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sluttysnowangel666 · 27 days

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His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.

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certifiablyinsanez · 5 months

Text

I am haunted by the detailed, completed map of Hell that Edwin took notes on. You don’t understand, it makes me sick. It’s one thing to have a basic layout, a vague idea, or a rudimentary map but it was meticulously detailed. Down to doors and what they do and where they go. Down to secret spaces in the walls. He even knew what ringing an innocuous bell would do. It can only mean one thing. We don’t know when Edwin began trying to escape, but assuming he started from the get go, it means that he spent all his decades in Hell trying to find a way out. He never stopped running. And that is assuming he never stopped. From his second trip, we could see he resorted to his old ways and ran. But he was eventually caught, reduced to pieces. Even when Charles showed up, he didn’t seem very optimistic about their chances. He could feel every second of those 70 years. There were likely many times he fell to hopelessness, trembling in the corner watching himself be desecrated knowing it was going to happen again and again. How long? How many times did he try to be so, so quiet, hoping he would have a few moments before the next round? How many times did he muster the ability to run, just one more time? How long did it take him to run, discovering the ends of each ring? How many times did he sprint up, down, north, south, east, west, trying to escape? And what happened when he finally escaped? How long did it take for him to be able to relax, even a little? Because he can never relax. He must always outrun Death and her constituents because he can’t count on them to be fair. How many times does he look over his shoulder, waiting for the monster to claim its eternal meal once again? His breath of fresh air, his first taste of companionship in ages not only keeps him company, but sticks by him. And then, in that blessing there comes a curse, because now you have something to lose. Because when you taste ambrosia how can you return to starvation? He feels safe with Charles. Happy and comfortable, but the threat always lingers. And he knows that Charles couldn’t fend off Death. He never considered he could fend off Hell beasts; after all, he’s just a ghost kid. He watches innocents be slaughtered on repeat, unphased by the level of violence but no less affected by it, because no one has even a clue what it takes to be this kind. Even at his most happy, he has so, so much to lose and he goes back to Hell when hope was dangled in his face like the fruit of Tantalus. When he returns, he’s subjected to Hell once again, sustaining through torture that obliterates souls, only to watch his best friend, his confidant, his platonic soulmate, die horrifically. This woman who gave him sea-glass courage, so powerful and yet so fragile. Allowed him to be himself, gave him permission to do so. Was the openness to his closed self, and now she is gone. And he retains his composure, his stiff, British posture because it is what has saved him from madness and Despair, protected him, and now the world is darker without Niko Sasaki in it. But surely he saw this coming. After all, humans are messy. And yet, he shows up for their souls, time and time again.

Edwin Payne is THE character.

#i am unwell #i am unstable #i am so sorry this was so long #but I’m not actually sorry #because you all need to know about Edwin Payne of the dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #niko sasaki

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kokokoula · 3 months

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you fall first, but he falls harder

a/n: i can only write fluff, so please trust me that it's fluff. there's like, one usage of 'she', timeskip spoilers, and a bit of language. it's my longest fic yet (which isn't saying much), no beta we die like daichi

you don't know that tsukishima kei knows about your crush on him. it's so damn obvious, how you turn red so easily when he's around. unfortunately for you, though, he doesn't reciprocate, nor does he bother confronting you about it. you are his closest friend other than yamaguchi, and as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn't want to lose you as one. it's so tedious, anyways.

---

"it's our last year in karasuno, do you have anything planned?" you ask as you lay on the floor of tsukishima's room. you're supposed to be studying, since it was what you came over to do with kei and tadashi, but you gave up somewhere halfway in geography.

"it is my last year, but who knows about you? you've been slacking so much, you'd probably have to repeat a year. and could you get up?" he sighs and nudges your side with his foot.

"asshole," you mutter, cheeks growing red. if you know that he just dodged your question, you don't do anything about it. "just you wait, i'll enroll into kyoto university and make you eat your words, beanpole."

"sure." his reply drips with sarcasm, but he doesn't doubt that you can make it far. there's a knock at the door.

"sorry for being late!"

"tadashi!!"

---

kei knows you can read him like an open book. you can tell he's having a bad day just by a conversation with him through text. he also knows that when he says that he doesn't want to talk, you immediately ring his phone.

the first time it happened, he had tried to decline your calls, or just ignore them entirely, but you're insistent. eventually he picked up, filled with pure irritation at that point.

"could you--"

"i'm heading over. i promise i won't push for any details. i'll even get strawberry shortcake on the way." you immediately stated. he paused to mull it over.

"fine, but if the cake sucks, i'm kicking you out." it's safe to say that the cake was good enough to make this a habit, so much so that tsukshima doesn't even know why you still call him to let him know you're coming over. the both of you know you will no matter what.

so here you are, sitting on his bedroom floor with him and eating desserts in silence, save for the music playing softly from his computer.

"you're gonna get in trouble with your parents when they realise you snuck out." he remarks. you shrug your shoulders, stuffing the remaining taiyaki in your mouth.

"i know."

"don't talk with your mouth full." you roll your eyes with a furious blush. somehow, you being here with him becomes sweeter than the strawberry shortcake.

---

you were there when tsukishima made the decision to go professional with volleyball.

his last match as karasuno's middle blocker had ended. his body was sore all over, but somehow the freak duo managed to convince him and yamaguchi to play one more match back at school, just the four of them with yachi. but even with landing third in nationals and a final intimate match with his teammates, he still somehow felt so unsatisfied.

the walk home with you was silent. he was grateful you didn't say anything. he couldn't handle any more questions about how he was feeling when he himself was unsure. it was when you two stepped outside the convenience store after getting ice cream did he come to the conclusion that he never wants to have a last match.

"i'm not going to give up on volleyball after graduation." he announced out of the blue. you were caught off guard for a bit, before grinning at him. "i expected that."

"why?"

"you call hinata and kageyama freaks for being so insane about volleyball, but you don't even realise that you're just as equally crazy about it as them." you said it so nonchalantly as you eat your ice cream, like you're stating a fact. now it was his turn to be taken off guard. he took a while to let it settle in before chuckling softly.

he should have known that you know him better than he does himself.

---

it's graduation day. tsukishima and kageyama are stuck with their four teary-eyed friends by their side. kei awkwardly pats your head, not knowing how to comfort you. you laugh at his feeble attempt, your rosy cheeks burning red. have you always been this cute? in the midst of all the bittersweet interactions, you get distracted by something on your phone, and let out a gasp.

"what is it, (name)?" yamaguchi asks. you're trembling slightly, and tsukishima grows worried.

"i, uh, got into kyoto university," you say in disbelief. "i actually got in!" everyone congratulates you, but you only care about one thing.

"tsukki, remember that day i told you i'd make you eat your words?" he hums in acknowledgement. you shove the acceptance email in his face, but he can only focus on how proud you look with that shit-eating smirk. "what do you have to say now, beanpole?"

he smiles. that's my best friend right there.

"nothing."

---

you were gone before the new year, and kei was handling your absence well until semester started. he had believed it'd be fine, you were only across the country, not across the world. plus, you promised you would call as often as you could.

but he doesn't sees you in his classes anymore, and you don't come over when he's having a bad day. he got himself strawberry shortcake to lighten his mood like it usually does, but he only feels hollow. it doesn't help that since he's going pro, his volleyball training is almost everyday now, and with your commitments, he rarely gets to call you anymore. it hurts like hell inside.

"hey tsukki, you've been off recently. is everything ok?" tadashi calls him one day.

"i'm fine, yamaguchi." kei lies. tadashi isn't convinced.

"does it have something to do with (name) being in kyoto?"

"why would you say that?" he answered too quickly for his liking.

"well, you bring (name) up quite a bit, and when you realise she isn't there, you get all quiet and snappy." tsukishima is about to retort back, but then it hits him.

oh shit, he's in love.

---

the day you finally return back to miyagi to visit, tsukishima waits at the station with yamaguchi. kei's eyes are constantly searching the crowd and flickering to his watch every so often.

"tsukki, relax, she'll be here soon." he ignores tadashi's reassurance.

tsukishima kei is a composed man, always able to think before he acts. but when he catches sight of you, he runs. before you can register anything, he hugs you, gripping onto you like a lifeline, like he will die if he lets go of you.

"tsukki--"

"gosh, i missed you so much, you idiot." he knows you could have easily lost feelings for him when you were away.

"wha--"

"i've suffered so much because of your stupid, dumb ass." he doesn't care.

"wait--"

"i like you, so go out with me before you have to head back to kyoto." you're back, and he's scared to lose you again. every second you stay quiet, the louder his heart beats in his ears.

"really?" you finally say, your voice barely over a whisper.

"yea." another pause.

"guess i'm yours then, beanpole."

bonus:

"you know, i knew about your crush back in high school."

"what the heck?"

"you didn't necessarily hide it well."

"then i'll have you know that yamaguchi told me everything that had happened when i've been gone."

"...fuck."

#i know i just posted #like yesterday #but there was this song that had me on a chokehold #i sacrificed my studying and sleeping hours for this #i don't think this is written exceptionally well #but the idea and emotion is still there #i hope #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei fluff #karasuno x reader

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crystallinestars · 10 months

Text

How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Part 2 here.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou shikanoin x reader #kaveh x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #venti x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wriothesley x reader #For some reason Lyney's part is the longest

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misserabella · 3 months

Text

two geniuses (playing love)

masterlist!

synopsis; feelings flourish in between the two of you as you’re forced to act as a couple. could a kiss finally let the two of you understand what was really going on underneath your supposedly hatred? you’re scared to find out.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!!, guns, shots being fired, girls being bitches, bickering, lots of teasing, so much flufffffff, spencer and reader being confused, pining, neck kisses, making out (their first kiss!!), violence, guns, shots being fired, spencer gets flustered a lot, also gets a boner… (so much more that i probably can’t remember)…

“so what do we know about this unsub?” hotch asked, all of you were sitting on the police station around the table, trying to understand this killers motive.

“well, we know his killings evolve around y/n.” morgan stated the obvious, to what you sighed.

“stalkers may exhibit a range of psychological issues, including personality disorders such as narcissistic personality disorder, borderline personality disorder, and delusional disorders like erotomania. stalking behaviors can also be influenced by insecure attachment styles rooted in childhood experiences.” spencer added, and you nodded.

“erotomania is a delusional disorder that makes a person believe the person of their infatuation hace reciprocated feelings or love and affection, when they don’t. it may even be a person they’ve never met. they might even be famous, like a politician or an actor. people with this disorder can be so sure of this love that they think they’re in a relationship with this person. they may not be able to accept facts that prove otherwise. it is also called de clérambault syndrome, and it’s rare. it can happen on its own. but it’s usually linked to another mental health condition, like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. it can last for weeks or years.” you recited as if you were reading it off of a book.

“you two are like an encyclopedia.” emily smiled, chuckling.

“so this killer will go to the extreme of killing for you if needed.” jj nodded.

“seems like it.” you answered.

“he also seems pretty possessive and protective of you. he seems to have noticed spencer too.” morgan pointed out.

“you think he might think we’re dating?” you inquired with disbelief.

“it would play to our favor. if our profile around him is right, he might not be able to control the need to stay quiet about it and take action.” gideon said, what made you scoff.

“so what now? we should hold hands and act like a happy couple? fuck no.”

“y/n.” hotch scolded you.

“i’m sorry but that’s not gonna work. if none of you have noticed, spencer and i don’t really get along.”

“shocker!” emily sarcastically said, to what you squinted your eyes at her.

“come on guys… i can’t be the only one who doesn’t see this working out.” you tried to make up their minds and spencer pitched in.

“yeah. and to be honest i don’t want to become the unsub’s new target.” spencer pointed out.

jj stepped in. “it's true that your relationship has been strained, but you're both intelligent individuals. i’m sure you can put aside your differences to sell this lie. it's not about whether or not you like each other; it's about stopping this unsub at all costs." you listened to her words, groaning. she was right. you needed to stop acting like children and work together to catch this unsub.

you looked at spencer, who was already looking at you, communicating with a nod.

