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leclerc-hs · 1 month ago

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hard deck - cl16

pairing: pilot!charles leclerc x f!reader summary: in which your best friend's other best friend hates you OR charles is in love with you and he fucking hates that he is. warnings: language, bad writing (honestly, I think I'm in a bad phase rn and everything I write sucks), NOT PROOFREAD, smutttt (short but 18+ pls) word count: ~3.6k author's note: I'm gonna say I genuinely have no idea wtf I just wrote. its kinda shitty and for that I apologize. I'm still trying to get back into the groove of writing again bc it's been SO long. anyways xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“God, do you ever just shut up?” Charles watches you with irritation, his brow furrowed as he takes a long swig of the amber liquid in his class. The tension hangs thick in the air, his frustration palpable.

He swallows hard, the alcohol clearly his refuge at this moment, a desperate attempt to calm the urge to shove you down the nearest flight of stairs. You can see the conflict brewing behind his eyes, a storm of annoyance and something else— perhaps regret?

No way. Charles ‘Perceval’ Leclerc would never regret being mean to you.

You send him the hardest glare you can muster, swinging your legs to the side of the chair before coming to a stand. “Are you ever not a fucking dick? Seriously how do you have friends?”

“Why? You need tips on how to get some?”

“Perceval!” Carlos gives him a disapproving look, “Cut it out.”

“Me?” His eyes widen in astonishment as he points his fingers to himself in question. “You were thinking it too. You just can’t say it because she’s your childhood friend.”

“Seriously, hermano.” Carlos sighs. “Leave her alone.”

“Don’t sweat it Car,” You mutter, your voice low and casual as you lean against the edge of the table. “I’m moving over there.” You point towards a few of your friends gathered around the dart board.

Carlos’s expression shifts, his eyes widening in that endearing way that always makes you chuckle. “No, stay.” He pleads, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he can muster, complete with a slight pout that would make anyone’s heart melt. “Charles will stop. Right?”

With a playful swing of his arm, he hits Charles in the ribs, the impact harder than necessary. Charles winces dramatically, clutching his side as he shoots Carlos a mock glare, his lips curling into a frown.

“Whatever.”

You make a stupid face of mockery, scrunching your features and sticking out your tongue in the most absurd way possible. Childish? Sure. But damn, it felt good.

Carlos bursts into laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he nearly doubles over. “What even was that? A dying fish?” He jokes, wiping a tear from his eye.

Charles just rolls his eyes, “Seriously? I’m losing brain cells just being around you, Bug.” He retorts, but theres no real annoyance in his voice— just teasing.

Bug. That forsaken nickname he gave you seemed to stick. Even went so far to be your call sign. Probably called you it because he associated you as a pest. But he really meant it as an endearing way. Not that he would ever admit it.

You and Charles stand in front of a model fighter jet, the sleek design gleaming under the bright lights, its metallic surface reflecting the excitement in the room. The imposing aircraft, with its sharp lines and polished finish, feels almost alive, and the air is thick with the thrill of aviation.

“Seriously? You think you could handle flying that thing?” you tease, crossing your arms and leaning against the display. Your smirk is playful, but there’s a challenge in your tone.

“Absolutely Bug,” he replies, leaning in slightly, confidence radiating from him. “I’d be soaring through the skies while you’re down here, probably tripping over your own feet.”

“Please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes with a dramatic flair. “You’d probably get lost on the runway, looking for the nearest snack bar instead of focusing on takeoff.”

“Lost? In a fighter jet?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips. “I’d be the one pulling off the real maneuvers while you flounder around in the backseat, screaming like a scared kitten.”

“Real maneuvers?” You chuckle, shaking your head. “Like what? A graceful belly flop?” You lean in closer, narrowing your eyes playfully. “I can just picture it now: Perceval, taking a nosedive to the nearest ice cream stand.”

He leans back, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, at least I’d crash in style. You’d just be a mess, splattered all over the tarmac.”

“Whatever P.”

Your voice is the first thing Charles hears, cutting through the fog of sleep. He drags his pillow over his face with a groan, trying to block out the sound, but it only muffles your words.

Do you ever leave Carlos alone?

Charles has successfully avoided you for a whole four days. Probably the longest he’s gone since he met Carlos all those years ago.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air eliciting a groan from him.

Coffee. Yes.

Charles makes his way to the kitchen, sleep still clinging to his eyes, his hair a wild mess that seems to have taken on a life of its own overnight. The loose grey sweatpants hang loosely off of his hips, giving him that effortlessly disheveled look that somehow works in his favor.

You lean against the counter, a mug of coffee in hand, and can’t help but smirk at the sight. “Wow, you really went all out this morning Sleeping Beauty, didn’t you?” You tease, trying to suppress a laugh.

He squints at you, trying to focus through the remnants of sleep, but it takes him a moment to fully register your presence. You stand there in a large t-shirt that hangs loosely around your frame, the fabric slightly wrinkled, and Charles can’t help but feel a rush of annoyance mixed with something else— something that sets his skin on fire.

The fact that you’re clearly wearing Carlos’ shirt bothers him more than he’d like to admit. “Seriously? Carlos’ shirt?” He finally manages to say, his voice still raspy from sleep.

You glance down at the oversized tee, a playful smile creeping onto your face. “It’s comfortable.”

“Who are you to judge my look, when you’re wearing that.” He defends himself, but can’t help but feel a little flustered. “At least they’re not borrowed from someone else.”

You laugh, and the sound only makes his annoyance deepen. “What? Are you jealous of Carlos’ clothes?”

“Not at all.” He replies, his tone more serious than he intended. “You could just wear something that actually fits you.”

You take a step closer, a playful challenge in your gaze. “And what would you suggest, P?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer you in something that’s not associated with him at all,” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

Life was weird.

You and Charles had gone from full-on arguments that filled the air with tension to this strange dance of tip-toeing around one another. It was a shift you hadn’t quite expected. Don’t get it twisted— you still fought. A lot. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t mean; it was almost flirty, charged with a new energy.

“Get that wretched drink away from me.” Charles chirps, wrinkling his nose as you settle into your usual spot at the Hard Deck, the familiar buzz of the bar surrounding you.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “There is nothing wretched about a dirty martini. It’s sophisticated.”

“The fact you enjoy olives is nauseating.” He replies, crossing his arms in mock disapproval, his expression somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

You take a sip, letting the briny flavor linger on your tongue before responding. “The fact you don’t ever shut up is nauseating.”

He leans in slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t shut up? You’re one to talk.”

“I’m not here to argue tonight.” You say, relaxing into your chair, the low hum of conversation around you a comforting backdrop.

“Oh yeah? Me either,” Charles replies, taking a large gulp of his beer, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Just wondering though. What are you here for?”

You flash him a teasing grin. “To get laid.”

It it weren’t for his widened eyes, Charles gave no emotion away. “Seriously? That’s your game plan for the night?”

“Why not?” You shrug, leaning back with confidence. “All these fighter pilots are an easy lay.”

It was true. You were hot. And that thought alone drove Charles nuts. “And here I thought you were just here for the olives and to annoy me.”

“Those are just the bonus perks,” you quip, glancing around the bar. “Now, I’m gonna go dance and get myself a man.” You slip off your stool with a bright smile, sending a teasing wink in Charles direction. He can’t help but grumble in response.

“If any of those men touch you, I’ll fight them.” Carlos grumbles, bringing the bottled beer to his lips.

“Oh please.” You wave him off. “Stop acting like I’m some innocent girl Car. You’ve known me too long for that."

Charles is pissed.

His jaw was set tight, and each breath seemed measured, like he was holding back a storm. The air around him crackled with tension, and you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. It was clear— whatever had triggered this fury was digging deep.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, P?” Carlos chuckles, cracking a peanut shell onto the wooden bar top before popping it in his mouth.

The air around him felt charged, almost electric, as he pointed a finger toward you. “You just gonna let that guy grope her like that?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to where you stood, fully engaged in conversation with a pilot named Jake, call sign ‘Hangman’. The way you laughed and leaned in, seemingly at ease, only fueled Charles’s frustration. “She can handle herself, you know that,” Carlos replied, a teasing tone edging into his voice.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean she should.” Charles snapped, his voice low and tight. He leaned forward, the tension in his body palpable as he watched Jake’s hand rest just a little too close for comfort on your waist. “Look how close he is. It’s like he thinks he owns her.”

“You’re ridiculous, P.” Carlos chuckles, shaking his head as he cracks a peanut shell against the wooden bar top. “When are you going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Charles shot back, his gaze still locked on you, oblivious to anything else around him.

“That you like her,” Carlos says, a smirk creeping onto his face as he leans back, arms crossed behind his head.

Charles’s eyes narrowed as he studied you and Jake, the warmth of the bar contrasting sharply with the chill of jealousy creeping in. “Like her?” He echoed, disbelief woven in his tone. “I can barely stand her.”

But deep down, he felt the truth of it. That he did like you. That he might even love you.

“Hangman!” Charles’s voice reverberates through the hangar, its volume cutting through the low hum of conversation and machinery. You wince at the abruptness of it, wondering why on earth he needs to talk to Jake, when he’s clearly talking to you.

Your gaze shifts back to Jake, who is laughing, seemingly unfazed by Charles’s entrance. But it was the way Charles’s rests his hand onto Jake’s shoulder that made you uneasy— too casual, too familiar. A knot formed in your stomach at the sight.

You took a deep breath, deciding to not let your thoughts go south. There’s no way Charles would go as far as sabotaging a potential relationship. Right?

“To what do we owe the displeasure of your annoyance?” You ask, your eyebrows slightly raised in confusion.

Charles shifts his gaze to you, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Yes, fight with me.

“Displeasure?” He shoots back. “You wouldn’t know displeasure if it hit you in the face.”

“What are you five?”

He smirks before shifting his eyes back to Jake, his hand still resting on his shoulder. “I actually need him for something. See ya sweet cheeks.” His tone dripping with mock nonchalance.

You narrow your eyes, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this?”

“You don’t give up, do you?” His voice was low and amused, cutting through your focus on the dart board before you.

You roll your eyes— a reflex you perfected around him— trying to ignore the way Charles’s gaze lingers on you. With a deep breath, you glance over, meeting his warm smile. It’s disarming, that easygoing charm of his, like a breath of fresh air.

His relaxed posture leans casually agains the bar, arms crossed, exuding a effortless confidence that somehow makes you feel at ease. You try to refocus on the dartboard, but it’s hard to concentrate when his eyes are like a magnetic pull, drawing your attention away.

“You know, if you actually focused, you might hit the board this time,” He teases, the playful glint in his eyes making it impossible to stay annoyed.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, before placing all darts down on the table nearby. “Yeah, yeah. Like you’re one to talk about focusing.”

He laughs, and its infectious, a sound that warms the room. “I focus plenty.”

“Yeah,” You agree. “On finding ways to talk dirty.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a confident grin, and his eyes spark with mischief. “It’s a skill. Not everyone can pull off that kind of charm.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning indifference, though your heart flutters a little. “Charm? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Absolutely,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine. “You know you love it.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“And you love every minute of it,” He counters, leaning slightly closer, the playful challenge in his gaze making it hard to resist the pull between you. The air around you feels charged, a mix of flirtation and genuine connection.

“You know, I fucking hate you.” You say, the words slipping our more forcefully than intended.

Charles chuckles dryly, no humor lacing in his tone. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

“Harsh?” You let out a laugh tinged with bitterness, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “No. Jake won’t even look at me since whatever you said to him.” You cross your arms over your chest.

The air between you thickens, the weight of unspoken tension almost suffocating. Charles shifts slightly, his expression darkening as seriousness settles over him. “Good.”

“I can’t even believe you right now.” Frustration wells up inside as you reach for your bag, the rough fabric grounding you as you stomp toward the exit. Each step feels heavy, fueled by a mix of anger and disbelief. The lively chatter of the bar fades behind you, leaving only the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Charles doesn’t let up, his footsteps echoing behind you, persistent and urgent. “You’re literally such an asshole,” You throw over your shoulder, the words sharp and cutting.

“He doesn’t deserve you!” he shouts, frustration spilling over as he catches up to you, breathless. His hand runs through his hair, a familiar gesture of agitation, and before you can step away, he reaches for your shoulder, gently halting you in your tracks.

“Deserve me?” You repeat his words, incredulity lacing your voice. “What the fuck does that even mean? You hate me, remember?”

Charles looks up at the sky for a brief moment, his expression a mix of frustration and confusion, as if he’s searching for clarity among the stars. “I don’t hate you,” he finally admits, his voice low but intense. “I just… I can’t stand watching him touch you.”

You can feel the tension radiating between you, charged and electric. “But it’s not your call,” you reply, your tone softer but still defensive.

“You don’t think I know that?” He laughs, but its somewhat sad sounding. “You…you drive me insane.” He says, but its almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“You drive me completely insane actually. Like all I can ever hear is your fuckin’ voice inside of my head. Arguing me over everything. And your stupid fuckin’ jokes too. I can’t even look at olives without seeing your fuckin’ face in them.” He continues on, the words pouring out of him and he can’t stop.

“And I know it sounds crazy because I’ve been such a dick to you. But I didn’t know how to handle these feelings. I mean you’re Carlos’s best friend,” he confesses, his voice trembling slightly, “but I like hearing your voice inside of my head. I like that olives remind me of you. I like you.” His eyes are locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

They’re so green. A vivid, almost luminescent shade that captures the light and seems to hold an entire universe within them. You realize you’ve never truly noticed how striking they are until this very moment—the way they flicker with emotion, drawing you in and holding you captive.

The green is rich and deep, like a forest canopy dappled with sunlight, alive with the promise of something untamed. You find yourself getting lost in them, feeling the weight of his confession settle around you like a warm embrace. It’s as if all the barriers that had kept you apart are beginning to dissolve, and you can see a vulnerability in him that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge before.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you fades away—the sounds of the bustling bar, the cool night air, the lingering frustration—all of it blurs into the background. In the depths of his gaze, you sense a longing, a desire that mirrors your own, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You feel the tension shift, and the space between you feels charged, alive with possibility.

“So hate me all you want, but I couldn’t watch Hangman try to have a meaningless fuck with you.”

“You don’t mean that.” Your voice comes out small and unsure, your throat feeling dryer than before from his confessions.

“Don’t mean what?” He steps closer, eyes never falling from yours, as his calloused finger tips rest along your hips. He almost expects you to flinch and shove him away— hell you think you would too— but you don’t.

“You think I’d lie about liking you? About wanting you?” His eyes drop to your lips for a mere second before meeting your gaze once more. “It’s not a lie. I’m not that cruel.”

You go to turn from his hold, but his grip on your hips tightens. “Bug, I swear. Why would I embarrass myself like this if it weren’t true?”

The tension is palpable, an electric charge hanging in the air, and your stomach swarms with warmth at his words. “I can’t get your fuckin’ lips out of my mind,” he nearly pleads, his voice thick with desire. “I need to kiss you. Please let me kiss you, yeah?”

You feel your heart race, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm as his confession washes over you. The weight of the moment feels like it could burst, and you swear your brain short-circuits, caught between disbelief and overwhelming longing.

Before he can say another word, you rise on your tiptoes, driven by an instinct you can’t ignore. In a swift, bold move, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, tentative yet charged with all the unspoken words and emotions that have built up between you.

As his lips meld against yours, a rush of warmth surges, igniting a fire that spreads from your lips to the tips of your fingers. The kiss deepens, turning from hesitant to passionate, and Charles groans into your mouth.

Time seems to stretch, the world around you fading into a blur. All that exists is the taste of him, the warmth of his breath, and the intoxicating feeling of connection that envelops you both.

“Bug,” He pulls you both apart. “We gotta stop or I’m gonna take you right here on the deck of this place.”

You pull back from his embrace, giving him a look as you breath heavily, your lips swollen. “Is it bad to say I like that idea?”

His lets out a long groan and tilts his head back. “I always knew you’d be the death of me.”

“Take me home, P.”

“Fuck, baby.” He groans hotly into your ear. “Keep fuckin’ doin that.” His hoarse voice muttered, hands behind his head as he watches you work yourself over his cock.

There’s a sense of desperation on your face, and he can’t help but smirk at the sight of it.

Your eyes burned with the tears that slid down your cheeks. The feeling of being filled to the brim and fucked the way you needed, was more than enough to elicit tears.

“Fu-uuck.” He groans again, panting out as he drops his hands to hold both your hips. Your hips swivel, a heavy moan escaping your lips as you ground yourself against him in a feverish pace.

“P,” you whine as your mouth falls open into an “O” shape. The air around you is humid and thick as Charles thrusts his hips up into you with ease. “M’so close.”

“Yeah?” His fingers slip to the nape of your neck, squeezing roughly as he pulls your chest down to his. Pumping his cock upwards into you. “C’mon, give it to me.”

You fail to form any words, nothing but grunts and small moans escaping past your lips as Charles fucks himself into you. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room.

“Need it so bad, baby.” He mutters into your ear in between groans. “Need to feel you on me.”

“Mmm, feels so nice.” He urges you on. “You do it so well.”

Charles couldn’t help himself as your wall clamp down him tightly. The pace of his hips, and the force of you driving down onto him, was enough to send you both spiraling over the edge. Crashing.

“You’re so good. Mon dieu.”

“M’gonna go insane baby. Need more.” He groans, flipping you both over before slipping your leg up and fucking into you again. “Y’feel so good. Can’t stop.”

"Never gonna be mean to you again."

"No?"

"No. I promise, Bug."

"Even when I eat olives?"

"Even when you eat olives."

"What about when I argue you on anything."

"Don't care. I only fought with you because it was the only time you gave me actual attention."

Your heart clenches at his words, his hips slowing down as he presses soft kisses to your face.

"What about when-"

"Never again, Bug."

