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favoniuscodex · 3 years

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inheritance . act one [diluc x reader]

inheritance act one of five: denial arranged marriage royalty au prince!diluc x f!knight!reader

fic summary: you're the heir apparent's key to obtaining the throne you've sworn to protect since you were a child. but in barbatos' domain, where freedom reigns, you must first answer a question: is freedom found in the ability to spread your wings and take flight on mondstadt's winds or is freedom found in the ability to choose to remain flightless?

word count: 19.6k

warnings: alcohol, minor descriptions of wounds and violence, bleeding, pining, oblivious characters, no explicit nsfw, enemies(?) to lovers

fic masterlist

a/n: i’m happy it’s finally done! i’m so excited to share this with you all! i hope you like it. please post here to be on the taglist! characters may be ooc at first but they’ll grow into their rightful personalities, dw! <3

You first met Diluc when you were eight, the boy being two years older than you. It was an accidental meeting. Commoners like you weren’t supposed to be in the palace, but your father was one of the palace’s Royal Knights, assigned to protect the king and his royal family, even at the cost of his life. You were far too young to grasp the political implications of what “serving the throne” actually meant, just believing that it meant you got to run around in cool armor while slaying dragons.

At least, that’s what the colorful storybooks that littered the floor of your childhood room had told you.

The boy had seemed nervous. Much like you at that age, he was a true introvert at heart. His princely duties extended past such nerves as he was forced to cast human consternation and worries aside and extend his hand to you.

“I am Prince Diluc of Mond,” He proudly stated, mustering as much righteousness into his words that a ten-year-old was capable of doing.

You were too young to notice it yet, but such an act was false bravado on the prince’s behalf.

You shook his hand limply, unfamiliar with such formal gestures. A nudge from your father enforced the power dynamic that would persist between you and the prince for years to come, as your father reminded you to bow in respect. After bowing, you stayed quiet for a few more moments before being nudged gently by your father again. A confused look passed over your face before you remembered what you needed to do.

“Oh, I’m (Y/N)!” you giggled. “It’s nice to meet you!”

Diluc stared at you for a moment before a grin broke out onto his face. “My father wanted me to ask if you wanted to come play with my brother and I?”

You looked at Diluc before glancing up at your father for permission, who simply smiled and nodded his goodwill in return. In response, Diluc latched his hand around your wrist and the two of you ran down the hallway to go play pirates.

---

When you were fourteen, Diluc appeared in your life once more.

It’s amusing as to how quickly a mere second encounter can shatter fond memories developed prior.

“This is Knight (Y/L/N),” a fellow knight had introduced you to the prince. “Her duties will consist of protecting the royal family, with a focus on you, my prince.”

The redhead had simply scoffed, looking you up and down with distaste. If he remembered your brief childhood rendezvous, he failed to show it. His eyes glinted with annoyance and his lips curled slightly downwards, yet you bowed in respect, for you had sworn an oath of fealty to the kingdom. Whether the people you watched over agreed or disagreed with your methods mattered not to you, for you had been assigned to this position by the king himself. Anyone who ranked below him could not waver such undying loyalty, even if they were his son.

“She’s my bodyguard?” Diluc’s tone was one of disdain as he folded his arms. “She’s a child. I’d be better off protecting myself, especially since she doesn’t have a vision. I don’t want her.”

Your stoic expression matches Diluc’s slight frown, unshaken by his words. However, you couldn’t say the same for the knight that had re-introduced the two of you. Despite being much older and of higher rank than you, the poor man was shaking in his boots from being reprimanded by the king’s tempestuous son.

“My prince, with all due respect, she is the most promising knight out of the academy in many years. She’s an excellent fighter and chivalrous at heart. I can assure the king has picked only the best knight for you,” your fellow knight insisted as you remained steady.

“My father picked her?” Diluc’s voice softens almost imperceptibly, not having expected such information. “Very well then. Even if I do not believe she is of assistance, I have no capability to argue with one of my father’s orders.”

A wave of relief washes over your superior’s face upon Diluc’s concession. “Thank you, my liege,” He says, genuflecting in the prince’s direction before standing tall and saluting. Diluc’s crimson gaze turns to yours and presses his lips together in a slight frown.

“Well?” The prince snaps, seemingly expecting something of you as he folds his arms. Your stoic expression shatters as you raise an eyebrow. “Do you not have something to say to me as well?”

Oh. You finally understand. He’s not just having a bad day. He’s just an asshat.

“With all due respect, my prince,” You respond, finally breaking your silence. “I am not aware of any words of yours that deserve my gratitude. All three of us are merely following orders.”

You feign innocence at your contemptuous words, biting back a smirk as the haughty redhead glowers at you. The knight next to you looks as if he wants to run away. Sensing his discomfort, Diluc wordlessly waves him off and your eyes flicker away from Diluc’s vermillion gaze to watch the knight salute before marching off, leaving you and your new assignment alone together. Diluc looks you up and down once more, his eyes ablaze with ire at your mere presence.

“What is your name?” Diluc queries. His harsh tone contracts with the societal politeness embedded into his question. “Royal Knight (Y/L/N), sir.” You respond with a quick salute. Diluc stares at you with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“That is not what I meant. What is your first name?” He clarifies, his vocal inflection making it clear that such a notion should have been obvious to you from the beginning. “You are not a dog, I do not wish to refer to you in such a manner.”

Your lips remain neutral, but you can’t help the confused look that shows in your eyes. It was far too late for him to say such things. He had already treated both you and your superior with disrespect. Nonetheless, as he is a higher rank than you, you answered him. “(Y/N), sir.”

“Well, (Y/N), it appears that we are stuck together. It would be in your best interest not to slow me down,” His words are cavalier and cautionary, yet you discern a faint hint of hollowness in his words, as if he’s not exactly sure what to say or do with you.

You nod in response and give a slight smirk in hopes of easing the tension between the two of you. Diluc doesn’t smile back.

---

A year of being Diluc’s bodyguard (a position akin to being a glorified babysitter, except you have authorization to use lethal force) passes and you find a friend in the most unlikely of places: Diluc’s own brother, Kaeya. The blue-haired boy is a cheerful, charming spirit who took an immediate interest in you upon your first meeting.

“My older brother probably hates you,” He had said and you were unsure as to how to respond until he let out a laugh. “That’s okay. He hates almost everyone. I’m Prince Kaeya!”

Kaeya’s ability to find you on the castle grounds whenever your services are not needed for the elder prince is almost troubling. Any brief moment of peace you have often results in the persistent prince appearing at your side, excited to speak with you about whatever was going on in his life. Kaeya’s determination to become your friend, you soon realized, is rooted in the fact that the prince has little to no interaction with others of his age, something you had also noticed in Diluc’s own life upon your time watching him. Kaeya was not allowed the privilege to have friends his age, something you had taken for granted back in your hometown of Springvale.

“What are you thinking about?” Kaeya asks, the two of you sitting on a bench outside of the knight’s quarters. He bites into one of the apples he had brought along with him, soft crunching noises filling the the silence between you as you attempt to formulate a response.

“Well,” Your eyes flicker to the clusters of windwheel asters planted by the entrance to your residence building. “I am afraid my thoughts are not of much value at the moment.” You draw your words out in order to give yourself time to think of how to phrase your words. “At the moment, my thoughts are not very… kind.” Upon your words, Kaeya’s blue eyes gleam with delight as he leans over closer to you. The boy has pestered you enough to know what such words mean, as they are not a slight to him, but rather disdainful of his older brother.

“Do share them,” Kaeya pleads, his tone eager to hear what complaints you may have about Diluc.

You flatten your hands on the flat surface of the stone bench behind you and look up into the cloudless blue sky, enjoying the feeling of the warm spring sun on your skin as you utter your next words, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Yes, yes!” Kaeya laughs, excitedly. “Share your vile thoughts so the world may cast their judgement upon the wicked sinfulness that reverberates in your mind!”

You snap your head to the boy next to you and stare at him with wide eyes at his words. The second your eyes meet his playful ones, the both of you break out into raucous laughter at his theatrics. His tone was haughty, mimicking many of the stuffy elites the two of you were surrounded by, including Diluc. At times like these, you were reminded that Kaeya was an outsider to the palace, just like you were, yet the hierarchy of the two of your duties separated you from him.

“Okay, okay,” You huff, trying to catch your breath from laughing. Kaeya simmers down upon realizing you are about to talk and looks at you expectantly, leaning slightly in your direction. “Yes, it’s about him.” The two of you burst into laughter once more.

“When is it not?” Kaeya giggles. “He’s so weird with you compared to how he acts with me.”

“That’s because you’re his brother. Of course he’s going to be nicer to you.” You explain before shaking your head slightly and swatting your hand through the air to signal that such a topic of conversation is something you did not wish to focus upon. “Anyways, today we were in another one of those stuffy formality meetings with some Inazuman diplomates. Y’know, those ones. And I’m standing by the door, keeping watch, like… it’s the usual kind of stuff I’m supposed to do. The meeting was supposed to be two hours, but Diluc’s refusal to compromise made the meeting run over it’s designated time by an hour. I swear, if not for the fact that it would cause an international scandal, Diluc and the diplomat guy would’ve started fighting each other.”

Kaeya’s eyebrows raise at your last statement and he laughs once more. “That’s Diluc for you. He means well but is awful at showing it to most people. He just… really believes in himself.”

“He shouldn’t,” You respond before clapping a hand over your mouth in shock as Kaeya roars with joy at your words, relishing in your loss of respect for the redheaded prince in your words. “I… I don’t mean it like that! I just mean… he’s still young. Such an unshakable perspective on international relations will only lead to foreign envoys viewing him poorly.”

“Yes, I wholeheartedly agree, but neither of us want to tell him this. He’d just scream at you and would give me the cold shoulder,” Kaeya muses as he outstretches a hand to you, offering one of the untouched apples he had brought along to you. You nod your appreciation and take the apple, piercing through its skin with your teeth as you bite into the red fruit.

“Prince Diluc does like to lecture his subordinates,” You agree after swallowing. “Especially me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Kaeya advises with an optimistic smile. “If he’s willingly speaking to you at all, it means he likes you. He just does a piss poor job at showing it to anyone outside of the family.”

“Because he’s entitled.” You respond and Kaeya winks at you, gesturing his approval in your direction.

“Precisely! Now you’re getting it!”

---

On your sixteenth birthday, Diluc provides no well-wishes, but manages to give you the best present of all: a better attitude. His words are no longer infused with the disdain he once held for you, but rather coated with only a slight annoyance. With Diluc, you’ll take any improvement you can get. The change in his demeanor had left you reeling after a mere ten-word question, the whiplash from the complete upheaval of his attitude stunning you into silence.

“Would you care to go to the market with me?” Diluc had asked absentmindedly, focused on his paperwork at hand.

You had stood by the entrance to his personal study, warding off any unwanted visitors with your daunting presence and stoic demeanor. Despite how intimidating the other maids found you, Diluc had paid this unapproachable disposition of yours no mind, much to your gratitude. But as the rather innocent question fell from the prince’s lips, you couldn’t help but to look around and reassure that no one else had slipped into the room and evaded your watchful eye.

Diluc had given you a choice with his question -- an action he had never performed before.

Irked by your silence, Diluc set his pen down and looked up at you expectantly, folding his hands together and resting them on the desk in front of him. “Well?” He scoffed.

“Visiting Mondstadt’s main street would be nice,” You responded, unsure of your words. With Diluc, you were always unsure of your words. “Would you like me to assemble a party of knights to accompany us?”

Diluc let out a sigh and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “I do not wish to attract unwanted attention with such procedures. I simply wish to get a breath of fresh air. Only your presence is requested, unless you believe it is unwise for me to leave with so few men by my side.” The boy’s words were inquisitive, holding an unfamiliar softness to him. The realization that the prince is genuinely seeking your approval of his plan caused you to bite back a smile in fear of spoiling his uncharacteristically pleasant mood.

Therefore, rather than rushing an answer to his response, you mulled it over. You had no reservations about your own fighting skills, having been chosen for your current position due to your highly proficient swordsmanship. Additionally, you knew of Diluc’s training with both his Pyro vision and his claymore, so you had few worries for the prince being able to handle his own. Both of these factors combined meant that you only had one issue to worry about.

“Well, according to protocol, a departure from the palace grounds would require multiple guards to be at your side,” You speculated, watching as Diluc’s shoulders fell slightly as he let out a huff of contempt. He lifted up his pen and prepared to work once more, but your additional words caused him to cease this motion. “But… I believe there is a way we can bypass these regulations, but I am not quite sure if you will enjoy it.”

Your plan leads to you standing in the main square of Mondstadt, hands clasped together as you watch a group of children run around the fountain. You are standing in your typical Royal Knight uniform with your weapon strapped to your back. At your side stands Prince Diluc, disguised as a fellow Royal Knight, much to his behest. His claymore rests upon his back, ready for him to wield should any evil-doers elected to make their presences known.

For Diluc, his cherry-colored hair and matching eyes do little to disguise him, but his typical introversion aids him, as the average Mondstadtian is unlikely to recognize their prince and, for those that do, are unlikely to believe that their prince is dressed up in Royal Knight attire and perusing the shops of Mondstadt with only one knight by his side. Your illicit plan, which involved smuggling a spare uniform into the castle then proceeding to sneak the prince wearing said uniform out of the castle, relies now upon one thing: the stupidity of your fellow citizens.

For your job’s sake, you pray to Barbatos that it works.

“I do not enjoy this outfit,” Diluc grumbles next to you, causing your attention to snap from watching the commoners of Mondstadt and instead to the prince of said kingdom. He pinches at some of the fabric on his leg, stretching it around in hopes of making the outfit more comfortable. You have never had any issues with said uniform, but then again, you aren’t a prince who has all of his clothes custom tailored to his build.

“To achieve true happiness, we all have to do things we don’t exactly like to do.” You chirp. Diluc’s aloof visage is now marred by furrowed eyebrows as he tries to decipher any potential hidden meanings behind your potentially parabolic words. However, you fail to give him proper time to ruminate, instead deciding to speak once more. “Where were you hoping to visit, sir?”

Diluc returns to his usual silence, but a faint flush that appears on his cheeks notifies you of his bashfulness.

“I’m… not sure,” He admits. If you did not have a code of conduct to follow, you would be screeching in delight at Diluc, the arrogant prince of Mond, finally admitting he does not know something. “I do not often have the chance to visit the heart of the city, especially in such a leisurely manner. However, you are from here, are you not?”

“I am from Springvale, sir.” You respond, forgoing your typical formality of my prince. After all, such a title would immediately blow Diluc’s cover. The redhead looks crestfallen at your words. “But… I resided in Mondstadt with my father while training to be a knight. I won’t be as good of a tour guide as a local, but I should be decent.”

“Do you know of any… eating establishments?” Diluc asks. You narrowly avoid sending a judgemental look his way at his wording. Did he not know they were called restaurants? Had Diluc never been to a restaurant? You were baffled.

“Do you prefer a to-go restaurant or a sit-down restaurant, sir?” You question and Diluc’s relaxed expression turns into one of befuddlement. Well, that answered the question if Diluc had ever experienced the basic societal activity that was eating at a restaurant. You knew royals were detached from society, but you never would have thought it to be this bad.

“Alright,” You say after a few beats of silence, smart enough to know that Diluc isn’t going to respond. The redhead’s expression returns to his typical indifferent one. “We’ll go to a sit-down restaurant, if that’s okay. A bit more expensive, but it’s probably the most immersive experience for eating at a restaurant for the first time.”

“I have been to a restaurant before,” Diluc lies, trying to save face as his cheeks begin to tint with pink upon realizing that you’ve seen right through him. You look at him blankly and his eyebrows twitch in annoyance upon his revelation that you weren’t buying his protests. “Fine, then. Lead the way.”

His typical annoyed tone is back. Well, kind Diluc was nice while it lasted, you think, rolling your shoulders slightly in preparation for his typical attitude. You nod in response and begin to walk. The prince matches your pace, determined to not fall behind someone of a lower rank than him.

---

You start to wonder if everyone in Mondstadt is pretending to be oblivious to the prince in their presence or if they’re actually just that stupid.

It’s a miracle that you managed to corral the prince’s confident attitude long enough to get him to sit down and order some food at The Good Hunter. Upon your arrival, Diluc managed to ignore the politely worded “Please wait to be seated” sign and started to walk past the hostess table, determined to seat himself. You had to pull him back to you by yanking his arm, an action that surely would have made Diluc lecture you for fifteen minutes, if not for the fact that he was still undercover. Instead, he settled for a scathing glare which only worsened as you gestured at the sign in front of the two of you.

Additionally, the prince was baffled by the entire ordering process, especially upon you informing him that it would take upwards of thirty minutes to receive your food. He was put off by the fact the chefs wouldn’t drop everything just to serve him first, to which you had simply taken a sip of your drink and not responded to such opinions. Now, the two of you were sitting in silence as your gaze fluttered around the restaurant and any passerbys, analyzing for potential threats. You found comfort in the silence as you were used to standing vigilant and quiet through your duty as Diluc’s personal Royal Knight.

“You are quiet,” Diluc states, his words almost an accusation. You look at him inquisitively, your gaze moving from the entrance to his red hues. You tilt your head slightly at his statement, signalling your confusion at his words. Diluc lets out a huff, bothered by your petulant, purposefully silent response. “You never speak unless if spoken to.”

“Would you prefer if I talk more, sir?” You ask. After all, you served the throne, which extended to Diluc. Any wish of his was your command, even if you thought he was generally an uppity, self-absorbed jerk. His eyes narrow slightly.

“I typically appreciate your silence,” Diluc confesses. It doesn’t feel like a compliment. “But now? It is quite irritating.” The prince stares you down, awaiting your reply.

“If I may ask, sir, why is such a thing irritating?” You question, turning your gaze back to the entrance as you speak. “I am merely observing the building for any potential threats to your life.”

“Look around, (Y/N),” Diluc says exasperatedly, as if his answer should be obvious. Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing, you think bitterly, but elect to keep such thoughts to yourself. “Everyone here is speaking with someone else. Such social interactions are a simplicity of life commoners take for granted. The ability to speak freely with a non-familial companion is something I envy.”

Your gaze snaps back to the prince and you raise your eyebrows. “Is a wish for such companionship why you wished to go to the market, sir? To be a part of the lower citizenry?”

The prince breaks from staring at you, instead electing to study his hands in his lap, flustered by such a straightforward question. “I wish to better understand my subjects, yes. But I also wish to have the same liberties as them. I long for the freedom for platonic association with others of my age.”

“So…” You trail off for a second, lost in thought. “You want friends?”

The prince smiles bitterly at his friends. “Yes,” He answers truthfully. The single word is imbued with intense envy. “Everyone in my life, apart from my father and my brother, is placed in my life to placate me, rather than to accompany me.”

Your eyebrows raise briefly at his confession, perplexed as to why the prince is being so forthright and honest with you. For a split second, you wonder if the prince is swallowing his pride and asking to be your friend, but you quickly shoo such a childish thought out of your brain. You quickly determine that the prince isn’t interested in friendship, but rather wishes to use his subordinates, such as yourself, to fill the void in his heart. You decide to placate him nonetheless with a soft smile.

“Companionship is what you make of it,” You suggest, leaving your words vague as you lean back against your seat, crossing your arms and returning to watching the interest. The two of you fall into a silence once more, before Diluc speaks once more.

“I do not know much about you.” The redhead states. “Where are you from?”

For a man who wanted friends, he’s awfully bad at remembering information about his companions, you think. But you’ll gladly take the forced conversation with Diluc over him barking orders and insults at you all the time. You are well aware that you’ve sworn to protect the throne, even at the cost of your life, but you can’t help the desire for freedom from such burdens that swims in the depths of your mind.

“Springvale,” You echo absentmindedly. You barely hold yourself back from asking where he’s from, even if it would be funny to see his face twist in frustration at your teasing. “I was born there, but moved away at the age of ten to begin training to be a Knight of Favonius. Things changed and I ended up as a Royal Knight instead.”

Diluc’s interest is piqued at your words. You can’t help the feeling of discomfort that washes over you upon the sudden realization that you’re having a friendly conversation with your superior, a man who can barely tolerate your presence on a good day. He seems to be trying, though, and you can’t help but sympathize with his loneliness. As his personal guard, you’d be the first to say that Prince Diluc has very few friends.

“Why did you elect to become a Royal Knight rather than a Knight of Favonius?” Diluc asks, his crimson eyes staring at you.

“Permission to speak freely?” You requested, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. The question that you constantly asked his younger brother was now difficult to get out. Diluc’s eyes widen slightly, startled at your request, but his relaxed visage quickly returns, disguising his emotions once more.

