Take A Hint

Take A Hint

Please just notice their advances

Ft. Diluc, Dottore, Itto, Zhongli

Diluc:

It's not you, it's him

Truly, he could not be any more vague

Why? You might ask?

Simply put, he's trying his best to romance you without letting you know it's him who's romancing you

Something something anxious you'll reject him something

So yeah, flowers, subtle gifts in the form of things you happen to need, everything is handed to you on a silver platter of convenience

And the sender himself is nowhere to be found or even heard of

Throw in how he's not exactly known for being amorous, as popular as he is, how could you possibly have suspected it was from him?

Of course you'd ask around, sparking a whole new chain of talk about your mysterious admirer

And lots of unwanted advice from the well-meaning citizens of Mond

"You should try asking around at the Angel's Share. Master Diluc always seems to know a little about everything, maybe he has something for ya."

Having no other leads, you went ahead with it

As with every other evening, the place was packed, drunkards exchanging tales over their liquor

There was nothing of value to be gotten from them, so you made a beeline for the redhead behind the counter

"Good evening, what can I get for you this time?"

"You wouldn't happen to have information, would you? On umm, the person who's been sending me all these presents."

He stiffens up, though not enough to be distinctly noticeable

He was going to say no, continue to lay low for a bit more, but when you looked at him so expectantly, it was hard for him to turn you down

It was even worse when you pressed further, prying for details to push your luck

Still, he caved and answered, fumbling as he did, because there was only so vague he could be the more you questioned

"You seem to know this person really well, it's almost like- Wait, Diluc, are you??"

In your excitement, you had gotten up, kneeling on the barstool and leaning across the counter to come face to face with him

"I've thought of something else you can get me, bartender~"

"Y-yes, and...what might that be?"

"You<3"

_____

"Just like that?" Kaeya confirmed, throwing his head back and laughing as he turned to his brother. "Yeah, just like that," you echoed, smiling at your lover who glowered at the blue haired captain. Diluc sat himself between the two of you as he wrapped an arm around you. "I told you it'd be easier to just ask them," Kaeya quipped, only to be silenced with a glare. "I recall," Diluc said. "But it worked out fine all the same." And fine it was, as he pressed a kiss to your temple, content that he no longer had to fret over hiding from you.

Dottore:

For someone who's all about the enjoying the experimental process, even he was growing tired of the lack of results

Were his hints (link to past post) too difficult to notice even for you? Had he overestimated your abilities?

Perhaps that was the case, so he'd have no choice but to resort to a more tried and true method

But of course even then he'd twist it in his own way to suit himself

It's not like there was any point in conforming to a standard the complete opposite of his own lest you fall for anything short of who he truly was

So he approaches you under the guise of a personal experiment, a little something that had piqued his interest

"You can be my lover for a... how's a month sound?"

You choked on your drink

As if being approached by the harbinger you worked for during your lunch break wasn't nerve wracking enough, that was what he wanted to talk to you about?

Despite his offhanded demeanor, seeming to not care about whether you agreed to it or not, you had a feeling it would be in your best interests to go along with it

It's not like you weren't at least somewhat into him anyway

His smile from under the mask did seem very ominous to any sane person though

Perhaps you weren't entirely sane, because the doctor's low chuckle didn't send you running for the hills in spite of you having no idea what he was planning

But really, how hard could it be to play the part of Il Dottore's lover for a month?

The answer was not at all

The position came with a number of privilege you were sure you'd miss once you lost them

Free access to anything under Dottore's command? Almost the same level of authority?

Really, it was insane just how much you were getting out of something that stemmed from his curiosity

And it really had you wondering just how he could afford to spare you all this luxury without batting an eye

Your colleagues, while understandably jealous, had been surprisingly supportive as well, giggling in your ear about how soft the doctor seemed to be for you

But all you could think of was how it was all a lie

You had to keep reminding yourself how quickly it would be over, and that you'd soon return to your old post

Even in the doctor's presence, which was often, you were doing mental gymnastics to stay calm at his every doting gesture

How was it even possible for him to hold you so gently? You'd never know

His duality was such that he could snap at the Regrator in a tone you're sure was icy enough to make the Tsaritsa proud all while holding you in his lap with the warmest possible embrace

And every moment felt like it'd last forever

Could he freeze time? You sort of hoped he would experiment with that and inevitably extend the time you had with him

You, ever the fool, had gotten comfortable with the arrangement even when you'd repeatedly reminded yourself not to

Although one could say you were an even bigger fool for not realising how he set you up to fall for him

Did you really think he was capable of looking at anyone he didn't consider special to him with enough warmth to melt a room when you can't even see his eyes?

On the final day of your agreement, you were finally starting to worry about how you were supposed to go about your old job after all you'd experienced with Dottore

Could you even function without remembering how nice it was to have his reassuring hand on your back?

"Oh my, anyone would think you were upset by the thought of leaving me if you pulled that face."

"Lord Dottore! I didn't notice- I'm sorry I-"

"No, this has been...a very successful experiment, if I do conclude. It has definitely helped me to confirm something important, I was just thinking of how to reward you for your help."

"I'm honoured I was able to assist, my lord. I'd be happy to accept any gift you might grace me with."

He frowned a little, and you were worried you had misspoken

Well, technically, you had, because he was hoping you'd have gotten comfortable enough with him over the month to drop the formalities

"Any gift? Then it's decided. We'll just have to make this a permanent arrangement, wouldn't you agree, my dear? In which case I think it only fitting that...when we're alone like this, you should call me Zandik."

The last part was softer, like the utterance of his name was for no one but you (it was)

Dottore might have been the feared harbinger, but Zandik was your affectionate maniac, and yours alone

_____

"Zandik, I never really did get to ask...why did you choose me for that experiment anyway? It just all seems far too fortunate for everything to fall into place so easily," you asked. You hadn't expected him to grin - more to himself than anyone else. "Yes, very fortunate indeed, you must be quite the lucky one then, favoured by the goddess of love herself, no?" he chuckled. He wondered if you would ever figure out he schemed it all, or if you'd remain blissfully ignorant. Gingerly, he took off his mask and set it on your face. "Would you look at that, it suits you too," he mused. "So why don't we just take it, that we were bound to end up like this one way or another, my precious?"

Itto:

You'd think it's obvious since he's such an outspoken guy

But he's fairly prideful too, so chances are, he's gonna try get you to ask him out

Unfortunately for him, he very much does want to cut the chase and ask you out so he doesn't have to wait

It's really a dilemma, and it doesn't help that no one in the gang apart from Shinobu gives sound advice

Just ask you out? Yeah right, Shinobu, he's gonna go with what the other guys say and just make himself seem so cool you'll be dying to go out with him

So he hangs around you a lot, dragging you with him and talking about how the Arataki Gang is doing stupendously

And who's leading the gang? None other than him, of course!!

Surely you'll think he's awesome, right?