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine

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kryscent · 4 months ago

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mehndi?

pairings: diluc, xiao, childe, neuvillette x gn!reader (separate)

content briefing: fluff, kissing, lowk jealous!xiao lol, cw//allusions to cheating in childe's (nothing happens lmao reader is just being a little silly), suggestive in childe's part, lovesick genshin men :( (neuvi omg)

a/n: idk why i got so carried away for childe... the melusines are sick and tired lmao. lowkey desi/arab coded reader but applies to any and all if you're open to the concept!

synopsis: as a sumerian diplomat to your partner's nation, times come where you have to return to your homeland when certain duties call. this time, the akademiya scribe and acting grand master (and more importantly your former classmate and good friend), had sent you a short letter requesting your presence in the city. al haitham, ever so meticulous, had noticed some inconsistencies in the liyue-sumeru trade reports and needed your assistance to rectify the issue.

your most recent visit was two months ago, when you returned with an auburn flower painted into the palm of your hand (courtesy of nilou), fascinating your boyfriend greatly. you'd forgotten about the scene, especially in your rush to pack…

so when he shyly asks if you’ll get it again…

if there’s anyone who understands the saying, “duty calls”, it's DILUC.

that being said, it doesn’t mean he’ll miss you any less…

his ears colour scarlet, looking away as he asks, ‘do you think you’d have time to do your mehendi this time?’

you grin, eyes crinkling fondly at the conscious effort he made to pronounce it correctly. ‘we’ll see, ‘luc.’ And that was enough consolation of your absence for him, because he’d do anything to see the enchanting art on your hands again. A compensation of sorts, he thinks to himself, miffed. Despite never having seen something like it before, it was so inexplicably you, a simple, dainty extension of your heritage that made him fall for you even more, if that was even possible.

you open your palms to him, every space that could possibly be painted on is covered in intricate designs of mehndi. ‘there’s a surprise for you in there, if you can find it.’ he pulls off his right glove, tilting his head at you curiously.

he holds your hands in his, with the care of handling handcrafted terracotta, and searches through the patterns, his index finger tracing along. ‘that tickles,’ you mutter, squirming as an involuntary smile pulls at your lips at his determined expression. he tightens his hold just a tad at your words. ‘is that better?’ he hums, smiling faintly as he continues in his ministrations.

he stops in his tracks, his breath hitching, and if his cheeks burned anymore he was sure he’d burst into flames, rivalling his vision. there it is, his surprise, along the side of your left ring finger – his name, in beguiling cursive. you’re struck with the urge to kiss him, when he beams so brightly you’d think wedding bells are tinkling, and he buries his face in your palms, bashful.

‘i love you,’ he says softly, voice muffled by your skin. your smile widens, endeared, leaning down to try and meet his eyes as he avoids you, pulling your hands further towards him. ‘i love you too, ‘luc.’

‘how long will you be gone?’ XIAO turns to look at you from his perch on the balcony, watching you pack after you’d denied his help, before dismally turning back to the moonlight. you stifle a giggle at his sulking demeanour – if he had cat ears, they’d be flat against the top of his head; wallowing in his melancholy.

‘a week, maybe less. al haitham and i work efficiently well together so the work might be done quicker than i’m thinking,’ you answer with a small smile, absentmindedly rolling up your socks. he makes a face – a small scowl that you don’t see with his back turned to you – at the mention of the scribe. ‘why can he work with you but i can’t come with you?’ he mutters petulantly.

‘you know how much i’d love your company, xiao,’ you tilt your head kindly, reasoning with your adorably envious boyfriend. ‘but you’re not my protector alone, you have the people of liyue to keep safe, dear adeptus.’ he huffs quietly at your point, before turning to face you again, shifting his body to sit against the rails.

‘then…will you do something for me?’ ‘anything,’ you roll a tunic, glancing at him fondly.

‘you know, the designs you returned with last time?’ he begins, eyes trained on your palm. ‘you mean mehndi, right? want me to get it done again?’ he nods quickly, neck turned to look away from you as it slowly flushes crimson, his ears burning.

you return in less than a week, as promised, spending a day in leisure after your work was done to participate in recent festivities.

‘xiao,’ you say his name, summoning him as you settle onto the edge of your shared bed at wangshu inn. he appears comically fast, looking dishevelled. ‘you’re back,’ he breathes, his smile small.

you open your arms, and he falls into them easily, sitting beside you. ‘although, i did stay over a day longer,’ you tell him, apologetic. ‘but for good reason! different communities in sumeru celebrate their own kind of festival of lights at different times of the year. like the lantern rite in liyue.’ he perks up from the crook of your neck, curious as you continue.

‘they were celebrating deepavali in gandharva ville, and tighnari invited me to come join them,’ you show him your hands, smiling at him. ‘as promised,’ you say gently.

his lips part, eyes trailing over every crevice of your palms and wrists, hesitantly reaching out a hand to touch, like they’d wipe away any moment. he looks up at you, wide-eyed, when he sees his name across your inner forearm, at the top of your wrist.

‘so my protector could join me,’ you tease, grinning, before he sways forward, pressing his lips to yours before you can see his ruddy cheeks.

so when he seems so oddly happy to see you leave…

is he cheating on you?!

‘so when do you get back, milaya?’ CHILDE questions, following you around your apartment as you pack your things for your travels and stay - to him, this was normal behaviour; to you, it was his tenth question in the last three minutes.

despite your annoyance because you're stressed, and he isn't really helping aside from tailing you like a shadow and probing you with his quizzing, your breath catches slightly at the nickname. (you could be dating for years and he'd still have that effect on you, but never to let him know because he'd never live it down.)

when you'd told childe about your sudden business trip, promising that it wouldn't take very long, you'd expected his usual lamenting and sorrow, not…him grinning at you in anticipation. does he want me to take long, you think to yourself in dismay, your inner conscience pulling a horrified face.

‘be sure not to rush so you can take time to, you know, hang out with your friends! you must miss them – especially that girl you mentioned last time, the artist – ni-something? nilly?’

‘nilou.’

childe’s mind is elsewhere, for once not noting your slowly darkening mood (usually he has the countenance of a spy, mostly when it comes to your upset). the second you mentioned visiting sumeru, he remembers the last time you went, and returned with the prettiest little tattoo on your palm, refusing to let go of hour hand for hours as he traced the design.

‘is it permanent? the henna?’ he sounds adorably curious, occupied with pressing gentle kisses to the tips of your fingers. you fight back a smile, warming at the sight of his cerulean eyes on you. ‘temporary, unfortunately. i’m not that good at doing it on myself,’ and you let out the laugh you’d been holding back when he frowns, drooping visibly, before perking up when you comb your free hand through his hair, expression fond, and he flushes.

‘maybe i could learn?’

he doesn’t know why he’s so captivated by it, but something about you being adorned in your culture was alluring. he’s going to miss you terribly, he knows, weeping and throwing himself over the chaise and wasting away his days despondently until you return, but it is a soothing comfort to wait knowing that you’ll come back with a gift, seen as such despite being adorned on you (which makes it all the more a present), so he kisses you goodbye as he sees you off at the harbour, trying not to be as dejected.

you worry your bottom lip between your teeth on the way back, a few days earlier than you’d told your boyfriend you’d return. your mind returns to how he didn’t even shed a tear at the pier – you’d expected your dramatic boyfriend to almost flood the port like last time (he really has a knack for raising your standards).

his few letters had mostly probed about your days in detail, asking what you were doing, who you met, but talking about his own few and far between, and your suspicion had only grown. you know your boyfriend is easy on the eyes, and his flirtation comes so effortlessly to him in a way that has the people of liyue swooning (he doesn’t even realise it with how engrossed he is with you). it would cause him no struggle to find someone…else – someone better?

when he meets you at the harbour to pick you up, he presses his lips to yours as fervently as he can without the millelith escorting him away for excessive pda, his hand at your nape. ‘missed you, milaya,’ he whispers into your mouth, ‘–so much.’

he pulls away, grinning at you, before flipping your palms in his hand, sulking when he finds them blank. he looks up to complain before his words stop in his throat, eyes falling to the nilotpala lotuses on your collarbone, extending its stems and leaves outward and down the collar of your shirt, and his gaze darkens. his hand wraps around your wrist (gentle, always so gentle), pulling you in the direction of your apartment as his free hand lifts your bags easily.

he pulls you into your shared apartment, dropping your luggage as he locks the door, before caging you against the wall between his arms. he leans down to meet your wide eyes, and you back away a little as your stomach flips.

he ghosts his lips over yours, peppering up your cheek before dragging down your neck, humming when he reaches your collar, tugging it down just a tad, the mehndi lotus petals curving into the dip of your skin. ‘did your friend do this one too?’ he asks absentmindedly, kissing the spot before nipping it lightly, soothing over it with a teasing grin when you tug at his hair in warning, your breathing shallow. ‘’ts pretty,’ he looks up at you, eyes hardened to cobalt and half-lidded, his lips pulled into a lazy half-smile.

you exhale sharply – he wasn’t asking if you’d stay longer so he could meet with his paramour; he just wanted you to have time so he could see the art on you again! (he’s so obsessed with you it’s actually stupid that you’d think he could even look at anyone but you). your heart stutters at the realisation as you push his smirking face away timidly, before your mind clears.

‘you asshole if that bruises–’

so when you get a letter from his subjects…

as the iudex of fontaine, NEUVILLETTE is a busy man, and sometimes (most of the time) the work cut out for him rises to arduous levels. the only thing that made the wearying paperwork bearable was you. you, who would quietly bring a chair and organise his papers the way he likes it, sometimes filling it yourself methodically, perfectly, if it was within your scope of knowledge. you, who would bring him macarons and pastries at random, and pull him out of his office at meal times to eat together.

you, who would brew tea to enjoy together at moments like this, when his head throbs from a headache as he presses his forehead to his desk, and he misses you terribly.

the bushes outside the palais mermonia have grown ears, one would think. they’ve become the commonplace meeting spot for the melusines, the small creatures clustered together in shrubbery as they secretly discuss their worry, staring up at the heavy grey clouds, threatening downpour that had been continuous for the past two days.

that brings them to today, gathered once more as they draft a letter to you.

‘dear partner of father,

we thought it would be fit to let you know that his state is very bleak and desolate, and he is concerningly not leaving his office very often. this is not meant to worry or rush you, but do you think you could return…as soon as possible? do you know how much longer your duties will take to complete?

p.s. we know father would never expect a present from you, but from our side we humbly ask of you to return with a treat, since we know how much he loves gifts from you.

regards and sincerely,

the fontaine melusines’

you sigh heavily, ghosting your fingertips over the patterned paper, worrying your lip in concern for your boyfriend.

reading the letter over your shoulder (nosy), al haitham huffs, a rare smile on his face. ‘we’re on the last report, i can finish it on my own,’ he turns to face the files once more, monotone voice taking on a teasing lilt as you narrow your eyes at him. ‘are you sure?’

‘go ahead early, so you can get that treat of yours.’ ‘haitham!’

two days later, a knock on the door brings neuvillette’s head up from where it is surrounded by piles of files, articles and reports. ‘come in,’ he calls, weary, expecting another melusine urging him to eat.

instead of the small, long-eared souls he’d expected to see, the door opens to you. he stands abruptly, the stacks sliding to the floor and scattering loose leafs of paper onto the floorboards.

‘mon cœur?’ he stares at you, wide-eyed in surprise, the tips of his pointed years carmine. if it were anyone else, you’d think they weren’t happy to see you. but this is your neuvillette, and the immediate stop of rainfall as the clouds give way to clear blue out the window, and the subsequent chirping of the birds on the sills speak volumes.

he makes haste, meeting you in the middle of his office before hesitating, and you nod gently at him. he gathers you in his arms, soft and warm against the firm planes of his hold. he cups your face in his palms, kissing you deeply, a clear message of i missed you passed into your breath and into your heart. it beats rapidly against your sternum, swelling with promise to take good care and spoil your sweet, tenderhearted boyfriend. he parts from you reluctantly, breathing your scent in and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. ‘did you have a safe journey?’

‘i did, i apologise for taking so long–,’ he shakes his head quickly, and you laugh lightly. ‘and since you liked it so much last time,’ you push up your sleeves, showing him your forearms. he gasps quietly, azure gaze following the tawny trail of lumidouce bells, rainbow roses and romaritime flowers drawn into the skin of your forearms and the back of your hands with artful precision, vines connecting and curling around them beautifully. his heart warms at the thoughtful gift - sumerian culture imbued with his in mind.

a rainbow spreads through the sky outside, the melusines letting out a sigh of relief, patting each other on the back for a job well done.

kryscent '24 do not repost, translate or crosspost

animated dividers are by @cafekitsune (ilovethem sm omg, its a blessing, tysm for making them)

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daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

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A Bite Sized Romance

Summary: you offer to make dinner for Azriel, but he gives you half-assed reasons as to why he can’t make it.

Author’s note: I love love love this idea it’s been floating around my head for a LONG time 💕

“Have you ever had ratatouille?” You ask Azriel, taking a bite of the dish in front of you.

Every Thursday, you and the shadowsinger go out to a different restaurant, usually in Velaris, occasionally in other courts. Seeing the shadowsinger could be difficult during the week, especially with your busy schedule, so you two set aside Thursday nights to eating dinner together.

Your brain had a hard time understanding that these were not necessarily dates, even though that is exactly what Cassian, Mor, the whole IC, and even Azriel and yourself call them.

“No, what’s rat patootie?” He says, taking a bite of his pasta.

“Ratatouille,” you correct, sighing wistfully, “it’s a traditional dish my mom used to make when I was a kid. I don’t think annyone in Velaris makes it. This dish kind of reminds me of it, but it’s not the same.”

You sit up, a smile stretching across your face. “Maybe next Thursday I’ll cook it for us. It’s so much better homemade - what do you say?”

He stills at your words, almost choking on his food. Through coughs he tells you, “surely there’s somewhere we can go for it, I wouldn’t want to trouble you with cooking.”

“But I like cooking,” you object. “And despite the copious amounts of meals we’ve shared together, I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for you.”

He doesn’t want to budge, so you pull out the big guns.

You pout your lip, making your eyes look as sad and endearing as possible, “please, Az? It reminds me of being a kid again. And I’d love to share that with you.”

Mother forsake him, he couldn’t say no to your sad, puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he grumbles, sure he’ll figure a way out of it before Thursday comes. Perhaps he could find a way to get impaled.

You squeal, “oooh you’re going to love it!”

Thursday was fast approaching, and Azriel was trying to use every excuse in the book to keep this dinner from happening. He told you Rhys had to send him on a mission that night, which you immediately turned around and went to Rhys’s office and asked him to send someone else.

Rhys, having no idea what you were talking about, sees Azriel in the doorway who tells him mind to mind, “come on, say you have to send me.”

Rhys sends the equivalent of a smirk to Azriel mentally and tells you, “my mistake, I didn’t realize what day I was telling him to leave.”

Azriel stood in the doorway and gave his brother the finger from behind you.

Azriel made excuses, all ranging from Cassian needing help with training, Feyre needing an escort to the Hewn City, even to Mor needing help with the upkeep of the horses in the guard. Every excuse was denied by his so-called family, not allowing him to use them as scapegoats. It was starting to make you suspicious.

Thursday morning after Azriel’s last ditch attempt to get out of the dinner, involving some excuse about Eris needing rescuing, you sigh, exasperated.

“Okay Az, it was just an idea. Clearly you don’t want to do it, so just.. don’t bother, okay? Go save Eris from whatever it is that’s attacking him.”

You turn, wanting to leave the kitchen before Azriel sees how much this actually upsets you. “That’s not-“ he starts, trying to grab you as you pass him, but you wriggle from his grasp, disappearing into the hallway up to your bedroom.

Az was sitting on the kitchen counter, wallowing in self-pity over how poorly he handled that situation, when Cassian walked in.

“And what do you have to be so upset about, pretty boy?”

Azriel lifts his head, looking at Cassian eating a stupid banana. Gods, he wanted to throttle him. “Oh no, I’m Azriel and a beautiful woman wants to cook me dinner, even though I eat dinner with her most nights and have weekly dates with her even though I deny anyth-“

Cassian stops, taking a bite of his banana. He looks up, and realization dawns on him.

“Oh my gods,” he says, his mouth full of banana. Azriel decides to play the denial game, because surely Cassian did not figure out the secret he’s kept guarded for several months while eating a fucking banana.

Cassian looked at him, turning to look up the stairs where you had left just a few moments ago, “you two?”

Azriel rolls his eyes, “we’re friends, yes.”

Cassian rolls his eyes even harder. “I’m not an idiot. You follow her around like a pitiful puppy,” he says, coming closer to his brother, “you two eat just about every meal together, but the one day she offers to cook for you suddenly you can’t find time for her?”

Cassian narrows his eyes at Azriel, “you ashamed of her or something?”

Azriel’s eyes widen, not only at Cassian’s question that he could ever be ashamed of you, but also at Cassian’s change in demeanor.

Cassian slips into the protective big brother role when it comes to you quite easily, Azriel thinks as Cassian puffs out his chest while he strides over to stand next to Azriel.

“Now why on earth would I be ashamed of her?”

Cassian inspects Azriel for a second before asking, “then why haven’t you told her?”

He pauses, then asks, “how long have you known?”

Azriel huffs, “known what?”

“That she’s your mate.”

Azriel stills at Cassian’s words. They liked to poke fun of Cass, calling him a dumb brute, but Cassian was no fool. If any member of his family were to discover his secret, it would be Cassian.

Azriel looks at him, “a few months. I’ve been… waiting.” He sighs, “I keep wanting to tell her and then I psyche myself out. Once I tell her, things will be… different.”

Azriel hates how quiet his voice becomes as he says, “what if she is ashamed of who the mother picked for her?”

Cassian’s chest deflates, all sense of protectiveness over you gone and replaced with protectiveness over his brother.

“Then she’d be a fool.”

Looking down, Azriel watches as Cassian’s foot gently nudges his own, a silent request from Cassian for him to look up.

“There is no way she would ever be ashamed of you or be upset that you’re her mate.”

The way Cassian is looking at Azriel makes him want to shy away, but Cassian keeps his gaze steady, almost locking Azriel’s eyes into place.

“I’d be willing to bet she has journals full of doodles where she draws little hearts with your names in it, and she also writes “Mrs. Shadowsinger”

The rise in octave in his brother’s voice causes a laugh to burst out of him, but Cassian continues.

“I once tried to sit next to you for a meal and I’ve never seen anyone move as quickly as she did to claim her seat. Honestly, this will come as a shock to no one.”

Azriel looked back up at his brother to find him already looking at him, a soft gaze grazing his face.

“We’re happy for you two.”

Azriel scoffs, “I take that to mean you’ve already told Rhysand?”

Cassian starts walking away, going to pick up the remainder of his banana. “Oh yeah, we’ve had a bet for about a year now. Rhys thought the bond had snapped for her, but I knew it would be you. You’ve made me a much richer man, Az.”

Cassian bows in thanks, ducking out the door as Azriel throws a different banana towards the space he was occupying.

You had been sulking in your room for what felt like hours after Azriel’s latest rejection. You spent the whole time flipping between thinking about all the little moments that had you swearing there was something happening between you two, and each and every excuse he had made to get out of this dinner.

Was your cooking that bad? Was he tired of you taking up every one of his Thursday nights?

The two of you spent an absurd amount of time together - you ate most meals together at the house, you saw each other multiple times every day. Were you wrong?