“Permission granted.” Diluc says. The words feel jarring coming from him and you can tell he feels the same discomfort you do at this sudden change in professionalism between the two of you, yet he makes no move to change the topic of conversation or to stop you from speaking.

“My personal view on the Knights of Favonius is that…” Your words sound distant as you try to find the proper way of phrasing what you need to say. “They’re inefficient. Most of the Knights within Ordo Favonius prefer to serve themselves rather than the community of Mondstadt as a whole. They’re there because it’s a well-paying job. They dislike anything that threatens their reputation and job security.”

At that moment, you had no idea how seriously Diluc would take your words and the lasting impact such a confession would have on him.

---

You’re seventeen when you encounter the worst threat to the palace yet. You had been alone, forced to fight an Abyss Mage who had breached Mondstadt’s walls and headed in the direction of the palace. You had destroyed its shield by throwing a rock at a nearby exploding barrel on the wall. The resulting explosion had alerted nearby knights of the Abyss Mage’s presence, but the creature’s Cryo magic had severely frostbitten your arm before any help could arrive. In return, you had wielded your sword with a single hand and delivered the killing blow to the creature.

The Knights of Favonius weren’t happy with your decision to kill the creature, stating that having an abyss mage in their possession could have been a valuable resource. Helping the Knights of Favonius with their research wasn’t your job -- protecting the throne was. Therefore, you had no regrets about your decision to kill the gremlin who had almost taken your arm.

You sit on a bed in the Cathedral’s infirmary as a healer frets over your arm, using the power of their Anemo vision to speed up the healing process. The frostbite was recoverable, they had told you, but it would likely result in permanent scarring. To ensure full use of your arm would return, you were recommended to take a leave of absence from your protective duties in the palace for the following month.

While you were happy to be alive, you were irritated that such a situation would put you out of work for the next month. Sure, your position wasn’t the greatest, but it was a stepping stone to a better position within the Royal Knights, such as becoming one of the king’s personal knights or one of the organizers of palace operations. The organization itself focused on palace operations, which meant there wasn’t much room for growth as compared to the Knights of Favonius, who protected Mondstadt’s citizenry.

A month out of work meant a month less of progress in your career and, more importantly, a month less of protecting the throne you had sworn your life to protect. Your fate of becoming a knight was a decision you had made at a young age, clueless and starry-eyed, as you watched your father perform his duties around the palace. He had been a high-ranking Royal Knight, one of King Crepus’s personal entourage. He had wholeheartedly believed in everything the throne of Mond stood for, declaring that the throne protected the freedom of Mond’s people and fulfilled Barbatos’s wishes. As you trusted and idolized your father, you also inherited his same ideologies, locking you into a permanent life of duty as you swore to help defend Mond’s royal family from harm.

You had made that promise when you were ten and had yet to doubt it, seven years later.

The door to your infirmary room swings open and you watch the healer, still fussing over your arm as he applies new bandages, jump slightly at the unexpected intrusion. Despite the pain medications that the Sisters had given you before the healer began his work, your arm still throbs in pain, causing you to let out a hiss as the healer moves your arm in the midst of his surprise. He mutters a slight apology, but you’re more distracted by the intruder.

Your eyes widen in surprise, not having expected the intruder to be none other than Prince Diluc. His eyes flicker to your arm and, despite how the pain medication swirls your vision and jumbles your thoughts, you can see the irked disappointment in his eyes at your injury. Such a wound only results in inconvenience for him as he now needs to have a temporary replacement knight, who is unfamiliar with his typical protocols and routines. The prince lets out a long sigh.

“What? My supposed best knight is unable to handle some cryo slimes?” Diluc scoffs derisively.

Since your birthday last year, your relationship with Diluc has improved somewhat. Speaking to him often resulted in stiff, awkward conversation, but it is an upgrade from before, where talking to the prince in an amicable manner wasn’t even an option. More often than not, it would be the prince initiating awkward conversation between the two of you, not quite sure how to interact with someone his age outside without the use of diplomatic charm. The prince, just under two years older than you, didn’t seem interested in being your friend, but you also weren’t sure what to make of his platonic advances.

But now, as you sat in the Cathedral’s infirmary, you realized Diluc wasn’t here to provide friendship. He was just here to lecture you about your mistake of choosing to fight an Abyss Mage, about how you should’ve just let another knight deal with him, and about how you should have sacrificed the potential safety of the throne for his immediate comfort.

“Wasn’t any slimes,” Your lips are heavy as you struggle to form the words without slurring them together. “Was an Abyss Mage. Cryo one.” Your mind churns as you try your absolute hardest to focus on the situation at hand. Diluc’s in the room, you remind yourself as you fight the urge to slump back and fall asleep. You stare at Diluc, eyelids drooping with fatigue. You notice your fresh bandages turning red once more, causing the healer to sigh and apply more to your arm.

The prince is silent, but you see a quick flash of fear pass over his face, followed by an expression of concern. Both emotions are short-lived as he readjusts his posture and presses his lips into a frown, crosses his arms, and shifts his weight onto one leg.

“You should not have fought an Abyss Ma-,” He begins, but a loud bark of a laugh erupts from your system, interrupting him.

“H… Have you ever fought anything?” Your words are accusatory and borderline incoherent, but the narrowing of Diluc’s eyes lets you know that he understood what you had just said. “All… all you do is sit around! And… and… and you waste your vision! Everyone does everything… for you… I fight to protect you… your family… I don’t want to get injured, but here I am…”

The healer, upon realizing that you’re disrespecting the crown prince of Mond, wordlessly excuses himself from the situation and slips past Diluc to exit the room. Diluc parts his lips, ready to speak again, as a scowl crosses his face at your disrespectful words. However, before the redhead can speak once more, you raise a shaky hand, holding up your middle finger to the prince.

“If you’re… if you’re just gonna lecture me for… risking my life… for you… eat shit.” You manage to say, words garbled. You relish in the widening of Diluc’s eyes as he opens his mouth to yell before closing your eyes and promptly falling asleep, slumping over on the infirmary bed.

---

You awoke the next day with no recollection of the prior day’s events, except an innate sense of satisfaction, as if you had gotten something off your chest. Nervous that you had potentially said something foul to someone you shouldn’t have, you awaited a formal reprimanding of your unknown actions, but never received one.

Now, two weeks in, you’re finally getting back to normal as you water the plants outside of the knight’s quarters, having been assigned to take care of the landscaping today. Despite the tasks being relatively easy, they took you a while to complete due to one of your arms being stuck in a sling. You crouch over, trying to balance as you lean forward to water one of the red flowers stuck in the back of the arrangement.

“Hey!” A voice calls, causing you to drop the watering can in surprise, the water sloshing over your feet and onto the cobblestone around you. You lose your balance and fall backwards, landing on your butt, but before you can lecture the person who scared you, you feel two hands place themselves on each side of your waist.

“Up we go!” A familiar voice sings before hoisting you up to stand back on your own two feet. You turn around and narrow your eyes at him, placing the hand holding the empty watering can on your hip. The blue-haired boy before you smiles unabashedly, utterly pleased with himself. “Anything to save a damsel in distress!” “Yeah, I’m definitely defenseless,” You grumble sarcastically as the boy takes the watering can from you. His physique has changed over the years due to his interest in becoming a high ranking Knight of Favonius, but both his azure eyes still gleam with childlike mischief. He nudges your uninjured arm playfully.

“Aw, cheer up! You’re the toughest one-armed fighter I know!” Kaeya jests. You roll your eyes in response, biting back a smirk at his antics.

“I’m the only one-armed fighter you know.” You respond as Kaeya gently grabs your wrist and guides you to the bench where the two of you typically sit.

“Two weeks ago. What happened?” Kaeya asks, gesturing to your arm. You tilt your head, confused at his question. Surely he’s heard about it by now..? You think to yourself.

“An Abyss Mage got past Mondstadt’s outer walls, I was on break when I saw it, and I had to fight it, sir.” You explain quickly, but Kaeya simply shakes his head in response.

“No, not that! What happened in the infirmary?” His voice is teasing, but your blood can’t help but run cold at his words. Your intuition that something had happened between the time you arrived at the infirmary and before you fell asleep was correct. Much to your chagrin, you hadn’t been able to remember your actions, but apparently they were remarkable enough for the younger prince to have heard about them.

You let out a groan and rub your free hand over your face, already mortified by your actions that you had no recollection of. Kaeya lets out a laugh.

“Diluc visited you,” He explains, causing you to let out an even louder, more obnoxious groan. You lean forward on the bench, resting your elbow in your knee and cradling your forehead in your uninjured hand.

“Oh gods, what did I say?” You whined. After years of friendship with the younger prince, he had insisted you no longer be so formal with him. Honorifics slipped into your speech on rare occasions, but you generally spoke to Kaeya in the same way you would speak to your friends back home in Springvale.

Kaeya laughs at your theatrics. “Well, you weren’t very nice. You told him to, and I quote, ‘eat shit’ if he wanted to yell at you.”

You let out a noise of horror and Kaeya’s laughter at your embarrassment shakes his whole body. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, the younger prince is absolutely delighted in your misery at the situation at hand.

“That’s not all! You also gave him the middle finger!” Kaeya giggles, nudging you as you continue your woeful theatrics. “You didn’t even use the right finger. You were trying to give him the middle finger but you used your pointer finger!”

You want to die. Heat is rising to your face so quickly that you swear you are going to faint. Kaeya pauses as your theatrics die down as you begin to hyperventilate, panicked at the situation at hand. Not only did you tell the crown prince to eat shit, you had also attempted to give him an inflammatory gesture and managed to mess up said gesture. Your career was over, you would become a disgrace to the nation, and, at the worst, you could be thrown in jail for such disrespect to the royal family.

You were a disgrace to the royal throne you swore your life to serve.

Heaving air in and out, you sit up, trying to keep your balance and not pass out from stress. Your eyes brim with tears and Kaeya looks at you in alarm. His hand finds your back, rubbing soothing circles that do little to placate your panic.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” He tries to soothe over your worries. “Someone had to tell Diluc that at some point!”

You let out a choked sob, leaning over once more. “T… that doesn’t help,” You whimpered. Kaeya’s blue eyes stare at your hunched over form, his blue irises swimming with regret and distress at your current state.

“Um… my dad found it funny?” Kaeya tries once more. Your sobs only worsen, causing Kaeya to clench his teeth at his own words.

“The king even knows about my irreverent actions?” You cry and Kaeya’s stress upon seeing your own stress only worsens. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a side-hug, rubbing his hand up and down on your shoulder in a calming manner. “You’re not in trouble, Diluc’s not mad… anymore, at least.”

Your crying turns into soft sniffles and Kaeya thanks Barbatos that he was able to calm you down. Wiping your tears away with the back of your hand, you let out a shaky sigh.

“I can’t believe I did that,” You breathe and Kaeya lets out a soft, reassuring chuckle.

“We all make mistakes, plus you were on some heavy medication!” He pauses as you look over at him and bites his lip slightly, as if he wants to say something more. You look at him expectantly and he lets out a soft sigh of defeat at your watery eyes pleading for him to continue. “Plus… I think Diluc kinda likes it when you yell at him.”

“You’re gross,” You whine, voice still wet with tears, but you manage out a soft laugh after your words. “No, he doesn’t.” “You’d be surprised about how he feels about you,” Kaeya teases, but you detect faint traces of sincerity and, if you focus hard enough, jealousy. Rather than dwelling on hidden meanings, you elect to take the blue-haired boy’s words at face value, nudging him back and giving him a look of faux disgust before letting out a soft giggle. He laughs and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “You’re so much prettier when you laugh, (Y/N)!”

You let out a soft laugh at his words, “Yeah, I’m sure I look spectacular right now.”

---

Diluc spots you from afar, recognizing your familiar figure crouched over windwheel asters in front of the knight’s chambers. He’s perusing the grounds on a routine walk as his bumbling replacement Royal Knight clambers after him in your absence. The replacement knight is lanky and nervous, filling comfortable silence with nervous chatter, despite Diluc’s best attempts to dissuade him from such actions. He’s an archer with barely enough arm strength to pull the bowstring back.

The red-eyed prince would never admit it to anyone, but he missed you. Not only did you make Diluc feel far more secure than the inept oaf that could barely keep up with him, but Diluc also missed your presence. He missed how you would speak with a slight edge to your tone, adding a dual meaning to your respectful words. Diluc missed the challenge you would provide him.

Even if he was on his deathbed, Diluc would never admit how his heart rate quickened and how heat rose to his face when you yelled at him with the disdain he always showed you. He would never admit how worried he was when you immediately passed out after doing so, blood seeping past your haphazardly applied bandages and spilling onto the floor. No, Diluc would never admit how his thoughts over the last two weeks had primarily consisted of you, even though the two of you had not yet spoken.

Diluc wasn’t sure what to make of his thoughts, nor his altered emotions when you were around. Despite the fact that his tempestuous attitude made him detest the way you were constantly on his mind, a larger part of him wished to keep you close and have you serving the throne at his side once again.

The blundering knight catches up to Diluc as the redhead’s brisk pace slows to a halt as he observes you. After an unknown amount of time, the knight clears his throat, snapping Diluc out of his reverie. The redhead watches you for a moment more. His stomach churns as he watches his younger brother approach you, hold you close, and make you laugh.

Diluc isn’t sure what this feeling that’s gnawing away at his stomach is. A part of his brain tells him that it’s obvious, but Diluc denies such obvious truths, knowing he, one of royal blood, would feel such an emotion over a mere commoner and subordinate of his. Watching you with Kaeya, however, brings an immense frustration to the forefront of Diluc’s thoughts. A scowl forms on the crown prince’s face as he whips his head to the direction of the inept fool that’s been assigned to protect him.

“Let’s go,” He snaps. The knight shakily salutes in response, his composure shaken yet again by Diluc’s sour temperament.

---

Two more weeks pass and you’re officially freed from the restrictions placed upon your duties. After passing a clearance test at the Cathedral which resulted in the destruction of multiple training dummies, you were cleared for full duty as a Royal Knight once more. You were thrilled to be free from the chains of the menial labor you had been assigned for the last month and excited to get back to work, but such feelings were also accompanied with unease. You had a pit in your stomach at the thought of going back to serve the prince that you had so blatantly deprecated.

But, nonetheless, you enter Diluc’s chambers, your typical neutral expression adorning your face. The prince looks up from his desk, slightly startled by the intrusion, but a brief smirk crosses over his face at your presence before returning to a stoic expression, almost as if he was mimicking your own. He parts his lips to speak, but before he can, you drop yourself down on one knee, genuflecting in his direction. You don’t make eye contact, electing to stare down at your knee instead.

“Please forgive my spiteful words I uttered upon our last meeting, my liege,” You request, uttering the words you had practiced many times in the mirror this morning while getting ready. “I was not in the right frame of mind.”

Diluc stares down at you, expression unreadable. The silence is nearly unbearable, suffocating you as the tendrils of embarrassment and shame swirl up your legs, around your torso, and settle on your throat before pressing down, choking you of air. You feel a flush of heat rise to your face as the seconds tick on. You’re unsure if the prince is going to speak at all, let alone forgive you, but your doubts are quelled as he clears his throat.

You look up at him to see narrowed crimson hues staring down at you sternly.

“Very well. Do not say such things ever again,” Diluc warns. You jump to your feet and salute in his direction.

“Yes, sir!” You respond and the prince lets out a huff before returning his attention to the papers on his desk once more. You move to stand watch by the door, but the prince clearing his throat once more has you turning around to look at him again.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” Diluc questions and you brace yourself, ready for him to unload his anger upon you. However, he does no such thing. “I have a meeting at nine with some Sumerian scholars interested in Mondstadt’s alchemic discoveries. Don’t let me be late.” The redhead doesn’t look up, already having begun moving his pen across the papers in front of him once more.

“Understood, sir.” You respond as you reach your typical spot by the door. You bite back a smile as you stand guard.

---

Over the next several months, you notice major changes in Diluc’s demeanor and attitude towards you. The prince is more confident, but in a less suffocating, arrogant manner, but rather a more charming manner. He remains an introvert, but his diplomatic meetings end up with far better results due to him learning to navigate the rough tides of foreign relationships and his mastering of hollow platitudes to placate any overseas dignitaries. He’s no longer a brash and tempestuous presence in the field of international relations, but one made of falsified smiles and foreign appeasement.

For once, you look at Diluc and see not only a prince, but the rightful heir to the throne.

The change isn’t instantaneous, but for Diluc’s personality to have made such a massive change in such a short time, you realize that there must be something the prince is trying to work toward or someone he desires to impress. Despite being at his side for almost his entire day, from when he starts work in the morning to when he retires to his chambers at night, you aren’t entirely sure what his motivation is.

You figure it’s likely something his father said to him, due to their frequent meetings you aren’t present for. Even from your earliest days working as Diluc’s bodyguard, you could tell he valued his familial relationships above all else. While he often remained hot-tempered with Kaeya, his relationship with his father was amicable and one Diluc cherished. From the few times you had been in King Crepus’s presence, the king had showcased what the throne of Mond should stand for; he put the freedom of his constituents first and reigned only to ensure order and protection for the people within Mond.

Your few interactions with the king had such a positive impact on you that they, along with your father’s actions, spurred you to join the Royal Knights. You could only imagine what type of influence the king’s constant presence had on Diluc.

Most noticeably of all, however, was Diluc’s attitude towards you. He was no Kaeya in terms of charm nor friendliness, but silences between the two of you were no longer forced and neither was conversation. The crown prince was more attentive to which types of conversation seemed to genuinely interest you, as compared to forced small talk. He also understood that silence wasn’t a form of punishment, nor did it signal that he was angry.

You wonder if he changed due to your conversation at the infirmary. Diluc lectured you less, sent less scornful looks your way, and insulted your skills less frequently. The changes had been so subtle that you hadn’t noticed how Diluc had blurred the lines between being a person whom you guard only due to obligation to someone you would protect without hesitation until the two of you browse Mondstadt’s yearly winter market together.

Diluc’s carmine irises glint with the reflection of the white Christmas lights adorning the square as he peered into the windows of a bakery. He seems quietly enraptured by a miniature palace that sat in the center of the cakes and other delicacies, made out of gingerbread. As you turn to look around at everyone else, ever vigilant, you notice the prince suddenly snap his gaze away from the display and look around wide-eyed.

You begin to reach for the hilt of your sword that rests on your back, but you freeze when Diluc’s vision stabilizes on you. His stance relaxes and the redhead offers you a small smile before waving for you to come over. You drop your hand that now rests on the hilt of your blade to your side and begin to walk over, watching as Diluc stares at you in slight confusion before letting out a soft laugh.

At that moment, you realize something that fourteen-year-old you would have loathed you for saying: you would call Prince Diluc a friend.

“Have you ever had gingerbread before?” Diluc asks, turning his gaze from you to read the label underneath the castle.

You nod your head. “It’s made with um… cinnamon… cloves… not sure what else, but the gingerbread in the window’s probably crunchy and… not really sweet? It relies on the taste of the spices within it, not sugar.”

The prince looks thoughtfully at the gingerbread palace once more. “I know what gingerbread is, but do people really eat these… ornate structures?” His tone is confused, but sincere. You let out a soft laugh of amusement. The old Diluc would have interpreted it as an act of derision, but current Diluc simply awaits your answer.

“Oh, that’s a tradition to put them into houses and buildings and such, but you can also shape it into little gingerbread men. Those are my favorite! Typically the smaller decorations are eaten first, but people don’t really eat the big houses,” You elaborate, excited to talk about the desserts as you also ogle the gingerbread display. Diluc looks at you halfway through your speech and smiles softly at your warm tone, pleased to have evoked such a reaction from you.

“Wait out here,” Diluc orders and, before you can protest, the crown prince slips into the shop, the bells on its door chiming softly as he enters. You stand by the door, your gaze moving from peering through the glass at Diluc to watching the commoners walk by. Only a few moments later, the bells chime once again as Diluc exits. A small paper bag is in his hand and he opens it up.

“Hold out your hand,” He orders in a sharp tone while looking into the bag. You comply, flattening your hand and holding it in front of you. Diluc plops a small gingerbread man in your hand. “It reminded me of you.”

The cookie is a traditional knight dressed in armor and is decorated with royal purple frosting and a white sword in its left hand. You stare at it for a moment, before a wide grin breaks out on your face, shattering your aloof expression.

“Thank you,” You murmur softly. Diluc’s cheeks flush red at your praise, but you attribute such a change in his appearance to be caused by the temperature change from exiting the warm building.

---

Diluc, you have come to find, is easily distracted by storefronts. Even his stoic demeanor cannot hide the childlike awe in his eyes when he sees something interesting in a window display. He’s dragged you in and out of numerous stores after being enraptured by objects in the windows. It’s bad enough that the both of you are now carrying bags of various trinkets he’s purchased with his seemingly limitless funds. Diluc, you note, doesn’t seem to get out much.