Of course, credit where credit's due, he does end up talking about Shinobu a lot, praising her and how well she helps manage things

In part, that's supposed to help you see how humble he is despite his awesomeness

Too bad it gave the impression that he liked Shinobu, leading to you trying to set them up

Did you kinda like Itto? Yeah, sure, what wasn't there to like about him?

But that was also why you thought you should put your own feelings aside and help him out

And Itto, the sweet dumbass, not knowing any better, went along with all your ideas thinking you just wanted to spend time with him

You were taking him shopping for stuff!! That seems like a date, right? He was counting as a date

Yes, you were trying to dress him up and "coincidentally" bump into Shinobu and abandon them to have dinner together, but Itto didn't know the second half of that

He was absolutely memorising every detail to tell the rest of the gang after about how it worked and you slyly tried to go on a date with him

He was planning up how to tell them already

And you were dressing him up too? Look at you, acting like you're already married, he's very head empty

My guy is so ready to call you out on it when you bump into Shinobu a little earlier than expected

"Oh, what are you two up to? No offence, y/n, it's just that Itto typically doesn't come around town without some sort of mayhem following."

"Hey, you know that's not true, people love me, I-"

Red alert: he was looking stupid in front of his crush

And when you were quick to defend him? Boy, he looked like he wanted to kiss you then and there

You thought you were salvaging his reputation, but really, it just made you look like you were taking his side unconditionally

At least that's how it seemed in the moment

"How about that, boss. You actually got them to fall for you hard enough to overlook your idiocy. Who'd have thought?"

"Well, of course no one can resist the one and Oni Arataki Itto, y/n included, right my bug?"

You couldn't even be offended at his awful petname for you because there was so much to process

Were you dating now? Was that how it went?

Honestly, you could roll with that, as funny of a way as it was to get together

You didn't even have the heart to tell him about the misunderstanding because he seemed so proud to show off to everyone how you finally got together

_____

The members of the Arataki Gang gathered around with gathered sakura blooms as they scattered the petals around to congratulate the two of you. For the most part, Itto was just recounting the tale from his perspective, which was pretty funny to hear since you knew how it all actually went down. Had you really looked at him with the love the ocean had for the moon? It was almost embarrassing to hear how he described you, the poetic brilliance so unlike his typical crude speech. Certainly, it was a simple as comparing you to fresh grass in the summer, but it was very him to do so. And you supposed that was the magnetic charm of his after all.

Zhongli:

He can't think of a time when he's ever been so desperate to reach out to someone and yet so hesitant

But that had to be all the more reason for him to keep his distance because imagine if he lost you once he'd gotten attached?

Absolute devastation

But a small part of him insists you're worth the risk

Sadly, not enough to convince him because what if one day you realise you're just wasting your time with him? If you didn't actually like him any more than as a dear friend?

So you end up in this awful push and pull, hot and cold situation where one day he's inviting you out, eager to spend time with you

And the next day he's nowhere to be found, uncontactable as though he was never a part of your life

It got tiring really fast, so you roped in Hu Tao, since as his boss, she probably had his schedule

That and Hu Tao very much seems to be aware of something you aren't (aka the fact that Zhongli is immortal)

She wants to fill you in so badly because she's pretty done with watching Zhongli pine and then act like he never did

Still, she respects his boundaries (mostly) so she just helps drag him out of hiding

And by that, I mean calling him to work for something really important so he'll rush over

So you can imagine how his eyes widened when he saw you waiting with the director

"Director...and y/n, did I miss something?"

He knew he was being played the moment he saw Hu Tao's close-eyed smile but it was too late to run

Even then, Hu Tao wasn't one to break character, so she sent the two of you on some errands for her

So off you go, wandering Liyue on tasks you're certain have no relevance to whatever Hu Tao actually needs

Part 1: Scouring mountains for qingxin

At some point, Zhongli decided it'd be so much easier to just boost you up with his geo structures and catching you when you jumped/slid back down

No, he's definitely not the geo archon he's just very proficient at using his vision, he assures you

With the way he talks about Liyue as you search for flowers, even you end up piecing it all together

"What's it like to no longer be worshipped?"

"It's definitely more peaceful."

He pauses and slowly turns towards you

"I seem to be slipping up a lot today. This is exactly why I can't be around you. Still, what were the chances you'd figure this out before picking up on my feelings for you?"

Look at him turning the tables on you, it was now your turn to be flustered

How dare he

With a gentle tenderness only the passage of time could train, he picked out one particular flower from the bunch and held it beside your cheek

"Would it be inappropriate for me to comment on how you put even the loveliest of flowers to shame? Or should I find an equally appealing piece of jade or cor lapis to match the shine of your eyes?"

"What's with this sudden flattery?"

"You do bring out the worst in me sometimes. Even centuries of solitude couldn't grant me the patience to wait for you to choose me."

_____

You'd returned to the funeral parlour with Zhongli, both of you hauling massive bouquets in your arms. "We've found the-" Zhongli began, only to be cut off by his boss chiding him. "Aiya, I gave you the perfect opportunity and you still have no game!"

"No, but I did-" He turned to you with pleading eyes, but it was a sight too funny to pass up on. You'd make it up to him later, of course. But for the time being, you'd let yourself be amused with his suffering as payback for ghosting you all those times.

Commissioned by @monstersealclubber

Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @missesclaus @cxlrosii @miss-fantazmagoria @astrequa @kokomist @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @ash-astrophel @moonbyunniee @greyrain23

giving tighnari an aphrodisiac while you’re hanging out so he’ll sleep with you cause you have a bit of a huge crush on him, but you severely miscalculate how long it’ll last for so you end up stuck underneath him, pussy aching from his neverending thrusts and his cum flowing out, telling you how much he’s in love with you and your cunt and hoping that this never ends. mission accomplished?

ok sorry i have been gone so long. i actually just finished a monster of a chem report and i am in the mood to write so lets do this >:)

this turned out really long my god- i got really into meaningless plot and dialogue i am so sorry, there's like 1 minute of smut.

also, because i like to keep it consensual, we are gonna say tighnari was already dtf and he knew exactly what those petals do 😏

warnings: rough-dom!tighnari and sub!fem anatomy/pronouns reader

aphrodisiac usage (reader didn't know it was an aphrodisiac she gave tighnari), overstimulation, a lot of cum (unsafe sex 👎), biting, mating press, friends to lovers 🥵🥵, fingering/oral, also mentions of venti because he is your mondstat friend but he is wild

"and you're sure this is legit?" you asked, brows furrowing as you observed the petals in your palm.

"of course i'm sure, are you seriously doubting a professional?" venti grinned as you pursed your lips. "guaranteed to make even the most stoic swoon." venti pressed his hand to his forehead dramatically.