“you’re right.” you sighed at jj. “i guess it’s the only way, huh?” you gave in.

hotch stepped in, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "good. now, let's think through the details. we need to create a plausible backstory for your relationship, make sure your body language and interactions are believable, and be prepared for any curveballs the unsub might throw at us. this isn't going to be easy, but I have faith in both of you, and I know you can make this work." you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“how should we… how should we act around each other?” you inquired, cringing internally.

rossi answered “for your relationship to appear authentic, you'll need to display a certain level of intimacy and affection.”

“holding hands, touching each other frequently, being in close proximity… you can't come across as distant or awkward, as that would immediately raise suspicions.”emily added.

“you need to convince the unsub that you're truly in love with each other." jj finished and you scoffed.

“well that’s gonna be easy…” you sarcastically said, bracing yourself for what’s about to come.

his hand is warm, big engulfing your own. and clammy. spencer is nervous, awkward, you can feel it as you two walk through the beach, the light breeze hitting your skin, the salt engulfing your lungs.

you two have not said one word since you’ve left the headquarters, not on the way back to the hotel, or when you moved your things into his room, or on the way to the beach…

silence. total and absolute silence.

this was your new reality. to play fantasy with the person you hated the most. to act as if only love was what stood between the two of you and not this immense hatred that gnawed at your insides.

“did you know that by the amount of germs a hand holds it’s actually safer to kiss?” he asks, and his voice sounds hoarse by the silence he has buried himself in.

you hummed. “does that mean you’d prefer me to kiss you instead or hold your hand?” you asked, and he choked.

“what? no! no, what i meant is… i just…” you chuckled.

“relax, reid. it was a joke. i want to kiss you as much as you want to kiss me.” you rolled your eyes. “you’re so tense that whoever saw you would think im holding you hostage and making you hold my hand.” he scoffs.

“sorry. it’s just… awkward.”

“tell me about it…” you sighed, leaving your beach bag down onto the sand. “i think this might be a good spot.”

“for what?” he inquired, letting go of your hand.

“we’re supposed to be on a date, reid. doing things a couple does. you know… watch the sunset, spend time together… all of that.”

“oh.” he muttered. “yeah. that makes sense.” he nodded, watching you take out a couple of towels to spread them across the sand.

“gonna help me or stand there watching?” you chuckled, and he quickly moved to help you, muttering a ‘right, sorry’ that made you laugh internally. who’d know spencer could act like this? embarrassed and coy in front of you?

then he sat, book in hand. of course. “seriously? you’re gonna read right now?” you inquired him and he looked up at you.

“why not? the beach is one of the most relaxing places to read.” he shrugged, and you shook your head, pulling from your beach dress to get it off, leaving yourself on a blue bikini.

his eyes trailed down your sun kissed skin, the sun was setting, giving you a golden hue that made you shine.

“come with me.” your words took him out of his mind, his eyebrows raising as you offered him your hand. “come on.” he seemed suspicious, but again, he had to trust you if this lie was gonna be bought. and so he took your hand and got up. he tried not to think about the fact that your body was mostly exposed, and about the feeling of your soft smaller hand on his bigger one.

you let him go once he was up on his feet, and he took off his shirt, leaving him on his swimwear.

“so i wasn’t actually hallucinating it the last time… where were you hiding that?” you teased him, looking at his soft but toned body. he rolled his eyes.

“stop looking at me.”

“why? does it make you nervous?” you rose your eyebrows. “do i make you nervous, spencer?” you leaned in and he took a step back.

“no. i just don’t like it.” his nose scrunched up and you hummed.

“yeah, right.” you rolled your eyes, giving him your back to start walking towards the shore.

“no. really.” he followed you with a frown, feet fast behind you.

“it’s okay, spencer. your little crush on me it’s cute.”

his eyes widened. “what?! i don’t have a crush on you!”

your feet met the water and you walked in. you heard his splashes behind you as the water met your knees. it was just the perfect temperature.

“you’re dumb.” you said while facing him once again. and he gave you an incredulous look.

“i’m not dumb! why would i be dumb?”

“because of this.” and with a quick movement you were maneuvering him into the water, leaving him splashing your thighs and tummy. you laughed at his glare and shocked expression, his pretty hair now mildly soaked. “god. reid. it’s the second time this happens to you. you don’t learn!”

“you think this is funny, do you?” he asks you, looking up at you.

“definitely.” you nodded, still chuckling, your chest heaving up and down with ragged breathing.

“yeah?”

“yea-“ but before you could finish he was grabbing your hand and pulling you down into the water with him. you froze as you fell on his lap, water splashing around the two of you.

“well, check who’s in the water now, huh?” he was laughing at your shocked expression and damp face before he noticed the position in which the two of you were in, his laughter dying quickly enough.

his eyes met your body, wet in droplets that slid down your chest and navel towards your hips submerged in the water and on top of his. he swallowed at the feeling of your soft weight on him, the swell of your chest right in front of his face, centimeters away from his lips. the curve of your neck… your hair falling over it and down your collarbones… the warmth of your hands on his shoulders, the softness of the skin of your hip under his unconscious grip.

you looked down at him. at his messy hair that had started curling due to the salt, at his thin yet toned build, his heaving chest, his sharp jaw, his hazel puppy eyes, his long lashes… the way he was now looking at you…

“uhm…” he cleared his throat. and the spell in between the two of you broke. you shook your head.

“i should probably…” you pointed at your back, trying to gesture that you should get up, and he nodded, pulling his hands away from your body.

“yeah. yeah.” he nodded, and you used him for leverage to get back on your feet. it was awkward. the tension in between the two of you as he too got back on his feet, neither of you looking at each other. the sun was setting.

“i think i’m gonna… go read.” you nodded.

“yeah. okay. i’ll… i’ll meet you there.” he copied the shaking of your head, and after a couple of seconds in silence he staggered in turning around and getting out of the water. you only went in deeper, submerging your head under the waves, where there was no noise, and no thoughts clouding your head. no doubts. although you could still feel the vivid heartbeat of your heart, crashing harshly against your ribs.

spencer tried to focus on his book, but as much as he’d like to not admit it, his eyes were zeroed on you.

“okay…” you hummed. “ursa minor.” you pointed at the sky.

the sun was long gone, and yet, spencer and you still were on the beach, lying on your towels, admiring the map of stars above your heads.

spencer took his turn, pointing just a little bit far away from your constellation. “ursa mayor.”

“now that’s and easy one.” you rolled your eyes teasing him, and he couldn’t help but copy you.

“okay. what about… camelopardalis?” he pointed it out in the sky and you hummed.

“now you’re just showing off.” he groaned.

“oh, so now i’m showing off?” he smirked and you nodded.

“yeah, come on. you could have just pointed out draco. instead you chose camelopardalis? you’re a show off.” he chuckled.

“okay. maybe i just wanted to shut you up.” he shrugged and you laughed.

“now, that’s not easy.”

“tell me about it.” he mumbled. “hey look. it’s saturn.” he pointed it out, it shining more than a normal star.

“and mars.” you said, pointing it out as well.

“and dwarf planet 1 ceres.” he added and you looked at him with your eyebrows raising.

“you’re bluffing.”

“i’m not!”

“yes you are, reid. that planet can only be seen with binoculars. you wear glasses!”

“how do you know that?” you laughed.

“caught you!” he rolled his eyes.

“okay. maybe i memorized tonight’s sky map, so what?” you chuckled at his response.

“you’re a nerd.”

“yeah? well so are you. what’s your iq, 170?”

“177.” his eyes widened. “what?”

“i mean. i knew you were intelligent. but we almost share the same iq. that’s… that’s impressive.”

“was that a compliment, doctor reid?” you smirked.

he shook his head with a smile, scoffing. “no.”

“it was though.”

“it wasn’t.”

“it totally was.” your bickering caused him to laugh.

“you’re insufferable.” he groaned, and you smiled.

“i know.” you two rested in silence, looking at the sky. “this isn’t so bad…” he looked at you. “i mean, sure. i don’t like you. and acting as your girlfriend totally sucks, believe me. but i thought it would be worse.” he hummed.

“you have a way of complimenting someone and at the same time insulting them that is fascinating.” he said, and you chuckled. “by the way… what time is it?” you took your phone.

“almost one am.” you answered his question.

“we should probably get going.” he muttered and you rose your eyebrows.

“you want me back into your bed so soon, reid?” he scoffed.

“you really like to assume those kinds of things. in the end i’m gonna start thinking you’re the one who wants me in your bed.” your eyes widened.

“fuck no!” you said while getting up from the towel, and he smirked up at you.

“you sure?”

“of course i am.”

“then why are you avoiding my eyes?” he got up to stand beside you, a smirk on his face. you wanted to punch it out of him.

“i’m not.” you scoffed.

“but you are.” your skin rose in goosebumps as he stepped closer, your breath hitching when he took your chin and made you look up at him into his hazel eyes. the moonlight made them shine. and for a moment you forgot that he was teasing you, playing with you.

“i don’t want you in my bed.” you said, straight into his eyes, pushing away his touch. he smiled.

“okay. i’ll believe you.” you looked away from him as he started gathering his things and put on back his shirt. you wondered why your cheeks were burning. why your heart was racing.

he put your beach bag over his shoulder. “let’s go.” and even though your body jolted underneath his touch as he took your hand to guide you down the shore back to the hotel —and you reminded yourself that this was all part of the lie you were playing—, you let him.

“how are our lovebirds?” garcia asked through the phone and you rolled your eyes.

“would be better if you’d catch this guy now…” you said, and heard snickers from the other part of the line.

“he’s behaving, isn’t he?” morgan inquired and spencer frowned.

“what?! what do you mean behave?” you shushed him.

“he’s not being so bad… usual reid.” morgan laughed. “any news on the unsub?”

“actually, yeah.” jj said. “we caught him lurking on the beach you guys visited, but he was far from our reach. seemed pretty angry.”

“so he’s getting closer…” you nodded.

“he seemed to buy into the lie of the relationship.” spencer hummed and you nodded.

“you guys need to keep it up. if our profile is right he will not stand still and watch, he’ll confront the two of you soon.” hotch said.

“alright. we will.” you promised.

“we’ll keep in touch.” emily said before the line went dead and the two of you looked at each other.

“what should we do now?” he inquired.

“go to the pool.” you smiled and he groaned. “come on. he needs to see us.” you said while getting a bikini and entering the bathroom to get changed. once done you got out and found him with a pair of red trunks. “now that’s the spirit.” you smiled and he rolled his eyes. “come on, reid. the sun is up and shining for us. time to sunbathe!” he took some of his books and his sunglasses, following after you out of your room and though the hallways of the hotel until you two were met by happy squealing and laughter from the children enjoying their time in the pool, splashing each other.

you two took a sun lounge each, his umbrella staying open while yours stood shut as you applied tanning oil to your skin after getting rid of your shorts. spencer kept his summer sheer shirt, laying sat up straight in the sun lounge as he quickly went through the pages, reading 20.000 words per minute. you laid on your own, bathing in the warmth of the sun as it prickled your skin.

you were enjoying the tranquility until some shadows took over your sun. you peeked your eyes open to see three girls standing over the two of you, sweet smiles on their faces as they stared at your right. more like… at spencer.

“hey.” one of them caught his attention, and his hazel eyes pulled away from his book towards the blonde.

“what are you reading?” a brunette asked him next, and he stuttered just the slightest before answering.

“uhmm… anna karenina. it’s from leo tolstoy from 1878. it deals with themes of betrayal, faith, family, marriage, imperial russia, society, desire, and the differences between rural and urban life. it’s actually my second time reading it. this time in the original russian.” he spat out, babbling as the three girls listening. more like ate him up with their eyes.

“you’re cute.” the third and last girl, another blonde smiled, and spencer’s eyes widened.