While you enjoy the chance to shop and explore Mondstadt’s seasonal festivities, you do not enjoy the snowfall that coats your hair and uniform as you wait outside each shop, standing watch. Despite being bundled up in layers, you’re still cold from standing still for so long.

Diluc exits yet another shop and stifles a yawn. “I believe I should head back now. It’s getting late,” He mutters and you simply nod in response, following his lead as he begins to walk back to the castle. The two of you walk in silence as the chatter of Mondstadt’s civilians and the crunching of your shoes on freshly fallen snow fill the gaps.

After a few minutes of trying to hold it in, you can’t help but shiver at the cold. You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, embarrassed that a knight of your stature is shivering due to cold, and it only multiplies as Diluc suddenly stops next to you.

“Are you cold?” The redhead asks, his gaze intense.

“No,” You lie, shaking your head. His eyes narrow.

“Take my scarf,” He orders, but you shake your head once more.

“I couldn’t possibly do such a thing,” You refuse politely, but Diluc isn’t having any of it.

“You’re cold, therefore take the scarf,” His explanation is rough and laced with the typical tone of annoyance you’re all too familiar with. He begins to unwind his scarf from around his neck.

“It’s my duty to ensure your comfort,” You protest. “Therefore, you keep the scarf as you should stay warm.”

“It would make me more comfortable if you wore the scarf instead.” Diluc argues and you swear you see his eye twitch slightly. “Plus, what kind of prince would I be if I let my constituents suffer on my behalf?”

Bullseye. He knew right where to hit you, despite his irate and annoyed tone. That bastard knew to appeal to your sense of honor in order to get you to do something. Begrudgingly, you hold out your hand to take the scarf, but before you can stop him, Diluc’s stepping close to you and wrapping the scarf around your neck for you. He forms two loose loops around your neck and you can feel his breath on your face as he looks at your neck. The prince’s leather-gloved fingertips brush against your neck as he adjusts the scarf and you watch his eyes narrow slightly in concentration as he fixes the scarf.

“There,” He almost sneers upon deciding that the scarf’s placement was adequate enough. “Now was that so hard?” Without waiting for your response, the prince turns and continues walking back to the castle. You pause for a moment, flustered, before jogging after him slightly to catch up.

The two of you continue your walk in silence, but the warmth of the scarf does nothing to eliminate the chill of the blade strapped to your back, reminding you that your and Diluc’s relationship is no more than one of contractual obligation.

---

Diluc’s kind behavior lasts for about two more years. The prince, now twenty, departs Mondstadt’s capital for three weeks, without you by his side. Diluc is now under protection of the king’s guards and a squadron of the Knights of Favonius as his father accompanies him on the journey to Fontaine, meaning that you get an extended vacation from your royal duties. You visit your home in Springvale during this break, aching to get back to work as the lack of activities slowly begins to drive you mad.

Your birthday occurs within this break period and, much to your surprise, a bouquet of red carnations is delivered to your doorstep as a gift from the prince himself. Diluc had never done such a gesture before and you ignore the way your heart beats a tad bit faster as you read the note settled amidst the beautiful, deep carmine blossoms. You recognize Diluc’s penmanship instantly as you spot the words ‘Happy birthday, (Y/N).’ sprawled across the card.

You smile softly to yourself and tuck the card back into the bouquet before admiring the blossoms. Brushing your fingers over the petals with a featherlight touch, you opt to set the vase on your dining room table rather than admire it for much longer. You’re certain a bouquet such flowers, considered exotic in Mondstadt, costs more than double your paycheck. You do not wish to dwell on such a thought for too long.

When your mother arrives home later that night, she pops her head into your room to say hello, a knowing smirk gracing her features.

“Who sent the flowers?” She asks in an amused tone as you bookmark the page of the book in your hands and close it in order to pay full attention to her. “Are you dating someone that I don’t know about?”

“Yuck, that’s weird,” You let out a soft laugh. “No, they were sent by the prince for my birthday.”

“Prince Diluc or Prince Kaeya?” Your mother asks, a mixture of surprise and concern in her voice.

“Prince Diluc,” You clarify, raising your eyebrows at her tone. “Why?”

“Red carnations have an… interesting meaning,” Your mother, a florist, explains. “...Interesting birthday gift.” You shrug off her implication and open up your book again, not wanting to hear your mother’s crazy theories about meanings of the flower bouquet.

“He probably just picked them because he likes the color red. Don’t sweat it too much,” You say absentmindedly, the pages of your book already drawing you back into reading. Your mother giggles, excusing herself from the conversation as she trots down the hallway.

For your own sanity, you choose not to dwell on her words. You planned to thank Diluc for his kindness

---

The nation is in mourning.

Diluc had returned last night, bloodied and traumatized, from his trip to Fontaine. Alongside of him, only half of the Royal Knight and Knight of Favonius combined unit that accompanied the royal family returned as well. The most notable absence, however, was King Crepus himself. Rumors immediately spread like wildfire, ranging from the idea of Diluc having killed the king to seize the throne all the way to a Fatui attack on the royal family. You’re doubtful that such outlandish notions are true.

The official declaration the following day proves you to be correct; the palace announces that the royal caravan had been attacked by a dragon, resulting in King Crepus’ death, the death of seven Royal Knights, and the death of three Knights of Favonius. Even the typically lively center of Springvale is no louder than a quiet whisper the following day as the nation grieves the loss of its leader and loyal knights.

Your heart hurts for both of the princes, knowing how difficult it is to lose a parent. You can only imagine how much harder it is when their next moves and responses to their father’s death will only become fodder for royal gossip. The throne, which you had sworn to protect, was now vacant, but such an event had been out of your hands. You hadn’t been allowed to accompany the royal family on their journey and, without a vision, you would have likely been killed if you had gone anyways.

However, upon the palace’s announcement of the king’s death, it was also announced that Prince Diluc would not immediately be crowned due to “unforeseen stipulations” King Crepus had left behind in his will. This information, of course, immediately became gossip amongst the townsfolk, ranging from Diluc needing to find a bride before marrying to ideas that Diluc needed to obtain an Anemo vision before being allowed to lead the nation. You were wary about such ideas and figured Diluc had prepared for whatever requirements his father had left for him.

Three days after the death of King Crepus, each Royal Knight, including yourself, receives orders that they no longer work at the palace. Ordo Favonius takes over these claims, allowing any Royal Knight to join their ranks. You want to believe that Diluc wouldn’t just shut you out like this, but you know better. Diluc never wanted any Royal Knights by his side and, after his father’s death due to a lack of adequate knights, certainly wouldn’t want a visionless personal guard. You had almost died fighting an Abyss Mage, for archon’s sake. How would you be able to protect Diluc from a dragon?

The death of his father meant the end of your contract with the prince. You knew this would happen one day. You ignore the feelings of sadness that blossom in your chest at such a thought, contributing them to the (hopefully) temporary end of the Royal Knights as an organization. Your sadness is not over your lack of connection with the elder prince, you tell yourself, but rather grief over the career path you had sworn to follow upon finishing training.

Once Diluc sets his mind to something, it’s almost impossible to sway him from such thoughts. Therefore, ignoring the clenching of your heart, you sign away your future to the Knights of Favonius and agree to participate in a training assessment in order to determine your new title and which sector you would join the ranks of within Ordo Favonius.

Your only regret about the time with the Knights is that you did not have a chance to say goodbye to either prince.

---

A week later, you receive your placement within the Knights of Favonius. Despite your lack of expertise in such an area, you had been appointed to the Cavalry Unit within the Knights of Favonius ranks. You weren’t unfamiliar with a horse; you had scored highly on your cavalry usage exams in training. However, you hadn’t ridden one since your appointment to the Royal Knights.

Upon your arrival to your first day of your new position, you learned you weren’t the only new face within the unit. Five other Royal Knights had been placed within the Cavalry Unit as well. Most shocking of all, however, was the the appointment of a new Cavalry Captain, especially since the knight chosen for the position was none other than Prince Kaeya himself.

The blue-haired prince, now sporting an eyepatch and a cryo vision, looked equally as confused to see you as you were to see him. Rather than sporting his typical jovial attitude, he simply nodded his acknowledgement of your presence. Kaeya was your superior now, after all, meaning he couldn’t showcase favoritism. The prince announced a few changes to the cavalry unit. First, you were to address Kaeya as ‘captain’ and not ‘prince’. Second, the cavalry unit would focus on securing Mondstadt’s perimeter, along with the perimeter of any outer villages as needed. Thirdly, the point Kaeya elaborated the least on, there was to be no talk of the royal family unless essential to the tasks at hand.

As he finishes his speech, you salute and chant your understanding with your new comrades. You can’t help but wonder why Kaeya now wears said eyepatch and why he has a new vision. Despite you having seen him a month ago, the blue-eyed boy now seems lightyears away from you, as if he was sand falling through the cracks of your hands without you even realizing.

---

Two years pass and, due to your work ethic in comparison to other Cavalry Unit members, you ascend in the ranks of your unit. Being one of the top five members of the thirty member unit meant that you and Kaeya spent more time together. You slowly watched as the blue-haired man began to revert to the boy he once was, but he never fully regressed to his childlike state. For starters, Kaeya is far more secretive than he used to be, electing to use little white lies to avoid conflict and any deep, meaningful conversations. There is a profound sadness that mars his powerful stature that wasn’t there before.

In the words he does exchange with you, his brother is never mentioned. The thought of bringing such a topic up to Kaeya makes your tongue heavy, the words remaining unspoken. Instead, Kaeya elects to talk about easily digestible topics in brief phases, such as small talk about the weather, unimportant chatter about military gossip, and hushed conversations about current trends in Mondstadt.

Kaeya has plunged himself into a self-imposed exile within the icy waters of his mind and you lack the proper equipment to save him. You can only watch as he disappears into the salty blue depths of anguish from the safety of the shore, unsure how to lend a helping hand. You are crafted from the sharp blades of swords, untrained in the studies of alchemical healing.

The blue-haired prince’s spirits only rise in the spirits of others, namely the ones sold by Angel’s Share. Every Friday night, as a mandatory “team bonding” activity, Kaeya and the four other highest ranking members of the Cavalry Unit, which unfortunately includes you, collectively go to Angel’s Share and get absolutely wasted, making blubbering fools of themselves. Tonight, just like every other Friday night, you can tell when Kaeya’s on his third drink as he begins to ramble about the history of Angel’s Share. He noisily explains how Angel’s Share is the legendary bar founded by the first King of Mondstadt before he had obtained the throne. During this time period, you slip a few spare mora to the poor waitress having to deal with your rowdy group who will inevitably throw the bill of tonight’s drunken activities on the backs of taxpayers.

You spend your evening nursing a glass of grape juice, wary eyes darting around the room in an analytical habit you had picked up from your job years prior. Old habits die hard after all. You watch as the first two fellow unit members excuse themselves the bar, deciding to stumble out before they could completely disgrace themselves.

It isn’t until Kaeya’s sixth glass of Death After Noon that the rest of the unit calls it quits, wobbling their way back home. One glance at the prince has you signaling to the bartender to cut the prince’s supply off. You stand up and walk over to Kaeya, who suddenly looks elated that you’re here.

“(Y/N)! My favorite!” Kaeya exclaims from his seat, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug and forcing you to rest your hand on the table for balance. “You came for my birthday party!”

“It’s not your birthday, Captain,” You respond. Your heart clenches at his carefree tone, reminded of your teenage years with the boy. The smell of his alcohol-laden breath dispels such naively hopeful notions and you push yourself out of his loosened grip. “Alright, it’s time to go home.”

“Home?” Kaeya asks, his revealed iris glistening with confusion. “Why? It’s not fun there… the party’s here!” The prince is pliable as you hoist him up and swing his arm around your shoulder, clutching onto his waist for support. Archons, the prince was heavy. You take a small step and, despite the alcohol fuzzing his brain, Kaeya seems to understand and stumbles alongside of you.

Once again, you are no more than a glorified babysitter.

You fish the bag of mora Kaeya brought with him out of his back pocket and the prince giggles as you unceremoniously toss the bag out on the table and drag him out of the bar. The two of you walk in silence for a few minutes before Kaeya begins to chant your name over and over. Despite your annoyance, you decide to indulge him.

“What.” Your words lack any form of sincerity, embittered with the situation at hand. Kaeya reaches over and pokes your cheek with a free hand.

“I miss you, y’know?” Kaeya croons, before he smiles with watery eyes. “All the time. You’re always on my mind.”

Oh Barbatos, here we go, you think. You had encountered the prince while intoxicated numerous times before, but never before this had he directed his sappiness in your direction.

“Y’know why?” He teases, slurring his words slightly. You continue to trudge on in silence, shifting him slightly to try to make it easier to carry him along. Kaeya frowns at your silence. “Guess why!” His words are a demand and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Any chivalrous respect you had for Prince Kaeya was now absolutely demolished, due to both his public intoxication and the comforting fact that he wouldn’t remember any of this conversation in the morning.

“Why?” You ask unenthusiastically, knowing he won’t leave you alone until you do so.

“Because I’m in love with you, silly! I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen,” At his confession, you almost drop him. Your blood runs cold, but you trudge on nonetheless. An oath to protect the royal family persists even if one drunkenly confesses their love to you. Your heart clenches with pain for Kaeya, wishing you could have realized his feelings sooner. Maybe it would have alleviated some of the pain he carries each day and tries to wash away through copious amounts of liquor.

He burps loudly and lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re so… so pretty. And strong! But… he fancied you first! I can’t compete…” The man trails off, seemingly losing track of what he’s saying, stumbling through his words. “I can’t compete with royal blood.”

Your hand slips off his waist and the two of you are sent tumbling into the ground as Kaeya’s arm around your shoulder drags you down with him.

---

Your legs are shaking from exertion as you guide Kaeya through the darkened hallways of the castle, softly shushing him and pulling him closer to you each time he tries to twist away from your grip to cause drunken havoc on the hallway decorations. His free hand trails across the stone walls as he giggles at their texture, having forgotten all about his woeful, self-pitying cries from earlier. As you round the corner to enter the hallway consisting of the chambers of both princes, Kaeya’s quiet amusement with the ornate tapestries that adorn the walls stops.

“We’re home!” Kaeya yells and you immediately shush him, absolutely terrified of waking up a certain redhead.

The corridor reeks of familiarity, nearly suffocating you with nostalgia for simpler, happier times. The decorations have barely changed, aside from a new vase by the door to Kaeya’s room.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you around here, (Y/N)!” Kaeya cheers and you shush him once more, silently pleading with Barbatos to shut the blue-haired prince up. If anyone nearby was unaware of your disgraceful return to the palace grounds, they certainly knew now. His voice drops in volume a bit, still far too loud for this time of night, but better than his raucous hollering as the two of you approach his door. "Would you like to come in, my fair lady? I know many ways to pleasure a woman."

You’ve sacrificed every Friday night for far too long for Prince Kaeya. You love him while he’s sober, but now? You absolutely despise his drunken antics.

"The only pleasure I'll get tonight is finally being able to get rid of your drunken ass," you finally snap, nearly dropping Kaeya once more in mortification at your own words. You couldn't speak to a prince so callously, especially when you were stone-cold sober.

Kaeya pauses before throwing himself into a fit of drunken laughter. "You're so cute but you're so mean, (Y/N)!"

You ignore his antics, realizing the best course of action is to get the rowdy prince in his room where he can scream to his heart’s content. You turn the knob of the door and shove Kaeya into the room, causing him to let out a nervous giggle.

“You’re coming in?” He exclaims and lets out a gasp of surprise. “But wait, I’m shy!” He throws his hand dramatically to his forehead, pretending to faint as the back of his palm lightly brushes it. You let out a loud grunt as the dumb bastard son of a bitch motherfucker drops the entirety of his weight on you. Unable to support him any longer, the prince falls to the ground next to you and laughs. You finally understand why the young bartender at Cat’s Tail hates drunk people so much.

“Captain, get up,” You order, exhaustion creeping into your tone. You prod his stomach lightly with your foot as the drunken prince lets out a groan in response. He closes his eye, ready to fall asleep on the ground, but you manage to muster the last of your strength to pick him up bridal-style. After you rush over to his bed, you unceremoniously drop him on his plush mattress.

Your job is now done. You could strip his clothing down to make him more comfortable while sleeping, but you’re not sure if you can muster the energy to do so. Such an action is beyond the new jurisdiction of your duties as a Knight of Favonius. Plus, you’re fairly sure you’d never be able to look Kaeya in the eye again if you did do such a thing.

“Wait, my loyal knight,” Kaeya drunkenly slurs as you turn to leave his chambers. You bite back a sigh of defeat and turn to look at him with a blank expression. Internally, you’re trying to calm yourself down, utterly frustrated with the situation at hand. “Come here.”

When a prince calls for you, you unfortunately have to listen. You trudge over to Kaeya and place a hand on your hip, looking down at him. The prince shuffles around on his bed as he clumsily sits up, leaning on the headboard for support. You open your mouth to ask him what he needs, but before you can utter the words, Kaeya heaves forward and disperses the contents of his stomach all over your uniform before falling back into his pillows, passed out.

You are speechless as you look down at your clothing, now stained with the deep red-purple hues of the copious amounts of wine Kaeya had ingested earlier in the evening. Biting back the urge to throw up in return, especially as you feel the fabric of your clothes begin to dampen against your skin. You quickly ensure the prince is asleep before quite literally tearing off your soiled pants in disgust.

Despite the oath of fealty that bound you to your job, you briefly considered threatening to quit after tonight unless you got a raise. Now, you were pantless and soon-to-be shirtless due to the sheer incapability of being able to handle somebody else’s body fluids against your skin. Your eyes darted over to Kaeya’s closet and a lightbulb went off in your head.

---

You had taken one of the younger prince’s spare uniforms in his closet and left him a nicely written note explaining the situation. Rather than saying that he threw up on you, you simply wrote that your outfit had been torn while carrying him back to the palace. Some facts, you believed, were best left as secrets. The fabric bunched over your shoulders as you adjusted it to the best of your capabilities, trying to get the odd size to fit your figure properly as you silently cursed Kaeya for having such broad shoulders.

Wrapping your now shredded and sullied uniform into a ball and tucking it under your arm, you made sure Kaeya was asleep once more before stealthily sneaking your way to the door. In a way, you felt like Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor, except the poor only consisted of yourself. It is not stealing if you give the uniform back upon request, you tell yourself as you quietly creak open the door. As you make your escape, you turn to face the door as you close it, gently pulling it towards you and holding onto the doorknob to ensure that the noise of the door settling into place would be quiet as possible.

The last thing you wanted was for a drunken Kaeya to wake back up and force you to read him a bedtime story. As the door settles into place, you let out a sigh of relief, only to hear someone clear their throat behind you. Your eyes widen in humiliation and fear and your shoulders cringe upwards as you stare at the door in front of you. Scratch that, this was the last thing you wanted. Rather than let it become any more awkward, you let out a soft breath and settle your expression into your typical stoic one before whirling around to face your fate.

In this instance, your fate is for your eyes to meet the familiar crimson-hued ones that you had not seen in years. Dressed in an ornate, stealthy black and white outfit, the man looks far older than when you had last seen him, as if the last two years had been incredibly hard on him. You had no doubt that they were. You watch as his eyes widen in both recognition and surprise as you fix your posture. A flash of hurt crosses his expression before his expression mimics your own neutral one and the two of you simply stare at each other for a few moments, unsure of what to make of the conversation.

You notice Diluc’s claymore is strapped to his back and he has a fresh bruise forming on his cheekbone. You don’t dare ask what happened to him. It’s no longer your place to worry over him, but you can’t help it as his irises glimmer with sadness upon seeing you. Despite his neutral face, his eyes shine with emotion, as if he’s heartbroken to see you.

“Uh, hello, sir,” You greet, breaking the silence as you try to gather your composure. You offer him a salute, trying your best to keep your arm from shaking in both anxiety and exhaustion.

“Hello..” Diluc echoes absentmindedly, as if his mind is elsewhere. He quickly seems to recollect his bearings as his eyes scan you up and down. “Did you two have a fun night?”

His tone is unreadable and, if coming from anyone else, you would assume his words to be a joke. You let out a nervous laugh and Diluc’s eyebrows raise slightly at the uncharacteristic noise. A gut feeling tells you to choose your next words carefully. Upon your silence, Diluc’s eyes narrow slightly.

“You are wearing his garments. It does not take a genius to figure out what the two of you were doing together,” He explains, his voice devoid of emotion. A wave of heat rises to your cheeks and you are thankful for the low hallway lighting as it helps hide your embarrassment.