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, but before you can respond, the door is opening and Cassian pokes his head in. He has a hand covering his eyes, but he’s made a slit between his middle and ring fingers, allowing him to still see.

“Are you decent?” He asks, looking around the room.

He sighs at seeing you dressed on your bed, pulling his hand away from his face as he walks in, closing the door behind him.

You giggled, “Cass the whole point is to not see someone naked.”

He rolled his eyes as he plopped down next to you on your bed, “you don’t even want to give me a peak? I’ve had such a hard day, a little skin would make me feel better.”

You laugh, picking up a pillow and hitting him with it. He lets you hit him, pretending to fall dramatically onto his back.

“Tell Rhys I loved him,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to die.

You laugh at his foolish antics, but Cassian continues to pretend he’s dead. You lean into him, about to poke his face, when he grabs your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder.

“Now come on, I’ve got shopping to do and I need your help.”

After Cassian had left, Azriel spent some time trying to decide how he could make this up to you. He didn’t want to force you into accepting a bond that you didn’t know about by presenting him with food.

He paced his room, his long legs gliding across the wooden floors making no noise. His shadows were combing through the house, trying to find out where you had gone after your earlier spat.

Azriel replaced with pacing with purposeful steps as he headed towards his bedroom door, the perfect solution coming to him.

“Thank you Cassian,” you say, squeezing his arm your hand was tucked into.

“For what? My incredibly charming presence?” He smirks down at you.

You scoff, “I felt awful earlier but you pulled me out of my spiraling, thanks.” You say, nudging him a bit.

Cassian had gotten you out of your room and the two of you walked around Velaris, mostly people watching and talking.

He hums, “well, both of my brothers are idiots,” he says, getting a laugh out of you. “They take turns on who holds the idiot stick. Today it’s Azriel.”

“Do you ever hold the idiot stick?”

“Occasionally, very rarely, I will pass it between the two of them, so I only have it for a moment or two.”

You snort, looking down at your feet. If Cassian thought Azriel was being stupid, does he see what you see?

You start to ask him, to prod him for more answers about Azriel, when he pats your hand, turning your attention to where the two of you had ended up on this walk.

The townhouse.

Your brows crease in confusion as Cassian removes your hand from his elbow, pats your shoulder, and tells you to have a good night.

You start to sputter, wanting to know why you’re here. He shrugs, “I don’t question my orders.” He gives you a two finger salute before turning around and walking away.

You turn back around, looking at the entrance to the townhouse, afraid of what you’ll find on the other side of the door, but going up and knocking anyway.

The door opens, but no one is there. A small shadow swirls around you, moving up from your feet to your face, caressing your cheek before zipping off to the kitchen.

You step through the threshold and a new shadow comes and shuts the door, another two come and help you take your coat off and hang it up for you.

You walk towards the kitchen, where you can hear the clattering of plates and some delicious aromas filling the whole house. Inside the kitchen you find Azriel, with a frilly apron tied around his waist, putting the finishing touches on two plates at the table.

“What’s all this?” You ask him, doubt creeping in that this isn’t meant for you.

“Sit, sit,” he beckons, pulling out a chair for you. You look around the room, covered in flickering candlelight and flowers. He must have been working on this for hours.

You look down at your plate, the bright colors of ratatouille catching your eye. You gasp, wanting to know how much effort he went to find a recipe for it.

He takes off the apron, sitting across from you.

“I… made an ass of myself, and I’d like to apologize first and foremost for that.” You open your mouth to interrupt him, but he holds up a hand. “Let me finish, I have.. a lot to tell you.”

He takes a deep breath, stilling his nerves. You look so pretty in the glow of the candles, and the slight concern you’ll hate him is enough to distract him, but he has to tell you this.

“There’s a reason I didn’t want you to cook for me. A few months ago we were in the library, reading, and I looked up and I watched you tuck your hair behind your ear, laughing at something in your book and I.. felt it.”

You’re in a trance, listening to him speak.

“I felt like I was dying and coming back to life, like your hand was wrapped around my heart, squeezing in time, keeping it beating. I made up some half-assed excuse to leave, because I needed to talk to Rhys.”

You looked at him, hoping your gaze would encourage him to continue.

“Rhys confirmed what I thought it was - the bond snapping. And I was terrified.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I was terrified if I told you, you’d deny the bond, you’d break my heart. So I… put off telling you. I couldn’t.”

He looks down at his lap, fidgeting his fingers.

“I kept trying to tell you, then I’d chicken out. Then when you offered to cook for me, I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t let you accidentally accept the bond, accept me without knowing about it.”

He sighs, “I felt awful when I realized you thought I was rejecting you. Far from it. So I’ve uh.. made you dinner.”

You finally speak, “you made me dinner.”

“I made you dinner. And dessert, actually.”

Leave it to Azriel to outdo himself by finding the time to make dessert.

You weren’t letting a single emotion show on your face, and it made a shiver run up Azriel’s spine.

After what could have been hours, you slowly smiled, looking at him, “what kind of dessert did you make?”

He pauses, “I uh made you- us, uh chocolate mousse. I made two, but I thought we could share one.”

He looks at you, still not giving anything away, “if you want to, of course.”

He shifts, your silence making him uneasy.

“If you don’t want to accept it, I understand. I kept it from you, and I’m me, loving me would be rotten work- what are you doing?”

In the middle of his rambling, you picked up your fork, getting a nice helping of food on your fork, bringing it up to your mouth.

“Well, my mate made me dinner, and it looks incredible. Why would I not want to take a bite?”

He looks at you, a rush of emotions flooding him. Surprise, confusion, elation.

“But, but I can promise you to love me, to be my mate, it’s rotten work.”

You smile, “not to me it’s not.”

You pause, “not if it’s you,” and take a bite.

His chest sings, feeling warmth radiating throughout him. Feeling love radiate through him, and he realizes that’s you.

You keep eating the food, that hum getting louder and more vibrant, until you’ve cleared your plate, and stride over to him.

You grab his face in your hands, tilting his head so he’ll look into your eyes. “If you think I am not aware of who you are, what you do, your darkest parts, you are mistaken. And if you think I will shy away from those things, you are a fool.”

He hadn’t realized he was crying until you swiped your thumb across his cheek, swiping it away.

You smile down at him, and he has never felt so loved, so whole as he does in this moment. His mate, the one person the cauldron deemed would understand him, just chose him.

He feels like that little boy, looked in the dungeon, daydreaming about being saved by an angel. And he has.

He stands up, cupping your face in his hands, “I was in love with you before the bond snapped for me. I’m not here just because the cauldron told me to be, let me assure you that.”

You smile, a heat creeping up your cheeks. “I’m only here for the chocolate mousse.”

He laughs, a genuine, roaring laugh.

You pull his face in close to yours, gazing into his eyes. “And I have been in love with you since the day after I met you.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “the day after?”

You smile, “well I thought I was in love with you that first day, but then on that second day I heard you speak, and I knew no one would ever compare.”

You feel his happiness in your chest, as if his heart is also in your ribcage, yours and his intertwined, dancing through your chest together.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his mouth so close to your own your breaths are intermingling.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, his hesitation.

“Only if you promise to never stop.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel angst

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fantasticallyfruity4 · 2 years ago

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Eddie is so hardcore with the pet names and Steve doesn’t know how to handle it.

Becuase no one’s ever called him the sweet names and terms of endearment. Tbh was always his job.

It’s the morning after Steve’s stayed the night the first time, and he’s making breakfast in the tight trailer kitchen one morning and Eddie gently moves him forward with soft hands on his back, with a kiss to his shoulder as he scoots behind him to refill his coffee cup.

“ ‘Scuse me baby love” me mutters, still pretty much asleep and not really aware of the effect he’s having on Steve. (Steve is ready to scream). Steve blushes, a little light headed the rest of the time he’s cooking.

And then there’s that time Eddie offered to just change Steve’s oil for him because ‘it’s really not that hard why pay $20 when I can just do it’ and Steve insisted he’d feel too bad. So eddie countered “fine, then you can help me if that makes it better”.

And while Steve’s sitting on the porch of the trailer being absolutely fucking useless -because of corse Eddie wasn’t gonna actually let him help he wouldn’t know how to be good for shit with cars anyway- Eddie suddenly called out “hey sweetheart? Can you go grab me a glass of water?”

And of corse Steve can do that he can do literally anything eddie asks in that tone. And does sweetheart give him a head rush? Yeah. But it’s what happens after that really gets him fucked up.

“Thank you pretty boy, you’re a life saver” Eddie grins, leaning over- careful to avoid getting any oil on Steve- and pressing a kiss to his cheek. And Steve keeps playing those words in his head for weeks. Pretty boy

And then there’s the honey boy incident. Steve can never get over that one. Fucking hell, honey boy. Where does eddie get these ideas from?

And then there had been that time steve was picking up the kids from hellfire, but apparently they’d decided to go play a game of manhunt in the time since eddie cut them loose from their journey and then Steve arrived.

And fuck, no way in hell was Steve going to rush the kids. Not when they were finally relaxed and safe enough to just be kids for once. So while leaving against the Beamer he was greeted by a grinning eddie.

“Hey baby boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He practically fucking purred, coming in close to Steve’s personal space- Eddie’s favorite place to be. And Steve’s favorite place for Eddie to be. Eddie knew damn well Steve was getting the kids today. Like every day he spent chauffeuring the kids or Robin around. And Eddie knew damn well those kids were off in the woods being assholes. And knew damn well he had some free time to flirt with his boyfriend because Steve would never take away these kinds of memories from his kids. So yeah he wanted to lay it on thick.

But baby boy? Steve was going to explode. So simple but so overwhelming.

“You can’t keep doing this to me”. It came out way whinier than Steve had wanted it to.

“Can’t keep doing what?” “Calling me those names! It’s embarassing!”

Eddie just grinned brighter.

“Is it embarrassing? Because it seems like you like it a lot. The way you blush, the way you sit there and babble after trying to get your brain to work again-“

“I do not-“ “oh baby you always do. You love it when I call you pretty names. Just admit it and I’ll never stop”

#steddie

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shunsuiken · 1 year ago

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HOW THE GENSHIN MEN FIND YOU DRUNK

pairing(s). kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, ayato, thoma, tighnari, kaveh, wanderer x gn!reader

genre. fluff + mentions of alcohol use ofc + reader is a lightweight (welcome to my life guys <3)

wc. 400-800 for each character

an. SOOOOO this was inspired by a cdrama i watched back in 2021 and when i saw it i just HAD to write about it <3 also i think i had a bit too much fun on zhongli’s and childe’s i hope its not so obvious dear god. also??? for some reason the ones i had the hardest time writing for ended up being the longer parts omg

kaeya alberich

after spending some time upstairs with a couple of treasure hoarders who were completely unaware of being thoroughly deceived by the cunning cavalry captain, kaeya decides to head down and run over the knowledge he collected with mond’s famed beverage, death after noon.

but as he walks down the staircase, he spots a familiar figure sitting by the bar. he squints his eye slightly, almost not believing the sight in front of him. is that y/n? on the high stool by the bar? dozing off to only a few shots of liquor? tonight just became even more interesting. now he’s starting to wonder what things you would say under the influence—for no shady reasons, obviously, as he genuinely enjoyed your company and witiful mouth. he’s just a curious man with the goal of unveiling a few other things about you.

he makes a beeline to the bar, setting himself on your right side so you’re in his line of vision. glancing around, he motions for charles for his death after noon. kaeya only turns to you once his drink arrives, quickly giving you a once over. seeing as how it looked like you came to angel’s share after work he might as well stir up a conversation.

your vision is blurry but you can definitely feel the presence of another person beside you. as you lift your head from your crossed arms, your brows crease in irritation. which imbecile decided to disturb your time alone? you’re literally brooding over the fact that captain kaeya would never be yours, so you irresponsibly decided an hour ago that some liquor would magically help you forget your worries.

you’re ready to scare the person off with a glare but what you’re met with is quite literally, much worse (because your glares don’t work on him and also because he's part of the reason you’re in your drunken state).

kaeya chuckles at your expression. “why the long face? it’s just me.”

you rub your eyes, groaning from the bitterness lingering in your throat. of all people, you weren’t expecting him. “you never stop by on wednesday’s. is something up?” you ask drowsily as kaeya watches you pick up your glass, clumsily squinting at the bottom of it to see if there was any more of your liquor left.

kaeya dodges your question, humming, “y/n sweetheart, you look like you’re on the brink of passing out.” he tilts his head, observing your flushed expression. if you can’t handle your liquor, he doesn’t mind taking you back home if it means securing your safety.

“am not,” you reply, turning your gaze to him. it’s all thanks to the alcohol that you can do so when in reality you actually struggle to maintain eye contact with him. “you… you haven’t answered my question yet. why’re you here?” your voice is hoarse and you’ve made enough voice cracks to entertain a crowd, but kaeya finds it rather endearing instead.

kaeya could reply honestly. but this conversation is one to be forgotten after you woke up tomorrow morning. he could lie and you would never know he did, but for a reason unknown the lie he was supposed to tell never left his lips. instead he blurts out the plain truth.

“somebody has to be responsible for you, y’know,” kaeya teases you with a grin but his actions are the opposite of his tone. he stands from his seat, pulling your arm over his shoulders to support your weight even when you attempt to resist his help. he keeps your body close to his so you don’t fall over. hopefully you’re drunk enough to be oblivious of the erratic beats of his heart alongside the cautious and warm touch of his hand on your waist.

diluc ragnvindr

he still can’t believe he has such a massive crush on you. it’s almost embarrassing to let others know about this secret because nobody would expect someone like diluc to have a thing for you. it’s even harder to hide that fact when you’re sitting at a table with venti and kaeya. they’re laughing their asses off at some joke you told them.

“cheers to y/n!” venti hollers, cheeks undeniably pink. “you are paying for this, right?” he leans back down momentarily, making you release another burst of laughter from your lungs at the way he mentioned it. “of course!”

after chatting, you decide to greet the man of the house by the bar. it’s been a while since you’ve seen the master diluc of dawn winery anyway. as you get up from the table to make your way over, you accidentally bump into a crowd of big, brawny adventurers who’ve just arrived.

“oh—!” tripping backwards, your hands fail to find something to keep yourself on your feet before your fall is cushioned by someone.

they hold onto your shoulder as your back collides with their chest. the force from being pushed aside has you breathing unsteadily, and it doesn’t help that you’re pretty tipsy right now too. however, despite how tipsy you are, you feel as though air is sucked right out of your lungs when you spot a tuft of crimson red hair from the corner of your eye.

you stand right up immediately, facing the person you fell onto.

“master diluc!” the dazed and naive look on a drunkard's face normally doesn’t appeal to diluc but this expression on yours actually makes you look rather adorable. your eyes are half-lidded and your smile is lopsided, and oh if he could squish those cheeks of yours-

“uh, master diluc?” you blink, toning your voice down a bit.

“oh.” diluc slides out of his mindscape, paying attention to your words. “yes? would you like a drink on the house?” because if you actually asked that, he would have sent one your way on the spot.

you wave your hands dismissively. “n- no no, not that! i was just asking how you were doing. you haven’t stopped by angel’s share since last month, i thought something was up so when i heard you were here today i…” you trail off, realising that you’re rambling and that diluc probably didn’t want to be greeted like this after taking a month off but when you look back at him, he’s still looking at you (and has been since you fell into his arms).

diluc raises his brow when he no longer hears your voice. but when he sees an expectant look in your eyes, he offers you his arm with a smile. “how about you tell me everything by the bar? that way i can serve you properly.”

your cheeks burn like a wild bonfire as you take his arm, now struggling to find excuses to somehow change the topic of conversation because if you continued your sentence from a minute ago, you would have exposed your secret attraction for the man in front of you.

(funny how you don’t even need kaeya or venti to expose you, you’re already the man for the job!)

diluc senses your sudden nervousness at the invitation. he does his best to bite away at the fond smile making its way to his lips. if he can help calm your nerves then maybe you’ll tell him about how much you missed his company at the tavern.

zhongli

zhongli didn’t know that his late night stroll around the streets of chihu rock would include witnessing your drunk state at third-round knockout. the streets have thinned out and it’s rather late too. he wonders what brought you over to the distinguished tavern.

the curious adeptus makes silent haste to peer over your shoulder. a cup in your hand and your head is lolling over. putting two and two together, you must have had your fill of alcohol for tonight.

zhongli finds himself chuckling before neatly folding his hands behind his back. “i wonder how y/n is faring on this wonderful night?”

your head snaps out of your drunken state momentarily, the coherent cells in your brain recognise that voice immediately but your vision is blurry. so instead of being able to greet the gentleman with dignity and grace, you end up tripping over the levelled bricks below you.

“oh—!”

zhongli is quick to open his arms and catch you, his reflexes still polished despite his retirement as the geo archon. your head bumps into his chest as you grunt at the slight fright. and after regaining your foothold on the bricked ground, it comes to your attention that your body is flat against the man in front of you. more specifically, his arms are wrapped around your waist to keep you steady and your hands are fumbling awkwardly in the air because you don’t know where to put them.

looking up to meet zhongli’s eyes is exactly what you expected but you can never maintain eye contact with him. it’s not your fault he’s so handsome! his kind gesture makes your cheeks warm up, and he probably doesn’t even mean anything out of it but sometimes your mind likes to be a little creative and indulges you in a variety of impossible scenarios.

“archons, zhongli i’m sorry—i didn’t see you i—”

“it’s not a problem, y/n. shall i walk you home?” zhongli offers, voice gentle and non-judgemental, like you didn’t just trip over a couple of bricks.

you shake your head, earning a raised brow from him. “i only live a few minutes away. plus, look at the time, we’ll look weird.”

“holding you in my arms will not make us look weird, rather i believe this is appropriate for us both. don’t you think?” the way zhongli tilts his head to the dominating tone in his voice makes you feel so small.