“could i get your number?” the brunette inquired him and you sat up straight, slightly clearing your throat, what made them look at you. “and you are…?”

you smiled. “his girlfriend.” spencer looked at you scandalized, what almost made you laugh. “i mean i get you guys…” you said with a smirk, leaning over him, your chest pressing against his as your arms circled his neck. his breath hitched as you hummed, looking at him before looking back at the three girls that now stunned looked at you. “he’s just too cute, isn’t he?” you took his face with one of your hands, making his lips pout out. he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and widened eyes. you smiled at him, his cheeks flushing at your words and the way your body just pushed closer against his. “but he’s mine.” you crooked your head towards the girls. “so if you don’t mind…”

“actually i do mind.” the brunette said. and your eyebrows rose. “i don’t see your name branded on him.” you slowly pulled away from spencer, getting on your feet.

you smiled softly at her. spencer didn’t like it one bit. you never smiled. not like that. “what’s your name?”

“ashley.” she answered, and you saw spencer getting up get beside your from the side of your eyes as you gave her a once over, your eyes landing on her pool heels. he was cautious, he knew something was wrong. sweet intelligent spencer…

“i like your shoes.” you started, simple, and she looked confused at you. “you gonna… be able to run in those?” you inquired.

“what?” and before she knew what was happening you were launching yourself towards her. good timing spencer was fast enough to catch you in between his arms as her friends pulled her away, running from you with ‘let’s go!’s.

“yeah, that’s more like it. see you, ashley!!!” you said while fighting spencer’s tight hold on you. “bitch…” you murmured when they got lost into the hotel. he let you go when you had seemingly calmed down and stared at you.

“what was that?”

“what? she was being a bitch.” you shrugged and got back to your sun lounge.

“no. i mean. what was that?”

“reid. i’m supposed to be your girlfriend… don’t you think that’s how a girlfriend would act?” you inquired him, and he looked around, scratching his nape.

“i mean, yeah but…” you cut him off.

“then it’s settled.” you said before closing your eyes and getting back with your sun.

he stared at you, still in shock and with flushed cheeks. his mind got filled with images and moments from the last days; you in the pool the night you’d thrown him in, how you had teased him, how your lips had almost touched his, last night at the beach when you had fallen on top of him… and now… seeing you that way, had done… things to him. things he didn’t want to accept. his whole body was tense, his heart was stuttering, his eyes whole face was red, and his stomach was feeling bubbly and… well. okay. no. enough.

he cleared his throat and sat down beside you, retrieving his book, trying to dismiss the knot in his throat. he looked at you. at your slowly tanning skin, the shine it had due to the oil you had bathed yourself in, your beautiful curves accentuated by the white bikini you’d gone for today, your soft features, your long lashes, your plump lips, your soft jaw, the soft skin of your neck, your…

when his eyes dropped too low he looked away, clearing his throat.

he tried to go back to the russian, but he was flustered. after minutes of trying to get back in focus, he gave up, getting up and pulling his shirt off, what caught your attention.

“where are you going?” you inquired.

“i was gonna go for a swim.” he pointed to the pool, and you sprung up.

“i’ll join you.” you smiled, and his heart stuttered at the recurring memories of that night in the pool. let it go, spencer.

following him into the water, you sigh at the fresh feeling of it engulfing you and making your overheated skin find solace.

spencer dampens his hair, pushing it backwards in a slick manner that exposes his strong cheek bones. but it’s when you finally stop staring at him that you notice it.

his breath hitched when your arms surrounded his neck, pulling him closer, your chest pressed against his as you spun in the water.

“what are you doing?” he inquired you, his hands subconsciously grabbing your hips. to push you away? to pull you closer? who knew…

“your twelve o’ clock. i think it’s our guy.” you muttered in his ear swiftly, smiling at him as if you were absolutely smitten, playing with his hair. spencer looked just for a moment. it was a white male, in his late thirties, wearing glasses and a cap, staring straight at the two of you with clenched fists.

“he surely doesn’t look happy.” he muttered to you, pulling you closer. “looks like it might be him.” you hummed. “what should we do?”

“well you should definitely act like you love me.” you smiled, cupping his cheek. “like this…” you looked straight into his eyes, and his breath hitched. if he didn’t knew better you’d have fooled him, ‘cause you were looking at him as if you craved nothing else, no one else but him.

you almost chocked when one of his hands found your hair, his breath pressing against your neck just before his lips did. “does this work?” he inquired you, pressing another chaste kiss on the sensitive skin.

you had to come and get back your trail of thought, ‘cause he had stolen it away just that easy. it was unnerving.

“you tell me. you’re the one facing him.” you whispered, and he hummed against your skin. you had to pretend as if it y didn’t send shivers down your spine.

“he’s just staring.” he stated.

“he wouldn’t dare do something with this much people around.” you figured.

“or maybe he just doesn’t want to taint his image before you. he wants to meet you in the perfect way, perfect place, perfect time.”

“what a romantic…” you rolled your eyes.

“he’s moving.” spencer announced.

“leaving?” you inquired and he nodded, his soft stubble scratching your neck and making you shudder in his arms.

“seems like it.” once out of sight he let you go, and you looked away from his eyes, the imprint of his hold on your hips still lingering on your skin, his kisses still burning your neck.

“he won’t be able to hold on for much longer...”

you nodded, fidgeting. “i’ll… i’ll go tell the team.”

“yeah. okay.” spencer copies your shake of head, and you got out of the pool, his eyes training on your back and down your body before he caught himself staring, quickly looking away and pushing his hair back anxiously. he could still feel the softness of your skin, smell the coconut tanning oil you’d lathered yourself in, remember how right you’d feel in between his arms, taking whatever he gave you…

he sighed. get it together reid.

but he had to spend a while in the water to properly calm down before making his way back to you. this was gonna end badly.

dinner with spencer was easy. it was a warm night. and he looked good. with a blue button up shirt and white pants along with his brown shoes. it was easy to talk to him, even easier to let him pay and let him walk you by his hand through the hotel and into the gardens of it. it was so easy to live this lovers lie that it terrified you. the moon and stars were shining bright above your heads, and the silence that filled the distance in between the two of you was as comfortable as it could get.

that was until he was breaking it to stutter about theories of the universe. theories you already knew. but for once you decided to keep quiet and listen to his rambling, enjoying the way his eyes sparkled with knowledge, the way his lips curled into a smile with every little fact that spilled from them…your heart was hammering inside your chest. it has been since the time in the pool. you were scared he could feel your heartbeat by how tight he was holding your hand. you’d come to understand that he wasn’t that bad. sure, he sometimes could get under your skin and make you lose your temper, but spencer reid could be as soft as a feather when he wanted to, and that made it all even worse. you were used to his narcissism, to his hatred, not to his ‘love’. was this how he really was or just another lie? just another façade? you were haunted by the feelings that this side of him flourished in your body.

“there’s someone following you.” since the spotting in the pool, the team had made sure to give you an earpiece each to communicate with you in case of emergency. jj’s voice made spencer’s waver, but to play along he just pulled you closer and continued with his theories. “seems like the man you told us about, y/n.”

you two slowly stopped walking, looking at each other as he kept talking, waiting for orders.

“he stopped. he’s just… watching.” emily announced and you inquired spencer and the team.

“what should we do? he’s not gonna come to us that easily…”

“reid, kiss her.” hotch ordered and his eyes widened, breath hitching and his hold on your hand hardening.

“what? no! i’m not going to kiss her!” he whispered-yelled, completely astonished.

“the physical contact will drive him to approach you both. we’ll be right there.” morgan chirped in, trying to convince his friend, soothe his anxiety. but spencer wasn’t scared of the unsub. he was scared of you. terrified. terrified by how good it felt to have you this close, to hold your hand, to see your smile, to share time with you… he wondered if this last thing would make him crack. would make him understand that it wasn’t hatred all along. he wasn’t sure he was ready to know the truth.

“there must be another way, i-“ he tried, but you groaned at his hesitation, taking the matter into your own hands.

“for the love of god, reid.” you grabbed at his curly hair, and in a tug, you pulled him down against your mouth. he froze at first, surprised, in shock at the soft feeling of your lips against his, at the feeling of your chest tightly pressed against him. but then it all completely changes, he can’t get enough. he cupped yor face in between his warm hands and pulled you closer, until there was no space between you two, something he must hate, but only finds himself enjoying. you gasp into his mouth and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue inside, pushing you against the wall of the hotel, devouring you as if he had been waiting years for this moment. you were air. and he was drowning.

“slow down…” you breathily moan against his lips, and he groans.

“i can’t.” he confessed.

the kiss that follows is just as desperate and harsh, your tongues dancing around the other as he kisses you like you’re everything he’s ever craved. you feel him press against you, and the feeling of a bulge on his crotch surprises you.

“you seem to be enjoying this a little bit too much, reid.” you said with a smirk as you felt his growing erection pushing against your thigh to find solace, some friction, anything to make him feel better. he’s losing control, he knows. but he looks into your dazed eyes and he knows you are falling just as hard. he hopes the fall doesn’t hurt as bad as his heart right now.

“i hate you.” he muttered against your lips.

“say it like you mean it.” and before he could kiss you again, the sound of a gun being loaded sounded.

“get away from her.” a male voice filled your ears and spencer stepped away from you, leaving you cold, confused and in need of more you thought you’d never crave. “get away!” he repeated pointing at him with the gun.

“okay, okay… calm down…” he softly said, taking a couple of steps away from you.

“how do you dare touch her?!” he screamed. he seemed scattered. “nobody should touch her. she’s mine!”

“no, she’s not.” spencer said just as morgan knocked the unsub to the ground, a shot being fired, the bulled burying itself inches away from you on the wall. he was quick to reach out for you as you looked down at yourself. “are you okay?” he inquired, taking your face, inspecting it.

“don’t touch her!” the man screamed again as you nodded.

“easy!” morgan yelled as he cuffed him up.

“yeah… i’m alright.” you muttered and spencer nodded, looking right into your eyes. you could still see his flushed cheeks, and his swollen wet lips, could see traces of you left behind. you wanted to taste him again. and again. and again. until the only thing you could remember was him and his lips, and the feeling of his body pressing against you.

that night. something changes. and it scares not only your bones, but your soul as well.

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bluerosefox · 5 months

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Gray and Graysons

One of the Bats has a secret. Something they never told to the others.

They were so very young but they have memories of a sibling, so small and tiny. They remember the burst of warmth they had in their heart when they held the tiny baby for just a moment.

But they weren’t allowed to keep them, their family couldn’t raise them. Money was tight, just enough for three but not for four, despite their shows always bringing in a crowd it was getting harder and harder for the world to be wowed by them in the new age and their sibling was too small and tiny and needed to be cared in a single place than for them to be on the road. Their lifestyle was not good for his tiny sibling apparently.

They had to watch as their parents gave his sibling away to people in suits, them promising to give his baby brother to a loving family when they find a ‘home’ for him. He watched his parents try to be strong only for his mother to break down once the car left down the road, his father holding her and apologizing, the rest of the circus troupe all silently coming over to give the heartbroken family condolences.

Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson had tears running down his face when he last saw his baby brother.

A brother he got to name before he had to be given away.

Daniel ‘Danny’ Grayson.

-x-x-

Dick never told the others. If anyone dug deep into his past they might find his brother’s birth records maybe, if someone got around to digitizing the paperwork for him but given the fact he was placed in the US childcare systems just a few days after his birth and the fact that Dick was still pretty young they most likely believed he didn’t remember his baby brother now. Not after so many years.

But they were wrong, Dick remembers. And he kept the secret close to his heart and memories.

And the only physical evidence he had was a single picture of him holding his brother, a smile on his tiny face towards their father who had taken the photo of them together. When he had lost his parents, lost most of the things that connected him to them, to his past in the circus that had been his whole life, had been taken from him in Gotham’s ruthless childcare system, he held on tight to the picture in secret. Hid it away from anyone trying to rip it from him, hid it from Bruce when the man took him in days later, hid it from Alfred despite how gentle the butler was towards him. He couldn’t, wouldn’t risk losing his photo at the time, he hadn’t trusted anyone and by the time he did he didn’t have the heart to reveal it.

So yes, the existence of his baby brother Danny was his most guarded and best kept secret.