“Oh, um…” You trail off, breaking eye contact with the redhead as you look down at your outfit. “It’s not like that. He… he threw up on me.” Your words are unconvincing. Despite you knowing the truth, your nerves make it sound as if you’re pulling lies out of thin air to cover yourself. Diluc, of course, notices such a thing as he echoes your words.

“...He threw up on you?” The elder prince repeats, disbelief coating his words as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Yes, my prince,” You confirm. Diluc seems unsettled by your verbal formalities, but you carry on nonetheless. “He indulged in a few… too many drinks at Angel’s Share. As his subordinate, I felt as if it was in my duties to bring him back to the palace. He then proceeded to… release the contents of his stomach onto my uniform. If you do not believe my words, sir, you can… look at the uniform…” You hold out the balled up uniform in front of you and the stench alone is enough to make Prince Diluc’s nose scrunch up.

“I believe you, (Y/N).” He responds after a moment of contemplation. Diluc goes quiet once more, but you still stand at the ready, not having been dismissed from the conversation. “How… how often does this happen?”

Diluc’s gaze tears away from you. He looks nervous to be asking such a question. You’re not quite sure what he’s implying with his seemingly loaded question. “If I may request for you to do so, could you please clarify your query, my prince?” You ask as his stoic expression returns and he stands up straight, having collected his thoughts.

“How often does Kaeya inconvenience you with his immature drunkenness?” Diluc asks, rubbing his hand over his jaw in exasperation. It’s unclear as to whether he’s exasperated with Kaeya or with you. Diluc’s eyebrows furrow in thought as he awaits your answer.

You think your answer over. Lying to the king-to-be definitely wouldn’t be ideal, but it would help Kaeya. You weren’t sure what was going on with Kaeya, but you knew he was hurting. The blue-haired boy you once knew would have turned his nose up at alcohol. Now, he was damaged enough to have turned to it as a coping mechanism. You are no fool; you see the way Kaeya cringes if there are too many candles lighting up the room each morning.

However, Diluc clearly cared enough about the situation to ask and a part of you was chanting to throw Kaeya under the bus for throwing up on you. You would just be issued another uniform and it was not as if you did not have a spare one in your closet. Plus, Kaeya’s problem was spiraling out of control.

“Once a week,” You answer. “Every Friday. Normally, the prince can make it back by himself, but I am typically relegated to being the sober official of the Knights of Favonius in fear that they’ll trash the place without any supervision.”

Diluc lets out a sigh. He turns around and begins to move back around. “I’ll see to it that such behavior of his is fixed. Dismissed.” The prince waves you off with a dismissive hand and you watch as he enters his chambers, the door closing softly behind him. In return, you walk out of the palace with your head held high, rather pleased with the way the conversation went considering the circumstances Diluc had found you in.

A small part of your heart twists at such an uneventful reunion, as if you had expected something more. You shake your head to try to eliminate such thoughts. You had merely been Prince Diluc’s subordinate, nothing more. Taking the compromising position Diluc had found you in, he had been more than fair to hear your explanation out and to even go so far as to offer to assist you with your troubles. It was your duty to serve the throne and not his duty to serve you, so why did part of you want more?

---

Diluc's definition of fixing Kaeya's behavior is, in fact, not to speak to kaeya about his behavior. Kaeya is none the wiser about his own actions as well, simply issuing a new uniform and a muttered apology about how you had to deal with his behavior. Unfortunately, you aren’t off the hook for the typical Friday night rendezvous at Angel’s Share. You begin to wonder if Diluc had forgotten his words to you as everything seems to be returning to normal. In fact, he probably didn’t care. He just said that to get you off his back, you tell yourself. It was probably too much of a nuisance to readjust Kaeya’s behavior, especially when Kaeya was so far up in the Ordo Favonius’s hierarchy of soldiers.

A visionless soldier like you was dispensable, but a strong prince with a cryo vision was not. Therefore, it only made sense for the Knights and Diluc to prioritize Kaeya’s comfort over your own.

The following Friday rolls around and you finally encounter your first change. As you arrive to early morning training, Kaeya tells you that the Acting Grand Master, Jean, wishes to speak with you. Having given up on Diluc enacting any possible changes to your regiment, you’re baffled as Jean hands you a set of new orders. Confusion is written on her face as well.

“You’re the only one with new orders,” Jean had told you. You weren’t sure if she was supposed to tell you that, but you figured she hoped you would have some explanation. “Especially orders as… odd as these.”

Her words make you actually read the piece of paper in your hands, rather than respectfully waiting until you left to do so.

“Oh,” The word tumbles out of your lips before you can stop it as you gape at the paper like a fish. You have been ordered, directly from the desk of King-to-be Diluc Ragnvindr, to return to the palace to be the elder prince’s royal bodyguard once more. You meet Jean’s expectant gaze with a look of confusion.

“If I may be so brave as to ask, do you know why you have been given such orders? Prince Diluc has been kind of… avoidant when it comes to the Knights as of late.” Jean asks. Her voice is kind like always, but you note a hint of curiosity within it. You can’t help her for being nosy.

“I was his bodyguard once before but..?” You shrug, not really knowing the answer. “He found me last week after Prince Kaeya threw up on me, but I doubt such a thing would have led to such a drastic change.”

Jean’s eyes light up in faint recognition and she softly smiles. “Oh, you were the bodyguard? That makes a bit more sense…” She trails off, lost in thought. “Hm, but such a rearrangement would only happen if he was preparing to… Never mind that, you said Prince Kaeya vomited? On you?”

You feel heat rise up to your cheeks as you nod. “Prince Kaeya is… not quite aware that he performed such… actions while intoxicated, so I would appreciate it if you could keep this a secret between us.”

The Acting Grand Master’s eyes shine with amusement and she lets out a soft, chime-like laugh. “Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”

You begin to walk out of Jean’s office, but freeze in your tracks. “I have one more question, if you don’t mind me asking,” You say. Jean nods for you to continue. “Why did Diluc choose me to be his bodyguard and not somebody with a vision?”

Jean lets out a melodic giggle, her blonde ponytail shaking as she does so. “I have my guesses, but I believe that’s only something the prince himself can answer.”

You nod in response, looking back down at your orders. “Thank you, Acting Grand Master.”

---

“You’re late,” A familiar voice admonishes you as you enter the throne room of the palace. It is a familiar room you had long since given up hope on ever seeing again, with gleaming gold and green accents adorning its stained glass windows. The room holds an intimidating yet freeing aura, but in your eyes, the most threatening thing in the ornate hall is not the gilded throne nor the massive marble statue of Barbatos, but rather Prince Diluc, who stands at the bottom of the steps that lead up to the throne.

Diluc adjusts his black gloves, ones you hadn’t seen him wear before, as he awaits for you to meet him in the center of the room. The click of your uniform’s boots against the tile and the soft clinking of your sheathed sword against your belt fills the room, reverberating through the open space as the sounds fill the silent void between you and Diluc.

“My apologies, my prince,” You state, bowing in respect. Diluc stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“You always were the type for formalities,” He muses almost wistfully, but catches himself and clears his throat. “Nonetheless, such impropriety will not be viewed upon well in the future.”

You stand up straight and salute him. “Understood, sir.”

Amusement dances in Diluc’s carmine irises as your gesture. “Welcome back, (Y/N).” He says, holding out a hand for you to shake. You shake his hand firmly, appreciative to see his amiability had not disappeared in your absence. As you drop his hand, Diluc seems to sense the unspoken question that rests on your tongue.

“There are no other Royal Knights yet. I do not trust any other knights to be capable of doing their jobs,” Diluc explains briefly before moving past you and out of the throne room, beckoning for you to follow. You fall in line alongside him, listening as he details your duties. For a moment, you’re seventeen and naive again, wondering what happened to the previous impression you had of the prince.

---

Two months pass and, in many ways, it's as if you had never left. Yet, the man you are designated to guard is more reserved with those around him, but the bluntness with his emotions remains. If Diluc isn’t happy with a situation, he’s not one to hide it, except for the sake of diplomacy. Despite not sharing blood with his brother, the two of them hold the same sadness in their shoulders when no one is watching, burdened by the secrets of the world. You stare at Diluc far more often than you do his younger brother, justifying such actions with your duties in an attempt to ignore the fact that you find the elder prince easy on the eyes.

Diluc looks at you too. When your duty is to observe, you tend to pick up on things quickly, especially the long glances Diluc sends your way when your attention is elsewhere. Your thoughts often consist of the secrets Kaeya had divulged to you in his drunken state, but you shove such nonsense out of your head. Kaeya had no place to speak on Diluc’s behalf and you determined that he was likely only projecting his own insecurities on Diluc. A selfish part of you still yearned for Kaeya’s words to be true each time you would notice the elder prince’s gaze to be upon you, but your duty prevailed over all. Unable to pinpoint why you felt this way, you would simply stare straight ahead, acting oblivious to Diluc’s gaze.

The distance between the two of you closes, both physically and emotionally. Diluc stays close enough to you that your elbows brush against each other while walking and you contribute such actions to Diluc being nervous after his father’s death. He’s much more touchy, reaching out to you with subtle gestures to make sure you’re near, rather than verbally reassuring your distance. If the two of you are outside the palace grounds and the prince is distracted by something, he’ll reach out to ensure that you’re still close.

If you aren’t nearby, Diluc will snap out of whatever daze he’s in and look around frantically for you, as if you had disappeared into thin air. The sheer panic in his eyes has taught you to stay close to him.

Diluc values your opinion. Previously, when he would have suffered in silence, the two of you have small conversations about issues he may be facing in his life, such as how to deal with a petulant Fontaine diplomat who doesn’t know how to take the word “no” as an answer. Diluc enjoys the new perspective you bring to the table, but he doesn’t let you in much farther. For his heaviest burdens, Diluc elects to keep to himself.

For that reason, you do not ask about his brother. You only provide your condolences on the day of his father’s death and make yourself available if he needs you.

---

Six months into your new appointment under Diluc, you finally gather the courage to ask a question you have desired to ask since your first day. You bite your lip slightly as you drop your gaze from guarding the door and instead flicker your gaze over to Diluc, who is sitting in a red velvet armchair by the crackling fireplace. The two of you are within the spacious area of his father’s study, soon to be his own, but such a room is still rather unfamiliar to you. The unknown territory of the room pushes you to move the unknown territory of the question you desire to ask.

“Um, sir?” You ask, uncharacteristically nervous. Diluc’s eyes immediately break away from the pages of his book, startled by you speaking. Normally, Diluc was the one to initiate conversation.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” He asks patiently and you feel heat rise to your face once more. Why are you flustered? you ask yourself as Diluc gazes at you intensely, awaiting your words with earnest.

“Apologies if I’m… overstepping by asking,” You begin and a flash of worry briefly crosses the prince’s face before he raises his eyebrows in intrigue. “But… why have you not ascended to the throne yet?”

The prince flushes a deep scarlet. He fumbles slightly with the book in his hands and looks down at it nervously. Such bashfulness is uncharacteristic of him, but then again, being so forthright was abnormal for you. Had you overstepped boundaries? Nervousness begins to claw at your stomach and climb up your throat, but the feelings are quickly quelled as Diluc clears his throat and smiles softly down at his book, trying to gather his bearings before responding.

The prince looks at you, but fails to make eye contact. “My father was a bit… peculiar in the guidelines I must follow in order to become king.” His fingers tap lightly on the cover of his book as he lets out a soft sigh, clearly unnerved by your question, but not wanting to make much of it. The prince is now twenty-three. Surely you could not have been the first person to ask him such a question?

“Oh,” You respond quickly. “I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries. Thank you for your answer, my prince.” A stoic expression quickly plasters itself on your face as you retreat back into yourself and Diluc’s eyebrows furrow at your reaction.

“It was not a bothersome question, just one I… had not been expecting, that’s all,” Diluc says, reading directly into the way you had closed yourself off. He notices the way your posture relaxes at such a statement and his eyes soften. “A few others are aware of the stipulations, so there is no such way I can circumvent them.”

“Ah,” You murmur before speaking once more. “Are the conditions to become king difficult?”

Diluc finally meets your eyes, a wistful look on his face. “They aren’t. I am just… not quite sure if the timing is right or how to broach the subject of them.” His voice is barely above a low rumble, but you hear him perfectly.

Your heart clenches at his words. You don’t know why.

---

Diluc’s twenty-fourth birthday rolls around and, when compared to every prior birthday of his in the past, the palace is ablaze with life. Mond’s economy had taken a slight downturn in its luxury goods market and Diluc had agreed to help bolster the industry by hosting a diplomatic birthday of sorts. Invite the richest people within Teyvat to explore Mondstadt and all its palace has to offer, conveniently place luxury goods within the vicinity, and the markets for said items are guaranteed to increase in demand. Diluc had explained all of this to you, including going in depth on the economics, and ordered you to put together a temporary unit of knights to serve as security at the party.

Such merriment and festivities would not lead to joy for you, but rather more work hours and stress. Assembling a team of competent enough fighters was difficult enough. Many within the Knights of Favonius were kind, but easily influenced, meaning that they were untrustworthy to leave within the realms of foreign dignitaries and prying eyes. Ultimately, you had settled on a trustworthy team of twenty core knights, all assigned to different positions within the ballroom. Some were framed as servers, some were framed as partygoers, and others would simply be required to wear their knight uniforms and guard the entrances and exits.

Despite security being a massive event, the biggest outlier was not the people who would be attending the party, but outsiders wishing to take advantage of such important people congregated in a single event. For that reason, all other knights were stationed within other parts of the palace and around its perimeter, in order to secure the area for the party. You weren’t too worried about the people inside as any foul moves would lead to massive geopolitical repercussions against any evildoers.

As for you, you were assigned to be Diluc’s right-hand knight, guarding his side at the party. While you were always ready to perform your assigned duty, you couldn’t help but wish you had door duty, as such a position would not require the diplomatic ass-kissing you were obligated to perform.

Now, as you stood at Diluc’s side near the center of the room, you weren’t sure what to make of the situation. The prince was effortlessly calming and smooth in his conversations with potentially hostile foreign dignitaries. Hell, he was even being respectful to the Fatui, even though you knew he likely wanted to ram his head through a wall speaking to the sleazy minions of the Tsaritsa.

What you hadn’t expected, however, were the wine trays floating throughout the room. You and Diluc were both aware to only take appetizers and drinks alike from a specific server, not wanting the elder prince or you, the head of security for the event, to have contaminated food. However, as Diluc drank his third glass of wine, you were beginning to wonder if you would be able to keep up. Finishing off your second, you smiled politely at the server and politely declined a second glass, ignoring the look of confusion Diluc sent your way. You already felt tipsy. The last thing you wanted was to be unable to do your job.

“Ah, Prince Diluc!” A vaguely familiar voice calls from behind you and Diluc the moment Diluc finishes speaking with a diplomat from Natlan. How do I know that voice? You ask yourself before feeling your thoughts swim a bit due to the alcohol. You silently cursed yourself for accepting the drinks at all, but when the first round of drinks had appeared, Diluc himself had taken one for you. How could you have said no to a request from your prince?

You and Diluc both turn around to see the intruder and you recognize him immediately. Dottore, one of the eleven Fatui Harbingers, stood before you and Diluc, a wide grin on his face. Immediately suppressing a groan and forcing your expression to stay neutral, you silently curse the fact that Harbingers made it on the guest list, especially one as irritating as Dottore. At his best, the man was an arrogant asshat. At his worst, Dottore was downright psychopathic with little regard for the people around him. You knew Diluc was aware of such things, but the prince had to stomach such disdain for the harbinger and at least attempt for a polite conversation.

“This is quite a lovely party,” Dottore compliments, but such praise from him is only worth about as far as you can throw it. “Mond is quite a prosperous nation.”

Your gaze flickers between Dottore and Diluc as they exchange meaningless pleasantries. You lose track of their conversation, electing to scan the room (and watch Dottore) for any potential threats or foul moves. However, you’re quickly snapped back to the conversation as Dottore’s attention turns to you, his masked red eyes boring into yours.

“You are the prince’s security detail?” Dottore’s words are less of a question and more of a statement, as if he already knows the answer. You avoid glancing at Diluc and instead meet Dottore’s gaze straight on and hold out your hand.

“Knight (Y/N), sir.” You respond and Dottore laughs crookedly while shaking your hand with a grip far too aggressive for your liking.

“Ah, aren’t you an… interesting specimen,” Much to your behest, Dottore takes your hand in his own gloved one and looks at it, as if he’s inspecting you. “You are his only personal knight at this event yet you are visionless… Quite an intriguing move for a prince who flaunts his so proudly.”

Your eyes instinctively move to look at Diluc, whose brows are furrowed and eyes glistening with anger at the situation unfolding. Diluc clears his throat and immediately returns his expression to one of neutrality as he realizes your gaze is now upon him. “Dottore, are you not one to believe that humanity is more than their visions?”

Dottore drops your hand unceremoniously and you quickly retract it to your side in fear that such an event happens again. He chuckles at Diluc’s words and turns to look at the prince once more. “Of course. I just simply never took you as the type to share my beliefs.”

Despite neither of them owning an Electro vision, the air between the two men crackles with energy. Dottore grins as Diluc glowers, eager to see if the refined prince’s composure shatters. The Harbinger knows he’s pinpointed Diluc’s weak spot, so rather than continuing the rather unamusing staring contest, Dottore’s gaze returns to you once more. He casts you a saccharine smile, dripping with insecurity, as he leans in close to you.

“I must believe you have some tricks up your sleeve. I look forward to seeing what they are,” The Harbinger’s tone drops to a low, sultry one as Dottore’s hot breath fans over your face, reeking of the odd combination of mint and wine. His words are not an expectation, but rather a promise. After a second more of leering at you, Dottore is sensible enough to realize Diluc’s limited patience is waning, so he takes a step back and stands up straight. “Nonetheless, I must make my exit now. Prince Diluc, as nice as it was to speak with you, I understand your wish not to share your toys.”

Just as quickly as he had appeared, the Harbinger disappears into the crowd. You look over at the prince standing near you. He takes a sidestep closer to you and for a split second, you’re reminded of the Prince Diluc you once knew, the one who could barely contain his anger and derision and took such feelings out on his subordinates verbally. The contempt Diluc feels for the situation that just unfolded is written all over his face, but he quickly gathers his composure. Knowing him well enough, you can sense the irritation radiating off him in waves, but you dare not comment on it.

Before another diplomat can intervene, Diluc leans in close to you, voice no more than a low whisper. “Dottore is up to something.”

---

Diluc, in his typical stubborn nature, refuses to let the Dottore situation go. Two hours afterwards, long after his mood had returned to normal, Diluc is excusing himself to use the bathroom, signaling for you to follow him. However, the elder prince remains silent as the two of you walk past the bathroom and into the chambers that had been converted to house foreign dignitaries who would stay the night and leave in the morning. The prince glances up and down the hallway frantically, making sure nobody is following. His pace is hurried, as if he’s looking for something.

You’re smart enough to realize Diluc’s only silent when he desires for others to be as well, but the two of you have been walking long enough that you part your lips to speak. Before you can utter the words, Diluc is opening the door closest to the two of you.

“Here,” He mutters and before you can follow, the prince grabs your arm and pulls you in after him, immediately letting you go afterwards. You were utterly baffled as to what room the two of you were even in, considering you had barely been in this part of the palace before. “Dottore’s room.” Diluc explains.

That’s a shitty explanation, you think. With the alcohol in your system, you are spurred to question his decisions, something you never would dare to do sober.

“With all due respect, sir, why are we raiding Dottore’s room?” You state as Diluc crouches down to look underneath Dottore’s bed. You silently question why that’s the first place the prince bothers looking, rather than looking in a more normal place, such as Dottore’s desk drawers or the suitcases lined against the wall.

Diluc lets out a huff of air at your words, but doesn’t admonish you for them. “He’s up to something,” Diluc mutters absentmindedly.

“I know he’s a suspicious character and he’s Fatui, but all he did was disrespect you with his words. Does that really mean he’s up to something?” You ask and Diluc pauses through rifling through the limited possessions the Harbinger had brought to Mondstadt. Still crouched down, the prince turns to look at you with an expression of confusion at your words.

“You aren’t normally like this,” Diluc states plainly and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. He squints his eyes in an attempt to read your stoic expression in the dark. He lets out a sigh, unable to come to a conclusion, and returns back to looking through Dottore’s stuff. “He was clearly challenging me. He’s hiding something and wants me to find it.”

With Diluc’s back turned to you, you roll your eyes. Why are men always like this?

“Maybe he was just flirting,” You suggest, your tone annoyed.

“I was n-” Diluc pauses and clears his throat. “I mean, he was not flirting with you.” He sounds outraged that you would even discuss such a thing.