"alright, alright, i trust you." you carefully pocket the preserved blooms as venti eagerly bounces on his heels. you sigh deeply. "okay, one bottle on me, but that's it- diluc charges an arm and a leg these days."

it had been about a week since that conversation on your last day in mondstat. you originally went for research purposes and catching up with some old friends. sure, you expected a few souvenirs but not 'love blooms.'

you inspected the petals on your desk, trying desperately to focus on your reports.

when you told venti about your little (massive) crush on tighnari, venti was delighted to help you in the most venti way possible. by offering you flowers that make your crush fall in love with you.

because what other advice would that bard give?

you had your doubts, but part of you was intrigued to find out if they were real. you didn't want to test the tea on just anyone in case these blooms really did have some magic in them. or maybe you were just overthinking this. what if-

a soft knock on the wood of your door stirred you from your thoughts as you jumped up from your desk, knocking some of your papers off the surface.

"come in!" you call out, seeing tighnari peek his head around the corner of the wall. "tighnari! what are you doing here?"

tighnari greeted you with a small wave, carrying a basket in his arms. "i apologize for intruding so late, i originally meant to drop this off earlier. but you were asleep when i came by, and i didn't want to disturb you." tighnari smiled sheepishly, and you missed the soft blush dusting his cheeks in the low light from your lamp.

"oh, that's fine! it's great, no worries." you laughed awkwardly. "so, what's in there?" you pointed at the basket as he carefully opened the top.

"collei made it for you. she was feeling good this week, said it was the cooler weather and fresh air. she collected some herbs and fungi, and i think some tea leaves she received from a friend visiting liyue." tighnari mumbled, sifting through the contents.

"tell her i said thank you-"

"you could always come over and tell her yourself, you know. being a messenger is hard work for a forest ranger." tighnari teased.

you smiled at him fondly, shaking your head. it wasn't that you didn't want to visit, on the contrary. you were just terrified of embarrassing yourself in front of tighnari and collei.

"well, i am free tomorrow afternoon, if that's an okay time?"

"sure, i would check with collei first, but i'm positive she's already asleep." he hummed, ears flicking atop his head.

you let the quiet linger for a moment before you cleared your throat. "since you came all this way, would you like to stay for some tea?" you suddenly panicked, reminding yourself it was almost dark out, and tighnari would surely want to go back home as soon as possible. "well, i mean, it's late, so that was a stupid thing for me to suggest. sorry."

"actually, if you don't mind having me, i would love to share some tea. i didn't bring anything to drink on the trek here, and i am embarrassed to admit i'm a bit parched." tighnari's tail curled up as you nodded.

"sure! have a seat, anywhere you like- just maybe not on the chair with all my stuff on it, sorry for the mess." you awkwardly shuffled towards the kitchen, pulling the kettle out to start boiling a pot of water.

and then, the wicked little voice of venti popped into your mind.

now would be the perfect time to test out those petals.

you blinked twice, eyes shifting over to your desk where the petals sat. you smacked your cheeks, shaking your head.

no, that would be a bad idea. you don't even know if they're legit. and what if they're actually poison. can you ever really trust venti's judgement with love potion flowers?

you took a deep breath, instead focusing on rummaging through your cabinet, allowing tighnari to slink around your room unnoticed.

he smiled softly as he gazed at your handwriting. it slowly got sloppier as time went on, hand cramping from writing page upon page.

the ink bottle he had purchased for you from inazuma sat on your desk, almost empty. he made a mental note to purchase more the next time he had the chance.

you had lined up your favorite pens and quills on the desk, your notebooks at the side, scratches and rips on the cloth covers, and-

petals?

tighnari arched an eyebrow, glancing over to where you were in the kitchen, busy with digging for decent tea leaves.

he carefully picked the package up, bringing it up towards his face to waft the scent into his nose.

familiar and sweet. the saccharine petals had an aroma he had smelled before, though not from any plants in sumeru. it seemed familiar, like something from mondstat. perhaps he had read about it. something about legends.

tighnari frowned, deep in thought, tail bristling when he finally remembered. of course, mondstat tales of lovers. these flowers brought good luck for couples and those attempting to court their desired partners.

but why would you have them unless-

unless you were trying to court someone? tighnari frowned deeper at that thought.

his ears perked up as he heard you close the cabinets, walking into the room as he quickly situated himself on a chair, neatly folding his tail across his lap.

"sorry it took so long!" you smiled awkwardly. "it's brewing now, it'll just be a few minutes."

"take your time, don't stress yourself out over tea." tighnari shook his head, mentally cooing at your adorable expression when you scratched the back of your neck.

you glanced over at the desk, eyes focused on the petals as you thought of a way to get them without tighnari noticing.

of course, the minute you glanced away, he knew.

and that must mean-

you intended to use them on him? oh, tighnari wished he could say something.

but oh, was he intrigued to see where this path would lead...

and so, he conveniently stood up, excusing himself to the restroom and allowing you to rush and add the petals to the tea. he could hear you clumsily dumping them into his cup, crushing them up.

it was almost endearing in a way to think you wanted to use a love potion on him. how could you not realize you had tighnari wrapped around your finger.

if you had asked tighnari sweetly enough to visit mondstat with you, he would have. if you asked tighnari for another inazuman ink bottle, you'd have one by the next morning. if you asked tighnari to carry you back to his home to visit with collei, he would be more than happy to find a way to do so.

he waited just long enough for you to figure out the petal situation before walking out, adjusting his hair and tail. "oh, is the tea ready?"

"yes, you have perfect timing as always it seems." you laughed as tighnari sat down across from you.

you lifted the kettle, carefully pouring two cups of tea, setting the kettle down and moving his cup to his side. "there we go. i hope you like it- when i was in mondstat i got some flowers for the tea. my friend says they're supposed to be very sweet, and they make tea smooth." you lied through your teeth, praying to the archons that this love spell somehow did work.

you watched as tighnari lifted the cup to his lips, blowing on the liquid before tasting some. it was indeed sweet, unlike most of the bitter brews he makes. "it's very good. a unique sugary taste. maybe i'll have to visit mondstat myself." tighnari hummed, taking larger sips of the tea and watching as your eyes grew comically wide.

"wow, i'm glad you like it so much!" you raised your cup to your lips, feigning a sip as tighnari pretended not to notice. you brushed the hair away from your face, feeling hot as tighnari leaned in closer towards you.

your lips parted, though no words came out as tighnari's nose touched yours. "can i ask you something?"

"anything." you breathed out.

"did you really feel the need to give me a love potion? isn't it obvious i already like you?"

your mouth dropped as you scrambled backwards. "what- i, no, no i didn't- well...it's not what you think, i'm so sorry-"

"i'm not." tighnari shrugged, downing the cup. "i was waiting for you to realize how much i care for you. it isn't easy coming all the way here, you know. especially when it's dark. it isn't easy getting inazuman commodities or fancy sweaters from snezhnaya, you know."

tighnari's words made your face feel hot as you pressed your palms to your cheeks. "why didn't you just say something before?"

"because you're cute when you're flustered." tighnari admitted, surprised at his own boldness. maybe those petals really were affecting him differently due to his anatomy?

you let out a gasp, watching tighnari slowly approach you, crawling closer, almost like a predator stalking his prey.