So that’s why Dick, as Nightwing, nearly died from a heart attack when leaving a Justice League meeting he spotted a familiar face among one of the new engineers working in the Watchtower.

It was like seeing a young version of himself. Only, Dick could see that the young man was more than a copy of him, so much more than a clone. He held many traces of John Grayson but also had a bit more of Mary Grayson than Dick did. Small details that Dick foggely remembers taking note when he had held his baby brother.

“Hey, hurry up with that report Gray!” Shouted the head engineer from down the hall, his hand beckoning the young adult to come over.

“Coming! And boss, I told you Danny is fine!” Danny shouted back before hurriedly leaving a stunned Nightwing.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #Danny and Dick are siblings #Danny is a space engineer #he worked hard and now gets to be in space #dick grayson #Dick’s parents couldn’t care for Danny because of money and the fact he was tiny #they wanted him but couldn’t keep him #his paperwork got a tiny bit lost and damaged before it got digital #so there isn’t much for either brothers to find each other #Dick did look but found next to nothing about where his brother went #Danny still had the original papers but the papers got damaged bad and his last name is a little lost #he knows it’s Gray something #small what if in this AU but what if he married Val and took her last name #and later finds his old papers and is teased he was always meant to be a Gray some way #BUT he doesn’t have to married in this #just a tiny what if #BUT he has changed his last name to Gray after a bad fall out with he Fenton’s #it wasn’t even because of him being a half ghost or even because of Vlad #nope it was because he didn’t want to be ghost hunter

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phyronia · 1 year

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something i appreciate very much about baldur's gate 3 is the way it doesn't try to sand down its characters edges to make them fit into their roles as victims of their past better. it doesn't make them soft and sad and scared at the expense of their other, sometimes less palatable traits. even though the things people have done to them have molded them, they're still full people beyond that, warts and all.

karlach, for example, was an unwilling soldier for ten years. but she still loves fighting. smashing heads is often her first answer to any problem, because it's what she knows, and she's not ashamed of that. she's good at killing, and she's proud of it. ask her about killing devils! she gets so into the details that she forgets what you were even talking about.

astarion's been through two hundred years of hell and barely even knows who he is any more, and he's so terrified of losing his freedom that he's willing to hurt anyone (including himself) to try to protect it, but he's also just genuinely a huge bitch. not even in a 'pushing people away so they can't get close' way, he's just kind of a dick! and that's wonderful.

and gale's the last one i'll talk about for now because this is getting long. he was groomed by the literal goddess of magic and cast out for trying to prove himself to her by helping her, left to slowly and painfully die and endanger all those around him, then told to kill himself for redemption in her eyes, and he was down enough on himself to believe this was fair! but also! he is hubristic and arrogant and absolutely thinks that yeah 'rip to everyone else who reached too far for godhood and doomed themselves and others in the process but i'm different'. he's a disaster.

i'm just go glad larian gave us these characters that aren't just poor little snookumses. they have the range

#baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 #gale dekarios #astarion #karlach #baldur's gate 3 #nia speaks

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connorsui · 16 days

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Bound by Diamonds - Sylus x reader

Genre/warnings: pure fluff, established relationship between the both of you, teasing, sweet kiss, darry ring (a literal soulmate ring), no warnings …unless you want to say no to his proposal..

Synopsis: Sylus carefully plans the perfect moment to present you with a lifelong promise.

Note: the most expensive darry ring is well over 150 grand in U.S currency …that is the equivalent of $5 dollars in Sylus money

w.c: 2,119

VIP: @zanyssins (I thought u might like this ...)

The night felt like something out of a dream, the kind you didn’t want to wake up from. The streets were alive with the hum of the city, the faint glow of the streetlights illuminating the sidewalk as Sylus guided you toward the restaurant. His hand was warm, steady, wrapped around yours with a casual but firm grip that spoke of his protectiveness—a gesture you had come to know well over the years.

Sylus, as always, had made sure every detail was perfect. The air held a cool crispness, carrying with it the subtle scent of rain that had fallen earlier in the evening. His steps were confident, exuding the quiet authority that made heads turn as you walked into the grand entrance of the restaurant. You caught a glimpse of the way people shifted in their seats, straightening as he passed, their gazes following him with a mixture of respect and curiosity. There was no denying Sylus held power, not just in your life, but in the world beyond it. He had a presence that commanded attention, but with you, it was softer, more intimate.

The host greeted you with an almost reverential nod, leading the two of you through the dimly lit space. The restaurant itself was an oasis of luxury—high ceilings adorned with chandeliers that sparkled like clusters of stars, and soft music playing in the background, barely audible but creating a calm ambiance. Sylus had arranged for a private room, of course. He always did when it came to moments like these. Privacy was something he valued when it came to you.

As the waiter opened the door to your secluded table, your breath caught in your throat. The room was stunning—glass walls on three sides that offered a panoramic view of the city below. The lights from the skyscrapers stretched out endlessly, flickering like tiny diamonds in the distance. You could see the entire skyline, the towering structures glittering against the inky black sky. It was the kind of view that made you feel like you were floating above the world, a private escape far away from the chaos below.

Sylus gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he led you to the table. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, that signature teasing note dancing in his words.

You turned to him, catching the way the city’s lights reflected in his eyes—those mesmerizing crimson eyes that never failed to draw you in. They burned with intensity, as if every emotion he felt for you was captured in their depths. You smiled softly, feeling your heart flutter as you nodded. “It’s far greater than beauty… it’s stunning.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you, a smile playing on his lips as he leaned closer, his voice soft and intimate. “And yet, as stunning as this view is, it pales in comparison to the radiance you bring into my life. To me, you are the true masterpiece—more breathtaking than any cityscape, more precious than anything im bound to give you”

He countered smoothly, pulling out your chair with the kind of grace and charm that was so uniquely Sylus. “Tonight, let me show you just how much you mean to me,” he said, his eyes holding yours with a deep, earnest gaze. “Because you deserve to know that, no matter where we are or what we’re doing, you are the center of my universe.”

Heat flushed your cheeks, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Please, if you keep talking like that you might as well make me believe in total perfection ” you teased, lowering yourself into the plush seat. The cushions were soft, molding to your form, and the table was adorned with a single candle flickering in the center, casting a warm, romantic glow over everything.

Sylus took his seat across from you, his long fingers playing with the edge of the menu, though his attention never wavered from you. “It’s not about being perfect, sweetheart,” he said, leaning forward slightly, the flame of the candle reflecting in his eyes. “It’s about being honest”

There was something in his tone tonight—something deeper, more deliberate. You could feel it, the way his gaze lingered on your face, the way his fingers tapped idly against the table as if holding back some secret. But for now, you let it slide, content to fall into the easy rhythm of your usual banter.

For a while, the two of you talked, slipping effortlessly into conversation like you always did. You told him about your day, about the little frustrations and victories at work, the mundane details of life that seemed so much more interesting when shared with him. Sylus listened with the same rapt attention he always gave you, his eyes softening as he watched you speak, a small smile playing on his lips.

“ — I would love for the both of us to have some peace together …alone” you smiled, leaning back in your chair, “I know everything has become so demanding these days – so, having something cozy as a cabin would be sweet”

Sylus tilted his head slightly, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine glass. “Is that your subtle way of telling me you want a getaway?” His smirk widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Because you know I’m always game for spoiling you.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips. “You spoil me enough as it is. Sometimes I think you’re trying to make me a little too used to luxury.”

He chuckled, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Only the best for my love. Besides, why wouldn't you think you deserve it. You deserve everything.”

His words were so sincere, so full of warmth that it made your heart swell in your chest. You looked down at your glass for a moment, trying to hide the way your pulse quickened under his intense gaze. “You’re too good to me, Sylus.”

His eyes darkened slightly, a more serious expression crossing his face. “I don’t think you realize how much I mean that,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

Before you could respond, the waiter arrived with the bottle of wine Sylus had chosen—a rare vintage, no doubt, something he’d picked specifically for the occasion. He poured two glasses with expert precision, and Sylus raised his in a silent toast.

“To you,” he said, his voice soft, reverent. “To us.”

You clink your glass gently against his, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine. It was perfect, of course, just like everything Sylus planned. But as the conversation continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was on his mind, something unspoken.

It was in the way he watched you—his eyes never leaving your face, even as you spoke about the most mundane details of your day. He was always attentive, but tonight, it was different. There was a weight in his gaze, a quiet intensity that seemed to hum between you like a current of electricity.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sylus leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the table in that familiar, thoughtful way. He reached into his pocket, his movements slow and deliberate, and your breath caught in your throat when you saw the small, black velvet box in his hand.

Your heart pounded as he set it on the table between you, the flickering candlelight casting soft shadows over the velvet. “Sylus…”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted gently, his voice barely above a whisper. His crimson eyes were locked on yours, filled with a tenderness that took your breath away. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment, the perfect time, the perfect setting, but I realized…that each moment I have tried — my mind couldnt conjure the right words out of my mouth …the right sentence ..or the right feeling ..everything felt out of place ..but tonight is different–this ring is different”

He slid the box across the table, his fingers brushing yours as he did, sending a spark of warmth through you. “This is a promise, sweetheart. A promise that no matter what happens, no matter where life takes us, I’m yours. Always.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you opened the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring nestled inside. It wasn’t just any ring—it was a Darry Ring, a once-in-a-lifetime promise. You’d heard of them before. The kind of ring that symbolized true love, loyalty, and commitment. Sylus had chosen this for you.

“I… Sylus..” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, the tears threatening to spill over.

Sylus stood then, moving around the table to kneel beside you, his hands gently cupping your face as he smiled softly. “You don’t have to say anything, love. The only thing I would ask is for you to please stay with me”

Your breath hitched as you nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Yes, I’ll stay with you. Forever.”

He pulled you closer, his lips capturing yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was soft and gentle at first, but as the moment deepened, it became more passionate, filled with all the love and promise he had for you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect bubble of intimacy.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were sparkling with a mixture of love and mischief. “A promise ..more of a bound between our souls, don't you think?”

You smiled through your tears, the weight of the ring on your finger a beautiful reminder of his commitment. “gods, you say the most ..its perfection is what it is”your voice still tinged with emotion.

Sylus stood, helping you to your feet, and pulled you into a close embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you as he pressed another tender kiss to your lips. This kiss was soft and full of promise, a sweet punctuation to the heartfelt words and gestures that had defined your evening.

He guided you towards the glass walls of the private room, where the breathtaking view of the city seemed to sparkle even more brightly now. The air outside was crisp, carrying the faintest scent of blooming flowers from the terrace. Sylus led you to the private terrace he had arranged—a cozy space adorned with plush cushions and blankets, perfect for a serene escape under the stars.

The terrace was illuminated by a soft, ambient light from string fairy lights that twinkled overhead. The city lights below glittered like a field of diamonds, their reflections mingling with the soft glow of the lights above. Sylus settled you into the cushions, his hand gently brushing against your cheek as he sat beside you, pulling you close.

“This is where we’ll end our evening,” he said, his voice tender and filled with affection. “Just the two of us, surrounded by all the stars of the night.”

You nestled against him, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence as you both sank into the soft cushions. Sylus’s arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you into a snug embrace. The peaceful quiet of the night was punctuated only by the occasional distant murmur of the city below and the soft rustling of the wind.

As you looked out over the city, Sylus’s gaze never wavered from you. His eyes were filled with a love so deep it seemed to shimmer in the gentle light. “In a world full of fleeting moments” he murmured, his lips close to your ear, “this is one I want to hold onto forever with you”

You turned your head to look up at him, your heart swelling with a profound sense of happiness. “it almost feels surreal…”

Sylus’s eyes softened even further, his expression a blend of affection and admiration as he pressed a final, soft kiss to your lips. “It's a reality I wish to keep you in”

The night stretched out before you, filled with the promise of many more moments like this. As you lay together on the terrace, wrapped in each other’s arms, the city lights below and the stars above seemed to echo the love and commitment you had just sealed with a kiss. In that perfect moment, you knew that no matter what the future held, you had found something truly special—a promise of forever, made in the glow of love and a diamond ring.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧

Note Part two: I wrote this while listening to Mario Kart Rainbow Road Music! Also a darry ring is a fancy French ring that once you get it — you must sign both of ur names that this relationship is forever and ever and you can't get a second ring for another relationship!