“Sir, his words had that weird kind of aura to them. With all due respect, I believe I’m not ugly enough that he wouldn’t flirt with me. He just sounded kind of horny,” You say, as if such a thing should be obvious. Diluc freezes completely and stands up, turning to look at you. His eyes are blown wide at your words and, in your alcoholic stupor, you’re unaware of the egregious unprofessionalism of your words. The prince steps closer to you, his crimson gaze boring into yours.

“Archons,” He mutters after a few seconds. “They didn’t serve you grape juice, did they?”

“Nope,” You respond in a gleeful voice, popping your mouth at the end of the word. “Were they supposed to?” You ask cluelessly, leaning on the wall behind you.

Diluc lets out a frustrated huff, but it doesn’t seem directed at you. “Barbatos, they had one job,” He mutters to himself before walking over to Dottore’s desk and bending over to look at the contents of the desk drawers. “Anyways, just watch the door. That’s an order.”

Even in your tipsiness, you are aware enough to sense Diluc’s frustration at the situation, so you bite your tongue and watch the door. Your gaze flutters between the elder prince and the door, unable to focus on your assigned duty as the alcohol swirls through your system. The elder prince’s noisy actions of rifling through files draws your attention and you look over at him, eyebrows raised. However, what catches your attention is a glint of white in his back pocket.

“What’s in your pocket?” You ask, causing Diluc to let out a frustrated huff.

“I said to watch the door,” Diluc reminds you in a harsh tone, but by now, you know the prince is all bark and no bite.

“I have two eyes,” You respond combatively. Diluc sighs, knowing this is a fight he won’t win. “One to watch you and one to watch the door.”

“That is quite literally not how vision works, (Y/N),” Diluc tries to explain, but knows there’s no reasoning with alcohol. He’s encountered his brother enough times after his drunken escapades to know when to give up. “Just… use both to watch the door.”

“Tell me what’s in your pocket and I will,” Your words are dangerous and if Diluc wasn’t fond of you, he could easily have thrown you in prison for saying such things.

“We’re done in here,” Diluc states after a few moments of ignoring you, placing the final file back into its rightful position and dusting himself off. He walks over to you and pulls the white object out of his pocket, holding it out to you. “It’s a mask, by the way.”

“Okay,” You say, taking the mask in your hand. You’re not far enough gone to try putting it on, so you simply slip it into your own pocket. “What’s in the other pocket, then, sir?” You ask, a sly smirk appearing on your face. Diluc flusters at your mischievous expression as he brushes past you to exit the room.

“Nothing.” He responds, but you know otherwise. As the two of you exit into the hallway, you take advantage of the fact that the prince had exited Dottore’s room before you and you quickly snatch the object in his other pocket. You had only seen the outline of it, but now that it rests in your hands, you’re utterly baffled as to why he would hide such a thing.

“What is this?” You ask, holding the object away from Diluc as he whirls around, trying to grab the object from your hand.

“Stop acting like a child, (Y/N),” Diluc warns, but there’s a faint desperation in his voice. “It’s my Vision.”

“This isn’t your Vision,” You state, staring at him with furrowed brows. “Your Vision looks different from this.”

Before you can theorize any more about what the faux-Vision in your hands is, Diluc opens the door closest to the two of you and pulls you in rather roughly by the arm. You only tighten your grip on the object in response.

“Could you be any louder, (Y/N)? Barbatos, it’s just a Vision, but it’s not mine. Give it back.” Diluc orders, but you simply smirk at him as the two of you stand in the dark of the supply closet he had cornered you in. The light filtering from underneath the door allows him to barely see your expression, despite the overall darkness of the room. His hand fumbles against the wall before the room is lit in a soft orange light as his hand finds an unlit candle near the door.

“Hm,” You say upon seeing his glowering expression. He looks absolutely furious, but for once you aren’t living in fear of such an expression. In fact, he looks rather delicio- “Make me, Diluc.” The words tumble out of your lips, sultry and sweet, before you can even finish processing your own thoughts. Right now, for once in your life, you have the chance to make Prince Diluc beg and you are relishing in the moment, in all of its unprofessional glory.

Diluc’s eyes flash with anger and as he angrily grips your wrist and shoves you back into the shelf behind you. The wood juts into your back and you let out a soft cry of both surprise and pain as objects begin to clatter off the shelf around the two of you. Taking advantage of your surprise at his forcefulness, Diluc manages to wrangle the object out of your hand and he fastens it securely in within his breast pocket, away from your prying, tipsy hands. As Diluc’s harsh grip on your wrist fails to falter, you feel tears bubble up in your eyes, unable to hold them back. Okay, maybe you had more than two drinks, you tell yourself.

Before you can stop them, more words are spilling out of your mouth, but they’re no longer the empowered ones you wish you could say.

“I do everything for you,” you blubber pathetically and watch as Diluc’s eyes widen at your tone. “And the one time i want something in return, just to know something about you, you’re mean to me.” Before you can stop them, you’ve activated the waterworks, tears freefalling down your cheeks. The only word to describe Diluc’s expression is terrified.

“N... no, don’t cry.” Diluc’s grip on your wrist loosens, but he still holds it close, his other free arm pulling you in by your waist into a comforting hug. His gestures and words are stiff as if he’s not sure how to do this. You’re fairly sure the two of you are breaking each and every code of conduct at this moment, but for now, you don’t care. His hand rubs the small of your back in a comforting motion, his thumb trailing up and down the part of your wrist that he likely bruised. “You’re my best knight, the only one I can trust, it’s… okay. Please don’t cry.”

The prince’s words are frantic and softly spoken, as if he’s trying his best to pull compliments out of thin air to stop your tears. Despite him not being very good at comforting you, your sobs start to subside into small hiccups as you bury your head into the spot between his shoulder and neck. You feel him stiffen at the gesture. Nonetheless, he pulls you into a tighter one armed hug.

After you manage to get your tipsy tears under control, you let out a shaky sigh before continuing with your words. “Why do you never let me in? I swore my life to protect you. I’d do anything for you. but you just shut me out every time,” You whisper, voice still stained with the tears you had just cried out. In the morning, you’d be mortified with your words, but for now, you brain is encouraging you to continue. Diluc pulls away from you and cups his hands on the side of your face, using his thumbs to wipe away your tear stains.

“You’re too valuable to waste your tears on someone like me.” Diluc mutters as the pads of his fingers soak up the salty tears. His tone is saddened from your actions.

“Answer the question, Diluc, please,” you beg, dropping the honorifics once more. You stare into his eyes, searching for an answer. You watch him inhale, as if he’s trying to muster up the courage to say something.

“Okay,” He breathes, eyes looking into yours for reassurance. “Okay.” His voice is more resolute as he repeats the words. “I don’t know how to keep you close without making you uncomfortable. I don’t know how much I should let you in without scaring you off. I feel this way because for the last six years, I’ve been in-”

Before he can finish his words, the door to the supply closet swings open. The bright light causes the both of you to flinch as a third voice gasps dramatically. You blink rapidly, trying to adjust your eyes to the bright lights from the hallway in order to understand what’s happening, your hand reaching up to the hilt of your sword.

“My, my, what a scandalous sight,” the voice (Dottore, you identify) croons and the two of you look on in mortification. “A prince and his knight having an illicit rendezvous in the janitorial closet.”

The two of you look out to see a small crowd of five people having gathered -- Dottore, his assistant, Kaeya, Jean, and another Fatui agent. You’re not sure why they’re all gathered outside, but what matters is that they’re now viewing you after having been caught in a broom closet with the king-to-be’s hands cupping your face and him staring into your eyes.

Fuck, you think as Diluc’s hands rescind from your face quickly, as if the water of your tears had scalded him.

#diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #diluc headcanons #diluc scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #diluc #genshin impact #*writing #*inheritance #*diluc #*fic #AAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS HERE

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

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Rayaari headcanon - travel through the emotions with tears

(inspired by this lovely anon)

Tears of sorrow and pain

Raya is so young when she loses her mother, that the concept of death is difficult for her to understand. The reality doesn't strike her until bedtime, when she slowly begins to realize that Ma will never again be there to sing her a lullaby, or hug her fear of the monsters away. Benja is unable to stop the tears for hours, as Raya screams and cries and hits her small fists on the bed. Finally, she upsets herself so much she throws up, and her crying trails off to quiet whimpers instead. For months afterwards, Benja and Raya both dread bedtime, for this is when sorrow hits the hardest for her.

Namaari is nine when her Ba dies. Death is not an unknown concept for her, unfortunately. She has already begun to see its cold grasp ensnaring Fang citizens as famine begins to sweep the lands. But nothing can prepare her for the news the young soldier delivers of her Ba's accident, nor the expression on Ma's face when they both realize he won't be coming home. She doesn't cry for the first week after his death, and people whisper about how stoic and brave she's being. In reality, she is too shocked and numb to demonstrate any further emotions, until one night she awakens to find Ma has crawled into bed next to her, hugging her close in her sleep. Hot tears fall down her cheek, and she burrows into her mother's embrace as she cries silently.

After the Druun return, after she loses her Ba, Raya finds herself scared and all alone in the world, besides faithful Tuk Tuk. During the day, she wraps herself in false bravado, learning how to be a confident young woman instead of an easy mark for people with questionable motives. She employs a 'fake it until she makes it' approach to life, and it carries her through well enough...except at night. At night, she can't help but remember both her parents, and in the darkness she softly sings her mother's lullaby to soothe herself as the tears fall.

When the magnitude of what she has done by trying to take the Dragon Gem hits Namaari, she is horrified with herself. She cries quietly at night for weeks on end, reluctant to talk to anyone about her guilt. And then one day, she wakes up and decides she has no right to cry over it – she should step up and be responsible for her own actions instead, and be the best leader she can be. For several years after that moment, she refuses to let herself cry. Then one scouting mission, she loses her first soldier to the Druun, watching him turn to stone over her shoulder as they flee. She manages to hold it together as she tells his family how brave he had been; then, she goes to the kitchen, stealing as much rice wine as she can carry. She hides with her serlots, drunkenly crying into their soft fur until she can barely breathe. After that, she allows herself to cry sometimes, but only ever when alone.

The first time Raya visits Talon, she is fourteen and half-starving. The market place is loud and confusing, but it’s also full of food and wonderful scents. Unfortunately, she has no jade pieces and the soldiers patrolling the stalls do not seem like people with whom she should risk get into trouble. She almost walks away instead of trying to buy anything, but her stomach cramps just at that moment, and she almost gasps in pain. It breaks her heart, but she slowly hands over a ring of gold in order to buy some food – the only thing she has with her that belonged to her mother. ‘You know, that vendor scammed you,’ a young boy tells her with a snort, as she walks away. ‘You should have gotten far more product for the worth of the ring.’ The food tastes like ashes in her mouth after that, and hot tears slip down her cheeks as she tries to choke down the rest of her dinner.

Namaari’s scouting party is ambushed, not by the Druun, but by angry citizens from Spine. She loses good people that day, watching in horror as they are overwhelmed by Spine’s army, still acting as good soldiers trying to protect their Princess until the end. The last warrior screams at her to run, and even though it is against her instincts, she turns and flees into the forest, not even stopping when a sharp pain pierces her side - an arrow hitting its mark. She collapses some distance later, crying in pain and fear. For the first time, she fears she will die alone, bleeding out amongst the trees. Then she remembers her mother, remembers her duties and the promises she made to herself, and staggers upright. Her serlot finds her as she slowly makes her way forwards, and when she finally manges to crawl onto her back, they take off towards Fang.

‘You’re a traitor to your people,’ someone snaps at Raya, as she tries to mediate between two disagreeing Heart citizens. ‘You try to tell us what to do, but you’re a Princess who doesn’t even know half of her own culture. Too busy cavorting with binturis from Fang and other lands to bother with your own.’ She can feel the tears coming on as the words cut deep into all the fears she has about herself – how she isn’t a good leader, how she lost so many years where she should have learnt about Heart and her role as Princess. A hand lands on her shoulder squeezing gently, yet the voice behind its owner is cutting. ‘Gentlemen, I suggest you leave now before you make me do something I regret,’ Namaari says, and when the men depart angrily, silence falls. Namaari doesn’t say anything at first, drawing Raya into an embrace instead. ‘You’re a better leader than they could hope to be,’ she whispers into Raya’s hair, kissing her head gently. Raya clings to her tightly, arms wrapped around her waist.

‘You’re not welcome here, binturi,’ comes the accusation thrown into her face, and Namaari flinches, much to her own disgust. The celebratory gathering is supposed to be for all the lands to come together, but she can understand Fang not being so warmly welcomed. She is trying though, trying to atone for her mistakes, and after a long day of talking herself into having the confidence to attend, she is now just feeling overwhelmed with their cutting remarks. She simply nods and tries to walk away while hiding her face, but Raya is already pushing past her, getting into the personal space of the other women with a snarl. ‘She’s more welcome here than you currently,’ she growls. Then she spins around, holds out an arm gallantly to Namaari with a smile, and says ‘shall we?’ with a wink. Namaari links their arms, and they walk away with their heads held high.

Tears of laughter and joy

There is something charming and fun in watching Sisu learn more about people and their odd behaviours. Namaari is still slightly in awe of dragons in general, but she finds it easier the more she spends time with Sisu and watches her do ridiculous things. Sisu often brings Tong, Boun and even Noi along to visit Raya, and Namaari loves this time especially, because Raya will go and join in on the fun, laughing at her friends’ antics until tears stream down her face. Namaari sits and watches them with a smile, until Raya runs over and grabs her by the hand, dragging her over to the group.

Raya likes to think she is excellently athletic and nimble on her feet, and to a certain extent this is true. Unfortunately, she has a rather clumsy side to her also, and she spectacularly demonstrates this in front of Namaari by mistake. She is trying to demonstrate how smooth her mounts and dismounts from Tuk Tuk’s saddle are, and even goes so far as to try and show off by standing up on his back. And yet, she slips sideways instead, arms windmilling in the air before she drops onto the floor. ‘Are you alright?’ Namaari calls, and as soon as Raya answers in the affirmative, she can hear a cackle of laughter. Namaari is laughing so hard that there are tears shining in her eyes, and Raya can’t feel too embarrassed by her tumble when it brings Namaari such joy.

At the end of a very long day of Council meetings, Raya wants nothing more than to escape the political grandstanding and disappear into the night instead of staying for dinner. She manages to grab some food from the kitchen before it is even brought out for the guests, and then steals Namaari herself as company. They sit under the stars, enjoying their picnic and complaining about the day. Namaari does a wonderful impersonation of the most annoying Councilor in the meeting, and Raya startles into loud laughter at how realistic it is. Soon they are lying next to each other, giggling loudly until they are both crying from laughter.

Namaari kisses Raya for the first time during a sparring session. They are fighting in a casual manner for once, not trying to be highly competitive as usual, but preferring to shoot as many teasing remarks towards the other as punches, enjoying the moment. Raya manages to pin Namaari down on the ground, leaning forwards slightly to highlight her triumphant and teasing expression, and instead sees Namaari staring up at her with a soft smile. Namaari brings both hands up to slide her fingers through Raya’s hair, drawing her down until their lips are touching softly. Raya feels tears welling up behind her eyes at she feels the love emanating from Namaari.

Raya proposes after two years of dating and several days of angsting over whether she has the correct words to say or the correct proposal gifts. But when it comes to the moment, she forgets everything, and just blurts out ‘I love you. Marry me?’ Namaari stares at her in shock for a moment, before stepping forward to kiss Raya. ‘Yes, yes of course,’ she says, her voice shaking from her emotions. Raya cups her cheeks in both hands, gently wiping away her tears before they kiss again.

When they marry, neither of them can get through their vows without some tears of happiness. No-one judges them for it though – most of their family and friends are crying also.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #raya and namaari #raya x namaari #one for sorrow #two for joy #tears headcanons #been a whiiiiile #work work work makes no time for headcanons writing #but hopefully i will have time now for moooore #enjoy this offering in the meantime

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ushidoux · 3 years

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He, Hercules - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: What is Ushijima if not strong? (~2.0k words)

Warnings: accident, temporary disability, implied depression, some suggestive themes, hurt/comfort

A/N: I have limited experience with athletic injuries and mental illness so bear with me. If there is anything you find inaccurate or insensitive in my depiction, don’t hesitate to pm me! <3

---

“Mr. Ushijima?”

You perk up when you hear the secretary’s voice call out your husband’s name, only realizing now that in your long semi-long wait you’d ended up dozing off, resting your head against his shoulder. Clearly, you must have been exhausted, because it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and why you’re here.

There are very few others in this small office aside from the single middle-aged man in the corner who you realize is staring quite hard at you, and you wonder briefly if it’s because you somehow looked inappropriate or acted inappropriately while you were asleep. There shouldn’t be anything very noteworthy about a young couple inside a therapy practice.

You glance at Ushijima who is barely moving despite the fact that his name was just pronounced. He’s as still as a statue and his expression is neutral as is typical of him, but you still perceive the lack of intensity behind his eyes, a constant reminder that no matter how much he acts as though he’s fine, he’s not.

Why else would you be here in the first place?

You nudge him gently.

“Love, they called your name. It’s time for your session,” you whisper into his ear.

He had been staring off at a fixed point across from him, but he does still respond to your nudges. When he rises, it’s done slowly, and he walks besides you with a slight limp in his left leg. He doesn’t wince with any step but the arm you hold onto as you walk with him through the hallway down to the provider’s office is stiff. You wonder if he resents how clingy you’ve gotten since his injury, handling him with kid gloves as though he were the most fragile of glass. You can’t help it. You’d almost lost him.

The office is open when you arrive, and a man who looks only a few years older than Wakatoshi is seated in a cream armchair, waiting, a measured smile on his face. Ushijima doesn’t smile back but he doesn’t frown either.

“Welcome! Please come in and make yourself comfortable,” the man says without missing a beat, rising to shake his hand. He also shoots a glance at you, but before he can ask you to introduce yourself before politely shooing you out of the room (this is not couples’ therapy after all, even if it will help the two of you), you squeeze your husband’s hand before quickly exiting.

“I’m his partner, I’ll see myself out, thank you!”

You worry slightly about leaving him alone in this stranger’s care, but Ushijima is not a child and this isn’t the first day of kindergarten, he’s a man recovering from a life-altering injury and has finally agreed to go to therapy.

You’re not sure how optimistic to be, but you’ve done an extensive amount of research and this particular therapist boasted credentialing in sports psychology, was highly recommended and had worked with a lot of current and former athletes alike.

Of course, this would all be meaningless if Ushijima refused to talk, but as you started your car to pass the next hour at a nearby mall, you gave yourself a little bit of hope.

---

“Tell me about yourself,” is the first question the therapist asks, after offering not much more than his own name, and Ushijima is slightly annoyed by the question.

He does not want to be here in the first place, he doesn’t need to be here, and now he’s asked a question as vague and audacious as ‘tell me about yourself’ like he’s expected to pour out his feelings to this stranger from the very second he sits in this admittedly comfortable couch.

He pauses. He’s not sure exactly what he would say.

He’s nearing 30. He’s married, no kids. If it’s not obvious, he’s from Japan. He plays volleyball professionally… well, played, up until recently.

He frowns. That’s why he’s here. Because you don’t think he is okay, even if all of his injuries have essentially healed aside from this annoying limp that makes it obvious that he’s in some way not in optimal shape, broken, vulnerable. This limp is the reason why he can no longer play even if he feels fine otherwise, and why he’s not exactly sure what to do next.

But that’s beyond the point. The question is about himself.

What else can he say? How would others describe him?

His friends call him serious, just as the media describes him. Quiet and serious. Dedicated. Strong.

Maybe he’s not that last thing anymore, but that too is beyond the point.

You think he’s sweet; you say this repeatedly. You tell him that he’s kind and considerate.

He thinks for a moment that maybe he was too kind. Kindness is what got him in this predicament in the first place, isn’t it?

A moment of compassion - a likely exhausted mother whose eyes leave her child for a split second to rummage through her purse, a little girl whose tiny legs take her just a bit too far out into an open intersection, a speeding car that shows no signs of stopping…

He remembers the exact moment he is no longer jogging but sprinting to take the child out of harm’s way, as well as the exact moment he hears his bones snap on impact, and he’s too shocked initially to feel pain, eyes frantically searching for the kid who now is standing on the opposite side of the street, looking at him in curiosity because the toddler is too young to understand what it means to see a body crumple. She’s unharmed, so he’s successful.

A woman screams and she sounds nothing like you. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing.

The car speeds on.

---

You sit in a food court, poking at some fries, but you’re not exactly hungry, just anxious. Is the session going okay?

Even if the man is a professional at getting people to talk, Wakatoshi is a hard nut to crack. You could envision him sitting silently until the hour passed completely, before getting up to bow and exit stage left. It had taken you months to get him to agree to go to anything other than physical therapy.

