 4 months ago

Text

in hiding

synopsis: he finds you crying and comforts you.

featuring: dan heng & aventurine (seperate)

content: sfw. comfort, pre-established relationship, dan heng has feelings for reader, tiny bit of flirting/compliments from aventurine, aventurine is kinda awkward, social anxiety (aventurine), anxiety attack (aventurine), reader’s gender isn’t specified, not proofread.

author's note: this is super self-indulgent lol. also this is the first time i’ve ever written these characters, so i apologize if they seem ooc! this also has been buried deep within my drafts- i finished this MONTHS ago….i felt too nervous to post it 😭 anywho, enjoy!

dan heng

you're another member of the astral express crew.

you've known dan heng enough to get the gist of his distant personality, even though you find him slightly intimidating.

you still managed to develop a crush on the guy, so he can't be that intimidating.

anyway, dan heng was tasked to go and 'fetch' you (pom pom's words) so all of you could eat dinner.

you’re usually in ‘his’ room, reading a book on his makeshift bed. when he enters said room and doesn’t see you, he grows a little worried.

in fact, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen you in days. now, he’s really worried.

the only other place that you'd be is in your room.

when he finds you in your room, his heart sinks.

intensely worried about you the moment he realizes you're crying.

type of guy to immediately jump into action. he's not aggressive about it, no, he's gentle.

softly sits beside you where you're on your bed, his hand reaching out to touch you while asking to do so.

if you say no, he obviously listens to your wishes. would not want to harm you or make you uncomfortable while you're in this state.

he sits there, watching you cry in silence. it's a little awkward, having him watch you cry, but he doesn't know what else to do. he doesn't want to ruin anything.

he says a few things to try and calm your crying down.

"let it all out."

"it's okay, you're safe."

"i'm here for you."

if you say yes, his hand comes up to rub your back gently, making you scoot closer to him. also says comforting words in this moment as well.

after you're done crying, he listens intently if you start to talk about what is bothering you.

man's just wants you to feel better.

"i'm sorry," you mumble, wiping your snot with the back of your hand. you don't see it, but dan heng shakes his head while he smiles softly at you.

"no need to apologize." his deep, monotone voice instantly calms your nerves. "crying can be helpful to some. don't worry about it." he places a hand on your head, ruffling your hair ever so slightly. you sigh, then sniffle. even though he said it was okay, you still feel a little ashamed at yourself. you almost feel embarrassed. you sort-of know what you look like while crying, and you know it isn't pretty. your heart soars with discomfort as you realize that dan heng has witnessed you at one of your lowest moments in life.

"gosh, i probably look like a mess right now." you croak out, a dry laugh following short after. you try to wipe the dried tears off your cheeks but to no avail. you'll have to wash it off with some cold water later. you hear dan heng hum, which catches your attention. your eyes look into dan heng's. you notice how dan heng's blue eyes soften at your stare.

dan heng's hand reaches out to a strand of hair that's in the way of your face, pulling it back behind your ear. you feel your face heat up, and your heart skips a beat at the intimate eye contact. you notice how dan heng’s face is in a similar predicament to yours; a light pink blush covers his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"you don't," he whispers. "you're beautiful."

aventurine

guy doesn't know how to comfort other people.

type of person to let the person cry it out by themself, then come back later with gifts.

i've seen a headcanon where aventurine is bad at comforting other people due to his past trauma and i truly believe it.

aventurine can rarely take stuff seriously, what makes you think he can comfort someone?

anywho. he finds you curled up into a ball in an alleyway in penacony. he heard the sobs come from a mile away and was curious at what the sound was.

he honestly thought it was a stray cat.

he's seen you around before. yeah, he remembers! you walked up to him at the bar and complimented his outfit, telling him he looked like a peacock.

he thought that it was very cute when you blushed, explaining you didn't mean to say that outloud and kept apologizing.

but now here you are, sitting on the gross ground of the alleyway with your chin propped up on your knees, crying your eyes out.

aventurine bites his lip, trying to figure out if he wants to help you or just leave you alone.

but that's when you placed your hand flat on your chest, and he noticed how you began to breathe heavily.

he knows exactly what's happening, and he can't leave you alone now.