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steveslevis · 5 months

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i love you, it’s ruining my life

azriel x cassian’s sister!reader - part 1 of 3

summary: it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you weren’t supposed to be your brother’s best friend’s mate, especially when that best friend is the same male who’s acted like you don’t exist for the last two centuries.

warnings: angst, very brief mentions of violence and abuse, azriel is oblivious and reader is angry, not much pining in this part mainly just angsty

A single band of golden thread, stretched from your soul, reaching out into an abyss. There was seemingly no end to the thread, no definite stop, just a shadowy mess that sent the thread into a disarray as it reached for your mate.

Your mate. The male who had spoken maybe a full sentence to you a handful of times in the last few centuries. The male who was best friends with your brother, and acted as if you didn’t even exist.

Even in your younger years in Windhaven, it seemed Azriel didn’t even know you were there. Like you were a ghost, invisible to him in every sense of the word.

Azriel didn’t ever really speak to anyone, though, so it wasn’t like you were an exception, he treated you like most everyone else. But you never had been able to shake the fact that he would nearly sprint out of a room if you were the only one in it, or that he would refuse to look you in the eyes when you spoke at dinner. It was like he couldn’t even stand the thought of being in the same vicinity of you, like he couldn’t stomach talking to you.

And you were now bound to him, for the rest of eternity.

The bond had snapped for you immediately upon seeing the state of Azriel when they returned from Hybern without Feyre, when the entirety of their plan had gone up in flames, with Azriel in the main path of destruction.

Seeing him in so much pain tugged at your heart, nearly ripping it out of your chest when you saw how ruined his wings were. It affected you so much that you ran out of the room when they first arrived, partially because of how much it hurt you to see him like that, and partially because of how distraught the bond snapping into place had immediately made you feel. You couldn’t bear to see your mate in so much pain, and you knew you didn’t trust yourself to be around when they inevitably put him into more pain while healing him.

You kept to yourself for weeks after their arrival, only speaking to Rhysand and your brother when need be.

Rhys was the first one to find out about your dilemma.

He called you into his study weeks later to talk about a mission, one he needed you specifically on for your daemati skills. While he explained the details, he could tell your mind was elsewhere, so much so that you couldn’t even stop him from getting past the pure obsidian wall you’d built up in your mind, the wall you never let anyone break down until that moment.

Rhysand had given you a hesitant look when he stopped explaining the tasks in order to peer into your mind and capture your attention. He didn’t want to pry, only to get your mind focused by scaling his talon down the obsidian wall, which to his surprise collapsed before he could even attempt to breach it. But you nodded when he silently asked to see what had been keeping you so on edge, what had stopped you from helping Madja out with taking care of Azriel when they returned from Hybern, what had stopped you from engaging in conversation at dinner as of late.

A vision of a golden thread shrouded in black and gray shadows was sent to Rhys’ mind, along with a memory of exactly the moment you had been struck with the bond.

“Have you told him?” he implored, though he seemed to already know the answer.

You couldn’t even speak at that point, only shaking your head in response as tears brimmed your eyes when you thought of how fucked up it was to be bonded to someone who’d barely acknowledged you in the hundreds of years you’d known him.

Rhys gave you a sympathetic look then, knowing the feeling of an unrequited bond all too well.

You promised him about a thousand times that you wouldn’t let him find out, that you wouldn’t let the agony and sadness get in the way of the mission. You could prove yourself worthy and able to go on without thinking about how you might never get an accepted bond, you assured him that you could. He was still unsure when he agreed to let you go on the mission, but it was miniscule enough that any lapses in judgment wouldn’t be detrimental, so he agreed.

And you proved yourself, just like you said you would. You proved yourself over and over again with Rhysand’s missions, building up your mental shields stronger than they ever had been before. So strong, that the High Lord himself had a hard time cracking through them.

You became a shell of what you were before seeing your mate in that near-death state, but you didn’t care. You needed to distract yourself in any way, shape or form that you could in order to forget about him, to forget that he’d never even taken a second glance in your direction.

It got to the point where you became so shut off from reality that even Cassian, your brother known for paying no mind to female emotions, started to notice.

You caught Cassian giving you inquisitive stares a handful of times during training and at dinners when your attitude was exceptionally reserved and demure, but never thought he would actually say anything to you.

That was until he finally snapped, on the first dinner with Feyre back in Velaris, which just so happened to be the first dinner that Azriel joined in the weeks after Hybern.

You nearly fell out of your seat when you saw him in all his glory. There he was, standing at the end of the table, as beautiful as ever. He was almost fully healed, aside from a few scars littered over the membrane of his wings.

Excited chatter filled the room as he entered, everyone falling into their rightful place in the Inner Circle, along with the newest members, Nesta and Elain. Though you were one of the longest standing members of Rhysand’s Inner Circle, you felt the most out of place in that moment.

The wine you’d been sipping churned in your stomach as you eyed the shadowsinger, who was sitting quietly across the table from you. You couldn’t handle it, knowing that he was your mate and he had no clue. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him finding out, of him potentially rejecting the bond.

After a moment of silently wallowing in your self pity, you felt that familiar talon scrape along your mental shield. Rhys was requesting access to your mind, likely to give you some insight about this unrequited feeling based on his own experience.

You rejected his request instead of letting him in, shooting him a quick glance before standing up abruptly, quietly excusing yourself with the reasoning that you weren’t feeling well.

You rushed up the stairs, toward your bedroom all the while feeling like you were drowning. You needed air, fresh air, now. It was in that moment that you thanked the Cauldron for Rhysand putting you in the bedroom with a large balcony, one perfect for moments like this.

Little did you know, your brother had stalked up the stairs behind you, worried after seeing the panic-stricken look on your face before bolting from the room.

You didn’t bother to close your bedroom door behind you, leaving Cassian the perfect opportunity to come in to check on you. You were out on the balcony in an instant, nearly gasping for air as the cool night breeze hit your face.

“Hey,” Cassian called behind you, standing awkwardly in the middle of your bedroom. “You alright?”

“I don’t want to talk right now, Cass.” you retort quickly, shooting a glare in his direction before leaning over the metal railing as he furrows his brow. “I obviously don’t feel great at the moment.”

“Yeah, no shit. But that doesn’t warrant you snapping at me when all I’m doing is coming to check on you,” he presses, taking a step onto the balcony to stand by you. “It doesn’t warrant you ignoring me for fucking weeks now.”

“What do you want me to say, Cassian?” you snap, throwing your hands up in defeat. “I—I don’t really know what kind of explanation you need from me, I just haven’t been in a talking mood these last few weeks.”

“Oh, bullshit.” he says, shaking his head at you. “I see you chatting with Rhys and Mor all the fucking time. You’re only shutting me out. What the fuck did I do?”

You take a moment to look up at your brother, finally seeing the hurt sketched across his features as he pleads with you, trying desperately to get through to you.

“You didn’t do anything.” you sigh, letting your guard down as you realize how much you’d hurt your twin in the last few weeks. “I—I just am going through some shit right now.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” he says, nudging your arm with his elbow as a relieved but hesitant smile passes over his face. “I’m always here to lend an ear.”

“Are you sure?” you say, voice cracking as you internally accept that you’re about to change everything in Cassian’s life with four simple words.

“Positive.” Cassian says, smile still on his face as he grips your shoulder to reassure you.

“Azriel is my mate.” you say bluntly, watching in silent terror as your brother’s face falls and so does his hand from your shoulder. “And he has no idea.”

——————————————————————

That was almost two years ago.

Cassian took the news quite well, and became your biggest supporter when it came to dealing with the hardships of an unrequited mating bond. Even as he dealt with his own unrequited bond for a short amount of time, he still made sure to make it known that he still cared for and understood the pain you were going through.

And now that the war against Hybern had been won, you could focus all your energy into training and missions Rhys would send you on.

Rhysand knew you preferred to be sent on solo missions, that you worked better alone without anyone disrupting your focus. But, there were some missions that couldn’t be done alone.

“You–This is a joke, right?” you say with a laugh, narrowing your eyes at the High Lord who sat across the desk in his office, raising his eyebrow at you as you laugh. “I work alone, Rhys.”

“I know you work best alone, but sometimes I can’t send you alone,” Rhys starts, giving you a sharp glare as you start to stand from your chair, “I can’t send you alone, not on this one.”

“Why?” you pressed, pushing off the arms of your chair to move closer to the desk. “You haven’t even told me what I’m doing or where I’ll be going yet, so why should I even agree to it without knowing?”

The look the High Lord was giving you made you uneasy, turning your stomach in knots, but you persisted. You needed him to stop treating you like you were made of glass, like you would break, like you hadn’t been training with Cassian since you could stand.

“I’m not a child anymore, Rhys.” you snapped, hands balling into fists as they pressed against the oak of his large desk. “I can handle whatever it is, without Azriel babysitting me.”

“I really don’t know–”

“Are you trying to torture me?” you interject, a pained expression crossing over your face, one of betrayal at the feeling of one of your longest friends trying to put you in such an uncomfortable position when he knows exactly what you’ve been dealing with over the last two years. “Are you trying to make me suffer, do you want me to –”

“I need you to go to Windhaven.” Rhys finally commanded, voice wavering slightly as he brought up the place you once called home, the place he knew would send you regressing into a lesser version of yourself. “I need you to go there, with Azriel.”

The mention of Windhaven sent a shiver down your spine, wings twitching in fear as you thought about the horrors you endured in your final years at the camp. Your sharp gaze flickered for a split second, mind running back to that cabin, to the flash of wings and clawing hands, to the male who did irreparable damage to your soul, to the moment you swore you’d never let a male hurt you again. With a shake of your head, you block the thoughts out, pressing that black obsidian wall back up to prevent yourself from breaking.

“I’ll be fine on my own.” you say, putting your stern persona back into place, trying to make it seem as though you’re unbothered.

“I need to send him with you, someone needs to watch your back.” he insists while shaking his head as his gaze softens, trying to get you to break from your hardened facade.

“What about Cass?” you retort, shaking your head.

“He’ll be in Spring, he’s got business with Tamlin and Eris to attend to for me.” he quickly replies, shaking his own head. “Please, I need you to do this.”

“I–I can’t.”

“Is the thought of being alone with me for two days that bad?” a voice comes from behind you, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

Your mate, just the person you didn’t want to see right now.

You whip around quickly at the sound of his voice, brow furrowed as you see him standing in the doorway. It takes everything in you not to sigh at the sight of him, at how damn good he looked, just standing there. You cursed yourself internally, wishing you could think about anything else besides how much you pined for him. Still, you had an image to uphold, an image of distaste for the beautiful shadowsinger standing in front of you.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, shadowsinger.” you snap, shooting a glare in his direction that sends a pang of guilt running down the one-sided bond.

“I’m sorry?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you, his face the poster child for cool composure as your rage boils in front of him.

“You can barely stand to be in the same room for me for more than five minutes,” you state, crossing your arms matter-of-factly. “You quite literally leave any space in the house when I’m the only other person around.”

The thought of your mate, the one who was supposed to be at your side for all of eternity, leaving the room any time you entered made your blood boil and chest ache. You ached for him, you ached to feel his touch, to be loved by him. But he didn’t care about you, didn’t care if you lived or died.

Seeing the anger in your eyes made Azriel stop in his tracks, something unfamiliar tugging at his heart as you seethed. There was a gnawing feeling in his chest as he thought about the last five hundred years, how he never paid you any mind.

The truth was, he avoided you with every bit of willpower he had in order to restrain himself. He couldn’t be around you for more than a few moments without your overpowering scent filling his nose feeding his desire to tear you apart. Every time he was with you alone, he wanted to tear down any walls that he had and just have at you, to have you as his. He wanted you carnally, he wanted all of you, all of the time.