You hope this is not an exercise in futility.

---

“I’m fine,” he grunted, just a couple days out of the hospital, once you’d started nagging him for weight-bearing on the leg that had just been operated on.

“Your leg was literally shattered!” You shouted. “You’re lucky they didn’t amputate!”

He gave you a mildly fatigued look. All he’d wanted to do was walk to the kitchen by himself, without crutches in his own house, and he’d barely made it a couple of steps before you were standing in the bedroom, looking all sorts of stressed and concerned.

He figured your concern was temporary, so he attempted to quell his stubbornness. He had already been benched for the season, possibly to likely forever and pouring out his frustration on you wouldn’t be helpful.

“What do you need? I’ll get it for you.”

He frowned but he let you help him anyway.

---

“My name is Wakatoshi Ushijima. I moved here several years ago from Japan to play volleyball professionally. I was in a bad car accident a few months ago and my wife is concerned that I’m not adjusting well.”

The therapist offers a small smile again.

“Do you disagree with that assessment?”

Ushijima tilts his head slightly. He does disagree… he doesn’t? He’s not sure. He’s frustrated of course, who wouldn’t be, he had just been in the Olympics after all, but he’s fine. He’s strong.

He’s strong.

---

“We just wanted to thank you again.”

Wakatoshi glanced at the gifts the couple before them had brought, a bouquet of flowers and stacks of cookies and pastries in boxes on the living room coffee table, before looking back at you. Your face remained polite and smiling but you were clearly uncomfortable from the way you were perched on the seat, nodding carefully as you listened to your visitors, your arms crossed over your midsection as you leaned forward in your chair.

He knew you wanted to be angry at them, well, her, the mother who looked at him pitifully initially then averted her eyes out of shame. But it wasn’t her fault but yet, it was her fault and still, it wasn’t. It was very complicated. No one was at fault. Her daughter was safe.

Everything was fine.

---

You’re back in your car again, ready to drive to pick up your husband from therapy. Things should get better from here on.

Maybe he will no longer shut down like a brick wall when you suggest that now is a good time to start transitioning away from sports for the future. Maybe he’ll be less upset with small things like not being able to run as far, or lift as much or please you as much in the bedroom as he used to.

They’re small things compared to losing his life.

---

“I would like to go back to playing but I’m told at every turn that it’s too dangerous, maybe even after a year of healing.”

The therapist nods, and scribbles something on a sheet of paper.

“How does that make you feel?”

The therapist notices even through Ushijima’s accented Polish that he’s naturally eloquent, but regardless he still lacks the words to appropriately talk about his feelings.

His hands grip at his knees, the good and the bad one. The word ‘useless’ comes to mind but he can’t bring himself to say that to this stranger, even if these four walls come with the promise of understanding.

For once, silence is uncomfortable for him, and the therapist is surprisingly good at staying quiet. They sit in silence for moments longer and surprisingly, Wakatoshi speaks up first.

“Weak,” he ekes out in a voice that is so small he barely recognizes it.

To that, the therapist leans just slightly forward, focusing his eyes on the man’s restricted range of motion and slightly hunched shoulders. It’s the posture of a man who’s normally stoic and confident, now made uncertain about the future.

“What’s wrong with weakness?” He says quickly, and Ushijima is somewhat stunned which then lends way to a small measure of anger.

Everything is wrong with being weak. Weakness was for other people. How could he protect himself, his livelihood, his team, you?

What is he if not strong?

---

“I love you.”

He says it less often than you do to him, but every time he does, he means every word. You shifted beneath him, weary from the lovemaking of just prior but still nevertheless craning your neck up to reach his lips.

Your hands traveled down his shoulders and along the length of his bulky arms, playing with his biceps, drinking in the sight of his muscles flexing as he moved. He smiled and wrapped his arms tight around you, laying his head on your chest.

“Aww, Toshi, you’ll crush me if you hold me so tight. You barely know your own strength,” you teased with a laugh, prompting him to loosen his grip ever so slightly, and lift up his head to show you the smallest of pouts.

“I love you more,” you added, giggling.

Pleased, he lay his head back down on the softness of your bosom, clinging to you more. He’d protect and take care of you forever.

---

You hold Ushijima’s hand tightly as you walked out of the building to your car, holding in your curiosity about the session the entire time.

Would he go again?

He gives your hand a squeeze suddenly which surprises you, and when he turns to you, there’s a small upturn in the corner of his lips that approximates more of a smile than you’ve seen in recent weeks.

You’re elated enough that you immediately give him a hug, and maybe you’re a bit overzealous about it, but he stops and holds you close for just a moment.

“Thank you.”

There’s a lot in the thank you, and you shed a tear.

---

Strength is relative and inconstant, so our first task is to work on your definition of strength.

But I would say, coming here in the first place is already evidence enough.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #mae.replies #mae.writing #tw injury #tw depression

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emilia3546 · 3 years

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He Never Left Your Side - Nesta and Rhys

Nesta hasn't really spoken to Rhys since Nyx's birth, not for more than polite greetings anyway. But after attending a meeting about training the female Illyrians, they're stuck together with too much left unsaid.

*****

Nesta sighed as she stared out over the Illyrian mountains, enthralled by its rugged beauty, the raw untamed power in those jagged peaks, she almost forgot the male standing beside her, almost.

"You think it's beautiful," Rhys broke her concentration, and she held back the snappy response that would have allowed her to continue staring in silence,

"I've always been drawn the the wilder things in life," she said simply, let him take from that what he would, it was true in every sense, she'd never been the woman her mother had expected, not in her heart. But now, with the Valkyries, with Cassian, she was finally the person she was born to be, even if it was twenty five years too late.

"Thank you for coming today, I think we're getting there," Nesta wasn't so sure, the meeting had been a disaster, every Camp Lord had refused training to females, although, some had conceded permission for Nesta to run Valkyrie training, but no allowance would be made from camp chores and jobs. It was the first, very tiny, step, but a step nonetheless,

"Can't you just order them?"

"They'd disobey it, and I'd have to bring force in, I don't want a civil war, this is the only way, but with you showing that females can do it, we will get there, so thank you."

"I'll admit I never thought you'd say that to me of all people,"

"Will you hate me again if I say that I never expected to say it?"

"No. I'll mark you down as pragmatic though." Rhys laughed beside her, but Nesta couldn't tear her gaze from the view before her, "But you don't have to thank me, for anything, like it or not, you're my brother,"

"Still, I don't think I'll ever manage to thank you enough for saving Feyre's life,"

"She's my sister." Nesta did glance sideways at that, "And it was about time I returned the favor," she admitted, almost starting in surprise at the respect in Rhys' eyes, and the chuckle that left his lips,

"Don't tell her that. I'm glad that you found your own way to healing, and I'm sorry that it wasn't me who helped you, I was blinded by my anger over the past, it was wrong of me, and, well, you remind me of myself in some ways, I'm not altogether sure that's a good thing."

"That's a good thing."

"But, you are my sister, and I know we can't rebuild something that was never there, but I would like to really know you, I want you to be a part of the family. I owe you everything, and it shouldn't have taken me this long to give you a chance."

"You owe me nothing."

"Agree to disagree," Nesta offered him a small smile at that, the first time they'd truly agreed to anything, and stared back out at the mountains,

"I didn't believe Feyre when she said I'd like you, and I was right, but I hated you because you were what I could have been, with the right people, but I never truly hated you I don't think, I always respected you, somewhat grudgingly, but I did, mostly for your judgement of me, many males would have simply let me do what I was doing, left it to Feyre to try and reach me, you didn't go about it the best way, mind you, but the idea was what I needed. Maybe it was for her benefit at the time, but I doubt that's true now,"

"No, it's not, believe it or not, I like you, Nesta, I didn't like the Nesta who returned after the war, but I should have recognized that you were hurting and needed support, I'm glad you were able to find it." Nesta smiled,

"I do have a bone to pick with you, though,"

"Oh yeah?"

"You gave Cass baby fever."

"I do apologize," he laughed, "Are you sure you can't hold him off?"

"Oh I can hold him off, he won't insist, but still, it's all your fault," she teased, finally relaxing, her attention no longer zeroed in on Rhys, but their surroundings, as it usually was. The companionable silence surrounding them still surprised her, were it anyone else, she'd have expected incessant talking, but it seemed that he understood, they had said what they needed to right now, it was just about learning to trust one another, to find the family bonds that they had neglected.

It was this silence that alerted her to a slight sound, a sound she assumed was Rhys moving from where she couldn't see him, but the silence made her look round, not even the birds were singing any more, a flash of movement drew her attention. She moved on instinct, not knowing what the movement was, but a sense of danger overwhelmed her as she stepped into its path, shoving Rhys aside. As it crashed into her, she identified one of the Illyrians from the meeting, a Camp Lord's son, bringing up her hand to slam her fist into his face, his nose crumpling under her fist as he stumbled backwards.

"Oh gods, Nesta,"

"What?" It was only when she stepped away from the unconscious male that she noticed the crimson drops of blood on the stone, except the blood from his nose hadn't fallen. She glanced down, her hands automatically pressing into her side at the sight of the dagger buried to the hilt just below her ribs. It hardly occurred to her that she'd saved Rhys' life, again, with the blade's trajectory aiming to sever his spinal cord had she not intervened. Horror was written across his features as her vision fractured from the pain radiating from the wound, and he stepped back to support her as she stumbled, "Now you owe me," she laughed, and winced at the pain such a movement caused.

"Hang on, I'll fix this, I will, I've just got to get us home first, okay?"

"Mmhm," Nesta mumbled, her vision failing completely as blood rushed past her fingers, staining the cliffs red as they vanished, reappearing in one of the River House's guest bedrooms. Nesta didn't register Rhys setting her down in the bed, didn't register when the door flew open and Feyre rushed in, gasping in horror at the sight of her sister.

"Could you go and fetch Cass, it'd be better to tell him face to face,"

"Okay yeah, what happened?"

"She saved my life."

Nesta did register the dagger being withdrawn, and the paint that redoubled afterwards, but a quiet tap against her mental shields encouraged her to lower them, she sensed no danger from that presence, and the pain vanished, allowing her to slip into a blissful state of unconsciousness. She didn't wake when Cassian arrived moments later, all but begging Rhys to heal her. She didn't wake when the sides of the wound closed, blood vessels realigning, skin sealing back together at Rhys' command. She didn't wake when Rhys explained what she'd done, without even thinking about it. She didn't wake when Cassian kissed her brow, when he demanded to see the male who'd hurt her. She didn't wake when Rhys admitted to having left him behind, or when Cassian checked over her again, making sure that she was really okay before leaving to find Azriel to catch the male who'd attacked them.

She did wake when her stomach demanded the dinner she'd missed, finding Rhys still sitting beside her,

"Don't get up, it was quite deep, it might not be fully healed yet, when I heal with my magic it can take a bit of time if it's a serious injury, just take your time, do you need anything?"

"Honestly, food, and a glass of water," Rhys smiled at that,

"You're okay then, so long as anyone who's been injured is asking for food, that tends to mean they're okay really, hang on, I'll be right back." Nesta closed her eyes again, only opening them when Feyre's voice sounded through her sleep,

"Nesta? You said you were hungry?"

"Thank you," he stomach growled again at the scent of the simple broth, and she slowly sat up, the pain reduced to a dull ache as she moved, pausing at the sight of Rhys beside her, sprawled in a chair beside her bed, his head leaning back against a precariously balanced cushion.

"He hasn't left your side," Feyre said, handing Nesta the tray of food, "He insisted on healing you himself, it tires him, his magic is not really designed for healing, but he wanted to do it," Nesta smiled to herself, he was a better male than she'd ever given him credit for, and she was proud to call him her brother. From Feyre's smile, she must have said it out loud, and she nodded, she meant it, it was about time they found the love that they'd been missing all their lives.

tags: @teagoddess99 @brenda5601 @azrielsdarling13 @1helena @shisingh @valkygwyn @soffiiione @toolazymyguy @awesomelena555 @trashforazriel @dealingdifferentdevils @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @almosttenaciousmoon @aightimmaheadoutsblog @alexoik @selfdestructionfetish

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #nesta #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #rhysand #rhys #nesta and rhys #nesta and feyre #sibling bonding

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straykidsreactions · 4 years

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Reaction To: Their S/O Hugging Them During A Fight

S T R A Y K I D S R E A C T I O N T O : You, their significant other, hugging them during a fight because you don’t want to argue anymore.

A/N: I hope it’s alright that I didn’t make this a gender specific reaction, by the time I realized you’d specified gender I’d already finished writing it😂 Sorry about that darling, and thanks for requesting! ❤️

Genre: a little Angst + Fluffy end

Chan:

The likelihood that you and Chan actually ever fought was slim, most of your disagreements were minor and Chan wouldn’t be interested in verbal conflict with someone he loved- so getting to a place where a full-blown screaming match had broken out was an unwelcome rarity. It’d been over an hour at this point, and neither of you could really even remember why you’d gotten mad in the first place. It had started at Chan’s production studio when he’d promised to only be another hour, and 3 hours later you were both still there. It started the way fights with Chan always start, a lot of aggravated comments followed by tense silence- but it quickly escalated into raised voices and shouting hurtful things that neither of you really meant. The fight probably never would’ve gotten so out of hand if the two of you had just agreed to take a step back, or get some rest- but as it turned out the clock was striking 1:00am, you were both overtired, and the last straw had just dropped.

“Can’t you just handle not having everything be about you for 2 seconds, Y/N! Because I’m so tired of having to worry about you while I’m working! You’re supposed to be my (girlfriend/boyfriend) not my kid!”

“Are you serious!? I’ve been sitting here for over 4 hours waiting for you even though you know I have to get up early tomorrow and you’ll get pissed if I leave without you, Chan! I’m sick and tired of your career being more important every single time!”

There were tears welling up in your eyes at this point as paced back and forth across the floor of his studio, silently thankful that the walls were sound-proof. You watched him as he ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and staring dejectedly at the floor. You could feel the tears in your eyes, half out of frustration and half from pure exhaustion- and you realized fighting wasn’t worth it anymore. Sighing, you walked towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and collapsing against him. Chan would be a little surprised at first, not expecting you to hug him after all the things you’d said to each other. After a moment, he’d smile softly to himself, running his hands over your hair and hugging your shoulders firmly against him. You’d just stand there together for a while, holding each other in comfortable silence as you pressed your cheek against his chest, listening to his relaxed heartbeat.

“I’m sorry I upset you, Jagi...you know I love you. More than anything.”

*sighing softly to yourself as you nodded against his chest*

“...I don’t wanna fight anymore, Channie.”

*smiling to himself as he lifted your chin up to face him*

“Me either...let’s go, I’m done working- and maybe we can find a restaurant still open to grab some late dinner. How’s that sound, Jagi? Hmm?”

Minho:

There was something exhilarating about a heated argument with Minho- and the reality was the two of you disagreed a lot. It was never on the big things, but when it came to the little things in life you rarely saw eye to eye and it was one of the things that made you such a good match- you balanced each other out. While a minor argument or dispute wasn’t uncommon, a full-fledged screaming match between the two of you was few and far between. Needless to say, however, they were anything but pretty. At this point neither of you could even remember what you were fighting over- somehow your date night at a little local cafe had been cut short, followed by a tense and silent car-ride, followed by escalated voices and offhanded comments that eventually lead to the two of you screaming at the top of your lungs in an otherwise empty dorm.

“No I don’t even care anymore, Minho! I’m tired and you’re getting on my nerves, ok? Just take me home!”

“Yahh, you always do this, Y/N! Every time we fight you wanna leave and I let you but it’s stupid and childish!”

*you scoffed, running a hand through your hair as you paced back and forth across the living room*

“Oh I’m childish now? You’re the one who couldn’t even finish a simple date because you made yourself mad and wouldn’t talk to me the entire car ride home! We barely get to go out as it is! I’m so sick of your hot n cold attitude, Minho!”

Your raised voice was cracking at this point as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, Minho’s gaze never leaving yours as he clenched his jaw and stared you down. Neither one of you were much for giving in when it came to fights, even when the topic of your argument wasn’t worth the quarrel in the first place. You took a few short breaths, feeling your hands shake with frustration at the realization that more than being angry with your boyfriend, you were angry that you couldn’t spend more time with him. You both had busy schedules and he’d be back to promoting soon- that was always the hardest for the two of you; there was never enough time in the day for you both to follow your dreams and spend time together. Losing a grip on the emotions you’d been keeping at bay, tears began to freely stream down your cheeks as you quickly ran into your boyfriend’s arms. He wasn’t necessarily expecting the reconciling action from you as it was slightly out of character- but as soon as you did and he heard your soft, muffled sniffles every ounce of his frustration towards you evaporated. He’d immediately become overwhelmed with the same feelings of frustration that your dating life was anything but ordinary, as well as an immense feeling of love because somehow you made it all worth it.

“Baby...I’m sorry I was being a dick tonight. That wasn’t ok...I’m just stressed with our comeback and- I know that’s not an excuse...”

*taking a ragged breath in as you shook your head against his chest, pouting at the mere idea of letting go*

“It’s ok, Minnie...I’m sorry too. I was being childish and all those things I just miss-”

“Shh...”

*Minho interjected, rocking the two of you back and forth gently as he caressed your head*

“You don’t have to say anything, baby...I know.”

Changbin:

In your relationship with Changbin, you could probably count on one hand the amount of real fights you’d had. Of course there were little disagreements from time to time, but in all honesty (despite his dark image) your Binnie is a pretty passive guy. It would take a lot to get him to a point of wanting to actually argue with you, most things he wouldn’t consider worth discussing and would opt for stuffing them down rather than causing a scene by bringing it up to you. On those rare occasions where the anger bubbled to the surface, however, things were anything but pretty. Unlike some of the others, it wouldn’t be difficult to tell when something had set your boyfriend off- there would be very little build up or awkward tension. When you and Changbin argued, it was explosive.

You should have known better, you knew that there were certain things that would set him off quickly, but you’d been just a little too lenient when a JYP trainee a few years your junior had started flirting with you. It seemed harmless to you, and though it was no secret that you were dating Changbin, somehow the memo hadn’t spread to this helpless guy yet. Maybe it was the fact that you’d entertained him for a moment too long, or maybe it was the fact that when you finally shut him down you were a little too polite- but whatever it was when Changbin took note of the situation he was quick to pull you away, his tight grip on your wrist never wavering until you’d made it to a completely different floor of the company building where his private studio was located. At the very least, Changbin was not the kind of guy to start anything in public.

“Y/N what the hell was that? Are you serious right now?!”

You couldn’t decide what had you more enraged, the fact that he actually thought you were considering flirting with a guy you’d never met, or the fact that he had the audacity to be upset when he hadn’t paid you a single ounce of attention all day. It didn’t take long for voices to raise and accusations to be thrown, all of which had the two of you exhausted and fully drenched into a heated argument that seemed to go on for hours.

“You’re acting crazy, Bin, he was just talking to me and when he asked me out I told him no! What is up for debate here?”

*taking his hands out from his pockets as he gestured towards the door, his dark gaze burning into yours as he fired back*

“This isn’t about what you said, it’s the fact that you can’t just be firm with other guys! Why do you have to be so polite to every guy who approaches you, Jagi, hmm? They haven’t earned your kindness but you give it away like it’s nothing and they’ll get the wrong message!”

*rolling your eyes as you folded your arms in frustration*

“Everyone knows I’m with you I don’t see why-”

“What about when I’m not here, Jagi!”

*interjecting harshly, hearing the slightest crack in your boyfriend’s voice as his stance wavered, suddenly noticing the hurt behind his angry eyes*

“What about when I’m on tour...when I can’t be here by your side, baby...you don’t think it drives me insane thinking about leaving you alone?”

Silence fell over the small room for a moment as your walls came crashing down, realizing that his anger really only stemmed from a deep-rooted fear of losing you. In that moment, there was nothing left to say, and all you really wanted was to hold him.

*pulling him into your arms as his body stiffened in shock, glancing at you before turning away at the surprise change in behavior*

“I...I don’t want a pity hug, Y/N...”

*shaking your head as you squeezed your arms around his torso even tighter*

“it isn’t a pity hug, Binnie...it’s an ‘I love you and I’m sorry’ hug. I’m not going anywhere...I promise.”

*hearing him sigh deeply, his body finally relaxing as he hugged you back, pulling you close against his chest*

“You better not.”

Hyunjin:

Both you and Hyunjin had a tendency to be a bit over-dramatic at times, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t get annoyed at the other when it had to do with something trivial. Usually it was something you could laugh at and brush off easily- but for whatever reason you weren’t laughing that evening when Hyunjin made a big deal of the outfit you’d put on to go out and grab food. Arguments between the two of you were rare, mostly because he’s such a non-confrontational person, so any off-handed comments he made were never intended to start arguments or upset you. Most of the time instances like this were just simple miscommunications where Hyunjin would quickly apologize, so when he made a comment about how you seemed under-dressed in your hoodie and joggers, you’d fully expected him to clarify that he meant no offense by his snide little remark. When he didn’t back down, however, you’d feel a little attacked.