“i mean—sure but,” you reply, not daring to look directly into his eyes unless you were going to expose your hidden feelings for him. “but i’m drunk. it’s my fault, i can take myself ho—” your words are caught in your throat when zhongli lifts you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the steps and continuing down the street to bring you home.

this extra pinch of boldness is something that lays dormant within zhongli. but it always comes alive when you’re around. he has spent enough time around mortals to pick up the signs of the heart. your reactions to his touch, your flickering gaze and the heat from your face is no brainer. however, he will have to properly communicate with you when you’re sober.

for now, he only hopes that you will disregard the warmth radiating off his neck when you lean in to rest your forehead there.

childe

he’s dancing. dancing to his heart’s content. the band plays the second to last song but the harbinger barely feels like he’s lived up to the heights of the night. he requires more vigour, more energy from his dancing partners. sure, they were all wonderful dancers but he’s really only waiting for someone else to enter his field of vision.

childe knows you’re around here somewhere, you told him personally a week before the ball that you and your father were invited. after all, only the most distinguished noblemen and women were eligible to attend. and you, being the one and only child of one of the leading snezhnayan trade merchants, are an obvious guest on the list of invites.

childe dances, switching and gliding between different and eager dance partners, secretly hoping that the next gloved hand he would take would be yours. unfortunately, for the second to last song, he still doesn’t manage to find you amongst the crowd of participants dancing. so when the music stops he makes sure to return everyone a wave and entertain those who greet him warmly, doing everything in his power to stop the itch of impatience showing on his sweaty face. thankfully, he manages to maintain a calm and composed expression.

childe’s head perks up to a certain sound. amongst the music, the cheers and the clings of wine glasses he recognises a laugh. a laugh, to the extent of his knowledge, only he’s able to get out of you. he brings his wine glass away from his lips, licking the remnants of it from his bottom lip as he captures the sight of you chatting away with other guests.

scanning the guests’ faces, he concludes that they’re harmless thanks to information he was told prior to the event. so he makes his way over, smoothly including himself in conversation just to make an excuse to the other guests to ‘borrow your attention’ for a moment.

you take his arm that he offers you, holding your wine glass in your other hand. childe has always been a gentleman towards you, such a passionate person with excellent manners. you’re almost always guaranteed to have a grand time whenever he invites you out (obviously as friends, which you two have made known to the entire town).

“so ajax, tell me about your journey to liyue—” your throat interrupts your speech with a very clear hiccup. “—harbour.” your cheeks burn, quickly apologising for your lack of manners under your breath.

childe hums, loving how you used the name he told you to use when it’s just you and him. “your grace, are you drunk?” he gazes at your flushed face and how your styled hair looks more undone. he thinks you look better this way actually.

“i might be,” you sigh, wanting to hand your glass over to a butler but childe stops you before you can, taking your glass to quickly down the last sips of your beverage.

“ajax, what are you doing?!” you tap his arm repeatedly with concern, telling him to slow down.

you just got that glass a few minutes ago! but besides that, he’s drinking the wine you just had?! what if his lips touch the part yours did on the glass? not that you mind at all—you wouldn’t dare say that out loud but your thoughts are as clear as day on your expression.

childe enjoys the look on your face, satisfied and relieved that you didn’t show a hint of dissatisfaction. “i’ve not had the honour to dance with you tonight.” he passes the empty glass onto a passing butler’s tray. “shall i have the pleasure now?”

kamisato ayato

by this time in the evening, you, thoma and ayaka are probably done playing the hot pot game. which is alright since ayato knew he would return home from business later than usual tonight, but that doesn’t stop him from checking up on all of you. so when he slides the door open to see his faithful retainer, his sister and you sleeping soundly in the designated hot pot room at komore teahouse, the lord cannot help but stifle a fond laugh.

it then comes to his attention that the room reeks of alcohol. oh dear. that explains why everyone’s blacked out.

“‘yato?” he watches you lift your head from the table. ah, you’re still awake… and definitely drunk. no wonder you dropped the formalities all of a sudden. if you were sober you would have rushed to greet him by the door and refer to him by “my lord” despite all the protests he’s made to call you by his first name instead.

ayato hushes you gently, ignoring how his heart skips a beat at the mention of his first name leaving your lips and sits himself beside you. he’s almost taken aback by how you immediately lean onto his body for support. he knew you were an affectionate person but you normally asked before proceeding with anything just in case he felt uncomfortable (surprise! he never did). so seeing this side of you is rather refreshing to his eyes.

“what’re you doing here?” you blink hardly at him but it’s to no avail as the alcohol in your veins distorts your vision.

he brings you closer, gloved hand rising to caress the back of your head. “i just came to visit. however, it didn’t occur to me that you would all have so much fun without my presence.”

“nonsense!” you claim dramatically, a satisfied smile immediately appearing on ayato’s face at your predictable reaction.

you poke his arm you don’t realise is already sat on your waist. you’re too ready to defend your lord from his own words to notice anyway.

ayato scans your face. lavender eyes find your plumped lips, the thin sheen of sweat along your cheeks and your hair attempting to escape the confines of your hairpin—hold on a moment, he got you that hairpin!

the way ayato has to physically restrain a grin from showing on his face is uncharacteristic of him. he’s noticed that he uncovers new parts of himself whenever you’re beside him. such an interesting person you are…

“we were waiting for you—hic—however, we got a little distracted.” you admit, gesturing at ayaka who sleeps soundly on thoma’s jacket. you look up at ayato through your eyelashes, giving him a lopsided smile.

“i remembered your—hic—advice when you said ayaka can’t drink more than a glass. she might even have it worse than me. but thoma, on the other hand, was a completely different story. that man was a mess!” you move your head to look at thoma’s body sprawled over the floor, ugly giggles leaving the back of your throat at how much of an idiot he looks like right now.

your hair tickles ayato’s chin but he pays no mind to it when he’s so immensely amused by your relaxed nature when drunk.

thoma

thoma mentally checks his list of things to do before retiring for the night. his lord is in his office, accompanied by a freshly made pot of tea, his lady should already be sound asleep and the other retainers are also readying to retire too. he sighs to himself, patting his jacket down as he heads to the kitchen to finalise his cleaning.

when he enters the kitchen, he is baffled at the sight in front of him. he stares blankly for a moment to process it.

there’s remnants of sake dripping out of a tipped-over tokkuri and his lover who plays with the o-choko absentmindedly with their finger, drawing invisible lines along the rim. thoma stifles a giggle, a curled finger covering his lips.

his giggle sends your consciousness back into focus. you only have the power to tilt your head ever so slightly to the right, your movements pausing on the o-choko when your gaze falls upon the view of your lover.

“tho—ma,” your cracked voice calls for him, making him rush toward you in such fondness so he could pinch your cheeks.

“oh, y/n, what are you doing?” thoma asks as giggles leave his lips, watching you squint at him dazedly. “it’s dripping from the corner of your lips as well!” he takes a napkin, sitting next to you to wipe it away gently.

“wh- where’ve you been, pretty?” your words are slurred but thoma hears you perfectly well.

the pet name makes him blush, but you’re too drunk to notice. “i’ve been doing my job—oh, honey—” he huffs when he brings you to lean on him instead. the longer you lay your head on the table, the more you’ll want to throw up later (and thoma makes sure to prevent that from happening).

you giggle at the little voice crack you hear when he calls you by your pet name, leaning onto his chest as your head rests on his shoulder blade. taking advantage of this position, thoma presses a cool ceramic cup filled with water by your lips and when you lazily open your eyes, you see that it’s the glass that’s been sitting on the side from earlier.

“drink up, honey.” you can’t refuse such a request when it’s mumbled so affectionately by your ear. you’re probably even warm at your cheeks from it, but then again, the sake has kept your cheeks warm for a while. you can’t even tell anymore.

after taking a few sips of water, your throat feels fresh and renewed—if thoma heard your thoughts, he would deadpan at you and say “y/n. it’s called getting hydrated” in a sassy little voice. this scenario amuses you and it causes a small laugh to leave your lips.

above you, thoma is confused. “what are you thinking about?” he asks curiously with a smile.

as you rest your head on thoma’s shoulder again, you reply, “you. i’m just thinking about you.”

tighnari

a shout from outside tighnari’s lodging brings his attention away from his documents, brows furrowing and pushing himself up from his chair to see why his forest rangers are making such a fuss at an ungodly hour (yes, tighnari was awake at said ungodly hour but that wasn’t because he was with his fellow rangers after a night out!).

“tighnari, we’re back!” a drunk forest watcher waves and yells at the figure of tighnari, who has his arms crossed in front of him.

a sigh leaves tighnari’s mouth, one of exhaustion, to be precise. “do you intend to wake all of gandharva ville up? go find yourselves home and rest.” he turns around to head back inside until another forest watcher pipes up.

“wait, tighnari! y/n’s black out drunk!” a female forest watcher, who’s eyes can’t even look at a single point any longer due to the alcohol running in her veins, displays your figure with your arm dangling over her shoulders. “you need to take them back, i don’t know where they live!”

tighnari raises a brow and chuckles, shaking his head. “yet you’re sober enough to tell me this.” he walks towards the group of drunkards and collects you easily from the forest watcher, carefully placing your arm over his shoulders while his other hand holds your hip.

you barely know where you are and what’s happening but it appears that your assigned guardian angel for the night has retired and put you in more capable hands—or, arms. you blink in an attempt to gather knowledge of your surroundings but it’s to no avail when everything is a blur of darkness with hints of warm light from the dew lights.

a grunt escapes your lips in slight frustration as you walk away with this other person, but they’re quick to hush you gently and in a soft voice you hear, “i promise we’re almost there, just walk with me, okay?”

“yeah, okay,” you reply promptly but to tighnari’s ears, he’s never heard such a tone in your voice ever since you were recruited. his heart skips a beat and his ear twitches along. it’s rare to see you so vulnerable and he can tell you have no idea that he’s the one carrying you back to… well, his lodging. because your lodging is simply too far away (it’s only a bridge away) and he can’t have you walking any longer when you look like you’re on the verge of passing out!

he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him when his gloved hand holds onto your forearm to keep your body steady against his as he walks you to his lodging. his body is going against him and his heart can only take the blame for such ridiculous delusions. what does he think he will get out of this?

he’s just your chief forest watcher, that’s all he will ever be to you—is what tighnari thinks. but in reality, you only went out with the others to spiral in alcohol due to your failed attempts of romancing your handsome superior. it seemed that the sumeru roses and the letter you left at his doorstep were blown away by the wind (you had to commit blasphemy on that day and curse the anemo archon), the pita pockets you made for him were stolen away by some petty treasure hoarders when you weren’t looking and overall, your thoughts were a mess thinking about your failed attempts. it was like your beloved archon forgot to bless you with wisdom to avoid these situations.

“see! i told you he had a soft spot for them!”

“it’s so obvious the feelings mutual, i can’t believe they didn’t believe us.”

“they’re literally the only one who can’t see it!”

tighnari clears his throat loud enough for the group to hear him. he turns around and gives them a pointed look until they’re all skipping away to their respective lodgings.

he glances at your drunken face for a brief moment and smiles to himself, continuing to walk you back.

it appears that all his worries were meaningless.

kaveh

the sight of you leaning against the door to his home almost makes his soul fly right out of his body.

“hello y/n, i thought we were meeting for dinner?” but when kaveh finally makes it to where you are, you are nowhere near sober. no wonder your figure was leaning against the wood so flimsily. you were akin to a ragdoll at this point. “great heavens, is the end of the world upon us? why are you drunk before me?” he hesitantly collects you in his arms while mehrak hovers beside him. he can’t have you just leaning like that!

“went to… birthday party… drinks…”

that’s enough information to bring kaveh up to speed with the situation. but also… why did you decide to go to his house?! was it instinctive?

kaveh cringes at his thoughts and opens the door with his free hand while his other hand supports you by your waist (he can feel his palm warming up to the touch on your body and it’s making the poor man sweat). “come on in, let’s sober you up.”

when you’re sat nicely on the couch, your eyes are still closed with zero awareness of your surroundings. how your head suddenly tilts backwards at such speed almost brings the most horrific yelp out of kaveh, he’s relieved to know his reflexes are still sharp enough to have caught your head before it snapped right off your neck.

“archons, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” he holds the back of your head and somehow manages to bring your body to lean against the spine of the couch. he doesn’t forget to put a pillow behind your back either, because you being drunk doesn’t mean you’re drunk enough to not feel discomfort.

after collecting himself from that scare, he returns with a cup of water, hands carefully hovering it in front of your lips. “here, drink up,” he says but you keep moving your mouth away from the cup that it’s slowly beginning to irritate him.

“y/n, you need to sober up if you’re going to walk home later,” he tells you in a more serious voice which makes you groan, throwing your head forward into your hands.

“you don’t understand.”

“what don’t i understand?”

what am i doing here? i swear i was in front of my friend's place… how is it that my drunk feet led me here? out of all the places on this continent, why did i take myself to the one place i’m trying to avoid?!

kaveh raises a brow and puts down the glass of water. “is something wrong, y/n? i haven’t even seen you since last week.”

“i’ve been… busy…” trying to keep my feelings at bay!

“i see,” kaveh responds before adding, “do you still feel drunk?”

“i wouldn’t say i’m drunk to the point of passing out—i did feel like that earlier but now that i’m sitting i can at least participate in conversation.” you remove your face from your hands.

why is his face so pink? you think to yourself, grabbing the glass of water from the table to take a sip before leaning back with your free arm supporting you. you grin to yourself, feeling a little cheeky.

you offer the glass of water you just drank from to kaveh, hovering it in front of his lips and you swear you almost watch his eyes fall out of their eye sockets.

“what—what are you doing?!” kaveh’s voice shakes and you let out this cute drunken giggle that makes his heart leap.

“i know i’m the one drunk, but for some reason you look drunk without even having drinks!”

kaveh touches his face and he purses his lips. his cheeks are so used to being hot from being in your presence that he didn’t even realise!

“allow me to assist you.” you lean your body a little closer so you can press the chilled glass of water against kaveh’s cheek.

his bottom lip falls and quivers when you lean closer towards him. last time you were this close, you were putting medication on his face after a run in with fungi.

the coldness of the glass somehow gives him time to think to himself—rationally. maybe in this moment right now he could…

“thank you, y/n.” you’ve never heard this tone in kaveh’s voice, it’s unfamiliar and so… tender. what he does next makes you finally meet his scarlet eyes.

a warm hand wraps around your wrist that holds the glass to his cheeks, your skin immediately lights up in fire at the contact. it makes you gulp so embarrassingly loudly before him.

he leans into the coolness of the glass, gazing at you with such gentle eyes that it’s tempting you to look away. as his thumb gently caresses your skin, he smiles. “it helps.”

wanderer

wanderer returns to his home a little later than usual tonight. he made sure to leave a note on the dining table to let you know of his whereabouts for the day. he knows you have the propensity to worry about him, despite his claims that he’ll be perfectly fine because of how well-versed he is in the arts of defence (and nasty attacks). which is why he left the note on the table, and he acknowledges how it was moved to another spot on the table from this morning.

you’ve seen it. he thinks to himself and now he wonders where you are. you’re not normally out at this time and from your cute daily schedule reports you tell him before bed, he doesn’t remember you mentioning that you would be out until this time. or if you were going out with friends.

that’s alright. wanderer can wait.

the tapping of his own foot is driving the man on edge. it’s been two whole hours—the sun is far beneath the horizon and the birds are already snoring. where the hell are you? wanderer cannot do this anymore, he rises from his seat and takes flight with his anemo abilities.

the city is rather easy to navigate at this height. in the dark, the city is at least still lit up by streetlights and with the help of one nearby lambad’s tavern, he spots your curled figure sitting on the floor very easily.

he hovers over the cement before landing smoothly on his feet. “what are you doing here at this time? it’s so late,” wanderer remarks with irritation, standing in front of you with his arms folded. he stares at your figure with a frown.

“h-huh?” your voice comes out hoarse, lifting your head and your eyes slowly make out the figure of wanderer. “o-oh it’s youi… where’ve you been?” you manage to say despite how the world shakes around you.

“tch, what do you—” wanderer stops himself, raising a brow then finally taking the time to scan your face and posture and it hits him.

you’re fucking drunk.

“you’re insane,” wanderer scoffs, kneeling down to silently take a closer look at your face and body for any drunkenly bruises. “do you even know what time it is? i was waiting for you.” he doesn’t exactly know what to do with his hands but he decides to offer you one to help you get up on your feet.

“you think i’m insane but really, you’re the one doing insane things all the time! you know, like fighting fatui agents in the rain… to avenge a bird!” you put emphasis on the word ‘bird’ and wanderer scoffs at the finger you point at him.

“it was in danger,” he replies simply before sighing, “but that’s not the point. you’re drunk outside at a time like this so i’ll be taking you home now.”

talking to him magically makes you more sober with every passing second. you decide to play with him a little, leaning back on the brick wall as the crease in your brow melts away. “ooh, shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

wanderer groans, pulling his hand back. he’s never had to deal with you drunk before! so he thinks for a moment, and he stands tall on his feet, turning his head the other direction. “if this is how you will continue to act then i will leave you to your own devices, however if you come back crawling to me—”

wanderer almost gasps at your figure suddenly standing beside him, steady on your feet as you give him a hard and long stare. “you don’t have to tell me twice about how you wait for me at home, i’m well aware of that. complain all you want about me but your words aren’t consistent with your actions, my love.” you slide your hand down his arm to reach for his hand as you lean your head on his shoulder.

you feel him tilt his face in the other direction. curious, you briefly lift your head for a moment to spot your pretty artificial lover gritting his teeth as a sheet of pink blankets his cheeks.

“fool,” he whispers, but there is no malice behind it.

#kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ayato x reader #thoma x reader #tighnari x reader #kaveh x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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blackdollette · 6 months ago

Text

"i fell for another loser." | spencer reid

in my feelings. - lana del rey

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: it didn't take a genius to detect when something was wrong with spencer...

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a @bellasprettywords

⊹₊⋆ pairing: bau!female!reader x spencer

⊹₊⋆ word count: 651

⊹₊⋆ contents: nervous spencer, slight tension, a little fluff

you quietly placed a hot, coffee-filled cup beside the two empty ones on spencer’s desk, the slight click sound it made as it hit the hardwood making his head jerk up. this was the third time he has dozed off like this, and it was only 11 in the morning.

he rubbed his eyes, his hair falling in disheveled tufts over his face as you leaned against his desk.

“thanks… again.”

you nodded. “anytime.”

he picked up the cup, looking up at you. “blonde espresso with two teaspoons of sugar, right?”

you rolled your eyes. “this is my third delivery of the day. i even opted adding a quart of sugar.”

he mustered a little laugh, taking a long sip with a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair as he set the cup back down, starting to fidget with his thumbs like a nervous child. you were still standing there, confused at his unkempt disposition.

“something keeping you up at night, spence? i’ve never seen you this… disordered before.”

he locked eyes with you, hastily trying to fix his hair as he shook his head. “n-no, i’ve just…” he hesitated. “it’s nothing.”

your mouth nearly curled into an amused smile. on a normal day, you wouldn’t even need to ask spencer before he began telling you all the things he dreamt of and all the ways he would spend his evening. you wanted to pry, but didn’t want to strain him any further.