But that wasn’t the kind of male he was. He would never do such a thing to Cassian, his best friend. He couldn’t let himself have you just to fulfill his deepest desires, you deserved so much more than to be some one night fling. You deserved to be loved and cared for, to be protected at all costs.

So he had ignored you, for almost five fucking centuries, because he thought he couldn’t give you what you deserved. He pushed out any thought he had about you, pushed away the urge to pursue you in any way, and pushed you away in the process. He knew you well from watching from afar, but to you it seemed as though you were the last thought in his mind, when in reality, you were the only thought in his mind at all times.

“That’s not–” Azriel started, but the words fell on his lips as he watched your own pull into a frown, an expression that was much more broken than the anger that had crossed over your face when he snuck in.

“Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought, you prick.” you said weakly, finally letting your emotions get the better of you. As tears pricked your eyes, you turned to Rhys once more. “I will not be going anywhere with him. I will be going by myself, or not at all. I am strong enough to do this on my own and I’m tired of being treated like a child in this court.”

Rhys only stared at you as you stalked towards the desk once again, watching as your hands shook with pain. He showed no change in emotion as you spoke, fully in High Lord mode instead of the Rhysand you knew and loved.

“I will be in my room, packing. When you’re done being a stubborn male and realize that I can do whatever the hell it is you need me to do, I’ll be waiting for further instructions.” you state, trying to choke back the tears that are threatening to flow onto the wood in front of your hands.

The High Lord nods firmly in response, and you turn on your heels. Azriel is still standing in the doorway, but you don’t dare to look at him. You push past the shadowsinger, swiping your cheeks hastily as tears fall down them. As you pass, your wing brushes his in the lightest of touches. You swallow a gasp as they touch, a shockwave flowing through your wing and going straight to your heart.

Azriel turns to gaze at you with wide eyes and you immediately know he felt it too. He felt the shock, the electricity between your wings, but not in the way you did. Not down the one-sided, golden bond that stretched toward him.

Confusion spread over his face as he looked at you, but you turned away and rushed towards your room before he could fully process what happened.

The rest of your afternoon was spent alone in your room, laying on your bed for most of the night as you stared up at the ceiling. You cursed yourself internally over and over again, wishing there were some way to change everything, some way to make you forget that you even had a mate.

Over and over again, you told yourself how you weren’t worthy of the immeasurable love that came with a mate, how you would never be good enough for Azriel.

It had always been like that for you, though. The feeling of inadequacy was a daily occurrence for you, it wasn’t a secret. Cassian knew it, and so did Rhysand, so you’re sure Azriel did too. You worked day in and day out trying to prove that you were worthy to your brother and the High Lord and everyone around you, regardless of the pain you put yourself in.

Rhysand knew you too well, and knew that you were all too serious about going on the mission by yourself, or at least without Azriel. After you left his office, he’d tried to speak to Cassian about accompanying you, but it was of no use, he was preoccupied. He didn’t want you to go by yourself, he knew you’d be scared just by being in Windhaven again, but he also knew that you being the one to go on this mission was the only hope.

Your untraceable daemati skills were an impeccable weapon that couldn’t be replaced by Azriel’s shadows or Cassian’s brute force. Even the High Lord himself didn’t have daemati powers as stealthful as yours, so you were the best option when it came to figuring out who was trying to rebel.

After much contemplation, Rhys eventually sent a concise and firm message to your mind.

I need you in Windhaven by dinner tonight, Devlon will be expecting you to be there. There are a few Illyrians that I need you to check in on while you’re there, Cass told me there are talks of rebellion led by Cormac and Bavlard. he explained, you should only need to be there for tonight to gather enough information, but plan to stay until tomorrow evening in case we need more intel. You’ll stay in the cabin as usual, I’ll be in contact regularly to check on you, since you’ll be on your own this time.

The last sentence had a smile flickering on your lips, happy that Rhysand was finally taking you seriously as a member of his Inner Circle and trusting you enough to send you on missions by yourself. Luckily, you were already packed so it didn’t take much for you to get ready to go.

In less than an hour, you were dressed in your fighting leathers and on the balcony of your room. You waste no time in flying from the house, large wings spreading for the first time in what feels like forever as you make for the sky.

The breeze against your skin makes you sigh with joy, trying to enjoy the twinge of happiness that flying gives you as you make your way towards the place you once called home, the place you now call hell.

taglist: @paleidiot @tothestarsandwhateverend @impossibelle

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel angst #azriel x you

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zephyrchama · 5 months

Text

"What did Mammon do now?"

The greedy demon was in his underwear, hanging upside down from a rafter in the hallway. He tried to coerce you into letting him down as you walked by, but you knew better than to do so without consulting Lucifer.

"Gambling. The usual." Lucifer had a hand on his forehead, pushing his hair up while jotting something down at his desk.

"Mammon gambles every day," you pointed out. "What'd he really do?"

By the way Lucifer groaned, you knew it was something juicy. "I caught him pilfering one of my rarest records, a gift from Diavolo, to use as collateral in a bet. It's one-of-a-kind. I doubt he even knows what it is, but Mammon always has a knack for finding things of high value."

"His secret sixth sense," you agreed. "What'd you do with his clothes?"

"They make it harder to tie him up tightly. He has a slightly higher chance of wiggling free with clothes on, so I made him strip." Lucifer gestured, Mammon's clothes had been put on some kind of mannequin, tucked away in the space between two bookshelves.

You'd never seen it before. Your jaw dropped into the widest half-smile half-astonished expression possible. It had Mammon's hair and his goofy smile. Even a flashy golden earring. "What is that?"

You practically ran across the room to inspect it. It was dressed properly in Mammon's shirt and tie. There were a lot of seams, more than seemed necessary, perhaps from being repeatedly repaired over years of use. "Lucifer, this is adorable."

"It's a necessary tool for my sanity." He pushed the chair back, standing up to join you.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll give you a demonstration."

Lucifer comically wound up his closed fist. With ballistic force, he struck the figure right in its chest. It flopped back, then sprung back up wildly to receive a fistful of lighter blows from Lucifer.

"You made a Mammon punching bag? Really?" You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Isn't that a bit much?"

"I didn't make it, Mammon did."

Surprise of the day number two. "Mammon made this? Himself?"

To stop the wobbling, Lucifer grabbed the punching bag's tie, pulling it tight and then smoothing it out. "Cute, right? He thought it might make me go easy on future punishments. It's a very thoughtful gift from my little brother."

"Yeah, I didn't know he could sew. Huh." The two of you stood to admire it before Lucifer returned to his desk. You followed him. "Kind of reminds me of the doll Levi made of me."

Lucifer smiled. "Leviathan made you a doll, did he? How very kind."

"No, he made a doll of me."

Lucifer froze to process this information, frowning.

You continued, "I don't know where he usually keeps it, but I saw it under his desk one time. It's pretty big and detailed. I mentioned it once and offered to lend him a shirt for it, but he got really embarrassed and pushed me out. He's gotta take more pride in his work, it was really impressive."

"I see." Lucifer gritted his teeth. "You know, something I have to do just came up. Let's finish this conversation later." He was quietly seething as he escorted you to the door. Along the way he gave punching-bag Mammon a soft whack to the head.

You realized you forgot to ask if you could untie the real Mammon, but Lucifer had already marched down the hall in the direction of Leviathan's room. Rather than trying to catch up, you decided to go see how the Avatar of Greed was doing.

#i bet satan has a lucifer punching bag #is this punching bag ever mentioned? where is the lore #obey me #obey me! swd #obey me scenarios #omswd #obey me headcanon #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #tw punching ? is that a thing? i don't know how to tag this for content warning hm.#obey me!#obey me drabble #obey me fanfic #I started a bunch of mini fics and got like 95% of the way done an Asmo one but I'm not liking it. feels oddly written so I have to fix it.#obey me mc #obey me x mc #does levi making a creepy unexplained doll of mc count as x mc? sure.

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yyokkki · 8 months

Text

The Prefect's Laugh

Dropping this monstrosity i wrote in September 2023 because I feel like I'm never going to leave this fandom.

First Years x gn! Prefect

Warning: I haven't played chapter 7, Prefect has a distinct personality so it doesn't really count as x reader but some people could find them relatable, a jumble of canon and non-canon events, mild cursing?

Divider by @saradika

It wasn’t that the Prefect never smiled. In fact, they may have smiled a little too often. It could be as simple as a wordless greeting or as complex as a way to cope with fear, but there was one particular expression the first years saw only once in a blue moon. The smile that comes alongside a fit of laughter.

The first time Ace saw the infamous Ramshackle Prefect smile like that was not too long after they had first met. It was a day or two after Heartslabyul’s housewarden overblotted and they’d finally gotten the rose garden in order.

While chatting about that day’s happenings, a rather embarrassing detail was brought up (embarrassing to Ace at least).

“Can we, like, NOT talk about this anymore??”

“I mean, the housewarden was really going in on you and you just stood there and took it but as soon as he said those things about the Prefect’s parents you didn’t even hold back. It’s weirdly sweet of him, right?”

Deuce looked towards the Prefect for their input to which they replied by fervently nodding their head.

“Wow, who could’ve guessed that maybe THE Ace Trappola cares about his friends??”

“…Honestly would’ve believed you more if you said you did it just to prove you could.”

“Pfft-“

Ace’s head whipped to the side, and he stared at the blooming smile on the Prefect’s face. Crinkled eyes, a hand in front of their mouth and slightly flushed cheeks as they tried to hold in their chuckles.

He wanted to make a snarky comment, something like, ‘I’ve been trying to make you laugh for the past two weeks and THIS Is what makes you break?’

Instead, what came out of his mouth was… Silence.

Maybe the new expression was too shocking as he just stared, five parts confusion, three parts embarrassment, two parts bashfulness. The most he could get out of them even with the most well-crafted jokes were slight smirks and yet something Deuce said without even intending to be funny made them crack.

He felt wronged.

And flustered.

…Shit, why are they kinda cute.

Going back to before the overblot, a day that Deuce personally considers more traumatising than his own housewarden’s mental breakdown.

Sorrowfully gazing upon the carnage of eggshells, whites and yolks jumbled up in the plastic bag branded with the words, Mr. S’ Mystery Shop, Deuce gave out another wistful sigh.

“I just hope those chicks can rest in peace.”

“…You know those eggs don't hatch into chickens, right?”

Shocked, flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stunned, stupefied, bowled-over; all words that could be used to describe Deuce Spade’s current state of mind.

“Wh- WHAT??? YOU’RE KIDDING.”

While Deuce was having an epiphany about the eggshell-shocking revelation, he noticed the Prefect’s slightly hunched over back and trembling frame. He was about to go comfort them when he saw their face…

And heard their laughter, ringing out like the sound of wind chimes swaying with the summer breeze, despite it being mid-September.

“YOU’RE LAUGHING???”

He looked at them with five parts feelings of betrayal, three parts despair and two parts anger. He was so offended that he immediately stormed off with the grocery bags in hand, huffing and puffing as he went on his unmerry way.

It wasn’t until later that the Prefect started feeling guilty about their reaction to the incident. It kind of felt like telling a little kid Santa wasn’t real…

They apologised, got him a book about the evolution of egg production, hugged it out and all was forgiven.

It wasn’t until much much later that Deuce Spade realised, he had only seen the Prefect laugh a handful of times, that incident taking up one of the spaces.

It had grown to become one of his favourite sounds in the world.

Jack Howl was never one for bad jokes or witty banter. Whenever he and the Prefect stood together, besides looking like a sturdy tree next to a swaying flower, they didn’t look friendly- much less like friends.

Only the two of them understood the solidarity that came with the silence. They were each others go-to when the other first years got too rowdy.

Truly the mom and dad of the group.

They would occasionally engage in conversation. Somehow when they were together, asking about each other’s day would lead to which parts of home they missed most now that they were away or embarrassing childhood memories, they hadn’t told anyone else about.

It was on a day like any other, a long while after the deep sea overblot.

Jack and the Prefect had finally started speaking to each other comfortably, yet most of their time together was spent just existing in the same room, doing their own thing.