“What do you mean under dressed? We’re just going to pick up take out...am I supposed to put on a red carpet look to pick up dinner?”

“Aishh, don’t be so dramatic, I’m just saying there might be photographers around and I don’t know if that’s how you wanna look when you end up all over the internet...”

*laughing sarcastically as you shook your head, grabbing your wallet in frustration as you gave your boyfriend a wary look*

“Is this about how I’ll feel, or is this about you not wanting to be seen with someone like me?”

That was all you had to say for an hour long argument to quickly ensue, your takeout order long-since expiring as the two of you spat back and forth, neither of you really accustomed to the environment of arguing with one another but both of you unwilling to call it quits.

“Y/N you know that isn’t what I meant why do you think I’d care about something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re this big super star who’s acting like suddenly you don’t wanna be seen with me unless I’m dressed to the 9′s- why’d you even bring something like that up when you know it’ll make me insecure!”

*taking off his ball cap momentarily to run a hand through his hair in frustration*

“Why are you acting like it’s such a bad thing to care about our image! It’s like you’re just asking for people to talk shit online! What don’t you get about me being worried, maybe you don’t see the mean comments but I do!”

It wasn’t until you looked up to see his watery eyes that you realized Hyunjin was on the verge of breaking, his soft soul exhausted from arguing and worried to death that someone might say something negative about the two of you online. You’d only ever focused on the flood of positive comments, you’d never stopped to think that maybe the few negative ones would strike a nerve with your boyfriend.

“Jinnie...”

*murmuring under your breath as you fell into his arms, his warm embrace instinctively taking you in as you breathed in the warm smell of his cologne*

“I’m sorry it’s been giving you a hard time, I didn’t know. You should’ve told me...”

*feeling your boyfriend shake his head as he leaned his chin against your shoulder, breathing deeply as he pulled you against him*

“I didn’t want to worry you, baby...it’s stupid anyway, I’m sorry I blew up at you for something like that...forgive me?”

Jisung:

Arguments between you and Jisung never really started as arguments, most of the time they were playful instances of teasing that had just been taken too far. He’d never intentionally meant to aggravate you, but that being said Han Jisung is a confrontational person and if an argument starts brewing between the two of you he isn’t the one to quickly diffuse the situation.

It had started harmlessly enough, the two of you were up late working on song lyrics for his upcoming album. Most of the time you helped him edit things that he’d written, but you wanted to take a stab at writing yourself and had begun to scribble down a few rough drafts on some note paper. Maybe it was the fact that it was late and you were both tired, mixed with the fact that you were still a bit self-conscious that your writing might not be good enough for your lyricist boyfriend, but when Jisung playfully snatched the notes you’d been working on to read something snapped in you.

“Yahh, I wasn’t finished with those!”

*jisung laughing as he waved the notes in your face, pulling them away playfully before you could grab them, not picking up on the frustration laced in your voice*

“Aww, did you write some lyrics of your own baby? Let me see, wahh- are they about me?”

*standing up from your seat as you feebly reached out to take your notes back, growing beyond frustrated when for the second time your boyfriend failed to realize that this was actually sensitive to you*

“Jisung please-”

“No let me read them! Maybe you’re the next big JYP producer, hmm?”

The teasing in his voice had no intention of actually hurting your feelings, but more than anything the fact that he couldn’t read the discomfort apparent on your face was the thing that set you off.

*your voice raising slightly in aggravation*

“Why don’t you ever listen to me!?”

The accusation was enough to get on Jisung’s nerves, and it wouldn’t take long for him to fire back. What had started as something playful had quickly devolved into a much larger argument. Most of it was baseless but you were both tired and feeling attacked by the other so, as most arguments of this sort do, it dragged on until both of you were tired and frustrated.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you, Y/N, I don’t know why you always expect to be so harsh towards you I only ever wanna support you...”

*sighing as you looked at the notes of lyrics still in his hands*

“I just wanted you to respect my boundaries...maybe it’s easy for you to share stuff you write with other people but I’m not like that, Bunny.”

You were both silent for a moment before you felt exhaustion wash over you, and all the frustration you felt at the situation you’d now directed towards yourself for being so childish about something minor. Just as you were about to extend your arms to hug your boyfriend, however, you’d feel him pull you into a hug of his own. Jisung wasn’t the kind of guy to diffuse situations quickly or smoothly, but he’d always recognize when he was in the wrong and when things had gone too far. It may have been more difficult had it been with anyone else, but there was something about you that made Jisung putty in your hands- you were someone he never ever wanted to hurt.

*breathing in the smell of his freshly cleaned clothes and body wash as you leaned into his embrace*

“I’m sorry...”

*stroking your hair as he pressed a small kiss to your temple*

“I’m sorry too, baby. I should’ve been more careful...”

*pulling away from the hug momentarily as he glanced at the note paper still in his hand, smiling slightly behind his face mask as he held it up, causing you to smile in return*

“Still want this back, jagi?”

Felix:

Neither you nor Felix were a fan of arguments, most of the time the two of you were pretty good about diffusing things before they got out of hand because you were both a bit sensitive when it came to confronting one another. It would take a lot for him to actually want to confront you about something, but that night in the dance studio just happened to be one of those times.

You hadn’t intentionally spent more time with Jeongin than him, you were just trying to be a good friend to the youngest member who’d asked you to help with him with some of the more difficult choreography by filming him and going over the spots he’d missed. You hadn’t wanted to distract your boyfriend, who seemed to be in his own world practicing, so you’d opted for helping your friend. You had no idea that that alone was enough to distract Felix’s attention for the rest of the night, his eyes darting over to the two of you frequently. It wasn’t that he thought anything was actually going on, he knew you were friends with his members and a part of him liked that they considered you close enough to ask for your help during practice. He was mostly irked by the fact that you’d come with him, yet all your attention seemed to be so easily moved to someone else. While he wasn’t one to get overly dramatic when it came to issues of jealousy, Felix is definitely the kind of guy who likes showing you off- so it stung a little when you weren’t giving the attention he was hoping for. He wouldn’t intend to bring it up right then and there, but when you noticed him being uncharacteristically quiet and Jeongin made an off-handed comment he’d immediately be set off.

“Hyung, is everything ok? You seem so quiet tonight!”

*jeongin laughing as he took a break from practicing, grabbing his water bottle and leaving the studio momentarily before Felix could had a chance to say something back*

“Y/N...come here please...”

*his low voice laced with frustration as you innocently walked over to him, unsure as to what had him so tense*

“Is everything ok, babe?”

*folding his arms as he stared back at you, his frustration at you in particular becoming more apparent with his body gestures*

“Am I supposed to be? My (girlfriend//boyfriend) hasn’t even looked at me all night, I thought you came here to watch me practice?”

His voice was quiet, he wasn’t one to get loud during a serious conversation unnecessarily (despite his usual carefree and vocal personality), especially when he knew another member could be in ear shot. Sometimes that’s what made arguments with him the scariest, his whole demeanor would shift. You were quick to explain that you’d only been helping a friend, but it was too late- you’d both become frustrated with the other and it quickly devolved into an argument.

*both keeping your voices low on the off chance that Jeongin would walk back in*

“It isn’t that hard to just do what you say you’re gonna do, Y/N- I get that he’s your friend but I don’t know why everyone has to be more important than me...”

*sighing as you watched your boyfriend’s serious face crack slightly, hearing the creak of the studio door open as Jeongin walked back in and headed towards the opposite end of the room to resume practice*

Felix grew quiet, lowering his head as he fully expected you to walk away and go back to helping your friend. His eyes widened in shock when, much to his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a loving embrace. All the frustrations he’d been feeling immediately dissipated as Jeongin let out a teasing groan at the image of you and your boyfriend displaying affection, causing you both to laugh.

“Wh-what was that for, Y/N?”

*smiling wide as his cheeks tinged red*

“I’m just sorry...and, I love you.”

Seungmin:

To say that arguments between the two of you were rare would be an understatement. In fact, among all the members Seungmin would easily be the least interested in arguing with his significant other, he just rarely felt the need to bring something up in a confrontation way. In fact, if something did rise to the surface between the two of you, there wouldn’t be much dialogue at all. Neither of you were a fan of screaming matches or saying hurtful words unnecessarily, so more than anything things would just become tense and silent between the two of you.

In all honesty you couldn’t even remember what had started the mutual silent treatment to be exact, but you knew that Seungmin had been very dismissive of your questions about the Mnet performance on the car ride home and that had frustrated you. In the same vein, he’d become aggravated because he’d really only wanted some peace and quiet. Maybe he should have been more understanding of your curiosity, and maybe you should have been more understanding of his exhaustion, but either way it had quickly devolved into both of you growing angry with the other. When you finally got back to the apartment, you were quick to leave the common area and sit down in another room all together, folding you arms in frustration at your boyfriend’s behavior. When he entered the room behind you, knocking gently against the already open door frame, you glanced up, nodding halfheartedly as he walked in.

“Are we gonna talk about this or are you just gonna stay in here and be upset with me?”

*his voice calm despite clearly still being frustrated*

“I just wanted to ask about the performance...you never tell me about it and I’m just trying to show interest in your job, y’know...you always treat me like I’m stupid for not knowing stuff about the music industry...”

The last part came out as barely above a whisper.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, jagiya, I was just tired...I didn’t mean to make you feel like your questions weren’t important...”

He leaned down slightly until he was at your eye level, watching as your face slowly shifted from one of anger and hurt to one of loneliness. You’d always made a point to ask so many questions because it made you feel sloer to him and his work, but you’d immediately felt bad when you realized that maybe it was exhausting him unnecessarily. In a heartbeat the entire dispute felt pointless, and you pulled at the collar of your boyfriend’s button up as he collapsed against you into a warm hug. He let out a soft chuckle, reciprocating your embrace.

“I’ll be more understanding in the future, Minnie...I promise.”

*hushing you softly as he held you against him*

“It’s ok, Y/N...I should’ve never made you feel that way, Minnie’s sorry.”

Jeongin:

Arguments between you and Jeongin weren’t entirely unheard of, you both tried your best not to let little things upset you but occasionally something would come up that left you both feeling dejected and annoyed. Your boyfriend was a master of trying to find the positives even in difficult and frustrating situations, it was just his way of handling hard situations. Most of the time you loved this about him, but it could become frustrating at times when you were trying to vent about something difficult going on in your life and he was only trying to find the positives. He hadn’t meant to act as though he were over-looking your struggles, he was only trying to give you positive feedback, but in the moment it had felt a little impersonal and disrespectful towards your situation.

“Jeongin please just let me talk, ok?”

*you blurted out, slightly louder than you’d intended*

“I am letting you talk, what’re you talking about? I’m on your side, Y/N.”

It wasn’t the traditional sense of an argument, there was no yelling matches or insults fired back and forth, it was more of a frustrated conversation at best. Never the less, you were upset at his approach to handling your problems, and he was upset that you’d chosen to take out your frustrations on him. After 15 minutes or so of tirelessly going back and forth at what was quickly becoming a repetitive and somewhat unimportant arguing point- you took a step back, falling silent.

“What’d I do now, Y/N...did I say something wrong again?”

*shaking your head softly*

“You know I wasn’t trying to talk over you...or make you feel like what you were saying wasn’t important...”

*you nodded in response, growing tired of arguing as your boyfriend let out an aggravated sigh*

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say-”

Before he could say anything else, you collapsed your head against his shoulder and slid your arms around his torso, pulling him into a warm hug. His body stiffened for a moment before relaxing against your affectionate gesture, smiling brightly as the Jeongin you knew and love resurfaced.

“Y-you don’t have to hug me if you’re still mad at me, Y/N, really-”

“Shhh, I don’t wanna argue anymore, Jeonginnie...please.”

*nodding as he pulled you against him even closer, resting his head on top of yours*

“I love you, Jagi.”

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #hugging them during a fight #lee know #han #i.n #kpop #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 3 years

Text

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 1/16 (all chapters)

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto the stranger’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against your lover in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. Your lover sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

How on earth had you gotten yourself into this situation?

━

Whenever you looked back over the course of your life, one detail stood out far more prominently than the others.

You were a good girl.

You had never broken the law, had always adhered to the proper dress code, had never had a filling or broken a bone. You could, and very often did, define yourself by the roads you had never dreamed of taking and the decisions you had never made.

Never was it more obvious than the day you suffered your first real heartbreak.

You had followed the rules carefully; had dressed respectably for every date; had taken care to listen to your boyfriend’s every problem. You’d learned to cook his favorite meal; had faked more orgasms than you could count to feed his ego.

You were sure you would marry that man and had mentally mapped out your next five years. You would have a simple ceremony and a child one year later, then another two years after the first. You’d named them in your imagination and frequently lapsed into daydreams about your future perfect life.

On your fifth anniversary he took you to dinner and you could barely hide your excitement. You knew he had been keeping something from you and you were so sure he was going to propose. You put on your best dress and favourite heels and spent an hour on your makeup and hair. This night was going to be perfect and your stomach fluttered as he reached for your hands across the table.

“(Name),” he said, squeezing your hands in his, “I’ve been thinking about our future.”

“Me too,” you said, squeezing back, willing yourself to hold it together. You wanted this moment to be so perfect and romantic that you would repeat it over and over to your future children and grandchildren. “I’m so happy we’re on the same page.”

“It’s been on my mind for a long time,” he said, smiling softly. “I’ve enjoyed all of our time together, but I think we need to move forwards.”

All you could think about was your future children; the length of their eyelashes and warmth of their hugs. You could almost smell the flowers in your wedding bouquet.

“I just...I think we’ve had a lot of fun together,” he said, “but I’m scared that if we stay like this we’ll fall into a rut. I don’t want to be married with a bunch of kids before I’m forty.”

And just like that, your stomach fell through the floor.

“Wait, w-what are you talking about?”

You snatched your hands from his, heart racing. Was this some sort of joke? You had shopped together for a new mattress only two days before. You glanced around the restaurant, looking for cameras or any sign that this was staged. If it was a prank, it was cruel.

“(Name), it’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that, well… you’re like...how do I put this…”

He scratched his chin, searching for the right thing to say, even as your eyes filled with tears.

“You’re vanilla,” he said, “you’re safe, and sweet… but we’re still young and I keep thinking that I might want to try habanero or cayenne.”

“You think I’m...boring?” the words left your lips as a whisper and, while his reaction was to instantly reach out to you and apologise, the damage was already done.

“I can be habanero,” you said before you realised it. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“I know,” he said, “and that’s the problem.”

━

That night you stood in your shower for almost three quarters of an hour, staring into space as the water soaked you through.

His words circled your brain like vultures.

Vanilla.

He thought you were vanilla. Perhaps the worst part was that you could not disagree.

It haunted your every action for the following week. All you saw when you got ready for work was your simple wardrobe and comfortable shoes.

You were a good girl, mild mannered and meek, and everyone seemed to have noticed before you.

Shock made way for despair. Despair turned to denial and denial quickly turned to anger. You hated your ex boyfriend almost as much as you hated yourself, scouring your apartment for everything he had ever touched.

It didn’t take long for your friends to get worried about you. Normally you were all too busy to constantly check in on the group chat you shared, but since the breakup everyone had something to say.

However kind they might have been to spare your feelings, they genuinely did seem surprised that you had broken up. You had been a couple since your college graduation and one of the only constants in the past few years as everyone’s lives took different directions.

As was to be expected, your friends had multiple different opinions on suitable coping mechanisms. Yuiko came over with food; Hana brought wine. Sayaka called you every evening to trash talk your ex.

Then there was Rei.

Rei was the most boisterous member of your friend group, full to the brim with the kind of self confidence that was obnoxious on other people, yet suited her perfectly. Her reaction to the breakup was not to hand you tissues. She posted exactly one message to the group chat and it had haunted you ever since.

To get over one dude… you gotta get under another ;)

You had known Rei for years and never once taken her advice, but something about that statement stuck with you. You would never have come up with such an idea on your own and it left you blushing a bright scarlet. Rebound sex was not something girls like you did, which was exactly why you had to do it.

“I’ll show you vanilla,” you muttered as you put on another layer of red lipstick and pulled your dress just a little lower to tease the lace of your bra.

━

You met up with your friends at Ego , a nightclub you had heard a great deal about, though never actually gone to. You had never had any reason to; you already had a long term partner and didn’t enjoy the idea of dancing in full view of strange men.

You wondered if you’d made a mistake even as you took a seat at one of the tables.

“Any lookers?”

You glanced around the room, trying to make out faces in the darkness.

“I…” you said. “I…”

You swallowed hard, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll get the next round!”

You thought that by going to fetch another round of drinks, you would be able to catch your breath and avoid drawing copious amounts of attention to yourself. You’d never spent much time at nightclubs, though, and realised your mistake once you got within twenty feet of the bar.

Dozens of people in various states of intoxication crowded it, packed like sardines and all trying to get the attention of the bartender. You took a deep breath and took a step into the crowd, only for someone closer to the front to move and send a wave of movement through everyone else. Someone’s shoulder caught you in the chest, leaving you even further back than you had been before.

Normally you were too polite to even contemplate shoving your way through a crowd, but tonight you weren’t yourself. You took a deep breath and put your weight into your shoulders, pushing against the others as forcefully as you could without actually hurting anyone.

At first you seemed to be making progress, though you soon regretted your decisions. As you got within a few paces of the bar, a guy in front of you slipped, the numerous drinks in his hands heading for your face.

Before they could make contact, however, someone reached for your wrist and yanked you towards the bar, out of the line of fire. The drinks hit other partygoers and they cried out in shock; the glasses shattered as they hit the floor. You, however, remained untouched.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, turning to your saviour.

He was tall and lanky, with black hair tied back from his face in a ponytail. He wore a black shirt, black pants, black shoes- a complete contrast to the Blue Hawaiian in his hand.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, looking away from you and taking an indifferent sip of his drink.

The bartender was in the middle of clearing the shattered glass from the floor and so you waited in an awkward sort of silence, finally turning back to the man who had saved you.

“You look as happy to be here as I am,” you said. He looked the type to sit in shady bars with three fingers of whisky, not dance with inebriated strangers, which Ego was better known for.

“Wasn’t my decision,” he said. “Someone’s gotta babysit.”

He pointed towards the dancefloor, where a small group of people danced along to the beat. You couldn’t make out most of their faces, except for one, and you were sure your eyes were deceiving you.

“Is that...Present Mic?”

The stranger followed your gaze, to the man with more than a passing resemblance, who was currently wiggling his hips in time to the beat.

“Him? Nah. I don’t know him.”

“But he’s waving to you,” you said, as the man who looked like Present Mic waved his arms over his head and shouted something in your general direction. You couldn’t hear him over the music and the stranger next to you pointedly turned in the opposite direction, taking a long sip of his drink.

You had been so nervous about approaching strangers. Rei had made it seem so easy- merging into a group and catching someone’s eye. You had always had a boyfriend and never possessed the easy confidence of your friends. It was strangely reassuring that speaking to this man came almost naturally.

“My name’s (Name),” you said. “Listen, you really saved me there...this dress is hand wash only.”

“Shouta,” said the stranger. “My name is Shouta.”

“C-can I get you a drink or something? I really owe you one.”

You realised after saying it that he wasn’t even halfway through the drink in his hand.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “It wasn’t anything special.”

He picked the pineapple from his drink and chewed at it thoughtfully.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t like playing games. What is it you want?”

You were tongue tied, mortified at being caught out so quickly. You fought to keep your composure.

Under ordinary circumstances, you would have stammered some sort of apology or explanation, but tonight you weren’t you and there was no point in denying that you had an ulterior motive.

“Fine,” you said, gathering your nerves. “Do you want to go somewhere more...private?”

You cringed the moment it left your lips, suddenly all too aware of how forward you were being. You couldn’t believe you’d all but thrown yourself at the first guy you saw. What was wrong with you?

He climbed down off the stool he had been sitting on, taking one final sip of his drink.

“Let’s go.”

━

And so it was that you wound up in the nightclub washroom, back against the door and Shouta’s lips on yours.

You had half-heartedly discussed with your friends what to do on the off chance you found someone. You were to post to the group chat with a photograph of you and whoever you left with. You hadn’t expected to leave with anyone, much less decided on where you would go if you did.

You would never have guessed that you would wind up in a washroom, with the door sealed shut behind you. Shouta crushed his lips against yours, one hand pressed against the door, the other on your waist.

Your heart raced, heat rushing through you and pooling in your core.