"hey, breathe. you need to breathe."

you hear a somewhat familiar voice call out to you, but it seems so far away. you don't understand what he says and try to brush it off. though, he doesn't go away. his legs are in your line of sight, and he doesn't seem to be moving. you watch as he crouches down, his hands shakily reach towards yours.

"i'm gonna touch you, okay?" he gulps, almost flinching at the skin-to-skin contact. you don't answer, you just continue to hyperventilate as your wide eyes dart across the environment around you. the man seems to notice this and blocks your field of vision with his face.

"y-you- you're-" you try to get out, but all you can manage is a few hiccupped mumbles. the man in front of you smiles.

"hi again." you can clearly hear his smooth voice now. "can you take a deep breath for me? i'll do it with you." you nod, looking into his multi-colored eyes. they're so pretty.

you follow his actions- breathe in for 4 seconds, pause for 4 seconds, breathe out for 4 seconds. you both repeat this a few more times until your breath doesn't sound choppy or uneven.

silence overcomes the two of you. your eyes glance down at your intertwined hands, then back up at the man in front of you. suddenly realizing he's still holding your hands; he quickly drops them from his grasp while clearing his throat.

"you alright?" he says softly. his eyes glance down at your body, trying to see if you're hurt anywhere. your words interrupt him.

"no, i'm fine now," you sniffle. "thank you, um.." you pause, waiting for the man to give you his name.

"aventurine. it's no problem." aventurine shrugs. he stands up quickly, holding a hand out for you to take. "now, can i get you a drink? you must be dehydrated." his gloved fingers wiggle slightly, encouraging you to take his hand.

he grins down at you, "you can also tell me why you were sobbing in the alleyway." you chuckle at his words.

without another thought, you take aventurine's hand.

#hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #honkai star rail x reader fluff #x reader #x reader fluff #honkai star rail x you

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pearlymel · 10 months ago

Note

Hiii!!

Love your work!! If you’re available, could you please write hc’s of Jing Yuan, Natasha, Kafka, Boothill, Jiaoqiu (OOC is fine!!), Sampo, Gallagher, March 7th, and/or Serval with a reader with low blood sugar? Huge self-indulgent comfort ask, but it might resonate with a lot of other people!

My DM’s are open if you ever would like to learn some major symptoms of blood sugar drops. You absolutely do not have to do all of these characters, just giving you some ideas! Have a wonderful day/night!! ☺️💕

Synopsis: headcanons of the hsr character and reader with a low blood sugar.

Includes: Boothill, Jiaoqiu (might be ooc), Jing yuan, Gallagher, and March 7th.

Notes: i didn't add all of them because i usually write up to 5 characters or so (gonna create my rules sometime this week). But thank you for the request, lovey! I had so much fun writing this, i love writing and exploring new things :) i hope it was to your expectations, and sorry if the symptoms were inaccurate (google was my help i was too shy to dm.)

↳ BOOTHILL.

—we all should agree that this man is a caring lover, although i see him as the type to forget that you're not like him. You're not metal and scraps like him, and that you're a human being who needs a lil extra care.

—he doesn't think much of it when you first tell him that you tend to have low blood sugar, he even asks random strangers at bars he goes to about this sickness.

Boothill loves all types of fun to do with you, and tonight, you suggested you both dance.

Seeing the hint of a smile gracing your lips when you try hiding it by pressing your face on shoulder, Boothill grins. And he makes no attempt to hide his delight, he tightens his grip on your frame, holding you carefully but firmly against his chest.

"Well now, ain't I a lucky devil," he drawls, the evident sarcasm was in his tone, "Looks like I'm gettin' the chance to dance with a lovely person who shares my love for tryin' new things. I must be doin' somethin' right."

Silly, you think. "You were simply just you. And i love being with you."

Boothill grins, his eyes softening at the edges as he gazes down at you.

"Well now, ain't that a sweet thing to say," he replies, his voice gruff yet affectionate. "I ain't used to hearin' such sweet talk, to be honest." He pauses for a beat, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"But hearin' it from you, it's nice," he continued before pulling you a bit closer against him.

You laugh along with him, bringing your hand to brush your fingertips along his hair, your other hand over the metallic surface of his chest before you slow your movements, you feel dizzy. No, it's not from how much you both were spinning, you both were going slow and careful.

It doesn't go unnoticed by him with the shift in your demeanor, a subtle change in your movements that indicates something is amiss.