It wasn’t awkward, at least not to the Prefect. But they had to ask just in case.

“Hey, do you ever feel like we don’t really talk when we hang out?”

“…Well, we are at the library.”

“I mean at other places too.”

Jack looked up from his notes, glancing at the Prefect with a little apprehension tracing his features.

“Why? You find it weird?”

“No, I like it a lot, just- I’m not used to it you know? Whether it’s the friends I’ve made here or my friends from back home they’ve never been the type to let the room stay quiet for over five seconds.”

They shifted slightly to cast an inquisitive glance over at him, “I can’t tell if you mind or not.”

Against his very own will, Jack’s tail started flowing slightly. So, they like being around him?

“I feel the same as you. I like our time together.”

Realising he sounded a little too soft, he immediately started backpedalling.

“Not that that means anything. I enjoy spending time with many people, doesn’t make you special.”

After finishing his piece, Jack looked back down at his notes, playing it cool. His tail, however, betrayed his feelings.

"Pfhaha, so cute, it’s like a helicopter-“

“…”

Not knowing how to defend himself, Jack got up to sit across the Ramshackle Prefect, blocking their view of his tail but giving him the perfect angle to catch all their expressions.

…It may be a little too late for him.

It all started with a godforsaken game of PG rated chicken.

Epel Felmier didn’t know whose dumb idea it was to hold a competition like this among all the first years but damn was he killin’ it.

It was almost too easy. It made him feel conflicted. Should he be happy that he’d somehow reached the finals? Or mad that it’s all cause of his face and build?? Either way, the prize was too good to pass up so he was gonna win.

So far he’d been flyin’ through with direct eye contact and a smile or two if his opponents were tougher but the final round had been filling him with a weird sense of dread, so he decided to prepare a little somethin’ special this time.

He doubted he’d have to use it though; he didn’t think very highly of the kids at NRC in this specific department…

That being until he got a text from the organiser telling him who his opponent was, that being: the Ramshackle Prefect.

Well shit.

He knew they never judged anybody, including him, for their appearance, and he’d always appreciated them for that. But in this context, it would make ‘em a tough nut to crack.

Not even mentioning, they knew his weakness when he didn’t have theirs.

He immediately pulled down their chat and started typing ferociously.

‘you. me. ramshackle lounge. after school. please?’ And send.

Might as well get a practise round in to scope the waters.

Luckily, the Prefect considered him a friend and wasn’t overly cautious, so not long after the text was sent an ‘ok’ was promptly sent back.

As soon as school let out, Epel ran into the Prefect in the mirror chamber, and they embarked towards Ramshackle dorm together.

He’d informed them of his intentions while on the way, so they got started after arriving.

First, he tried his usual techniques despite knowing they wouldn’t work. As expected, the Prefect didn’t so much as flinch.

Then they smiled warmly at him.

“Your training has been working out really well, I can see a little more definition on your arms. How do you even do it? What you lack in a natural constitution is already being made up for by your will and perseverence! It's really rare to find people like you out there.”

Shit, a genuine compliment about his mental and physical growth! That’s critical damage, how could they be so dirty, using his weakness against him?

Well, if that’s how they’re gonna play it.

Epel held up his two hands in front of him, forming a heart with his fingers.

The Prefect looked unfazed. They just smiled at him, mockingly (Epel’s perception).

Fine. He’s been left with no choice but to pull out his secret weapon.

“I-If you were a fruit, you’d be a FINEAPPLE!” Absolutely humiliating.

But also absolutely effective.

The Prefect’s mask started cracking at its seams.

“F-fineapple? I never thought I'd ever hear you say anything like that- Pfft hehe-“

He'd won, but his face was as red as his namesake as the visage of his Prefect’s tinted cheeks and choked back giggles entered his heart.

On the day of the competition, he lost miserably. The Prefect ended up passing the prize onto him, claiming they were only participating for fun, but he wasn’t really upset.

It’s for the best that no one else sees that face anyways.

Sebek Zigvolt’s sole purpose for living is to serve his young master as a reliable retainer.

In order to be reliable, he must excel in both academics and athletics. Athletics weren’t worth mentioning and he found all academic subjects easy enough.

All except for art, that is.

Making use of a medium to place your creative vision onto a surface sounded simple, yet the product had never lived up to his expectations, creating a habit of casting fire spells to burn the causes of his shame.

After yet another round of sweeping up the ashes of a canvas, he’d decided enough was enough. As unbecoming as it was, a good retainer would ask for help when he really needed it.

And he really really needed it.

His next course of action was to head over to the staff room and inquire with the Art professor for private lessons, only to be told that she had no empty slots in her schedule.

“If you don’t mind learning from another student, I recommend asking the Ramshackle Prefect to tutor you. They’re one of the best among their peers and I’ve seen them offering help to other students during my classes so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

That magicless human? He’d only ever spoken two or three sentences to them, and he couldn’t stand the uncouth beast following them around every hour of the day, but if they truly were one of the best…

Thus started a deal he would come to regret in the future.

The Prefect wasn’t a bad teacher. They’d gotten him to start on the basics before even thinking of the elaborate portraits he’d always been hellbent on doing.

Once he’d finally grasped the techniques needed, he immediately jumped onto the opportunity to paint his young master, using one of his sacred wallet sized photos as reference. The Prefect stood beside him the whole time, pointing out mistakes and fixing any parts he deemed unsatisfactory.

The only qualm he had was that they’d protested to his idea to paint a wall sized mural, stating that it was too advanced.

With a beautiful portrait in tow, he returned and hung it up near his shrine. It couldn’t compare to his young master’s radiance but it had been the best thing he’d ever painted and he was felling pleased with himself.

An idea came over him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without their help after all…

And that was what led to him showing up at Ramshackle outside of lesson hours with a small canvas nervously clenched in his hands.

“Human. It didn’t turn out as well without your guidance, but this is a little token of appreciation for your help these past few weeks.” He pushed the portrait into the Prefects hands, ready to accept criticism.

“…”

“Human..?”

“…Pffhehe-, I never expected you to do something so heartfelt for a ‘dumb human’. Heh, I guess I really grew on you!”

“Why are you laughing?! ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME??”

If he had his sword on him he would be unsheathing it right now.

“No, no, thanks man, I love it.”

The brightest and most genuine smile he’d ever seen from them blossomed.

He felt his face burn and his heartbeat rise to an abnormal degree as the Prefect’s warm gaze felt as though it were boring into him.

…I must inquire with Master Lilia what hex this human has placed upon me. Right this instant!

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kuromochimi · 7 months

Text

baby I’m nothing like your broke ex

gojo satoru, nanami kento

Content warnings: mentions of past toxic relationships, not proof read

🔜 suguru geto, kamo choso, higuruma hiromi

Gojo Satoru

Satoru was rich. Like rich RICH. You first noticed this the moment you met him when you spilled coffee on his shirt then offered to buy him a new one instead. Instant regret when you realized that his shirt was worth more than your entire closet combined.

Being in a relationship with him was… well it was an adjustment. You lived a fairly simple life before you met him. It wasn’t a bad life. You still got to spend on your wants here and there but you had to budget such things much like any other common person had to. On the other hand, the word budget was non-existent to satoru especially when it came to you. He quite literally gave you everything. A few weeks into the relationship though, he had noticed how reluctant you were to accept his presents. You didn’t seem uncomfortable, just.. reluctant. He toned down a bit after this realization. But god he just couldn’t figure out why you were almost unwilling to accept anything at all from him, even food, even a ride home, even his hoodie which he already said you could keep. “Baby” he called to which you responded by looking his way. “Why do you never want to accept my presents?” He asked before he got up to approach you, immediately hugging you from the back as soon as you were within reach. “Hmm it’s not that I don’t want to.. it’s just.. you have to let me get used to these things first, okay?” satoru raised his brow “baby I know that shitty ex of yours can’t come close to how much I spoil you but was he that stingy?” at first satoru was only joking but your silence meant it was probably true. “So he was?” He asked as his chin was resting on your shoulder. “Come on satoru, he’s a thing of the past. He doesn’t matter anymore, ‘kay?” You tried your best to steer away from having to tell your boyfriend in detail but he’s right. Your ex was stingy as hell. It’s not like you ever asked for anything too much in fact, you don’t ever remember asking for anything at all. All the times he had to pick you up, he asked for gas money which seemed fair enough but it wasn’t just that. The man loved going on and extravagant dates but was never willing to fish out more than gas money. He adored receiving presents from you but could never be bothered to get you even the cheapest flowers. He used to say that he was just saving up to be able to give you the life you deserve but 8 years of having to sustain the luxurious lifestyle of a bum just made you snap hence, the break up. Satoru’s tightening embrace woke you from that little flashback. “Okay baby, I’ll make sure to spoil you but don’t hesitate to tell me if I go overboard hm? Love you” he gave you a kiss on the cheek and god, you felt so lucky to have found such a good man.

Nanami Kento

It quite literally took years of yearning for nanami to be finally able to date you. He was your junior in university and your junior at work as well. All that time, he had to witness you be head over heels for your then boyfriend, another one of his seniors. He thought the man might have put a spell on you because for the love of god, he could not see what kept you with the jerk for so long. Having observed your relationship from when he was a college freshman up to when he was a work colleague, your ex never even tried to mask how selfish he was with you. The man dawned expensive watches and drove a not so cheap car, he loved going to expensive places with his friends but with you? He wouldn’t hesitate to pass you the bill (like 85% of the time) whenever you went on dates, bought you nothing but cheap jewelry and quality reject flowers just because they were cheaper. Even worse, he also let you take the crowded train home everyday despite him driving to and from work everyday. He just couldn’t be bothered to pick you up because your workplace was “too far” and gas was expensive. If he really was struggling, it wouldn’t have been a problem but any person could see that he was more than capable of treating you better. He just didn’t want to.

Dating nanami was like a breath of fresh air. It’s not like you were materialistic in the first place but receiving pretty flowers and having someone make sure you’s comfortable and safe felt so heartwarming. On top of that, nanami didn’t make it feel like he was obligated to do any of that. He just genuinely wanted to care for you. It was all new to you that you even had to ask him to stop spoiling you too much, you felt bad accepting all that he was giving. “I know you don’t need them and I know you’re capable but let me do these things for you, hm?” Was what he’d always say and despite bot being able to voice it out to him yet, there is so much love in you knowing that it was possible to be treated this way. With so much care and love and concern.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami fluff

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arieslost · 6 months

Text

home to you | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar does what he should’ve done a long time ago.

word count: 2,978

warnings: healing sunburn right at the beginning, a touch of angst

masterlist — join my tag list here!

this is a PART TWO! read part one here :)

Your sunburn is peeling.

Oscar’s been watching you absentmindedly pick at it for the last ten minutes as you recount your day to him. He’s paying attention to what you’re saying, of course, but now he’s worried that you might accidentally hurt yourself.

“Stop doing that,” he says when you pause to catch your breath, reaching for his phone as if he could put his hand through and stop you himself.

“What?” You frown, and then look at your shoulder. “Oh, right. It’s weirdly satisfying though.”

“This is why you can’t go to the beach by yourself.” Oscar sighs. “You never put on enough sunscreen.”

“I know,” you reply quietly.

As much as both of you have tried, neither of you can help the awkward undertones that seep into every silence you share now. Oscar knows you love him, and you know that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You think he doesn’t feel the same way.

When he saw that look on your face that morning in the kitchen, it reminded him of the way he stared at you on prom night. Oscar didn’t get asked to the senior prom, but you did, and you had turned the offer down. Oscar asked you why, and you told him that you only wanted to go with him, otherwise you weren’t going. You’d dragged him back and forth from your table to the dance floor all night long, and it all would’ve faded into the mush of fleeting high school memories if your favorite song hadn’t come on. Oscar remembers every detail of how your eyes lit up, how you cried, “I love this song!” even though he knew you did, and how you’d grabbed his hands and started dancing with a refreshed energy. He felt like time had stopped and his world revolved around you, and it felt right.