"tighnari-" you called out to him, feeling him lean over you. his body was warm, radiating heat as you suddenly shook out of your stupor. "tighnari, you feel really hot- i mean warm! you must be sick or something, oh archons, what if i poisoned you. stupid, stupid, i knew i shouldn't have trusted venti." you tried to pull tighnari up, yet he wouldn't budge, instead firmly gripping your chin and tilting your head to look him in the eyes.

"i can tell that love potion isn't doing what you thought it would hm?" tighnari dragged his thumb across your lip, feeling you lean closer to him. "i planned this whole trip to confess to you, honestly. but i think this is a lot more exciting, don't you?"

"tighnari, i've never seen you like this before." you admitted, eyes starry as you gazed up at him. your thighs rubbed against eachother slightly as tighnari suddenly closed his eyes and groaned.

"fuck, i can smell your arousal." you watched as tighnari's pants slowly formed a tent, ears pressed back to his head.

his eyes opened, looking slightly different than before. he almost seemed feral in a way as he suddenly began tearing off your clothes, claws ripping through fabric as you clung onto his shoulders.

he pressed feverish kisses into your skin, pulling your core down against his lap and rutting against you while stripping your form.

how you ended up on your back, knees pressed to your chest was anyone's guess.

you had already come once from him fingering you, licking at your clit and rubbing against your g-spot in the most perfect way, sending you over the edge quickly.

now, he had you underneath him, cock pushing in and out of you at such a rapid pace it had your head spinning. tighnari was mumbling under his breath, almost growling as he fucked into you harshly, heavy balls slapping against your skin.

you cried out for him, tightening as he came deep inside of you. it was thick, dripping out of your hole as you tried to take shallow breaths, gasping as he suddenly started moving again. "what-"

"oh, someone miscalculated their dosage, hm?" tighnari laughed, pressing down harder on the backs of your thighs and fucking you with fervor, grinding into your sweet spot until he had you coming around his cock, trembling beneath him.

he gave you barely any time to recover, playing with your clit and fucking you faster as you sobbed for tighnari, body teetering between extreme pleasure but overstimulation.

you cried out his name, feeling his teeth press along the column of your neck. you arched, allowing him full access to the skin as he hummed his approval, biting down into your skin with the intent of leaving his mark.

you felt him collect the mix of your cum leaking around his dick before coming back to play with your clit, feeling your body shake as he threw you into another orgasm that sent him into his own, filling you up again. his cum leaked out from your hole, though he tried to use his dick to plug it up inside you.

tighnari growled, discontented with the way his cum flowed out of you. "it has to stay in there-" he huffed, beginning to fuck you again as you whined.

"tighnari, wait! slow down- i-"

tighnari silenced you by pressing a deep kiss onto your lips. "it's okay, dear. it's alright. you can take it, i know you can. be a good girl." he smiled, pressing deeper into you, gripping your body and leaving indents from his nails as he grinned wickedly. "good girl."

fantasising about husband! aki who can no longer hide just how much he longs for you when you accidentally walk in on him.

fem! reader, 18+, friends to lovers, semi-angst, marriage of convenience, fluff, love confessions, mutual pining, (male) masturbation, making out, fingering, sitting cowgirl, dick riding, vaginal creampie

3.9k (unedited)

reblogs are appreciated ~

it’s embarrassing, really, just how quickly aki adapts to a life dominated by your presence, and yet, it happens so naturally, that without realising, he’s accepting it as easily as he does breathing. 

with the both of you now settling into the final years of your twenties, your marriage had been born from the promise of companionship, should neither of you settle with a partner of your own. it was you who had drunkenly slurred the idea after he’d accompanied you home after a night out—rambling something about how much you loved him—and because you were so stupidly inebriated, you had shrieked with laughter when he’d actually agreed. 

the promise isn’t mentioned again for the two years that had followed, until a few months after aki’s twenty-eighth birthday, and it is denji, of all people, who brings it up. in truth, after ignoring it for so long, you’d actually forgotten all about that particular night, and so, after aki shoos denji away with a carefully aimed glare, you’re pleasantly surprised when he then proposes that the two of you marry, because—in his very own words—it made sense. 

it’s not quite the proposal that you’d imagined when you were far younger, enamoured by the idea of marrying your very own prince charming, and yet, it’s all too easy to agree, and a month later, your life is eternally tied to aki’s with a single signature upon a piece of paper. 

only, a year later, and the relationship that is shared between the two of you remains strictly platonic. 

you aren’t exactly sure what you had been hoping to change once the two of you married, but even power has begun to notice that your marriage with aki isn’t at all what it’s made up to be. 

‘you don’t share a bed?!’ she’d exclaimed one evening after coming to visit and poking her nose around your bedroom long enough to discover that the wardrobe is home only to your clothes. 

‘we’re friends,’ you’d stressed, brows furrowing. 

‘yeah,’ denji had piped up from somewhere down the hall, head buried within the depths of your fridge, ‘but you’re married.’ 

‘hm, hm,’ power had nodded, agreeing, and you’d had to hide your grimace by busying yourself with shoving her from your bedroom and clicking the door shut behind you. 

the conversation had quickly changed after denji had convinced you to accompany them to lunch—‘cause you’ve got nothin’ in—but it’s still one that you catch yourself thinking about when you tuck yourself into bed each night. 

lately, more often than not, he’s the reasoning behind your last thought at night, and the first when you rouse from sleep in the morning. at first, you chalk it down to the fact that now the two of you live together, it’s only natural that he’s who you think of when ordering takeout, because it’s also obvious that you’d wonder what he’d like to eat tonight. it’s also totally normal for hope to rear its familiar heat in the centre of your chest when you return home from work—because, why on earth wouldn’t you pray that he made it home safe and sound? and, of course, it’s just curtesy to ask if he’d like to join you when you’re watching one of those shitty chick flicks that are shown every friday evening, hiding your smirk behind a cushion when he grumbles under his breath about how terrible the movie is, but still comes to slouch on the settee beside you, your feet nestled on his lap. 

there’s nothing unusual about marrying your best friend. 

at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

until, one night, everything changes. 

it’s new year’s, and your small group of friends have gathered to denji and power’s apartment. 

it’s just the four of you crammed onto the small settee, a concoction of what smells to be both vodka and beer glaring up at you from the depths of the glass that power had shoved into the palm of your hand upon arrival. you haven’t yet dared to take a sip. 

there’s another of those shitty chick flicks playing in the background, but no one is really paying attention to the screen, all eyes focusing on the clock that has been pinned—lopsided—onto the wall. there are only a few minutes until midnight, and suddenly, you’re all too aware of the heat of aki’s thigh pressing to your own, his arm brushing against yours when he lifts a hand to push a loose strand of hair from his face. tonight, the inky tresses are free from their usual tie, and for a reason known only to the heavens, you can’t stop glancing at him from the corner of your eye. it’s not as if you’re a stranger to this particular hairdo, but tonight, the blues of his hair entice your stare back toward him, over and over, and the more you do so, the more confused you become. 

fortunately, power pins your attention onto her when she all but throws her weight onto your shoulder, giggling loudly, ‘hey, hey!’ 