"You okay there, darlin'?" he asks, his brow furrowing as he looks down at you. He can feel something amiss with you physically.

"Lightheaded." You mumble, holding onto him. "You... You have uhm.. anything sweet i can take?" He gives you a nod, "Reach into my pocket, I'm sure there's a candy sitting there," he explains, guiding your hand to his pocket, taking it calmly.

You give him a small smile when you reach for his side pocket to grab the singular wrapped candy.

Your fingers fumbles with the wrapper before you pop it in your mouth, sucking on the strawberry flavoured candy while resting your cheek on his shoulder.

"Doin' a little better there?"

"Yeah, thanks my hero."

"Don't you go gettin' all sweet on me now," he mutters with that of gruffness, though he smiles. "You're the one who's supposed to keep me from goin' all soft."

↳ GALLAGHER.

—Oh he's ready 24/7 whenever the situation calls for it. He takes this very seriously and will make sure no funny jokes were made about it, because they're certainly not funny to him and he will kick ass if anyone makes it harder on you than it should be.

What a sight for sore eyes. Truly. And no, he's not talking about the view, he's glancing back at you where you sat while looking up at the skies, your head titled as if you're so immersed.

"Anything on your mind?" He was the first to speak as he approaches you, "A lot of things.. clouding my head." You half shrug, watching him as he takes a seat next to you with a can of some carbonated drink on his side, and you hear the slight hiss of it when he open it with his finger. The carbonated drink fizzes a little between his finger and thumb as he pops the tab open, taking a small sip from it before turning his attention back to you.

His crimson eyes were on the direction you were trying to look at but he can't find what's so interesting about tonight's sky.

“I'm willing to stay here all night and listen.” He reassures you.

"Mhm," you stare blankly ahead now, almost zoning out, and you don't notice how sweaty you're starting to feel, or how your heart starts racing.

Gallagher's eyes narrow as he notices your almost zombie like look of a thousand yard stare. The way you look unmoving and not even acknowledging him.

He doesn't say anything and just hands you his drink, gently tapping the can on your arm to bring back your attention. You don't hesitate to grab it, taking small fast sips.

"Careful," he helps you straighten your back, drinking while slouching isn't exactly good.

You sigh when you hold the can with both hands now, letting it rest on your lap, "Thank you—"

"When was the last time you ate today?" He gently cuts you off.

"Earlier."

“And can you confirm that ‘earlier’ wasn’t hours ago?” He asked, his voice now firm but he tries to stay calm.

"I'm sleepy." You brush his question off instead, looking at him while blinking slowly as you lean to rest your head on the side of his shoulder. Gallagher watches you, letting out a soft scoff at how you tried to change the subject. He knew he wasn’t going to get an answer from you, but he also wasn’t going to let you just avoid the problem either.

"We're having dinner after your little nap, deal?"

↳ MARCH 7TH.

—March.. panics when she finds out for the first time. She asks you if you were okay, if you wanted anything, even when you try to reassure her that you felt fine at times, she wouldn't be convinced until you stay under her watch. She bugs Dan Heng to tell her all the possible symptoms so she wouldn't panic more than she should.

Today, you were March's model for photography, well you always are her model because she says you're the best fit for it.

She lets you try out fun clothes and you shyly and awkwardly try to pose in front of the camera at first, but then you immediately gain the confidence after a few more clicks. Smiling and posing while trying out all the fun combinations of colours and clothes.

She looked at you, wearing clothes she had picked out for you. You looked absolutely beautiful.

The enthusiastic girl was blushing a lot as she kept taking pictures of you, giggling behind the camera even.

"March, mind if i sit down for a bit?" You hated to stop her from her enthusiasm, but you feel lightheaded almost. And you were sure it's not from the flashes.

March immediately stopped taking photos and set her camera down when you asked.

She placed a gentle hand onto your forehead, seeing if you had a fever first. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No, don't panic. I just feel lightheaded. Do you have anything sweet i can take?"

Okay, she is prepared for this, "You're low on blood sugar, are you?" She asked, concerned. March then grabbed a small candy—a lollipop, to be exact—from the camera case and offered it out to you.

"And you came prepared." You try teasing, and she nodded with a light laugh. It was a nice-looking sweet lemon-flavored lolliop.

"I carry them with me just in case!" She replied, You both sit down together, she takes out another lollipop for herself so you wouldn't feel left out.