“well, you know where i am if you wanna talk.”

you smiled and gave him a half wave, heading to the exit door of his office. as you began to turn the handle, he blurted out quickly. “do you have any idea why i can’t get a date?”

you turned around slowly, raising an eyebrow. “maybe because i’ve never seen you ask a girl out, casanova.”

his cheeks flushed a little as his head angled downward, staring intensely at the ground. the realization suddenly hit you like a freight train.

“oh… is that what’s been keeping you up at night? you… like a girl..?”

spencer swallowed hard, nodding just a little. “i guess you could put it that way.”

you two fell silent for a moment, spencer not even being able to look you in the eye. he was blushing like an embarrassed school boy and could barely formulate a single sentence.

you cleared your throat to break the silence.

“so… you got any plans for her?”

spencer nodded, shuffling around a few papers on his desk. “y-yeah. i got her and i tickets to a ball game, reservations to her favourite restaurant, and… i was gonna ask her to be my girlfriend.”

your heart would’ve warmed up if the lump growing in your throat hadn’t appeared first. “wow, it looks like you’ve got the whole night planned.” it was your turn to fidget with your thumbs. “i-is she pretty..?”

spencer finally loosens up at that question, a full smile breaking out on his face. “that doesn’t begin to cover it.”

you nodded, feeling a stab of insecurity in your chest, but you masked it with an endearing smile. “well to the looks of it, you’ve got a plan, you’ve set everything up, and it seems that you really like her. so go ahead and ask. i promise that no girl could ever say no to you. and if she does, you’re way out of her league.”

spencer’s eyes grew a little misty, along with yours. your hand fell to the door handle once again, turning it slowly.

“good luck, spence…”

god, that nickname, the one that no one else in the world ever used. the butterflies in spencer’s stomach had increased significantly. he knew that it was now or never.

his voice coming out shakier than ever stopped you in your tracks as you began to leave the room.

“so, uh, a-are you free this saturday..?”

author's note: ugh.

389 notes · View notes

dollishbabess · 2 months ago

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ROMANCE-TOBER :: MOTORCYCLE RIDES AT NIGHT

a/n: omgg I’m gonna need to write every Jason romtober post AFTER OCTOBER AS A MASHUP WITH ALL THE ONES I MISS because I fucking delayed each one!?

I’ve been so busy today and lately and barely had time for myself or motivation I think it’s because I haven’t had my favorite energy drink in a while but tonight WE ARE GONNA WORK!!

The cool October air nipped at your skin as you stood on the quiet street, waiting for Jason to arrive. The evening had already begun to chill, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to fight off the shivers creeping in. You didn’t have to wait long, though soon enough, the low rumble of the stupid motorcycle Jason owned echoed down the street, followed by the unmistakable sight of Jason on his sleek black bike.

He pulled up beside you, his dark helmet concealing the mischievous smile you knew he had beneath. With a smooth motion, he kicked down the stand and swung his leg over the seat, pulling off his helmet to reveal his tousled hair and those sharp, playful eyes. The streetlights overhead cast a soft glow over him, making him look even more irresistible.

“Ready for a ride?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. He held out his helmet for you, a challenge in his gaze. “Or are you too cold to handle it?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you reached for the helmet. “I’ll be fine,” you said, though a shiver betrayed you as soon as you spoke, was Elsa dominating this October season or something.

Jason chuckled and held up a hand, stopping you before you could put the helmet on. “Nah, I can’t have my girl freezing out here.” Without hesitation, he unzipped his leather jacket and shrugged it off, handing it to you. “Here, take this. I’ll be fine.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “But won’t you get cold?”

He shrugged, smirking. “I’m tough. Plus, you can make it up to me later with hot chocolate, Lets just hope I don’t get frostbite.”

‘What a dramatic man’ you thought to yourself with a smile, you accepted the jacket and slipped it on, immediately enveloped in the warmth of the worn leather and Jason’s scent something comforting and familiar, like smoke, leather, and the faintest hint of gunpowder. It was big on you, but the warmth it provided was enough to keep you from complaining. Besides, there was something endearing about wearing his jacket.

“Thanks,” you murmured, zipping it up and feeling its warmth spread through your body.

Jason nodded, watching you for a moment before his gaze softened. “Looks good on you,” he said, his voice lower now. “Better than it does on me.”

You felt your cheeks warm, though you weren’t sure if it was from the compliment or the heat from the jacket. “Alright, show off. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Jason grinned and handed you the helmet again, waiting until you were all set before he swung back onto the motorcycle. You climbed on behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning into his warmth. The chilly air still nipped at your skin, but being so close to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your hands, made it all much more bearable.

“Hold on tight,” he said over his shoulder, his voice playful but with a hint of seriousness.

And with that, the motorcycle roared to life, and you were off.

The streets of Gotham blurred around you as Jason expertly maneuvered through the darkened roads. The wind whipped past you, chilly but invigorating, and you held onto Jason a little tighter, resting your cheek against his broad back. The city’s lights twinkled in the distance, casting long shadows across the pavement, but with Jason in front of you, the darkness felt far less intimidating.

As the bike sped up, the cold air seemed to fade, replaced by the warmth of his body against yours. Every turn, every subtle shift of the bike, felt effortless in his hands, and you couldn’t help but admire how natural he looked on his motorcycle. It was like the bike was an extension of him—dangerous, sleek, and thrilling all at once.

Jason’s voice cut through the wind as he shouted over his shoulder, “You doing alright back there?”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, and shouted back, “I’m great!”

The ride continued, the two of you weaving through Gotham’s less traveled streets. Every now and then, Jason would slow down, letting you take in the quiet beauty of the city at night. The leaves on the trees had started to turn shades of gold and red, adding a pop of color to the otherwise dark surroundings. It was peaceful in its own way, Gotham’s chaos seeming far removed from this moment.

Eventually, Jason pulled into a secluded spot by the waterfront, where the city’s skyline stretched out across the river, lights reflecting off the rippling water. He killed the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the constant hum of the bike. You stayed seated for a moment, both of you still basking in the lingering adrenaline of the ride.

Jason turned his head slightly, his voice soft now. “How was it? Still cold?”

You shook your head, grinning as you finally released your grip on him. “Nope. That was amazing. And this jacket definitely helped.”

He smirked, turning to face you. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You climbed off the bike, a little shaky from the excitement, and handed the helmet back to him. “You always do,” you replied, your voice quieter now, more sincere.

Jason set the helmet aside and stood, reaching out to pull you into his arms. You melted into his embrace, feeling the warmth radiating off him even in the crisp October air. His hands found their way around your waist, holding you close as you both stared out at the city together.

“You’re warmer than the jacket,” you murmured, nuzzling into his chest.

Jason chuckled softly, his breath warm against the top of your head. “I better be. I don’t let just anyone wear my jacket.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes, usually so sharp and full of mischief, were soft now, full of something deeper. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you felt your heart swell with affection.

The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped up in each other and the quiet night, the city’s lights dancing across the water. The ride had been exhilarating, but this this moment right here, with Jason holding you close was perfect.

“Next time, though,” Jason said, his voice low and teasing, “we’re getting matching leather jackets. Can’t have my girl outshining me effortlessly everyday.”

You laughed softly, resting your head against his chest once more. “Deal. But I still think I look better in yours.”

He chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Yeah, you do, Your technically a homemade supermodel at this point”

And as you stood together in the cool October night, the warmth of his body and his jacket keeping the chill at bay, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

@dollishbabess - do not copy, repost, or plagiarize or post on different sites or translate!

Second divider: @cafekitsune

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Text

Sincerely Sappy

summary: Sirius is a big fan of pet names. You're not so keen on them, so he needs to convince you.

Sirius Black x fem! reader ♡ 736 words

You let the steam from the two mugs waft warmly over your face, inhaling the sweet, earthy aroma of the tea. Earl grey for Sirius, jasmine for you. You’re careful not to spill as you carry them to the couch, so careful that when you look up and catch Sirius’s gaze, it sends a tiny frision of surprise through you.

This thing between you is still new, and the effect he has on you hasn’t ebbed; every time he walks into a room, or looks at you a certain way, or gifts you one of his sweet, slow smiles, it feels like your heart stops and starts again.

Sirius deploys one of those smiles now, reaching up to take his mug, but you move past him to set them both on the coffee table.

“Careful,” you say, turning his handle to face him. “Don’t burn yourself.”

“Thanks, baby.” Sirius lets his hand brush yours appreciatively as he picks it up.

Baby. You laugh, and it comes out nervous and pitchy. “Ew, don’t call me that.”

He blinks. “Why not? You don’t like it?”

“It—” It’s not that you don’t like it, necessarily. The endearment sends a buzzing from your core all the way to your fingertips that’s not strictly unpleasant, but… “I’m not a baby.”

Sirius quirks a brow, blowing pensively on his tea. “You’re my baby, though.”

You moan, letting your knees come up to your chest and hiding your face in your hands. Sirius’s laughter only worsens the warmth spreading across your face like a blight.

“Okay, okay,” he relents. “You don’t like it. That’s alright, do you prefer angel?”

You lower one of your hands enough to let him view your disbelieving look.

“No? How about sweetheart? Princess?” Sirius creeps closer, setting down his mug so he can devote his full attention to your torment. “Honey? Dearest?” He drops his voice when his mouth is nearly touching your ear, so it’s low and soft when he says, “Darling?”

“Sirius!” If you don’t stop him, you worry your pants will turn to ash right there on the couch.

“C’mon,” he takes your wrists, removing them from your face. “Everyone else gets to call you Y/N. I’ve got an ego to feed, so I need something extra-special, just for me. You gotta give me at least one.”

You must look fairly distraught, because Sirius brings your wrists to his chest, tracing patterns on the backs of your hands soothingly. Even when he’s hellbent on teasing you, he’s unbearably sweet. You sigh. “They all just sound so sappy.”

Sirius squints at you, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, like you’re silly. “Yeah?” he asks. “What do you call this?” He brings your hands, willing captives, to his face, kissing your knuckles. You can only watch, half wariness and half awe at his affection. You’re unsure if it’s theatrics, or if Sirius is being genuine. He certainly seems genuine, but...but. You can’t handle it. It feels like a farce, a trap, to think that someone could treat you so tenderly. “What do you call that?” He points his chin at the two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table, and you think of how ridiculously pleased he’d been when you started stocking his favorite earl grey for when he came over.

Preparing for me to become a regular visitor, are we? He’d teased, but there was sincerity in his smile. That’s really thoughtful of you, love.

He smiles at you now, pulling you gently from your reverie. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m feeling rather sappy about you these days. And those feelings require an outlet, so you’re just going to have to get used to it.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s succeeded in melting you; you’ve got no fight left. “Fine, call me whatever. But love is my favorite.”

Sirius grins. “I can do that, love.” Your heart lurches almost painfully, but before you can take it back, he adds, “And you can call me whatever you like too, of course.”

You perk up, biting back a smile at the idea of the mocking he’ll endure from James and Sirius if you call him “babygirl” the next time you’re all together. Sirius must see the mischief in your face, his brows furrowing in concern, but before he can take it back, you beam at him sweetly.

“Deal.”

#sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x fem!reader #sirius black x fem!reader #marauders era #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius x y/n #sirius x you #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #sirius black oneshot #sirius black scenario

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muniimyg · 1 year ago

Text

1.5: ah, shit 》 series m.list

note: look at me go with the updates :o

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main

“Stop laughing. This isn’t funny!”

Jungkook makes a face at you, unable to hold his laughter in. “This is too good. Golden even. I can’t believe my luck today—”

“You know what? Forget about it. My bad,” you mumble, beginning to feel embarrassed.

Jungkook had just entered your bedroom and found you opening a box of condoms. He isn’t too sure why the sight of you doing so was so hilarious, he just knows it is.

“W-what? No!” Jungkook begins to plead, taking the box of condoms from your hands and putting them aside. “___, of course, I wanna fuck. What kind of fucking idiot do you think I am? And XL? You must’ve thought about me a lot, huh?”

“Fuck you.”

“Sure," he takes this moment in, “is now a good time?”

You cross your arms at him, giving him an annoyed look. “Why are you laughing then?”

“Because… I didn’t think this would happen again.” Jungkook confesses, a little afraid of your reaction. When to comes to other peoples feelings, you’re not the soft type. Yet, when it comes to your own; you are almost always overly sensitive. He’s learned this about you simply over time. It’s endearing to him and annoying to others.

You shrug at him, taking an article of your clothing off. Tossing it at him, you gesture for him to do the same. He then pulls his sweater over his head and drops it on the ground along with your shirt. Jungkook keeps his eyes on you as you begin to strip more and more. His eyes follow each curve that gets exposed and he can’t help but wonder why his throat is suddenly dry. It’s weird because he swears he’s probably drooling right now.

When you’re down to just your panties and bra, you take a step towards him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he gulps as you inch closer to him. You’d be an idiot not to notice his sudden change of stance.

It’s obvious.

Jungkook has folded.

“Do you have feelings for me, Jungkook?”

You ask him this calmly.

Your words and the tone you used to ask don’t seem to match. The words itself carry so much possibility of change and chance… Yet, the way you said it was so distant and meaningless. It’s like it wasn’t a big deal. It’s like… It didn’t even matter if he said yes.

He takes a moment too long to answer.

“Spit it out, you little shit.”

“N-no,” he attempts to sound convincing. You had already made him a fool once this evening… He wasn’t going to let you have the victory of being a joke to you again. “It’s you. You like me.”

Tilting your head, you pout at him. “Don’t make assumptions. Your ego won’t be able to handle rejection.”

“I’m not assuming and you’re not exactly rejecting me,” he grumbles, feeling defensive. “Just admit it. You’ve wanted me the second we met.”

You wiggle your finger at him. “Stop projecting, pookie bear.”

Jungkook makes a sour face. “Ohh… Yeah, it does sound bad.”

“See?” you laugh, hitting his chest lightly.

“How about… I stop calling you pookie bear—”

You gasp, “okay! Loving this…”

“When you stop denying—”

In a panic, you interrupt him; “hating it…”

“Come on,” he groans. “You have to admit it. You like me at least a little bit… That’s why you and I fucked a month ago. It was all the built-up tension.” He says it like he knows it in his heart. Like there’s no other answer than what he just stated. For a moment, you believe him.

Instead, you remember that night and you recall what had led up to it. You had just gotten dumped for the nth time by your shithead of a boyfriend. Jungkook saw you walking home and cheered you up to your apartment. From there, it just happened.

It was so easy.

It felt so effortless and like it was meant to happen. That understanding… Felt weird. You did your best to forget about it and how it made you feel but it takes two to tango and your partner in crime felt differently. Ever since that day, he has not shut the fuck up.

That day, Jungkook found himself in between your legs and you found yourself self-loathing the next morning. It wasn’t in your intentions to use Jungkook the way you did.. But he didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Which brings you to this conclusion:

“What are you trying to get out of me, Jungkook? A confession?”

He shrugs, feeling indifferent. “I’m not demanding anything from you.”

You shake your head at him. “What the fuck? Jungkook, you can’t be my rebound.”

“Why not?” he whines childishly.

“It’s mean.”

Jungkook takes a moment to contemplate. Ultimately, he snaps out of it and brushes his thoughts off as if he didn’t even try to think things through. “It’s okay. I have a crush on you so I’m going into this completely delusional and shit.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you pinch his cheeks. “Can you stop goofing around? Be real. I might be more interested in you if you do.”

He glares at you.

“Fine,” Jungkook gives in. “I’m just fucking with you. To be honest, I’m just trying to be here for you. As a friend and all… If fucking around is what you need, then so be it. Whatever you want from me, you can have. You just have to ask.”

You purse your lips at him, not buying a single word he offers you. Regardless, you inch closer. Bantering with him is actual agony… But, you can’t resist him. It’s a weird pull he has on you and you rather die than to admit it to him.

Instead, you let your actions speak for you. It’s the most you’ll do in terms of confessing or even processing how you feel about him. All you know and all you want to know is how he feels against, inside, and on top of your body. You your lips on his neck, near his collarbone. At first, you kiss it lightly. Then, as you pull away, you suck on it a bit. Repeating this motion, you work on giving him a hickey.

“I…”

“You?”

“I wanna fuck.”

Your room looks the same as it did a month ago. He feels so lucky to be here again.. But holy shit; you're a piece of work.

Is he a joke to you? Is that it? Because Jungkook has been in complete distress for a good five minutes now and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Fucking hold still,” Jungkook grunts, as he pins you down. His hands cover your wrist and all you can do is giggle. He does his best to compose himself. If he lets his emotions get in the way, you'll laugh even more.

“I can’t—it’s poking me!”

He rolls his eyes at you. “It's my dick, ___. Of course, it's gonna feel like that."

"It feels weird,” you giggle. “Why is it so big?”

"Don't call my dick weird.”

You squint at him. “I also called it big.”

“Well, it’s gonna stop being big if you don’t stop fucking laughing at it.”

You tighten your lips. “Sorry, sorry.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and tries again.

He guides himself between your folds and glances at you to see if you’re behaving any better. Holding in your laughter, you shut your eyes and try to concentrate on how it feels.

How velvety the skin of his thick, veiny, and hard cock is. How wet the head is. How big it is as he pushes himself inside you.

You open your eyes and boom.

There he is.

So handsome and on top of you. His silver neckless dangles in the space between you and him. Your eyes flutter at the way it moves according to his thrusts. It feels like you could go dizzy.

Then, you blink and see him suddenly close his eyes and lean in towards you. Out of an odd relfex, you squirm and let out a loud burst of laughter.

“What the fuck?” Jungkook cries, completely frustrated with you. “___, are you serious?”

In between laughs, you tell him; “I was trying! But you were leaning in to kiss me and the way you shut your eyes looked so stupid—you look so s-stupid—w-what the fuck?”

Jungkook grips your wrists and puts them above your head. He towers over you even more and the expression on his face is hard to read. He looks angry but not in a scary way. He looks desperate and needy but not in the loser way… He looks insanely hot right now. You feel yourself clench, getting tighter around him.

“You love fucking with me, don’t you?” he hisses. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

You nod in response.

“Then fucking behave.”

You nod again.

He shakes his head, dissatisfied with your response. He lets go of your wrists and cups your cheeks together with his one hand. With your lips smushed together, he asks you; “answer me properly.”

“Y-yes,” you murmur, “I’ll behave.”

Cockily, he raises his brow at you. “Good. Now open your mouth.”

You do as he says. He loosens his hold on you, letting you open your mouth on your own. When you do so, you watch him accumulate spit. Quickly, he spits inside your mouth.

You spit it back out at him.

“Sike.”

His own saliva hits his face. Jungkook briefly turns away, biting his inner cheek in annoyance.

“You wanna play fucking games? Fine. Let’s fucking play games.” Jungkook practically growls.