So yeah, he knew the moment you gave him that look that not only did he still love you, but you finally, finally felt the same way. And, for the second time, he’d epically fucked it up.

He often wishes that he could go back and confess to you like he wanted to that night. You’d stayed over because you were too tired to drive home. You were both single. It was the perfect time. But now it’s four years later and he’s sitting in the hotel bathroom on the other side of the world, his girlfriend asleep in the hotel bed, and you on the other end of his phone screen picking at your sunburn that he could’ve prevented had he spent more time with you on vacation.

“You doing okay, Osc?” You ask, pulling on a hoodie of his that you stole from him before he left for his very first F1 race. “Aside from the races, I mean. I know you’re doing great with those.”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” The words come out with practiced ease. “I’d rather hear about how you’re doing though.” I miss you like you wouldn’t believe.

“I think I’ve told you everything like five times now,” you giggle. “I could tell you about the guy that came up to me in the grocery store this afternoon and took a painstakingly long time to ask for my number, but that’s not a long story.”

Oscar’s heart stops. “What?” He replies, teeth gritted, before he clears his throat and lightens his tone. “I mean, what?”

“Yeah, it was kind of strange. He started the conversation by asking me how you were doing, obviously, because you’re so cool and famous-” Oscar flips you off when you roll your eyes, and you laugh. “Anyway, I guess that was his icebreaker, because then he just abruptly segued into grilling me right there in the cereal aisle about my life and how he ‘couldn’t believe he’d never seen me before.’” You recount dramatically. “I’m telling you, Osc, it was nonstop cheesy line after cheesy line. I felt so bad for him I let him have my number.”

“So, he used me as an in and then harassed you until you gave him your number?”

You nod slowly. “Pretty much.”

“You better not actually be considering going out with this guy.” Oscar scoffs.

“Oh, no, I’m not!” You rush to clarify, and he can see a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I mean, it’s not like I’m waiting for anyone-anything. He was just weird. I only gave him my number so he’d leave me alone… I blocked him when he texted me.”

“You’re horrible,” he starts laughing now, relieved that this guy never even stood a chance. “I love it.”

“You’re supposed to be encouraging me to get out there and find a boyfriend, loser. Brush up on the best friend manual.” You complain, pulling the hood over your head and hiding your face from him so he can’t see how much it hurts to think about finding someone that isn’t him.

He doesn’t notice anyway; he’s distracted by the sound of the covers moving and his girlfriend yawning.

You hear it too, and glance up at the camera. “You have to go?”

His heart breaks at how sad you look. “Yeah, sounds like she’s actually waking up this time. Sorry, honey.”

You shrug, and he knows you’re trying to appear unbothered. “It’s okay. We got, what, an hour and a half? That’s a whole extra 45 minutes or so.”

“You’re allowed to tell me how you really feel, y’know.”

“Damn it, Oscar. You just see right through me. I don’t know why I even bother.” You sigh, covering your face with your hands.

“I don’t know why, either,” he attempts to joke. “Look, I-”

“Oscar? Where are you?” His girlfriend calls, and you stiffen up at the sound of her voice.

“Be there in a minute!” He responds, turning his attention back to you. “I’ll call you again as soon as possible, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Bye, honey.”

“Bye, Osc.”

You hang up first.

“I love you,” he whispers to his blank phone screen, and gets up to start his day.

You say it back to your own blank screen and go to sleep.

Oscar comes to the steadfast conclusion that he wants you and only you at his side at his home race, and not as a friend.

Breaking up with his girlfriend still looms over him. He lies awake for way too long at night trying to figure out the nicest way to do it, but his thoughts always end up taking a detour to you and how he wishes it was you sleeping next to him instead.

Despite the struggle going on in his mind, he goes through the motions of PDA with her for all the cameras and other drivers in the paddock to see. Lando is the only one who realizes what his issue is.

“Mate, you have to figure this out.” The older driver said out of the blue as they were lounging in McLaren hospitality after qualifying.

“Huh?” Oscar frowned at him, tearing his eyes away from his texts with you. “I know I fucked up that quali, but it’s not like I can’t improve.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, you muppet.” Lando rolled his eyes, and said your name like it’s obvious. “You just have to break up with the girl you’re with now so you can have the girl you really want.”

“You say that like it’s so simple.” Oscar mumbled, looking at the text from you that had just come in.

Just focus on the race, Osc. Quali’s behind you, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll be cheering you on, what could possibly go wrong??

“It is, if you think about it. Besides, you’ve been acting so weird lately she might already think something’s up.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.” Oscar groaned, sinking lower into his chair.

“Always here for you, mate.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I don’t care.”

That enlightening conversation gets Oscar to finally work up the courage to tell his girlfriend those dreaded words following the race– “We need to talk.”

He waits until they’re in the hotel room after dinner to say it so there’s no audience, primarily because he knows that she’s prone to throwing fits when things don’t go her way. The memory of her losing her mind when he took you to breakfast during vacation comes screaming back to him at the speed of light.

She doesn’t say anything at first; instead, she takes her time removing her shoes and taking the pins out of her hair. Oscar can’t stand the silence, so he starts speaking again.

“It’s about-”

“I think I know what this is about.” She interrupts him.

“You do?”

“I’d have to be stupid not to know, Oscar. You’ve been off for the past few days, it’s only with me, and every time I wake up you’re hiding in the bathroom on the phone.” She holds up a hand when he opens his mouth. “I know it’s her, and I’ve known since that vacation. You don’t have to tell me.”

“You’re… you’re not gonna yell?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

“It won’t get me anywhere, will it?”

“It never did.”

She smiles matter-of-factly. “I guess I have to work on that.”

She packs her things without argument. Oscar offers to buy her a plane ticket somewhere, but she waves him off and thanks him anyway before walking out the door.

The Australian Grand Prix is in two weeks. Oscar doesn’t think before he calls you.

“I’m coming home. I need to see you.”

Your heart has been in your throat ever since Oscar called you this morning. He was so hasty that he didn’t even tell you when he was coming, so every little movement you see outside your window has you running to see if it’s him or not.

He doesn’t show up until almost 9:30 at night. You can hear the engine of his car as he flies through your neighborhood with practiced ease and nearly drifts into your driveway. Your stomach is jumping with nerves and excitement; you didn’t think you’d see him for another two weeks, and despite the awkwardness that your feelings have brought to your friendship, you want nothing more than to hug your best friend.

He starts impatiently knocking on the door as you nearly trip down the stairwell in your rush to let him in.

“Hold on!” You shout, fingers shaking as you unlock the door and wrench it open. “Are you trying to break my door?”

“Jokes later, let me hold you,” he says, reaching for you and meeting you in the middle of the doorway as he pulls you into his chest for a tight embrace.

You melt into him immediately, your arms wrapped around his neck and your nose pressed to the warm skin that peeks out of his hoodie. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you mumble, squeezing him.

He shivers, kissing the top of your head. “I’m here, baby.”

I’m sorry, baby. You think about that so much that it shouldn’t hurt anymore. It sobers your mood a little.

“Why, though?” You ask, pulling away a little to look at him. “Don’t you have things to be doing?”

“I may have forced them to clear my schedule by coming home without telling anyone.”

“Oscar!” You exclaim. “Why? You could get in trouble!”

“Can we talk inside?”

“Yeah, of course. C’mon.” You take his hand and lead him into your house.

He takes off his shoes, leaves his suitcase in the hall, and goes to your living room on autopilot, where he flops down on the couch and lets out a long breath. You sit next to him, knees bumping together as you look at him with a reasonable amount of concern. “You’re acting weird. What’s wrong with you?”

“I broke up with her.” He says, rolling his head to the side so he’s looking at you. “So, nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Bullshit, Osc, it seemed to me like you really liked her.”

“You didn’t, though.”

“Who cares what I think?” Your brain fully computes his words. “Wait- actually, no. I’m not even going to act surprised by the fact that you knew that.” You sigh.

“I care what you think. I care about you. A lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think you do.” He sits up straighter now, turning his whole body to face you. “Like, in a romantic way.”

You blink at him a couple times. “No you don’t.”

“I don’t?” He repeats incredulously.

“You can’t. You don’t.” You say. “You’re lying.”

“I’m lying?” He says through a laugh. “You’ve known me your whole life. When have I ever lied to you?”

You press your lips together. The only time he’s ever lied to you is when he planned your surprise parties. “I’m gonna need you to do a really good job explaining yourself, otherwise I’m kicking you out. You can’t do this to me, Oscar, you know how I feel-”

“Yes, I do, and I’d love to explain if you’d stop spiraling for a second.” He interrupts, taking your hands to ground you.

You’re once again having the dilemma of wanting to push him away and pull him closer simultaneously. The pressure of his hands holding yours succeeds in calming you, so you allow it.

“The whole reason I knew how you felt in the first place is because of the way you looked at me in the kitchen. You didn’t notice, but I looked at you the exact same way at the prom.” He says, gauging your reaction by how your face contorts slightly as you try to remember the prom at all, aside from the fleeting memory of forcing him to slow dance with you. “That feeling like time stops? Like-”

“Like I got hit by a truck,” you recall, looking down as he runs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Right.” He nods. “Look, the bottom line here is that I screwed up by not telling you then, and if I had, we would’ve been dating for years at this point and this conversation wouldn’t even be happening.”

You feel like you look like a fish out of water with how your jaw is opening and closing, searching for something to say in response. “Osc-”

“If this makes you change your mind, I get it.” He continues. “But the whole reason I came here is to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 18.”

You go to muster up something to say in response when he says one more thing. “Oh, and I’m tired of only being able to see you through the phone. That’s the other reason.”

You can’t help it– that, paired with his polite cat smile, his flushed cheeks, and his confession has you dissolving into giggles. That quickly morphs into laughter that sends you leaning so far forward your head is practically in Oscar’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind because he’s laughing too.

“I hate you so much,” you gasp out, pushing yourself back up so you can look at him when you tell him the complete and total truth. “I’ve been in love with you since we were 14.”

“Shit, that means I have eight years to make up for, not four.”

“Sucks to suck.” You say, easily falling back into your age-old banter.

“You sound like Lando,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “And I was gonna ask if I could kiss you.”

“Ah, shoot. I ruined it.”

“Hmm, no. I’m gonna ask you anyway.” He shifts closer to you, brushing your hair out of your face with both hands. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

You start nodding before he even finishes asking, maybe too enthusiastically, but it’s Oscar. He knows you. He wants you. You don’t need to be embarrassed.

The press of his lips against yours is soft, gentle. You always thought that if you ever kissed Oscar it might be too weird, but the only thing you feel now is right.

It feels right to thread your fingers into his hair. It feels right to let him tug you closer, closer, closer, until you have no choice but to straddle him so you can be as close as he wants you. It feels right when his hands slip under your shirt and lightly run over the skin of your back, when his tongue meets yours, when you give his hair an experimental tug and he moans into your mouth.

The only thing wrong about it is that you have no choice but to break the kiss in order to breathe, but even then you don’t move far from each other, breaths mixing in the minimal space between you both.

“We could have been doing that for a long time,” Oscar sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.

“We have all the time in the world now that we stopped being idiots and confessed.” You point out.

“D’you think you can come to the race in a couple weeks? We can take it slow with this, no one needs to know… I just want you to be there.” He asks.

“Of course, Osc, are you kidding?” You run your hands over his shoulders and down to where his hands rest on your hips. “Though, if you win, I can’t promise no PDA or anything.”

“I’d expect nothing less from my girlfriend.” You can feel him tense up a little, like he’s expecting you to react negatively, but he relaxes immediately when your smile lights up your whole face and you kiss him again.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

No one else needs to hear it just yet. You only need to tell each other.

note: i sincerely hope this made up for any tears i may have caused with the angst in the first part. this is the first time i’ve ever been inspired to write a part 2, and i think it’s because i desperately needed it to end happily. thank you so much for all the love on falling for you; i never expected it to get as much attention as it did!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @niallerswolf @fangirl-dot-com @hood-jabi @vellicora @k-pevensie28 @cami26cami @arian-directioner @vildetry06 @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld

#full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fluff

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