‘hey,’ you hum down at her, vaguely aware of denji jumping from his seat, hopping over the back of the settee, and disappearing down the hallway.

power leans forward so that her cheek is pressed to yours. the stench of beer is heavy on her breath, and when your nose crinkles, she only laughs harder. ‘you guys gonna kiss?’ 

you don’t have to look to know that aki is staring at the back of your head. awkwardly, you clear your throat, unable to hide your wince in time. denji returns, bowl of freshly cooked fries in hand. he’s already shovelling a handful into his mouth, belatedly remembering to share by shoving the bowl under power’s nose so suddenly that, in her surprise, her left foot kicks out and connects with his knee. he howls, the bowl dropped to his lap, and power snatches it, scoffing down a mouthful herself. cheeks stuffed, she points to the clock, and a garbled yelp of excitement escapes her. 

‘look, look!’ 

there’s just a minute left. 

a warm hand eases over your crown, and the way that your spine relaxes is instantaneous. it’s reflex, the way that you curl into his side—as you have hundreds of times before—and you pointedly ignore the way that power jabs her elbow into denji’s flank, his eyes watering as he chokes on another mouthful of fries. 

the clock tick-tocks, and the tip of a nose is ghosting over the shell of your ear. his fingers tickle down the back of your neck, and the brush of his lips at your temple welcomes you into the new year. 

it’s not quite the kiss that you’d hoped for, once, when you still dreamt of new year kisses way back in your teen years, and yet, your pulse skips a beat all the same. 

‘happy new year,’ he murmurs to your cheek, thumb slipping to press to your pulse, and you know that he can feel the way that it stutters, faltering beneath his touch. 

it’s just aki, you tell yourself, because it’s easier to lie than it is to acknowledge the way that your stomach twists itself into knots. 

from over your shoulder, you peek towards him, unsurprised to see that his stare is already focused on you. he blinks, once, twice, and something in his eye shifts, his lids drooping as his gaze lowers to your mouth. subconsciously, your lips part, as if to say something—anything—to save yourself from the press of the pad of his thumb at your throat, but all that comes out is a stuttered repeat of his sentiment, the words choked upon when that damned thumb of his strokes over the length of your jugular. 

clearing your throat, you try again, despite the fact that you’re sure he can feel the perspiration that has begun to form on the surface of your skin. you force a smile, one that is returned by the crooking of the corner of his mouth, and you will yourself to feign indifference, even though you’re sure that he can feel the way that your pulse jumps at the sight. 

‘happy new year, aki.’ 

ଓ

the new year passes. 

the world settles into its usual routine, and things in your shared apartment appear to be just as normal. 

only, they’re not. 

aki has always been a constant in your life, this, you’re grateful for. yet, after new year’s, something changes between two of you. you’re a little slow to realise that all too suddenly, he’s everywhere. 

he’s there when you’re stirring your morning coffee, squinty eyed as he smiles when you thank him for boiling the kettle for you because you’re running a tad late this morning. it isn’t until you’re rushing out of the apartment, handbag swinging on your shoulder, that you realise that he is the one who is late for work, as he’s usually out of the door at least an hour before you drag yourself from your bed. 

he’s also there when you’re returning home from work, waiting to greet you as you’re kicking your shoes from your feet and slumping onto the settee with an exhausted groan of relief. the tips of his fingers are kneading at the ache that has formed in the arch of your foot, and you fail to realise that he’s staring at the column of your throat, as your eyes are closed. this happens once, twice, and upon the third time, you’ve started to become a tad suspicious, because usually, he doesn’t arrive home until long after the clock reads six pm. 

a month later, when he catches you kicking at the boiler because it’s stopped working, again, it is he who calls to have it fixed. in the meantime, he leaves freshly boiled hot water bottles outside of the bathroom door, ready for you to bundle into your dressing gown after you finish bathing under an uncomfortable spray of cold water. you’re a little dramatic, sure, when you exclaim that the cold is going to be the death of you, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the smile that tugs at your lips when he huffs, rolls his eyes, but still takes your hands in his to warm your fingers. 

another month passes quickly, and another, and another. you’ve grown long accustomed to the fingers that stroke at your elbow whenever he passes by, to the knowing smiles that conceal secrets that you’re not privy to, hidden behind the rim of his mug as he all but inhales yet another mouthful of coffee. he still comments on your shitty chick flicks, yet, sometimes, you compromise, and he forces you to sit through a range of disaster films that stretch on for almost three hours at a time. oftentimes, you’re falling asleep beneath the blanket that he’d thrown over you just an hour or so before, and yet when you wake, you’re tucked into the comfort of your own bed. 

all too soon, you find that each smile, each brush of his fingers, each cup of coffee, each hot water bottle, and each blasted three hour disaster film, are all driving toward something that you can’t control. 

spring arrives, and with it, so does the realisation that you are helplessly in love. 

and yet, it isn’t you who confesses first. 

today, exhaustion has you sent home from work an hour earlier than usual. again, aki’s brogues are stacked neatly on the shoe rack when you step inside, the front door clicking shut behind you. you’re too tired to ponder on the reason why he’s home far earlier than he should be, your feet kicking themselves free from the shape of your heels. the relief is instant, and a sigh has your chest heaving, shoulders slumping low enough for the strap of your handbag to slip down to the crook of your elbow. you allow it to thump to the floor, and you can already hear aki’s voice reprimanding you, but you’re shattered, and right now, all you want to do is go to bed. 

rolling your neck until it cricks, you shuffle your way down the hall, pausing by the living room door to see that the television is switched on, but muted. a brow raising, you move on, only to halt when you hear a noise coming from inside your room. if you were more alert, you probably would have hesitated just a second longer, but before you can stop, and think, your hand is twisting at the door handle, the door flying open. 

and there, sprawled across your bed, buried within your sheets, lies aki. 

only, aki is naked. 

the sheets are draped over his legs, his thighs spread, and between them, his cock stands proud, leaking an iridescent mess all over his knuckles. his abdomen is tense, muscles taunt underneath the surface of his skin, and your eyes linger for a moment too long before you acknowledge just what is happening. 

‘what the—?’ 

aki actually shrieks.

then, at the same time, you both yell at one another, the merge of your voices displaying varying tones of mortification:

‘what the fuck?!’ 

‘in my bed—seriously?!’ 

horrified, you’re spinning back towards the door, and he’s scrambling from the bed, and there’s a fumble, and all of a sudden, his fingers are curled around your wrist, and he’s begging you to stay, but all you can focus on is the wet of his knuckles pressing to your skin, and you blurt:

‘is that your wank hand?’ 

you’re not even looking at him, but you hear the stutter of his breath and his grip is tightening, ‘my… my what?’ 

you exhale loudly, skin aflame with embarrassment, ‘your wank hand—it’s… it’s wet.’ 