You gulp, trying your best to keep a straight face. It wasn’t funny anymore. Instead, everything was beginning to feel hot and heavy. His cock stays inside you and you can feel him throbbing. You want him to move now.

Maybe you made the wrong move.

But it’s too late.

Jungkook’s mind has been made up and his pride can’t take any more shit you’ve given him all night. Sometimes, you forget how much of a man he is. You’ve only pushed boundaries as friends as a joke… And you barely remember what it was like sleeping with him a month ago… Was he always like this?

You feel sick to your stomach when you realize; you like it.

The rest of the night continues with Jungkook’s nasty mouth all over your body. It’s like every crevasse was for him to discover and claim as his. He took his time, pumping himself inside you. He took his time even more when he kissed you.

It was so slow and wet, but with every thrust and kiss—oh, were you fucked out of your mind.

His hands were all over you. It wasn’t exactly mind-blowing sex but it wasn’t too far from it either. Everything he did just felt so right and that surprised you. Contrary to popular belief; Jungkook was no fuckboy. He simply knew how to fuck.

God bless that fact.

He has always been that silly goofy friend in your circle of people. He has always been kind and a little flirty… But he was also really self-aware and brought a lot of meaning into every friendship. Perhaps, that’s why you ended up turning the other cheek and dating guys opposite of him.

If you were to be with Jungkook, it would be too real.

It would be too good and that’s what scared you…

Ah, shit.

How could you ever get over something this good?

#bts fic #bts smau #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fwb #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine

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inactiveobeymeblog · 10 months ago

Text

The Brothers Cock Warming M!MC

Probably has been before but oh well. I wanted to add my own little pizazz to it. Also not a lot of male mc.

Tags: the brothers are on the receiving end, cock warming, praise kink, degradation kink, office sex, male mc/AMAB reader, teasing, and edging. Read at your own risk!!

Lucifer

This man is so hard to get away from his work

He’s practically married to it (and maybe Diavolo)

The moment you walk into his study he immediately tried to dismiss you, thinking you are one of his brothers

Boy was he ever so wrong

“Luci.” You would call out

His head immediately shoots up and he drops his pen

He would be so happy to see you he wouldn’t be able to help the corners of his lips curving upwards

You’d walk over to him and waste no time in kissing him

He’d kiss back and your plan is set in motion

Time skip to when you’re shedding his clothes off of him

If you really want him to cockwarm you, you have to get him in the mood

It’s pretty easy to do, too

Start by slowly undoing his tie and slowly unbuttoning his vest while softly kissing his nape

He’ll get impatient but he’ll also be curious

“You know, I haven’t seen you all day. I’ve missed you.”

Find any excuse to praise him

Whether if it be complimenting his looks or complimenting his behavior; it gets him riled up and ready

But what he doesn’t expect is when you both are only sitting there, cock fully sheathed inside him

He gets confused but catches on pretty quickly

He picks up his pen gets back to work

But let’s be real here

He’s not getting anything done

Not when you have the chance to screw with him in the best way possible

You’d start by wandering your hands all over his body while nipping at any reachable exposed skin

Then you’d move on to shifting slightly on purpose so you’d move inside him

You’d continue this until he gets fed up

“You’re being very annoying today.” He’d say a few minutes before he rides you completely

He’d get so lost in the feeling of you filling him up he forgets about his work for the rest of the day

He’s not going to stop riding you until you beg for mercy

Prepare to have a sore dick the next day

Mammon

Finding Mammon is easy

But if you can’t find him, just text him a “I need you. Come here now.” And it doesn’t matter where he is, he’ll be there in 2 minutes flat.

You get straight to the point

You tell him to undress while you sit in his bed, watching him obey your command

You find it endearing

So you reward him by stuffing him full with your cock

“Look at you taking me so beautifully. So perfectly. Almost as if you were meant for this.”

Praise him but lightly degrade him if you want to reward him

But if you want to punish him? Don’t say anything and watch him squirm on your unmoving length

But it’s only a matter of time before you snap and can’t handle how hard he’s clenching you

Before you knew it, Mammon was on all fours getting pounded into his own mattress

You love the noises that come from his mouth so much you have to praise him for it

“Such a good boy. Taking me with such little effort. Such a good boy for me.”

Praise him and he’s spilling on the sheets while screaming your name

It’s long last an hour before you finish inside him

You love him so much you found it in you to clean up everything (and find a healing spell of some sort bc let’s be honest here. He’s ruined.)

When you’re done with aftercare, you pull the second eldest close to your chest and fall asleep until you wake up a few hours later to do it all over again

Mammon loves it when you do that

Leviathan

Levi lost a bet against you while playing a video game

He lost and now he has to face the consequences

Sitting on your cock while he plays a game with a few online friends

Oh, and open mic, too

“I might not be at my best this time, guys.” He’d say as the round starts bc he knows you aren’t letting him off easy

He lost, remember?

For the first game you’re completely content, but the second game you get a little more teasing

You start lightly rocking your hips upward and running your hand gently up and down his waist, sometimes squeezing

Each time you do, Levi tries to compose himself by sharply inhaling and keeping his voice down

The next couple games you’re now thrusting a couple inches inside him, enjoying the way he struggles to focus and keep quiet

The next few games you’re now kissing up and down his exposed back while still pumping the same two inches inside him at the slowest pace you could manage

It was starting to make him squirm under you and letting out small breaths and quiet whimpers

You both stay like this until his friends go offline and Levi crumbles as he switches to his demon form

He’d somehow turn around with you still inside him and start bouncing away

His tail comfortably wraps itself around your leg and his hands are on your chest

Each time Levi lowers himself, you raise your hips to meet him halfway

You hit his sweet spot every time

It’s only a small amount of time before he’s gone and spills over both of your chests

You flip him around and start pounding into him

A few thrusts later and you’re stroking yourself, shooting onto his balls

You both quickly recover and clean up before you play another game with him

Levi would be distracted the entire time as he replays what happened mere moments ago in his mind

He looses again

Satan

This nerd immediately knew what you were trying to do

So he wasted no time in tying you to his bed and siting comfortably down onto your length with a book in hand

You’re still inside him when he lays back against your chest while reading the rest of his book

He could spend hours just sitting on your dick and you’d be helpless just laying there, hard, inside him for hours on end

Eventually though, he’d get bored and turn his body around to face you, book placed down beside you

“I’m going to make you feel so good you will never want to leave.”

He’d say something so hot you twitch so violently inside him he squeaks quietly

You find it cute

But your little smirk turns into an open ‘O’ when Satan brutally starts bouncing

He’s slamming himself down so hard you’re moaning with him

He wouldn’t stop there either

He’d play with your nipples, pinching and licking them whenever he wants

It’s not a shocker when you’re the one unloading inside him first

Your mind gets so clouded with lust you start to raise your hips in time with Satan’s bounces but the demon wouldn’t allow it

He’d force your hips down and get even more rough, his ass jiggling from how much force he’s using

You cum a second time before Satan cums once

Taking advantage of Satan’s brief break, you take the moment to look down at yourself

Your chest is cover with bite marks and hickeys

The same goes for your stomach, except it’s now coated with Satan’s cum

You’re hard again inside him and Satan smirks

“I’m not stopping tonight. I’m going to put you in a wheelchair by morning.”

He wasn’t wrong

You could barely feel your legs and it felt like yo were missing your pelvis completely not to mention how sore your dick was

You’d wait awhile before attempting something like that again

Satan comes up with an idea to wear cat-themed lingerie next time

He’s sure you’d get a kick out if it

He’d have a blast showing it off to you before brutally riding you all night again

He’d accidentally rip the fabric of the lingerie and get sad

He was really happy with the look of it too

Oh well

He’ll buy another piece

Asmodeus

If you thought you’d be in control, you’re sorely mistaken

Similar to Satan, he’s tying you up to his bed

But he’s not just going to cockwarm you

He’s going to edge you beyond humanly possible

He’d start by rolling his hips in a circle before rolling them up and down

Then he’d wiggle his ass a little and delightfully watch you squirm under him

He repeats this more than enough times to start getting you to beg

He hears you but ignores you

He’s too busy with rolling his hips and sucking your nipples and cupping your balls

He’d pleasure you until you feel that knot in your stomach tighten

Then he’d lift himself off your dick and sit on it until you start pouting

Then he starts the process all over again

This time he starts touching himself

He strokes himself in time with his rolling and your moans and desperate cries for more

But he ignores you and says not until he’s climaxing on your chest

And so that’s exactly what happened

He moans your name and spills on your stomach, some shooting onto your face and chest

He licks his mess up before lifting himself off your cock and crawling backwards while still making eye contact with you

Before you know it, your cock is in his mouth as you’re face fucking him stupid

Your length reaches the back of his throat and he happily accepts it

Asmo’s throat game is god-tier

He knows when to swallow around you and when to use his tongue

It’s not long before you’re spilling everything you’ve built up down Asmo’s throat

Asmo smiles and licks his lips before undoing your bindings

“Let’s do that again sometime. I enjoyed it.”

Beelzebub

If Beel is going to cockwarm you, it’s with his mouth

You’ll most likely find him in his shared bedroom (alone most of the time considering Belphie doesn’t sleep in one spot too often)

You find him there and you lean against the door, watching him finish the last of his midnight snack

You smirk to yourself and muster up the most not-sexual tone you could manage

“Still hungry? I have a snack just for you if you are.”

You’d walk over to him and sit down on the bed and he’d look at you with a confused look

He looks adorable when he does that

You lean back with one arm supporting you and use your other to lift your shirt up and all Beel could do to respond was nod with a smile

And getting on his knees in between your legs

You both have done this a handful of times before, he knows you like it and he’s happy doing it for you (he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel aroused himself)

So Beel got to work immediately

Undoing your belt (if you have one on) and unzipping your pants to pull your hardening length out through the hole

Beel grabs the base of your shaft before licking your tip

It takes all your strength not to fuck his face

Then he engulfs your entire length in one go, down his throat

Your hand immediately finds is way to his hair and your hips start to grind against his throat

You can’t help but groan when he swallows around you

The warm wetness of his mouth combined with how skilled his tongue swirls around you send heatwaves throughout your loins

You get to full mast after a couple minutes of throbbing in Beel’s throat

By now you’re panting lightly and running your hand through his orange locks

“You’re so good at this, Beel. Oh Shit. Can I?” You’d ask him and he’d hum around you, giving permission

Then, next thing you know you’re holding his head with both hands as you fuck his throat

Surprisingly, no matter how hard you go, he never chokes or coughs

He just swallows all of you

And the thought of that is what sends you over the edge and you’re unloading down his throat

You collapse on the bed behind you

Beel will patiently wait for you to recover before you sit back up again and kiss him

You cup both of his cheeks with your hands and kiss him with such fever it almost felt like a desire. A desperate need

You pull away and grin

“My turn, babe.”

Belphegor

Belphie loves to cockwarm you

It doesn’t take up too much energy and he doesn’t have to do much

You two are normally cuddling when this happens

You spoon him as you two nap on his bed, still inside him

Usually, quite surprisingly, Belphie is the one to wake up first

And being the little shit he is, he loves to mess with you

So he’ll start slowly rocking his hips back against you to wake you up

Once you are awake, you hold him closer to you

“You’re being naughty today, Belphie.”

So you start rocking your own hips against him as you reach around and cup his balls with your hand

Belphie makes little, quiet sounds as you tease him

“So full, love. We’re you having a nice dream?”

You start to whisper dirty things in his ear and he starts to moan more freely, albeit quiet

You still love to here his voice

While still cupping his balls with your hand, you use your other one to stroke him

You stroke at a painfully slow pace, making Belphie thrust himself lightly into your hand and back against your cock

You start leaving kisses on his neck and shoulder, sometimes biting

Over time, you slowly start to increase your stroking pace and thrust speed

The combined pleasure from your cock and you stroking him soon sends him into his climax, spilling onto your hand and the sheets below him

You soon quickly finish off as you pick up your pace thrusting inside him

When you pull out of him, you turn him to face you and you kiss him

“You did wonderful, love. Like always.”

You smile and kiss him again

“So did you.”

Belphie’s words made you feel butterflies in your stomach

He was so cute

It almost makes you want to smother him with kisses

Oh wait

You can

And you do

You kiss him until both of your lips are numb

“I love you, Belphie.”

“I love you, too.”

End.

A/N: Sorry if there’s any typo’s! This took me several days to make considering I didn’t have any motivation to continue working on it until now (and I don’t have the energy to revise and edit any of this). But it’s here and I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if y’all want more or not. I’m always open for requests! I tried to keep everyone canon-accurate so I hope it is. Thanks for reading :)

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emotionalmessss · 7 months ago

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Hiii! Can I request yandere Chrollo when reader tries to escape? Hc? Fic? If you want 🥰

A/N: I feel like I haven't written anything in so long (school is going to be the death of me I swear). I'm trying to be more active with my writing now that I've officially graduated, I'm sorry for ghosting! Anyways, enjoy Yan!Chrollo :)

Warnings: yandere themes, unhealthy/forced relationship, implied kidnapping, slight mention of violence and non-consensual touching, and psychological abuse. Chrollo is basically a warning himself lol.

Chrollo is always one step ahead. After all, he is the head of the Spider, so if you think you can escape from him--good fucking luck. He is cunning, meticulous, and devoted to having you back where you belong--in his arms. But that doesn't stop you from trying, does it?

Congratulations for managing to slip through his fingers, but it won't stay that way for long. There is nowhere in the world for you to hide from Chrollo, he will hunt you down using whatever means that will ensure his success. So, enjoy the freedom while it lasts, because it won't last very long.

Sure, Chrollo might be slightly ruffled at the fact that you actually managed to escape. But will he let that affect his calm composure? No, definitely not. Chrollo plays the long game, and he does it best. And who's to say that he didn't intentionally let you escape? To give you that brief, sweet taste of freedom, only to rip it away at the last second?

Chrollo’s expression remains impassive as he lounges on the plush couch in the middle of his expansive living room. Reclining comfortably into the cushions, he folds one leg over the other while using one hand to flip through the book in his lap. He is perfectly aware of your absence from the apartment--how could he not notice when the air lacks the usual animosity that only you can bring?

Despite the apartment lacking its usual vibrancy, Chrollo remains calm and composed, a trait that has always irked you. His composure never slips, even now. He finds it pitifully endearing that you thought you could outsmart him--have you learned nothing? Chrollo doesn’t know if he wants to praise you for your bravery or laugh at your naivety.

Sighing, he stretches his legs out across the coffee table, idly smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on his dress shirt. You thought escape was an option? How quaint. His lips curl into a faint, knowing smirk; his predictions had been correct--like always. While Chrollo can’t deny that he finds your actions mildly irritating, they are more entertaining than anything else--not that he’d ever show it.

“It’s intriguing, really, how you thought you could just slip away from me,” Chrollo mutters to himself, his voice measured and almost serene. His big, gray eyes finally look up from the antique book in his lap, drifting towards the large window that offers a view of Yorknew City’s skyline. Somewhere out there, you’re hiding, and he can clearly picture the mixture of relief, fear, and paranoia etched on your pretty face.

He taps his fingers on the armrest of the couch--the only sign that his mind is working in overdrive. Clicking his tongue thoughtfully, Chrollo tilts his head back down to the book resting on his thighs. Running a hand through his raven locks, he lets out a hollow chuckle, quickly followed by a deep sigh. For now, he’d let you play your little game, but in the end, you would not win.

Just like everything else, Chrollo's response will be chilling and methodical. As the head of the Spider, he'll use all the resources he has to get his love back. But for the time being, he will let you enjoy your little game. He's more than confident you'll be back where you belong. Make sure to keep looking over your shoulder every so often, he won't be far behind.

Chrollo will have you back in his grasp, no matter how much you kick, cry, and scream. He will remain unflinchingly composed, acting as though you were merely a small animal that needed to be handled with gentle care. The entire time, he'll have that small, almost invisible smile tugging at his lips--that smile that you've come to hate and suggests bad things for you.

Once he finds you--if he hasn't already been watching you the entire time--he'll strike when the time is right, and when the circumstances align in his favour. He won't be openly aggressive, definitely not towards you. Chrollo will take a different route, one that involves planning, scheming, and manipulation.

Consequences? Oh, there has to be some consequences for your disobedience. But, Chrollo would never lay a violent hand on you. No, that's not his style. He could never physically hurt his love. He can hurt you in other ways, though. Friends and family? That's a whole other story. Chrollo being Chrollo, will do whatever it takes to ensure you comply. Only if he's pushed to that point.

In Chrollo's twisted mind, he is protecting you from the dangers of the world--like a good lover should. He firmly believes that the only place for you to be happy and safe is by his side. He'll manipulate you into believing that you need him, and that even the thought of escaping is utterly impossible.

You’ve been sprinting through the empty streets of Yorknew City for hours, and no matter how far you run, you can’t seem to shake the terror that threatens to swallow you whole. At this point, your feet sting, your lungs burn, and your mind is a jumbled fucking mess--is this what insanity feels like or has Chrollo corrupted you so much? Neither of those reasonings are favourable, but you’d probably choose insanity over Chrollo.

Frantically, you examine your surroundings as you come to a stop, panting and keeling over. You sluggishly move towards the corner of a large building, slumping back against the bricks and wipe the glistening sweat from your forehead. This is Hell, isn’t it? Clutching your chest, your mind races with a slew of possibilities; different escape routes, places to hide, and potential consequences should you get caught.

What would the reincarnation of the Devil himself do to you if he were to catch you? Would he hurt you? The odds of Chrollo physically hurting you are slim, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t harm you in other ways. Despite spending an unwilling amount of time with him, you could never fully understand the bastard. You weren’t entirely sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

“Get it together, fuck.” Your voice comes out strained and raspy as you forcefully compose yourself, shoving off from the wall to round the corner of the building. Every detail about that man pisses you off--his calculated mannerisms, his unflinching composure, his studying eyes that make you feel like he’s staring into your soul, and that god-awful smile that never looked genuine.

Just when you soothe your chaotic mind and turn the corner of the building, he appears before you. Your heart plummets, and your feet drag across the pavement as you abruptly halt, completely paralyzed under his scrutinizing gaze. You watch him like a cornered animal, prepared to flee at the slightest sign of malice. But, of course, there is none--perfectly expected from a man like Chrollo.

“My dear,” Chrollo begins, using the endearing nickname you’ve come to loathe. His voice completely devoid of aggression, showing no hint of the manipulative thoughts that are definitely running through his mind. “Wandering the streets alone at this hour isn’t wise,” he chides gently, his tone tinged with condescension. “Come now, let’s get you back home.” His hand extends towards you, as if he’s giving you a choice.