"We can take pictures while eating these lollipops."

March nodded in agreement with your idea, she was happy that you even said that, it meant taking pictures together for an hour now wasn't boring you out.

Then, she pulled out her camera again, a grin forming on her face, "That's a good idea! Alright, on the count of three—" she pulls the lollipop out, posing as if kissing the candy while you smile widely as the camera clicks on both of you.

↳ JIAOQIU.

—sooo, he's a healer. Then that means we all can agree that he's the attentive lover, and strictly cares about your health and diet, but i feel like he'd be playful about it at times.

You don't remember sleeping for so long when you woke up rather confused, shuffling around the blankets and sitting up on the bed while rubbing your head.

Your fault for skipping breakfast and going straight into your work or chores for today.

You fail to notice at first the pink haired figure next to you, sitting beside the bed so silently that it makes you gasp when you turn around to see him.

He was holding a spoonful of some red liquid that you're sure is spicy concoction. He looks at you expectantly, a hint of mischief behind his closed eyes.

“Say ahh,” he says quietly, enjoying the moment. But you almost try not to laugh.

"What happened exactly?" You ask him, refusing to still take that.. extremely dark red soup. It was so dark you can almost smell the spice in the air.

"Someone forgot to eat their meal i prepared earlier," he hums, still trying to pry his spoon closer to your lips, "so i had to find myself misfortune in the of finding you almost unconscious. You're lucky i was carrying some sweet herbs with me." And you frown at his next words, you want to apologize for how he must've been worried.

As if sensing your next words, he smiles, "none of that. Now, open up." He offers you the spoonful again but you pull your face away.

"Are you sure you're not trying to kill me next?"

Jiaoqiu pretends to pout. His fox ears prick and he gives you a slight pout, "You're so dramatic," he says, his tail flicking with amusement. He holds up the spoon again, still waiting for you to open your mouth.

"My soup will fix your blood sugar. Trust me, it's a secret recipe," Jiaoqiu says with a sly smirk.

"What if it tastes bad?" You regret the words leaving your mouth, because he opens his eyes and stares at you with an almost hurt expression. You take the spoonful in your mouth without another complaint, and he hums in approval while closing back his eyes.

The flavours almost explode in your mouth, it.. wasn't spicy at all. It was rather sweet and savoury.

"You tricked me, it's not spicy at all."

"I never said it was spicy, though." He tilts his head, feigning innocence and confusion.

Despite his antics, you instantly feel better, although he doesn't allow you to feed yourself, he'll do it for you.

↳ JING YUAN.

—This man would spoil you rotten. You're feeling unwell? He would love to take the day off and just look after you, although there is a doctor on the side in case anything gets serious. You're simply tired not because of your low sugar levels, but just because you were? He would gladly invite you in his arms or simply sit next to you while you both chat nonstop about eachother's days if that's what will make you feel better.

You were panting when you decided to train alone in the training grounds, Yanqing offered to train with you but you insisted that you needed that full concentration.

After a while, you do feel exhausted and worn out. The spear dropping from your hands as you bend a bit to rest your hands on your knees to catch some breath.

"Now, now, if you want to get stronger, you'll also need a break." Jing Yuan's call for you is what makes you huff out a chuckle. In his hands is what looked to be a bowl of fruits with a water bottle on the other.

"i wanted to build some muscle." You tell him when he gives you that look whenever you start training alone. It's not that he's against your wishes of wanting to be stronger for your own good, but he wishes Yanqing was atleast there to watch you.

"And, I'm not a baby." You roll your eyes playfully and he lets out a deep laugh. "Eat up." You take the orange first, but he was quick to take it from your hands to peel it for you, so you take the grape instead.

You as well take the bottle, gulping down almost the whole thing. Water has never tasted this good.

"You're not a baby, but you drool like one." You almost glare at his words and he only grins while wiping the excess water and fruit juice off the corner of your lips with his thumb. "That was mean, General." You raise both of your eyebrows at him, he only pats your head back, pulling you in with his arm to just hold you.

"when the time comes, you'll be strong enough to protect me."

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr headcanons #hsr hcs #jiaoqiu #jiaoqiu x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #march 7th #march 7th x reader #boothill #boothill x reader #gallagher #Gallagher x reader #hsr x you #headcanons #dia answers.

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