‘fuck, fuck,’ his fingers are all but ripped from your skin, and he’s stumbling somewhere behind you, cursing under his breath. curiosity has you daring to peek over you shoulder, but it appears that you’ve misjudged his ability to dress quickly, as he’s only just shoving a leg through the crumbled leg of his favourite sweatpants. and again, your stare is lingering between his legs, where his prick is starting to droop, his arousal now forgotten. only, he catches your stare, and he somehow stubs his toe on the bedside table, yelling another curse as he trips, falling flat on his arse as he does so. he’s wide eyed, a smattering of red staining both the bridge of his nose and the crests of his cheeks, and you can only gawk back at him, bewildered. 

for a long moment, there’s a tense silence that stretches between the two of you. 

you remain by the doorway, and he hasn’t moved from the floor, staring at you just as intensely as you stare at him. 

and then: 

‘i love you.’ 

your lips part, your mouth opens, and then it closes. again, you try, your tongue fumbling against the inside of your cheek, your breath catching in the back of your throat. again, your pulse is hurtling angrily at the side of your neck. again, your gaze slips, eyelids lowering, aimed between his legs, to where his cock is still half-hard, resting against the crease of which his hip meets his thigh. 

eyes snapping toward his, you squeak, ‘come again?’

he clears his throat, glancing at your mouth, once, twice, and then croaks, ‘i love you.’ 

your knees crumble, bending to accommodate your weight as you crouch before him. your face is buried into the palms of your hands, and your chest heaves as a tiny sob is forced from between your lips. there’s a relief, a hot, burning sensation that prickles at your stomach, and although this isn’t the kind of confession that you’ve dared to imagine, it’s a confession all the same. 

‘god, fuck, aki—’

he’s scoffing on a laugh, one that sounds as painful as it feels, and his hand is reaching to tug at yours so that he can see your face. ‘s’this where you say you don’t feel the same?’ 

you’re laughing—wetly, but still, it’s a laugh—and instead of answering his question, you ask: 

‘is that your wank hand?’ 

this time, he’s snorting, and his hands are pulling at you just as he’s leaning close enough that the bridge of his nose bumps to yours. it’s the only warning that you’ll receive, one that you deem unnecessary, as you’re already meeting him halfway, chin tilting upward just as his lips mould to the shape of your mouth.

you’re unable to focus on the taste of him, not really, not when his hands are grabbing at you greedily, your breath faltering when his fingers are urgently tearing at your clothes. the next few minutes are a blur, and his kisses are a flurry of tongues, gasps stolen between breaths when the blunt edges of his teeth bite into the plush of your bottom lip. there’s a pause when your shirt is all but ripped over the top of your head, his mouth like fire when his lips press to yours again, and it’s quickly followed by another pause as he helps you to shimmy you out of the remainder of your clothing. desperation has him kicking the fabric of his sweatpants from his leg, his fingers deftly ridding you of your bra, your knickers quickly joining the pile of discarded clothing soon after. 

his kisses are frantic, sloppy, and his fingers are blindly exploring each inch of skin that he can get his hands on. it doesn’t take long for him to discover the ticklish spot beneath your ribs, or the quiver of your thighs when his fingers grip at your waist, hoisting you atop him. a surprised oof escapes you, mostly formed around the fact that your head is spinning. 

things are moving quickly—too quickly—and when you manage to tear your mouth from his long enough to voice it so, he’s stilling, spine rigid as he peeks at you through a long strand of hair. 

‘wanna stop?’ the deep gravel of his tone suggests that he hopes for anything but. 

‘no,’ you confirm his hopes, the curve of your smirk smothered by the press of his lips. 

he’s mouthing at the pulse that beats a steady tune at your throat, his fingers, gentle as they pinch, stroke and tickle their way towards the centre of your legs. you shudder, anticipation trembling down the length of your spine, and when his thumb presses over your clit, your breath catches, eyes widening as you peer down at him. his touch is like fire, your skin scorched, thrilled, and he swallows down the lust-driven mewl that is muffled when he kisses you yet again. it’s almost painful, how slowly he works you open, your opening stretching around the press of his fingers, but he welcomes the feel of your lips at his throat, your teeth at his collarbone next, and your fingers twisting into the length of his hair. above him, your hips rock to-and-fro, and his fingers are tugging free with a wet squelch that has you grimacing, and him, grinning. your pelvis rolls, the plush of your cunt gliding up the rigidity of his cock, his balls heavy between his thighs, and the moan you exhale across the curve of his cheek is mirrored back to you, his lids blinking rapidly in order to watch the way that you sigh for him. 

‘love you,’ he breathes, pupils blown wide as he stares at you as if seeing you for the very first time. you’re unable to describe the warmth that is burning its way up the column of your throat, and yet, your fingers tug at his hair, again, coaxing him in for another kiss. 

‘i love you,’ he groans the syllables of your name, the width of him stretching the searing walls of your cunt wider than his fingers ever could. 

‘shit, yes—justlikethat—l-love—fuck, i love—hngh!’ repeatedly, his cock claims home inside the wet of your cunny, which eagerly welcomes him in, over and over, the schlick, schlick, schlick of his sac—long stained with the evidence of your arousal—smacked tight against the curve of your rear with each thrust as he pistons his girth past the stretch of your fluttering hole. 

‘g-gonna—ah, ah!’ and then, his slit is painting thick strands of opalescent jism that have your inner walls glimmering a pretty shade of pearl. your clit is still humming with the aftermath of your own peak, pulse deafening as it thunders an uneven beat past your tragus and down the canal of your eardrums. exhaustion has your thighs trembling around the width of his waist, spine curved as you collapse just enough to rest your cheek to the sharp jut of his shoulder, gasping loud enough to encourage the gentle hum of laughter from out of his lungs. the glide of his cock thump, thump, thumps dangerously close to the tight opening of your cervix, the seam of his sac glistening with the drooling mess that somehow oozes free from the vacuumed grip of your puffy orifice. eventually, he stills, spent, and the back of his head clunks against the wooden surface of the bedside table. 

he wheezes a laugh that bubbles from somewhere deep in his chest, and the force has his shoulder vibrating, your cheek jiggling along, until, soon, his laughter titters into something that sounds less pleasant. when the tip of his nose traces the shape of the shell of your ear, it’s cold, wet, and there’s a choked sob that gargles from the back of his throat, and your fingers clutch at his ribs, desperate to feel the warmth of him just a tad longer. ‘i love you,’ he murmurs, voice thick, hoarse, strained with the weight of a fear that you understand his ego won’t allow him to acknowledge aloud. 

still, you nose at the space beneath the cut of his jaw, and there, is where his scent is the strongest, the familiarity of nothing but him, him, him now intermingled with the salted musk that clings to the surface of his skin. and there, is where the shape of your smile eases the uneasy ache that roughly thwack, thwack, thwacks his jugular against the bridge of your nose until it begins to settle into a pace that comes with the soft exhale that flutters across the back of your head. and there, is where you breathe that no, this isn’t where you say that you don’t feel the same, because, actually, you love him too. 

he’s laughing again, vocal chords twisting around the sound of relief, and when his mouth seeks yours again, his hand comes to cup the shape of your cheek, fingers brushing at the wispy baby hairs that wind around the tip of his finger. the taste of him dominates the inside of your cheeks and the flat of your tongue, and when your fingers curl over the circumference of his wrist, the corners of your eyes crinkle with the stretch of your smile. and just as aki’s lips part—awed—you tug his hand from your skin, your fingers slotting between the crooks of his own. the corners of your mouth morph into the shape of a smirk, the dampened surface of your forehead nudging at his, and you ask:

‘is that your wank hand?’