You muster up a sliver of self-control, refraining from cussing him out. Instead, you take a cautious step backwards--away from the beast. Noticing this, Chrollo’s lips pull into a slight smile, and his hand returns to his side. He doesn’t move an inch, letting out a resigned sigh that suggests he had anticipated this outcome. His gray eyes never leave yours as the sound of approaching footsteps begins fill the silent street.

“Please, let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be,” Chrollo continues, his attention focused on you, purposely feigning ignorance of his loyal Spiders who are slowly encircling both of you. He remains the epitome of calm, acting as if your escape attempt was just a minor inconvenience. You stand still, and the Spiders close in, strategically blocking off all paths except for the one leading to Chrollo.

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jhuzen · 2 years ago

Text

a what? [m.reader]

this… idk what this is. it’s very indulgent so excuse the very chill grammar. my head is hammered by all the hot men in hsr. so here. yes, they won me over (jfc how could they not my god, i’ve been waiting on them for months) ☠️ so here’s a self-indulgent cat-boy alignment from some tall men in hsr. i’ve been playing since the release and i’m already just a few exps away from level 40 send help.

𖦹 nsfw/suggestive contents, hcs ig, i use the speculative name for the trailblazer hehe, top reader :’D, this is basically a shitpost but also not LMAO.

GEPARD LANDAU — official dogboy, a lapdog too if you will

is this even a question at this point?

he’s your little pup (maybe not so little), and he radiates that golden retriever vibes. he’s a little more serious than that, sure, but rest assured, he’s always on you when you need him and he’s not particularly swamped with his guard duties as the captain.

he never fails to light up every time you pass by him when he’s out on patrol. he appreciates your little visits of course, sometimes even stopping by to bring him some food when you can. but there’s always something so magical whenever he sees you around the city, just minding your own business, not really aware that he can see you from his post.

and there’s just a spike of serotonin in gepard’s brain every time he ‘bumps’ into you in one of your personal excursions, romancing you with such subtlety (it’s really not much subtle, everyone and their mother in belobog knows you and him are together).

he thinks he’s so slick, trying to smooth talk you, when really, the tips of his ears are bright red, while you, completely unfazed only tried to hold in a laughter. what a trooper your boyfriend truly is!

serval thinks she should be getting second hand embarrassment from her brother’s actions towards you, but you both just looked so sweet that she just had to enjoy the view of you humoring her stiff as hell brother. he’s way too serious on the field (rightfully so), but it was all the more endearing to see a bit of that innocent glee that gepard somehow manages to manifest with you around.

he’s your good dogboy bro, always ready to serve you. though that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate getting spoiled. your massages, especially your back rubs, are the highlight of his day after a grueling training — after his nice hot shower, with you guiding him all the way to your shared bedroom to give him a nice massage, it’s absolute bliss for him.

the cute sighs and the way his face becomes scrunched up as you worked the knots away from his muscles was adorable.

and if… the mood provides it, often times it leads to something a little bit more intimate than your wholesome little act of service.

gepard is a babygirl through and through man. he takes everything that you give him like a champ — extremely cooperative and will do anything as you say. maybe it’s because he likes being ordered around for once, maybe it’s because he finds it incredibly attractive to see you take charge… it could go either way and it drives him nuts.

he’s very loud, so you will be entertained at the plethora of ways gepard has to come up with just so he can’t be heard by the other neighbors while you completely wreck him.

handle with care after, please, he has to go to work the next day! we can’t have the famed captain of the silvermane guards limping around >:((

𐂂

SAMPO KOSKI — absolute mid with the way he’s a dog for seeking attention and a cat for being such a little bitch

congrats! you have a weird man for a boyfriend. the man that roams the streets of belobog be it in the underworld or overworld.

you vaguely recall the first time you and him met was when he was trying to persuade an overworld citizen in buying something, and you, as shameless as you are, moved towards him and squeezed the skin of his exposed waist, making the poor man yelp.

you gave him one questionable look before slut-shaming him with that getup, but not before buying your much needed supplies and leaving a sack of belobog currency.

admittedly, your relationship with sampo began as a transactional one. you buy stuff from him and he rewards you with a relatively risqué entertainment that your old folks would certainly faint from if they knew in the first place. but, as it turns out, even such a peculiar relationship can grow an oasis of genuine fondness for each other.

your dates before were just you and him meeting up in his place, hanging out, and then both of you just go on your separate ways. nowadays, it’s him that comes inside your house, incredibly woeful and in need of your attention and you oblige him regardless of how whiny he is.

oh, right, yes. sampo is whiny, have you seen him around his comrades? the man has the ‘woe is me’ attitude every now and then, and more often than not, you instigate that form of reaction whenever you tease him with a grin on your face.

there’s reasonable (or so i hope) amount of you calling out his outfit and why he feels the need to expose his waist only. sampo said it’s to attract customers like you, and you gotta hand the win on him on that one. though, it was becoming far more evident that you no longer see him as just an entertainment value and you as his source of income.

so. bloody. needy. it’s like he can’t live without your attention — thank the stars that the ban between the overworld and the underworld was lifted eventually so he can visit you more on the surface. one minute he skirts out of your home after some good fucking and then the next, he crawls back to you pathetically like a kicked puppy.

though, that is only to say that you got sampo absolutely hooked with your touches that he feels still lingering on his skin — you had an affinity for just harassing his poor waist while you call him names. he loves it anyway.

his clinginess comes with merit though, he appreciates the skin contact and you appreciate that chest of his to lay on. absolute king. if you tell him that his tits are the only selling point of why you finally fell for him, he will sulk and just sigh all day, looking at you with such disappointment.

“so i’m just a slab of meat to you, huh?” — sampo koski, xxxx

“pretty sure what’s in here are fats.” — you, nuzzling your face in his chest, xxxx

honestly, dating sampo feels like a one night stand, considering that he’s willing to limp away from your home in the crack of dawn, but it also feels just as endearing when he seeks you out or if you do the seeking, you could see how genuinely delighted sampo is to have you near him.

𐂂

JING YUAN — certified cat boy that’s just too good at fucking [with] you

mercilessly sly and an absolute mastermind, jing yuan has his fair share of mischief in the first place and you aren’t one he can spare despite having the honor of being the famed general’s partner.

you’re not so much of a fighter, you’re just a humble assistant to fu xuan (she disapproves of your poor taste in men though), but you learned to sleep with one eye open at the cost of you getting completely mauled to death by a general in need of his lover’s touch. he jumps at you with little to no warning, and you’re not certain if you should be proud of his stealth skills or just straight up be terrified lest you wake up to a succubus sucking you dry.

all that aside though, jing yuan is a passionate partner behind closed doors. he might look passive, but he’s sure to constantly be listening to your mumbling, even down to you just listing down what you need to buy for your home. he loves every part of you undoubtedly.

though, he likes to randomly charge you these fees wherein the currency is your warm hug. he could be a lot taller than you and still drape himself to your side while you hold him with one arm all the while cooking with the other.

a big, biiiiig cat, that’s for sure. and he accepts it, but on the account that you use it to tease lil ol’ him, get ready to be milked dry or at the very least, deprived of any form of affection from your cat.

he’s got a bit of an attitude too. he dreads the fact that you have a far more gentle disposition to his subordinates compared to him. you’re always so hard on him on work days, it makes him feel so lonely.

alas he has a remedy for that, particularly something you didn’t like at all.

mischief and a bored jing yuan on slow days are days you reminded yourself not to enter his office on, just to be safe and not get lured into his silly tricks. it always somehow fails, considering that he still is the general, and even though you are acting as fu xuan’s guide/assistant more than the general’s right hand man, you can’t refuse his calls because it’s still one of your responsibilities.

your cunning partner made sure to take advantage of that and cue… you writhing and breathless on his seat while he helped himself to your… offering from under the table. he promises he will be quick, but jing yuan is insatiable. for every time this happens, once or twice, a cloud knight would walk in to look for their general, and you had to talk to them without even giving away the embarrassing position you’re in.

hands down, a pillow princess if he’s not riding you to death. he’s the dozing general, but when the mood calls for it, he can take charge and just… leave you dry. so good luck with that.

cherishes the aftercare, he loves the slow intimate moments between you and him after. and if you’re a god at it, you can’t ever make him leave the bed, ever.

you once said, “oooh big stretch” when your beloved general did so one morning. that was the first and quite possibly the last time that you had him completely speechless for a good second. and that was saying a lot, considering that he always has the last word in your conversations. it became a core memory lmao.

𐂂

BLADE — another ultra catboy… except it’s the kind of cat that demands a lot from you after scratching your face

how in the many worlds did you ever pull this tormented man and his big sword? it’s concerning, really. kafka finds it amusing though that you even managed to make a space for yourself in blade’s little emo heart.

just laying it out there, you and blade babysit silver wolf and there’s no getting out of it apparently. kafka already placed you as the voice of reason when the one time she sent out only blade to look after silver wolf while you were off stalking the astral express gang, he dressed like a hobo, so much that he became extremely suspicious in sight more than he ever could dressed as just himself.

that aside, blade is probably one of the most demanding lovers you have dated (threateningly jealous at times too). no one can top him (but you ehe), he’s like a grumpy cat, literally swiping at you on the first few months before suddenly caving and asking you for almost everything.

really he just misses you, but he’s not into admitting such a fact. for the years that he’s gone through, whatever it may have been, you who did not care about who he was before was something that drew him in even more, you went at your own pace and it was no different when you became his. there was a sense of comfort that you brought to him.

so anyway, demanding partner that wants nothing but you. he’s extremely protective, which you found endearing, until you realized he will point a sword even to a little kid who so much as insults your face. not really good when you’re gathering intel when elio asks you both to do so.

dates with blade either includes the stellaron hunters because they are very fond of your relationship and are very nosy… or just you and him cooped up in your room, sleeping together, or ‘sleeping together’. not all too grand, but on missions that elio sends you both out on, you take the time to indulge your beloved and eat on different places, trying out delicacies of every particular world you visited in. blade doesn’t say much, but with the way his hand grips onto yours tightly already says a lot.

just throwing it out there, he is… quiet in bed. a grunter or a gasper, but if you really, really hit the right spot, he gives the deepest whine that leaves him shaking.

you either handle him with care or if he asks for it, go rough on him. like what was said, blade knows what he wants and will demand it from you all the same, no exceptions. and if you fail to live up to his expectations, he will move himself all the while glaring at you with so much disappointment.

he has… insane stamina, and if you can’t keep up, you better start working on that. the last thing that you want is to disappoint your vengeful boyfriend that has a lot of issues on his back. and while it’s not too bad of a sight to see your beloved imitate a sulking cat, it’s not so good when he ignores you. it’s not just about sex, if you so much as get that disappointing stare, best make it up to him and treat him like he’s your everything (as you should).

you once saw kafka and silver wolf planning out wedding destinations for you and blade at some point. you are unsure how to feel about your comrade’s deep involvement in your relationship — even more so when elio suggested the big wedding after you lot have accomplished your mission to the universe.

anyway, to say the least, your catboy is overly possessive and knows what he wants and can and will demand it from you. but even with such an overbearing personality and a terrifying look on his pretty face, you were already well versed in the blade language.

he thanks you on nights when you’re just out cold, probably tired from a mission, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your head. this man may have already considered elio’s proposal of the wedding date (jk).

𐂂

DAN HENG — third cat in a row. are all xianzhou men cats? but he’s the cat that’s quietly watching you, always listening

what do you mean he’s a [redacted for spoilers]? absolutely not. this man is a cat through and through.

the cat that silently watches you from afar while you do your own work. perhaps it’s because you always offer a sense of tranquility that dan heng found himself deeply enamored with you. you were just… so peaceful. it helped a lot, your presence soothed his deeply rooted anxieties born from his past. it’s as simple as you just shrugging and telling him, “why bother with anything else when i am alright where i am right now,” and dan heng fell hard.

you are as expressive as you can get, and can even get on the trailblazer and march’s antics. but the fact that you were mature enough to let yourself be resigned to the fate of time, that you were able to accept things as they are far better than anyone could, it was something your dearly beloved dan heng admired. in a sense, he also wanted to emulate whatever you’ve got going on.

bettering himself even more just because he loves you? goals. you changed this man and that was a sworn promise that he will never ever leave you from then on. always prowling around you, babysitting march 7th with you, reluctantly holding the trash the trailblazer rummages through with you, teaching old man welt how to use his beacon with you, etc.

that’s it, you can never pry dan heng out of your life anymore (unless you ask him to, in which case, please don’t, the man already has a lot to carry, how do you expect him to bear the weight of a broken heart from someone he thought he found happiness in?).

this catboy definitely lacks the expressiveness that you have, but just like any other stoic cat owner out there, you’ve basically read him well at that point. it’s almost as if you have the urge to make a guidebook about your boyfriend, and the aeons know that everyone in the astral express will eat it up.

he’s a little hard to coax at first to be more open in the beginning parts, but give him some time and he will be quicker to pry open than any other food that has an equally hard shell.

same thing in your more… intimate moments. give him some time to get used to things, especially if you’ve got far more experience at this sort of activity. go gentle, he loves the cradling embrace every time you ease yourself into him. he gets shy randomly out of nowhere in the middle of your little session, so do be patient.

though rest assured, he will grow bolder, eventually asking you to do all sorts of things that even you weren’t aware he knows about. he’s very eager to learn from you all the more, not just about the things that he prefers but what you also want! he’s extremely observant with your reactions, where you like to be touched.

let him take control every once in awhile, let him know that even in something as intimate as this, he can have a say. let him ride you until whenever, let him go at his own pace and he absolutely will lose his mind over that. the feeling of your arms around him, securing him in a tight hug while he drapes himself over you? dan heng will go nuts.

he’s also… very vocal. but he tries his best to keep it to a minimum lest you both let everyone in the express know what’s happening. usually though, you two only get frisky when everyone’s off the train and the only left are you, him, and dear ol’ pom-pom.

aftercares are everything to him, there’s something so touching at the fact that you are more than willing to still get up after being so spent just to make sure he’s comfortable after. you’re making this man cry, damnit! too good, too good.

never underestimate the tight grip he has on you — he’s usually the big spoon and he never hesitates to cling onto you. you’re like the safety that he finally found after running away from the things that trouble him. and every day with you is a day he always looked forward in waking up to.

𐂂

CAELUS — what the fuck is this? it’s not a dog or a cat. it’s a fucking trash panda.

ah yes, a raccoon with rabies (see: stellaron)

honestly, there’s no telling what is wrong with your boyfriend. it is… terrifying tbh. but you promised to be a supportive partner no matter how unnerving it is to see your beloved rummage through myriads of trash cans around belobog. more than once or twice, he has come up to you with a trash bag and even brought you a golden one.

you once asked what their use would be, and caelus just gave you a carefree smile while saying “we eat them to have better and stronger attacks against the enemy!” you quickly called dan heng and march to restrain him.

he texts you at the most ungodly hours. you don’t normally sleep at the same time as the other trailblazers since you took up the mantel in keeping watch of the express with pom-pom while the lot of you traversed through the heavenly galaxies of the universe. and because of that, your boyfriend just texts you until he falls asleep.

and when you are asleep in the day, before he heads out, he makes sure to tuck you in real good with a kiss for extra measure. seriously, he’s way too sweet for his own good. once or twice, you’ve caught him while you’re barely awake and he still manages to leave you flustered.

missions in different worlds means having to taste the myriad of delicacies a certain nation in a world has to offer. you both once ended up in a remote broken up island when the express made a quick stop in this one particular world that has… what do they call those again? archons? and you and caelus went ham on the dango milk (there was a distinct lack of trash cans around and everyone was safe from his addiction).

he loves you all too much, to the point where he’s attached to your hip, going wherever you go. getting all sulky when someone had your eye for a little bit longer. in that same nation in a world you stopped over, your eyes just happened to gaze a second longer at this young man with long braided blonde hair. though you were more interested in the tiny floating thing beside him, your raccoon was not able to inhale some copium and went all pouty at you.

either he ignores you, or he sends you a batch of sad pom-pom stickers in your beacon.

just wrap him in a blanket and fuck him silly, it can make him forget about the tiny things he was mad at you for. and just like dan heng, he can be very loud. so you kinda have to keep shushed up, a kiss usually does the trick however, so it shouldn’t be too hard to manage your little rowdy trailblazer.

he’s willing to take charge every now and then, he also still wants to make you feel good, after all! but he’s more of a pillow princess too, fuck him sideways and that gets him going, it makes him cry actual tears and alas, it was a blessing in your eyes to see him plead for you all the while trying to muffle his own sobs.

and after doing his head in, it is a must to spoon him after you clean him up. and maybe formulate a half-assed response when march comes knocking on your door, asking if you both fought or… let her come to an impending realization and just… make her not look at the both of you for a good week straight.

either way though, caelus is your pretty boy, always armed with witty teasing remarks and shitposts and a lot more stickers of pom-pom ready to flood your private messages with him.

10/10 -5 for the trash can obsession. ehe.

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lotties-ashwagandha · 6 months ago

Text

OUR OWN KINGS AND GODS (nsfw)

(adult) lottie matthews x reader (gender neutral but afab), word count 2k

after an argument with lottie, she shares her anxieties with you over a bottle of rum, and in the late hours of the night you find solace in each other’s arms. set post season two finale, but no hunt au (you'll see what i mean). this took me so long to write pls interact/comment/reblog if u enjoy it :(

You have never seen her like this — tired, defeated. Usually such a source of peace, of joy, but as she stands before you, her love for the world is gone.

“I’m sorry,” she says again – the third time – breaking the silence that has seemed unending. “It’s been a hard day.”

You nod. You forgive her, as you always do. Even as the sting of her words still digs into you, still has your hands shaking with words of unspoken fury. You hardly ever get in arguments with Lottie, but when you do, it breaks you both.

“Say something,” she asks. You shrug. You clear your throat, try to swallow the knot building inside it.

It had started early in the morning. Lottie had left the wellness center without telling you, without leaving a note and without taking her phone that she kept for emergencies when she usually left the compound. When she returned you had been calm about it — it wasn’t worth starting anything over. Yet she had been abandoning you frequently all day, sparing no words for you that weren’t sharp. You finally confronted her about it and she had denied you an explanation. She claimed that she needed space. That you were being clingy. She weaponized ways she knew would hurt you and took pride in it when they did. You knew how to reach her, too — hours you had spent sniping at each other just to see who would be the first to fall.

“Tell me next time,” you say, “if something’s bothering you.”

Her anxiety — that’s what she had told you caused the dispute. It’s what caused her to abandon you for the day and deny you entry to her mind. She was overwhelmed. You believed her, but you also believed it was more than that. It was the anniversary of the crash.

Lottie stands before you still. She agrees to your request that she open up next time.

“I never meant to hurt you,” she tells you. Her voice has become hoarse from all the yelling.

You take her hands in yours. I know. You trail your thumbs over her knuckles and meet her gaze. “I want to move on from it.”

She nods. She closes her eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath. “I do, too.”

The tension begins to dissipate from the silence, yet the kitchen still feels stuffy. The whole house feels tainted by anger.

“I can’t be in here anymore,” you say. “I’m going outside to get some air.”

“Hold on,” Lottie orders. You sigh, but wait. She takes a bottle of rum from the counter and comes back.

“I can hardly stomach rum.”

“No one can stomach rum.”

You smile at that. It seems to endear her. Slowly the two of you are becoming more regulated.

Lottie leads you outside. You take in the fresh air, look up at the dark sky and your clear view of the stars. It’s one of the perks of being out so far from the rest of society at the wellness center, that you’re so connected to the natural world.

“Come on,” she calls, and you realize Lottie hasn’t stopped walking. You jog a little to catch up to her.

“Where are we going? It’s late, everyone’s in bed already. We can’t leave.”

“We aren’t leaving,” she keeps walking. “But I’m not sitting out here all night.”

You follow in obedience. Lottie leads you to a wood cabin, and you almost laugh when you see the sign — she’s led you to the Sharing Shack. When you go inside, you let yourself drop to sit on one of the cushions surrounding a small wood table. Lottie sets the rum on it before sitting next to you.

She sighs. Turns her gaze to you, to examine you, to try to see through you to assess your state.

“Relax,” you tell her, because though both of you are still coming down from the fight, you can’t handle any more talk of emotions. “Everything’s okay now.”

Lottie nods. She reaches over to give your hand a small squeeze before directing her attention to the bottle of rum. She opens it, and before you can realize you haven’t brought any glasses she takes a deep drink.

“Does it taste better than last year’s euthanasia tea you tried to get everyone to drink?” You joke. You know it’s cruel, but you can’t help but remember the last time you were in this cabin at night — the rest of the Yellowjackets, how you hardly averted hunting each other through the woods.

Lottie falters. She sets the bottle down, she can’t meet your eyes. You realize instantly how horrible it was to bring it up, to joke about it.

“I didn’t mean it like—”

“I know how you meant it,” she says blankly. Her tone is empty.

Silence. You take the bottle of rum in your hands and swallow as much as you can in one gulp.

You watch as Lottie stands and closes the curtains. She craves privacy just as you do — the rest of the wellness center doesn’t need to be awakened when she turns on the lamp on the table.

Lottie rolls her head, stretching her neck. She sits down next to you again. For a while you sit in silence, passing the bottle of rum between one another until your vision starts to become distorted and your irritability begins to dissipate.

“I never thought we would make it back,” Lottie admits quietly, unprompted. She’s silent for a moment before something changes in her expression — something raw, honest, something she feels shame in. “I didn’t really want us to make it back.”

Why would you? You want to ask. Why would you want to waste your time in this world when you can be free? In the wilderness, we are our own kings and gods.

“Do you still wish you hadn’t?” You ask. You’re a little afraid of the answer, but you have to know. “If you could go back right now, spend the rest of your life where you were in the wilderness, would you?”

Lottie hesitates. She leans back to lay on her elbows, legs stretched out. Like a teenager. It takes her longer than you’d like to decide.

“No,” she finally tells you. Her eyes meet yours. “Unless you were there with me, or you were dead.”

You spend a moment taking in the information. You wonder what she’s seen in the wilderness, what was so beautiful in such horror to let her long for it her entire life. Your thoughts are dulled and loop in unending circles from the rum, yet she occupies all of them.

“Would you go with me?” Lottie asks. You meet her dark eyes and witness the longing dancing in them. “I know it will never be possible, but if it was…”

You nod. “Yes.”

Again, your thoughts are drawn back to the last time you were here, with the Yellowjackets – the moment Lottie raised the glass of clear liquid to her lips and had been effortlessly ready for death if no one else was willing to take the fall. You consider her devotion – and you consider the devotion of her followers, those who would die for her just as readily. You realize you’re one of them.

You realize the gift of the wilderness has not worn away over time or distance: you are free.

You lean to her level and pull Lottie into a kiss. It takes her by slight surprise, but she recovers quickly, one of her hands weaving into your hair and pulling you to the angle she wants. Her dominance over you is asserted in the span of a second – it’s a shift you feel potently, one you welcome.

You’ve been starved of her in conflict. Yet again she is sustaining you in the hunger of her kiss, in the control you give her liberally. You have always been hers to guide and mold.

Lottie sits up, presses a hand to your chest and pushes you down. The discomfort of the floor is soothed by the cushions you lay on – it’s disregarded anyway as Lottie pulls away and you get a clear view of her as she sits above you. In the dimmed light of the cabin she gazes upon you like an angel, or like a god, one you have dedicated yourself to worshiping.

Lottie pauses.

“I did it for you,” she says in a hushed voice. You want to ask her what she means, but before you can she stands and crosses the room. You hadn’t noticed them, yet they’re set there all the same – the collection of glasses from last year, one of which had been poisoned. They are all empty now and thoroughly cleaned. One of them is missing.

Lottie picks one of the glasses. She holds it in her hand and takes a deep breath. After a moment of examining it she comes back, takes the bottle of rum, and pours some of it into the glass.

“I would have died for you,” she says. She takes a sip of the rum – the glass isn’t poisoned, but adrenaline runs through you as you watch her sip from it. Her gaze never parts from yours.

You sit up again, and she sits down next to you. One of her hands comes to rest high on the back of your neck.

“Drink,” she orders. Her voice is quiet but firm, denying her is not an option when she raises the glass to your lips. It’s intense as it travels down your throat – the warmth of it courses through your body, collecting between your thighs. A look of satisfaction comes over her when the glass is emptied.

“Good,” she praises, and sets the glass down on the table. “You’re so good for me.”

You bite back a whine. Lottie notices your growing desperation, she thrives in it. She pulls you to her roughly, into another kiss, one that holds promise of more than innocence. She straddles you, pushes you down so you’re laying flat again.

You begin to fumble with your shirt – she takes it off for you and tosses it to the side. Her lips attach to your neck, biting and sucking and marking you in any way she can. You let out a moan, hear her breath hitch as you do. She moves down your chest, more gentle but just as fervent as she pulls one of your nipples into her mouth. She runs her tongue over it, hands holding you in place as you arch into her touch. You need more. She can feel it, she loves the torture.

“Please,” you breathe, begging under her touch. Specifics are gone from your mind, just that you need her, in any and every way she would allow.

“Please? Please, what, honey?” she asks, giving you a look as if she’s oblivious. You don’t respond as soon as she hopes, so before you can speak, Lottie kisses you – it clouds your mind as you feel her pull off your pants. Your hands find her back, yet one moves to her bicep as one of her hands travels between your legs.

Your grip on her becomes tight as her fingers run through you, stopping to press against your clit. She moves in tight circles in response to your moan, the sudden intensity of her touch overwhelming in the best of ways.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” she asks. “This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you whine, your eyes falling closed at her touch. One of her hands comes to rest at the base of your neck, and your eyes open again.

“Look at me, darling,” she demands, and after you nod, she slides two of her fingers into you. She pumps them into you slowly at first, ensuring your adjustment before speeding her pace. Her thumb finds your clit, and you can’t hold back the string of moans that escapes you.

“Good, let me hear you,” Lottie praises. “You’re doing so well, my love.”

Every thought other than her, her touch, fades away. All that’s left in the world is her and all the ways you’d let her use you, all of the sacrifices you would make in her name. In the wilderness she was a prophet, and still she rules as one.

“Breathe,” she reminds you – she could take you to the edge of death and you’d be willing if it meant a moment more of this euphoria.

You moan, feeling yourself rush close to the edge. Lottie can feel it, the hint of a smile is present at the edge of her lips as she looks down at you. She kisses you, and you pull her as close as you can.

“Let go for me, baby,” she allows you when she pulls out of the kiss. Her tone is gentle. “Cum for me.”

Your body responds instantly. At her words your orgasm courses through you, and every muscle in your body tenses before letting go all at once. You can’t hear her praise as you endure, you can’t think. Your breath comes in gasps.

When finally the pleasure subsides, Lottie pulls her touch from you. Though there’s no cushion to support her on the floor, she lays down on her side and loops her arm around your waist. The care with which she gazes at you sparks the warmth of love in your chest. You feel safe in her arms.

Through the wilderness you would follow her if it ever came to it. She ruled as a prophet over you, and you would spill blood in devotion. Every sacrifice she wanted she could take – in the wilderness, we are our own kings and gods.

#lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lottie matthews #adult lottie matthews smut #adult lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews smut #yellowjackets smut #adult lottie matthews

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 7 months ago

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TF141 Meeting Soap’s Little Sister (a.k.a. You)

CoD ML

The task force didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. They already have to deal with Soap’s husky antics, which can already be too much to handle. Multiply that by two and no one, especially Simon, wants to deal with that.

But they certainly wouldn’t mind the company of the woman in the doorway.

Why on earth didn’t Soap warn them?

For John, it’s the sweater paws. For a second they make him selfishly want to dress you in one of his sweaters.

For Simon, it’s the way you shyly hide behind your brother, a habit you still have at your big age. Normally he loathes shows of fragility, but yours is endearing to him. For the first time in a very long while, it kindles something in him.

For Kyle, it’s your eyes. He simply can’t look away even though he’s aware it makes you uncomfortable.

“Lads, meet my sister, Y/N.” The adoration Soap has for you is plain to see in the gentle smile that plays out on his lips, proud to be your brother and amused you’ve barely changed from your younger days. Why else would you look at him, lowkey terrified of the strangers he’s brought into your home. “It’s awright, hen. They’re good men, even the big bawbag with the skull mask. Go oan an’ introduce yerself.”

Clutching your brother’s sleeve, relieved he’s home and glad for his protection, you introduce yourself. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

And in that moment, without so much as trying, you have your brother’s unit wrapped around your finger.

So much so that Simon removes his balaclava before he even crosses the threshold. Unbeknownst to you, it’s extremely rare to see the man without his mask and always leads to the unit members exchanging surprised glances.

“What’s this, LT?” your brother asks, badly faking disbelief.

“Proper etiquette. Plus, I can’t eat with the thing on.”

“Oh, so you do eat. I thought ghosts didn’t have ta.”

“Johnny…”

“Just messing with ye, Ghost.”

“Ghost?” you ask.

“It’s my callsign, miss. I- I mean, Y/N.” He keeps his distance, but tries to make himself as small as possible to seem less intimidating. “We ain’t on duty now, so’s just Simon.”

“I see.”

Throughout the night, your brother’s comrades try to win your favour. Kyle offers to help set the table, teaming up with John who beats him to it by lifting the stack of plates in your hands. “Can’t have the lady of the house do everything, can we?”

“But-“

“Please, Y/N, allow me.” His features soften, though there’s a strange glint in his eyes you can’t name. Nevertheless, it sharpens further into sterness as John turns around and starts speaking like you’d imagine he does out in the field. “Gaz, get over here. We have to help our hostess out.”

“You… you really don’t…”

“It’s the least we can do,” Kyle reassures you, shown up at your side at the first word of the captain. “We’ll try to do it neatly.”

“Oi, Gaz, stop being cheeky and get moving.”

“Yes, sir.�� Kyle sighs. “He makes it sound like we’re on a battlefield. Fortunately, this is less severe, innit?”

“It might be if there aren’t glasses between now and ten seconds,” John mutters, circling around you two to put the last plates down and move on to cutlery.

“Ever the perfectionist. Where do you keep them?” Kyle asks.

You point at a cupboard. “Right there.”

“Okay. Y/N, we’ll do a proper job. Promise.” And with that, he’s off to help set the table.

While cooking, you observe Simon dawdling around the kitchen. Or, rather, as you discover when you lift your head to check what’s going on, he’s forced to thanks to Johnny.

“Och, just offer yer help. Ah dinnae ken, chop some veggies. Also, she’s into video games- Y/N!” Johnny slaps Simon on the shoulder, feigning ignorance. “Can this wee bawbag help ye with anything?”

“Stop calling me that,” Simon grumbles through gritted teeth.

“Do you cook?”

“He-“ Soap opens his mouth to answer for his friend yet finds himself cut short.

“Haud yer wheest, John. I was nae asking you, I was asking Simon.” Holding out your spatula as a threat to your brother, you turn to the gentle giant.

Simon looks at you through his lashes, but quickly averts his gaze when your eyes meet. “I dabble. Try to put proper grub on the table sometimes.”

“Help me do the same?”

“Uh… sure.”

“Lovely!”

“Have fun, LT.” Johnny offers you both a cheeky grin, then turns on his heel to return to the others.

And so Simon finds himself cooking alongside you. Truth be told, you partially did it to save him from his brothers in arms. Regardless of how well he knows them and the amount of time he’s spent with them, their extroverted personalities still wear him out. His silence is telling, different from the intimidating version he dropped the moment you opened the door. You’ve seen how his eyes glaze over, occupied with dreams you can only guess at. Occasionally he’ll nod and make a noise to make the others think he’s listening.

Nevertheless, it’s still surprising Simon tries to start a conversation.

A conversation that goes in all sorts of, mostly nerdy, directions. So soon you find yourself listening to elaborate explanations of the lore of various FromSoftware games, a topic Simon passionately enlightens you on.

He stops mid-sentence when you chuckle. “What?”

“You have a nice voice.”

“Oh… uh… thanks.”

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re some kind of miracle worker.” Gaz walks into the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. “How’d you get Ghost to talk?”

Simon glowers at his companion, but stands down when you gesture for him to remain calm. “Sometimes you simply need the right person, a genuine heart that listens. Now, boys, let’s eat.”

“Food?” Johnny calls from the couch.

“My days, what are ye? A husky?” you call, only partially truly annoyed.

Dinner is an amiable affair. The men (yes, even Soap) censor themselves, finding it inappropriate to start effin and blindin in your company. All the same, they include you in the conversation however possible and fall silent when they notice you want to chime in. Unbeknownst to you all, Johnny is especially vigilant none of the other men makes an advance towards you. Sure, you’re a grown woman. Nonetheless, to him, you’ll always be the wee bairn he held as a four-year-old boy, the barely grown girl who couldn’t stop crying when he was deployed for the first time.

You’re his little sister, the only girl he’d gift the moon if he could.

That being said, though, should you end up with any member of the unit, he dearly hopes it’s Simon. So it’s actually quite reassuring for him to see you two get along as well as you do.

“Two peas in a pod,” Soap mumbles, the words muffled by beer and the clinking of cutlery.

The lads gesture for you to remain seated while they clear the table and do the dishes.

“‘S alright, Y/N. Leave it to us,” John says when you try to get up from your chair.

“You really don’t-“

“No, no. Please.” The bear-like hand on your shoulder is gentle though strong, persuasive in its conviction for you to remain seated. “A small favour, really, to repay your kindness.”

The table cleared, John and Simon excuse themselves for a quick smoke. In the meanwhile, Johnny and Kyle wash the dishes.

For dessert, you sit the men down with coffee and tea to enjoy with a scone.

Kyle falls a little more for you when you show you’re full of contrasts. Shy on the surface yet so fierce when defying your brother. “I was doing fine, crocheting my time away without puppy antics.”

“I’m nae like a dog.” Your brother stops mid-bite to protest.

“Johnny, yer a bloody husky.”

“Well, at least I’m one that did nae get shot.”

“Oh, haud yer wheesht, like you ever will. Just enjoy yer scone and tea. Wait!” You hasten to the fridge to retrieve a jar of orange marmelade. “Here, have this.”

“Homemade?”

“‘Course. It’s not like I’ve forgotten how you dislike store bought.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Thank you for coming back in one piece, bro.” You turn to the men, who all sit up, alert. “And thank you for bringing my brother home.”

John has to restrain himself and not give into the urge to plop you in his lap. To make sure he won’t, he tucks his hands between his legs when you brush past him to retake your seat across the table.

Simon is good at hiding his emotions, but definitely wouldn’t mind it if you leaned on him and talked some more about video gaming. He loves the way your whole expression brightens when you do and would like nothing better than for you to be his player number two.

Stories and small talk, with the occasional silence to appreciate being alive and well, fills the kitchen as the arms of the clock creep closer to midnight.

At some point you stifle a yawn. Unfortunately, not before your brother catches you doing so. Johnny looks at the clock then back at you. “Alright, lads, it’s been great. However, despite her stubborn arse refusing to admit it, Y/N’s getting tired. Now being the great big brother I am,” the harsh slap on the upper arm does little to make him pipe down, “I think it’s time I show all of you the door.”

John, Kyle, and Simon get up without so much as a word of protest. After all, it’s bad etiquette to wear your hostess out nor does it help your chances with her.

You expected only a handshake as a farewell. Nevertheless, it’s hard to refuse the open invitation for a hug John gives you. His embrace is warm and gentle, testing out the waters to see what you will and won’t allow. His chest rises and falls with a satisfied sigh when you let him rest his head on top of yours. To be honest, it’s nice and comforting, the way he rubs some heat into your arms. “Goodnight, love. Thank you for the splendid evening.”

Kyle’s hug is more casual, like you’re a dear friend he’ll see again in the short run.

“Can I get a hug from you too?” you ask the man standing by the door, who has his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. For a moment Simon seems about to step forward. Yet, for whatever reason, he remains where he stands.

“I don’t think-“

“Please?”

How can he say no now? His mind short-circuits when you wrap your arms around his waist. His hands hover in the air for a moment before he places them lightly on your shoulders. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.”

“Had fun?”

“I did.”

“Glad to hear it. Also,” you lean back to look at him, “keep the mask off. You’re not a lieutenant here, not Ghost.”

An amused hum escapes Simon, though later in the car he’d have to keep denying Kyle’s allegations he saw him smile. “Copy.”

“Go oan, I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

You watch the men clamber into John’s car. They’re all staying the night at his place before heading off home.

“You like him, don’t ye?”

“Who?”

“Ghost.”

“I don’t know him.” Johnny gives you a quizzical look. “Simon, though, perhaps. He’s a good man.”

“He is.”

The only man who has his blessing to court you.

Who he hopes will truly be family one day.

His future brother-in-law.

#CoD x Reader #Soap McTavish #John Price #Ghost x Reader #Simon Riley x Reader #John McTavish #John Soap McTavish #Kyle Gaz Garrick #Captain John Price #Simon Ghost Riley #CoD MW Ghost #Ghost CoD #CoD Ghost

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