♡ @akicore ♡ @bleubrri ♡ @half-baked-biscuit ♡ @meownotgood ♡ @nimbixan ♡ @playgrl0 ♡ @pussydrunkfyodor ♡

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

EN kaeya animation again bc.. him……

cupid’s chokehold

pairing/s: cyno, diluc, scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: it’s simple, really. one moment you’re laughing, the light of the sun brightening your features, and the next his heart is beating out of his chest, face warm and breaths short, an almost pleasant twist to his gut when you lean close. you look at him with fondness dancing in your eyes, and he realizes, oh, he might just be in love. or — the moment they find out they love you.

note: this is really just an excuse to write diluc being whipped, also this was supposed to include childe heizou and xiao but i lost motivation so here ya go!

CYNO

He finds it hard to believe that you’d be so incapable of writing a simple essay. You once admitted to him how you only got accepted into the Akademiya through sheer luck, but he didn’t believe it then. The Akademiya is known for its strict rules and thorough examination of every student it takes on.

But seeing you struggling not to plagiarize an essay is truly pushing his patience. He’s not one to snap or bark out harsh words to those undeserving of it — and he can think of no one more undeserving of his wrath than you — but it is frustrating to watch you stumble even at the easiest of assignments.

“I think I’ve got it! Oh, I made a little mistake on the spelling there, but this is the one that’ll blow my professors away! Cyno, can you proofread this for me?”

He’ll tell you later that he didn’t mean it, and you’ll accept it without hesitation with an accepting smile — but right now, the searing sun made worse by the humid weather makes a short fuse even for the most patient of saints.

“If you can’t do something so simple, then I see no point in partaking in this fruitless endeavor. The Akademiya is harsh and has no room for error, you would be better off leaving than continue struggling futilely.”

He didn’t mean to come off so harsh, as if he’s belittling all your hard work and effort and telling you that you don’t belong in the Akademiya. But the damage has been done, and your hopeful look turns into shock at his outburst, retreating into yourself and quickly retracting the paper you’d been in the middle of handing out to him. Your face closes off, clutching your essay close to your chest and darting your eyes anywhere but his general direction.

“Sorry,” you say, awkward and fumbling, resolutely not meeting his eyes, “For being annoying, among other things.” Then, you rise to your feet abruptly. He can see the way your fingers are clenched tightly at your paper, tight enough to wrinkle the edges such that he knows you’ll regret later for ruining yet another paper. “I won’t bother you again.”

Your voice is uncharacteristically quiet, almost sounding choked off. You turn and give him a brief glimpse of your face, and he realizes that you’re on the verge of tears.

He catches your arm just before you can take a step forward. “Wait.”

You freeze, muscles tensing beneath his touch. He instantly releases you after he feels how uncomfortable it must have made you. The silence between you is so tangible he can almost see it permeating the air, cloying and thick and utterly unwelcome.

He parts his mouth a few times, going through every possible scenario where he says the wrong thing that pushes you to the edge and makes you hate him forever. The mere thought is enough to steal him of his breath. No, he can’t have that, can’t bear the thought of a world where you aren’t there greeting him brightly in the morning and being so shameless as you fall into step beside him despite his rank and engage him in idle chitchat. He doesn’t think he’s ever told you before, but he looks forward to that part of his day the most.

After what seems like eons of standing in silence, he finally speaks. But what comes out of his mouth isn’t the apology he rehearsed in his head.

“Why did the bike fall over?”

You turn to him with an almost incredulous look, eyes wide with unshed tears that he berates himself for. Then, hesitantly, you ask, “…Why?”

The response comes naturally to him, years of reading through his notes and making them himself has all but ingrained such information in his mind.

“Because it was two tired,” he delivers this with a straight face, tone flat and completely at odds with the nature of his joke.

You stare at him for a moment, lips parted in surprise at the sudden joke. He sees your grip on your paper loosen, shoulders relaxing, mouth twisting into something he can’t quite discern, and then—

“Pft.” It starts out small, quiet as you bring a hand to cover your mouth, before it dissolves into a full blown laugh, the kind that has your shoulders shaking and eyes closed, head tilted back and the sound of your laughter filling his ears. He’s never considered that laughs could produce such pleasant sounds, so it comes as a surprise when yours makes something in him want to lean forward to hear more. Or perhaps it’s just you.

The light from the sun bounces off your skin, making your expression all the more radiant.

And Cyno? Cyno doesn’t think he’s ever seen such a mesmerizing sight before.

You’ve never laughed at his jokes, or rather, he’s never seen fit to tell you any of them, seeing as you’ve always been so at ease around him that telling a joke was never necessary. He’ll have to rectify that, he thinks, watching the way your mouth curves up in a smile, eyes dancing with mirth as you finally meet his eyes.

And he’s suddenly struck by the thought of how much he likes seeing you like this — hair mussed from the wind, exhilaration lining your lips, breaths short from laughing too hard, and gazing at him in delight.

And maybe he’s overthinking things too much, maybe the pounding of his heart and the sudden intake of breath is a result of something else, but he wants to believe it’s because of you.

Later, he’ll come up with a proper apology, something a little less joking and a little more serious. But right now, you’re looking at him like he’s the only person in the world, and that’s all that matters.

DILUC

The sun is particularly hot today, bordering on sweltering, but still, you insist on accompanying him in this menial task of picking grapes.

Diluc has always preferred solitude since he came of age, doing things alone and being lost in his thoughts have become things that he finds strangely pleasant, almost calming. But you’ve never been one to settle in silence, always needing to voice your thoughts and fill the room with chatter about all sorts of topics. It’s something he should dislike, all things considered due to his preference for quietness, but you, he finds, have always been an exception to what he considers the norm.

He wonders why.

“And just then, a hilichurl comes out of nowhere and starts throwing rocks at me — rocks! They have crossbows and shields and those battering things, but that one chose to use rocks to attack me! It’s like he thought I wasn’t even worth the effort!”

He idly plucks a group of ripe grapes from a vine, listening to you retell your encounter with a hilichurl that led to you discovering its camp that held a precious chest, only to open it and find nothing but cabbages. You bemoan how it was a total waste of effort, all that fighting just for a few pieces of vegetables you don’t even like.

A small, amused smile flits its way into his lips. It doesn’t escape your notice.

“So you think my suffering is funny, huh?” You narrow your eyes at him.

He turns away and briefly considers the merits of admitting to smiling, not at your plight, but at the various inflections in your tone as you regaled him with your story and the little laughs you let out when you got to a funny part and the way you looked at him with a smile so wide it crinkled the corners of your eyes, reflecting the light from the sun in its near-blinding intensity.

When he turns back to face you, he’s met with fingers on his lips and something small and round being pushed into his mouth. His teeth bites down into it, tender and sweet. A grape, he realizes, meeting mischievous eyes set upon a face that’s full of promises for future teasings and pranks.

The pads of your fingers are soft against his lips. His eyes wander against his will, landing on your lips twisted into a smirk, and his mind conjures an impossibly dangerous thought. Perhaps your lips would feel softer against his.

And then heat is creeping up his skin, searing red across his neck that reaches his cheeks and stops at the tips of his ears.

It’s nothing ostentatious. Not like the stories told in books where they meet each other’s eyes across the room and falter as their hearts beat as one, where they meet in the carnage of a battlefield, offering each other’s hands and knowing without a doubt that they will only ever have their backs for each other until the day they die. It’s not even one where he holds your hand and feels the way his heart leaps at the contact as he realizes what it might mean.

But this is still as meaningful, still as beautiful, suspended in time and carved in stone upon his memories until the winds of time erode it away.

A gentle breeze blows past you, and he catches the barest hint of a scent that consumes his mind and fills it with thoughts of nothing but you and your fingers lingering on his lips and how he’s never wanted to kiss a person more than he does now.

And oh, oh.

It’s a fanciful thought, but he imagines if his life were to become a book, then it should be one with an ending that intertwines with yours.

He considers that, for such a book, it would begin like this — the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and Diluc Ragnvindr is in love.

SCARAMOUCHE

If Scaramouche were the kind to think thoughts that would have him put below the pedestal he’s placed himself at, he’d think there must be something wrong with him.

“Did you really think you could have defeated those monsters all on your own? You’re lucky I was nearby, otherwise you’d be nothing but a bloody splatter on the ground.” His words are as harsh as ever, carrying that biting tone that’s labeled him unapproachable and unlikeable to most anyone — that is, most anyone who isn’t you.

He doesn’t understand you, the reasoning behind your actions and words and generally everything about you that makes you so infuriating. It grates at him, not knowing something, especially when that something pertains to you. Though why that would even matter is beyond him.

You smile at him, a sheepish little thing, utterly unrepentant and unaware of the possible consequences your actions could have brought. Not that he cares if anything happens to you. He’d just rather not deal with the trouble of handling your papers should you die under his service.

(That was, admittedly, a very weak argument that he’ll chastise himself for later. A Harbinger would have more pressing work to do than handle every paperwork about a dead subordinate. Not that the fact about him handling your papers upon your death was untrue, only that it’s only your paper among his countless other subordinates who’ve died that he’ll bother doing.)

Your mask fell off somewhere in the middle of that rather pathetic fight. It’s a breach of protocol to not be wearing your mask while on duty, but Scaramouche chooses to ignore that particular rule. He’s a Harbinger, he’s the one who decides the rules. Having to order you to go fetch your mask to put it back on would be a waste of time and effort. Much more efficient to simply speak this way, he reasons. It’s most definitely not because he wants to see your eyes and the myriad of emotions that pass through them. And even if it is, it’s only a way for him to better read your expressions and discern whether you’re lying or not. He can’t have anyone betraying him the Fatui.

“I apologize, my lord. It seems I’m still unaccustomed to my new uniform.” Your voice carries a sort of lilt to it that makes it more tolerable than most people he’s ever spoken to. It’s not a compliment, lest his mind go against him and begin creating false narratives, it’s an observation rooted in fact. The sky is blue, the stars are false, and your voice isn’t unpleasant to listen to.

He does frown at your explanation. “Unaccustomed? It’s hardly that different from your previous uniform.” He would know, of course, he spent hours watching you in it. Not that he was watching you simply for the sake of watching, no, never, he was merely criticizing your choice of color scheme and the scuff marks and dried blood that never quite went away no matter how many times you washed it. You’ve complained to him enough times about it in a way that no subordinate should to their lord, but he was in a good mood then, so he let it slide… among countless other things he let slide.

You pull at the collar of your uniform. “It’s a bit constricting. I think they may have gotten my measurements wrong—”

He scoffs, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “And you didn’t think to tell me? What use would I have for a recruit who can’t even move properly because of a tight uniform?”

“Well, you did tell me not to bother you anymore with my inane concerns, so I figured you wouldn’t want to hear about this…my lord.” The last part is added almost as an afterthought. He decides to let it slide.

He does recall something along those lines, sometime when he was in a foul mood and had no patience for your presence and the contradictions it brought in his behavior. He remembers being lost and dumbfounded the next day when you turned to leave after giving your report instead of lounging on his office’s couch and telling him about your day and the gossip you recently heard. He hadn’t actually meant for you to stop talking to him, but he was too proud to say so to you, which resulted in a week of silence on both parties. It was completely unbearable, but Scaramouche would sooner cut his own head off than admit it.

“Fine. You’re allowed to speak such drivel to me again, since you clearly can’t function without any sort of assistance from me.” It’s easy to twist the situation as if you’re the one who’s been dying to talk to him normally again instead of the other way around.

You laugh beneath your breath, something bordering on a giggle — a giggle, of all things. The last time someone had the audacity to giggle in his presence was…was a long time ago. Something he won’t dwell in.

“If you insist, my lord,” you say, an almost teasing twinkle in your eyes, and Scaramouche has never been more grateful exasperated that you aren’t wearing a mask. Who do you think you are to show such an emotion like happiness in front of him?

He’ll let it slide though. Just this once.

“Let’s return to the camp. I don’t want to be seen any longer with you looking the state you are now.” He deliberately ignores the fact that people will only see the two of you together once you’re back and not at this lone clearing. You turn to place your mask back on and he lets you. Wouldn’t do much good to have others see your face and plot whatever nefarious schemes their minds will cook up, like talking to you or, gods forbid, flirting with you—

And then he stops, completely frozen in place and unable to hide that shock that bleeds through his carefully crafted mask. He’s lucky you’re standing behind him, otherwise he’d have to kill you for seeing him in such a state. Not that he believes he’ll be able to go through with it, but the thought is needed though not necessarily appreciated.

He turns to you after he’s gotten ahold of his expression, eyes scanning your features and, with an almost sickening lurch in his stomach, finding that you’re not exactly unpleasant to look at.

Your hand reaches out for his arm with worry, and he nearly reels his hand back at the sheer audacity you have for assuming he is someone who needs worrying for but—but.

He rather likes the feeling of your fingers brushing against his skin.

So he lets you close your hand around his arm and look at him with through a mask he knows harbors a concerned look behind it. He nearly laughs at the notion of someone being concerned for him, but alas, you’re such an anomaly that even he can’t bring himself to mock even the worst trait you possess.

You are truly the most vexing person he’s ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Perhaps if you keep touching him like this, he’ll let that one slide too.

squish