“Say,” said Shouta, lowering his hand and running a thumb over your lips, “you sure you want this? Right here, right now?”

You moved before you realised what you were doing, opening your mouth and running your tongue over his thumb, looking him dead in the eyes as you wrapped your lips around it.

He hadn’t expected it, but seemed to approve, for he smiled, pulling away and dragging you into another crushing kiss. One hand he positioned above your head; the other grabbed at your clothes, pulling down your dress to expose your bra before heading south.

He lifted your skirt, slipping his fingers into your underwear. You gasped as you felt his hand against your folds, planting your own hand against the door to brace yourself. He caught your eye, tracing a finger around your clit before slowly sinking it deep into you. You reached for his shoulders, hooking one leg around his waist and pushing your lips against his. You pulled him tighter and tighter as he pushed his finger in and out of you, dragging at his shirt and belt.

He squeezed in a second finger and you bucked your hips into his touches.

As if in response, he pulled his fingers out of you and ran them over your clit- the warmth and wetness sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. You had never felt this way before; this man was as good as a stranger, yet you wanted him so very badly. You had never felt this kind of desire before, never known how it felt to have such a growing pressure inside of you.

“Please,” you moaned into his mouth, not knowing exactly what you were begging him for. “Please—-"

“Come here,” Shouta growled, pulling you towards him and then across to the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, unkempt and wide eyed- a complete transformation from when you stepped out of the house.

You watched through the mirror as Shouta unfastened his belt and fly, lowering his pants low enough to give you a clear view of his hardened dick. He was far more muscular than his skinny physique let on, with a deep scar beneath his belly button.

You were trembling from need, squeezing your legs together to try and fill the void his fingers had left. He smirked and walked towards you, taking hold of your hips and slowly, almost torturously slowly, pushing himself into you.

He was bigger than you expected and you gasped at the feel of yourself stretching to accommodate him. He stopped in place, waiting for you to push back against him before pushing in further. At first his pace was slow, inching in only a little at a time, teasing an increasingly sensitive spot deep inside of you.

“Faster,” you whined, digging your nails into your palms at the pressure inside of you. It was overwhelming your every sense, a coil winding tighter and tighter with every touch. “Please...please…”

He slapped your ass and drove in deeper.

This new pace was faster, his hips slamming into yours with such force that it sent you barreling forwards across the sink. You clung on for dear life, taking in the wet sounds as your bodies clashed; Shouta’s groans of pleasure and exertion.

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto Shouta’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against him in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. He sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

He gathered your hair with one hand and pulled backwards, arching your back as he fucked you even harder. He was getting close and you could tell; his thrusts were getting erratic and the hand that squeezed your hip was so tight that it left bruises later.

“(Name),” he said, raspiness of his voice betraying his desperation, “where would you like me to...cum”

He groaned and you blushed a bright red.

“In...inside me,” you murmured, the depravity of it all too clear. This was a man you didn’t know; you were risking pregnancy and worse.

In that moment, though, it only added to the appeal.

Shouta pulled you even closer, slowing right down to an almost painfully slow rhythm. He held you in place as he came and gasped for air; the heat of his breath leaving goosebumps against your skin.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, his warmth dripping from you as he pulled out.

You took a deep breath and stood up straight, Shouta letting go of you to pull up his pants. He rinsed his hands under the tap and splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a pile of paper towels.

“I’ll guard the door,” he said, motioning towards the same door he had pinned you against only a short time ago. “Knock when you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you said, watching him leave, “okay.”

For the first time all night, you were alone, the nightclub music in the background your only clue to your surroundings.

You walked towards the sink and took in your bedraggled appearance-bra on full display and cum on your thighs.

You couldn’t believe you were thinking it, but Rei was right. For the first time in weeks you weren’t thinking about the ex. For the first time in years you weren’t thinking about anything.

Habanero, you thought as you switched on the tap.

This was how it felt to be habanero.

━

6 Months Later

You were still a good girl.

That said, you no longer followed the safe roads. Not so long ago, you believed that your breakup was the end of everything, but it had actually been a new beginning.

Two months after the night at Ego , you cut your hair and quit your job. You had been there since graduation and your colleagues were more than a little desperate for you to stay. You had taken on the workload of about seven of eight people while earning only a pittance for a salary.

You had a new job now; something fresh and exciting and challenging to boot. It made you nervous, but that feeling only spurred you on.

You’d never been to UA before and it was much bigger in person. You could already tell you were going to get lost and found yourself grateful that the Principal had taken it upon himself to show you around.

“These are the first year homerooms,” he said, pointing out the doors on your left and right. “1-A and 1-B. I hope you pardon my presumptuousness, but I thought it might be useful to have you shadow one of our homeroom teachers for a couple of hours...get a feel for our curriculum and the kinds of students you’ll be working with.”

“That would be wonderful,” you said, eager to take notes.

“Wait here,” said Principal Nezu, “I’ll be right back.”

He knocked on one of the doors and stepped inside, presumably to fetch the teacher.

When he returned, it took everything in your power to stop your jaw from hitting the floor.

It was him, and he was just as shocked to see you.

“Professor Aizawa,” said Principal Nezu, “this is (Name), our new guidance counsellor.”

He glanced from you to Shouta, taking in your identical expressions.

“Oh… do you know one another?”

#aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #boku no hero academia #habanero

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

How to Woo a Lan pt 4 / Also on AO3

Jin Ling explains why he fell in love, gets some advice, and tries to give advice of his own in return

Clearly expecting that the conversation would take a while, Nie Huaisang put away his work and called for servants to bring everything needed to serve tea. Once they were alone waiting for that tea to arrive, Jin Ling started explaining how he had fallen in love with the most perfect person in the entire world, how beautiful Lan Sizhui was (this earned him an unimpressed stare from Nie Huaisang), how elegant (more staring), how nice (a roll of the eyes).

“So he is polite, and you find that impressive,” Nie Huaisang noted, hiding a yawn behind his fan. “I suppose someone living in Jinlin Tai and the Lotus Pier wouldn’t be used to it. And of course he’s handsome, he’s a Lan. I think it’s something in the water of the Cloud Recesses.” Jin Ling frowned at the dismissal of Lan Sizhui’s quality, while Nie Huaisang yawned again, this time without bothering to hide it. “Is that why you love him? He’s capable of more basic decency than most people you’ve met in your life -a very low bar, might I add-, he’s somewhat good-looking, and that’s it?”

“Of course that’s not all!” Jin Ling exploded, but he couldn’t explain the rest right away as the servants returned then.

Nie Huaisang, who could act like a good host when he felt like it, prepared tea with slow, measured movements and poured it for both of them when the servants left again. With unexpected elegance, he gave one glass of tea to Jin Ling before making a gesture to order him to resume speaking.

“He really is kind, and I won’t let you treat it like something that doesn’t matter,” Jin Ling said, before taking a sip of tea.

It was nice, if a little plain. Having accompanied both his uncles to conferences in Qinghe before, he knew this blend was considered the better sort of tea available in the Unclean Realm, which comforted him. He had no doubt Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have hesitated to serve him bad tea if he’d really been annoyed about being half blackmailed into helping.

“I know people from Gusu Lan are polite, but it’s not the same as kind,” Jin Ling pointed out, and he could have sworn Nie Huaisang’s mouth twitched in an almost-smile. “When we were in Yi City, he really was nice to everyone, checked those that had gotten poisoned, and encouraged them to eat some congee even if it tasted awful. If it had been me, I’d just have scolded them into eating it! And some of the others with us were scolding their poisoned friends, because we were all worried, but he took time to reassure others, even if he had to be worried too. I mean, his dad was out there fighting stuff, of course he was worried!”

Nie Huaisang made a face at the mention of Yi City, and quickly opened his fan to hide behind. Jin Ling only remembered then that if he and his friends had almost died in that place, it might have been because of this man sitting across from him. It was a really odd thing to think, and if Wei Wuxian in person hadn’t made the accusation, if Jiang Cheng hadn’t later told Jin Ling that the whole thing made sense… how could Nie Huaisang have had the guts to do that, when he was too much of a coward to meet Jin Ling’s eyes when he mentioned this?

“I suppose he’s been raised a little better than most boys his age,” Nie Huaisang conceded,fanning himself just a little too quickly. “An effect of growing up around Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, both excellent role models, except for their taste in friends. So you love a beautiful young man who is kind to everyone, hm?”

“Well…”

It was Jin Ling’s turn to avert his eyes, his cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment.

“Well, it’s also that he’s not always sweet,” he muttered, before quickly emptying his tea to give himself a countenance.

“How so?” Nie Huaisang asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. He even closed his fan, as if to better focus on what Jin Ling had to say.

“Well. Well, you see, after that whole thing in Jinlin Tai, when Wei Wuxian accused my uncle of murder, and my aunt died, and then me and a bunch of juniors were kidnapped, right?” Jin Ling asked. Nie Huaisang grimaced again. Right, this too was kind of his fault, wasn’t it? “And even then Sizhui was so nice when we were held in that cave, and trying to comfort everyone! But also… Well. I have this very annoying cousin, you see? And he was acting awful, and Sizhui had been patient and patient and patient, but in the end… well, in the end he snapped, and I think if he hadn’t been tied up, he would have slapped Jin Chan in the face.”

Even after this long, the memory of Lan Sizhui’s righteous fury still made Jin Ling’s heart beat a little faster. That it had happened because his cousin had been pestering him was just a nice bonus.

“And also, he tries to hide it, but he’s a little proud,” Jin Ling added. “He really, really likes being praised. His face completely lights up when Hanguang-Jun says he’s done good, and he’s almost glowing whenever Wei Wuxian compliments him and says he’s a good boy and all that. And then when someone says something mean to him, his face does that thing…”

Jin Ling tried to scrunch his own face into an approximation of Lan Sizhui’s expression. He didn’t have a great talent for impressions, but it was still good enough for Nie Huaisang to let out a snort. He then tried to cover it by coughing a few times, but Jin Ling knew what he’d heard.

“It’s never for very long,” Jin Ling resumed, “but I noticed it and it’s just. I guess he wouldn’t like me to call it that, but it’s really cute. I just wish I didn’t keep saying the wrong thing to make him make that face, you know? I want to watch it, not cause it.”

“At least you have self awareness,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “That’s more than several members of your family could ever have said. You’ll just have to learn how to turn a weakness into a strength. Now, tell me, what have you tried to make Lan Sizhui aware of your interest in him?”

Jin Ling, suddenly, desperately wished he had some tea left in his glass, just so he could pretend to drink it instead of facing that question. He ended up turning the empty glass between his hands and staring down at the table, feeling Nie Huaisang’s silence get more and more judgemental the longer it took Jin Ling to answer.

“I see,” Nie Huaisang said after a while.

“You don’t see anything! I just want us to be good friends first, and then…”

Jin Ling trailed off, and toyed some more with his empty glass.

“Fine, then what have you done to become his friend then?” Nie Huaisang insisted, amusement piercing through his voice.

“Well, he hasn’t been around much those last few months,” Jin Ling muttered. “But, well, I went with him on Night Hunts twice before someone killed my uncle, so there’s that. And then he came home not too long ago, and we went on another Night Hunt with everyone! And then…” He sighed, deeply. “And then I said something wrong, and I think I accidentally insulted him, and I haven’t seen him since then and I can’t see him until I figure out how to do things right!”

Nie Huaisang hummed, but didn’t say anything right away. When Jin Ling risked a glance, he found the older man looking at him the way one might inspect a horse before buying it. Jin Ling didn’t particularly care for that. It felt so wrong for Nie Huaisang to have such an intense, calculating expression on his face, making him look miles away from the blundering fool who had bothered Jin Ling’s uncle for years and years.

When Nie Huaisang looked like that, it became too easy that he had done all those terrible things Wei Wuxian had accused him of.

“It’s true that you have a certain gift for saying exactly what people don’t want to hear,” Nie Huaisang stated, fanning himself slowly. “You’re impulsive, that’s your problem, and your uncles both failed you in that regard. It’d be hard to go against your own nature in the best of case, but they've done nothing to help you understand your own temper. I suppose we’ll have to work with it. Have you ever considered taking up a correspondence with Lan Sizhui?”

Jin Ling shook his head. “It’s… isn’t it risky? My uncles have always told me if I start liking someone, I shouldn’t leave traces. There’s always a risk of blackmail, if the other person doesn’t feel the same. Not that Sizhui would ever do that! But, well… Letters can fall into the wrong hands, and because of my grandfather I know people watch me more than other boys my age in case... well...”

“I’m not telling you to write him erotic letters,” Nie Huaisang said with a mocking sneer. “Not yet anyway, and I could teach you a trick or two about keeping those secrets. But simple, polite letters... it’s a good way to stay in touch with a friend, and it would let you think more carefully about what you’re saying, and how you’re saying it.”

“Oh.”

That did sound wise. Even Jiang Cheng was a little less abrasive when writing than in person, and Jin Ling was fairly sure he wasn’t as bad as his uncle. That might be worth trying.

“Another piece of advice,” Nie Huaisang continued, fanning himself with slow, nearly hypnotic movements. “Own up to your faults. Admit to your little friend that you’re aware your mouth goes faster than your brain, and that you often realise too late you said something bad. You could even tell him that you’d appreciate his guidance in correcting this. Gusu Lan disciples love that sort of things, they’re all raised to become teachers. Offer yourself as a student and the fight is half won already.”

“You’re sure?”

“How do you think I even got Lan Xichen to notice me? ‘Please Xichen-gege, please tutor me’,” Nie Huaisang whined in a high pitched voice, his bottom lip trembling for a moment, before his pathetic pout turned into a disgusted grimace as he closed his fan with a sharp gesture. “I think the Lan like a desperate case, so you should have your chance.”

That was a very rude thing to say, but Jin Ling could hardly disagree. Nie Huaisang was a complete mess, that much was clear. And as for Wei Wuxian, the less said, the better. Yet those two absolute disasters had, apparently, managed to seduce the two top cultivators of Gusu Lan, nay, of the entire cultivation world, who surely could have had their pick of competent and emotionally capable partners of any gender.

Jin Ling hated that it did make him feel a little more hopeful.

“Well, that’s all my advice for today,” Nie Huaisang announced, before glancing with disgust at the pile of paperwork he’d set aside earlier. “I have to do my own work these days and it takes a while, so I’d appreciate it if you left. I know etiquette dictates I should invite you to spend the night here,” he added, “but I really don’t feel like it, and I don’t suppose you’d enjoy it either. Who could say if I wouldn’t change my mind and murder you in your sleep, right?”

Nie Huaisang laughed at his own joke, earning an unimpressed stare from Jin Ling for his poor taste in humour.

It probably was a joke.

Right?

Just to be a pest, Jin Ling considered forcing the issue and demanding to be given a room. But Nie Huaisang had guessed right in suspecting that Jin Ling didn’t quite trust him enough to make himself vulnerable in his domain. Not only that, but if he stayed, poor Ouyang Zizhen might start worrying about him, and either try to storm the Unclean Realm on his own, or worse fly toward the Lotus Piers and get Jiang Cheng to storm the Unclean Realm, by far the worst possible option because then Jin Ling would have two other sect leaders furious at him.

“I’ll leave,” he conceded, which made Nie Huaisang smirk. “But can I come back tomorrow, and show you my letter? Just to make sure I’m not writing anything too awful.”

“I would say no,” Nie Huaisang sighed, “but I have a feeling you’ll just do as you please anyway, so I might as well pretend I have any control over this. Yes, come back tomorrow, why not. It’s not like I have anything better to do. Try to be here at the same hour as today, and I should be able to make time for you.”

Jin Ling promised. Nie Huaisang then called for a servant to bring Jin Ling back to the gate so he wouldn’t get lost. The distrust, apparently, was mutual.

Once out of the Unclean Realm, Jin Ling lost no time in returning to Qinghe proper, and there he headed straight for the inn where Ouyang Zizhen awaited his return with much anxiety. The poor boy nearly cried of relief when he saw Jin Ling enter the inn. In fairness though, he was just that sort of a person so Jin Ling told himself he hadn’t caused his friend any actual worry. Still, he made sure to buy the best food the inn had to offer, and some wine as well, just to thank Ouyang Zizhen for having come along.

While they had lunch in the privacy of their room, Jin Ling reported his success, and shared the advice given to him. Jin Ling had told Ouyang Zizhen that he’d gone to Nie Huaisang in particular because he used to be friends with Lan Xichen and thus knew Lan Sizhui, an explanation that seemed to be accepted without further questions.

Jin Ling couldn’t help thinking that Lan Sizhui would have asked for more details about that. He was curious and observant, surely he might have picked up on something wrong with Jin Ling’s lie. Then again, with gossip forbidden, he might not have said anything.

Someday, Jin Ling wouldn’t have to speculate. Lan Sizhui and him would be married, and happy, and they would share everything, unlike some people, so Lan Sizhui wouldn’t even have to pick up clues to know things.

With this goal in mind, Jin Ling started drafting a letter as soon as he was done eating. His first attempt was predictably awful, but to Jin Ling’s surprise, he actually realised that on his own, even before Ouyang Zizhen could check it. Maybe Nie Huaisang had been on to something about it being easier to deal with his temper and lack of social skills on paper. So Jin Ling drafted a second letter, and then a third, while Ouyang Zizhen sat by, reading over his shoulder and occasionally offering his opinion.

By the fifth draft, Jin Ling felt he was starting to get the hang of this.

“I just can’t believe you got him to agree,” Ouyang Zizhen said while glancing at his letter again. “I mean, Nie zongzhu! You’ve said that Wei Wuxian said that he’s the one who got your uncle killed, right? So… are you really sure it’s not a trap?”

Jin Ling chewed on the end of his brush, trying to remember how to write a certain character, and shrugged.

“I’m not sure it isn’t. A trap, I mean.”

“And you’re still going back tomorrow?” Ouyang Zizhen gasped. “He’s given you advice, and good one at that, isn’t it enough?”

Jin Ling shrugged again, and wrote down another sentence.

His friend wasn’t wrong to find him unwise. Nie Huaisang was dangerous, there was no denying it, and he certainly wasn’t nice, that was certain as well. But if Nie Huaisang had been as awful as he pretended to be, he wouldn’t have listened to Jin Ling at all, wouldn’t have talked so fondly about Jin Zixuan, wouldn’t have gotten so upset at the thought of Lan Xichen’s reputation being ruined any further.

Nie Huaisang wasn’t nice, but he probably wasn’t that bad either. No more than other people in Jin Ling’s life, anyway, and at least he didn't shout as much as Jiang Cheng did.

“If I don’t go back, he’ll think I’m scared,” Jin Ling claimed.

“Well, aren’t you?”

“Even if I were, I wouldn’t want him to know that. Anyway, I think I’m done, can you read it?”

Ouyang Zizhen obeyed, and agreed it was about as good as it could get without getting too awkward. It didn’t need to be perfect, anyway. Jin Ling had a feeling that Nie Huaisang would enjoy having something to criticize. So he put away his letter, and went out to explore Qinghe with Ouyang Zizhen, forgetting his love troubles for a little while. They had great fun, and Jin Ling only wished a few times that he could have been doing this with Lan Sizhui instead.

Soon, he would.

Come morning, Jin Ling dutiful returned to the gate of the Unclean Realm. Just like before the disciples guarding the entrance stared him down in disapproval, but this time they let him in almost immediately, and Jin Ling was again led by Qinghe Nie’s first disciple toward Nie Huaisang’s office. This time there was already tea waiting for him when he got there, and the pile of paperwork on Nie Huaisang’s desk looked a good deal smaller and neater. Either he had worked hard to free some time, or he had hidden away anything sensitive to make sure Jin Ling wouldn’t get too curious. Jin Ling figured he would have done the same, and decided to take no offence.

Instead, he put a small pouch of candies on the desk, by the teapot. Nie Huaisang threw him a sharp look for that but pinched his lips so he wouldn't ask any questions. Jin Ling sat down and shrugged.

“You used to bring those to Jinlin Tai when I was little, even if nobody but you would eat them. I figured you had to like them, and since you’re helping me and all…”

“I see good memory runs in the family,” Nie Huaisang noted, glaring at the candies yet making no movement to take one. As if Jin Ling would have poisoned him. It was a coward’s method of murder, Jiang Cheng always said, and Jin Ling was no coward. “Did you write a letter, Jin zongzhu?”

“I did,” Jin Ling confirmed, digging into his sleeve for the latest draft which he handed to Nie Huaisang. “I think it’s pretty good.”

In answer Nie Huaisang just rolled his eyes, and started reading. Jin Ling realised he was getting nervous, as if that odd man’s approval actually mattered in any way. To distract himself he drank some tea, and helped himself to a few candies. They were pretty much nothing but sugar, which made his teeth ache. How could anyone enjoy something like that? Maybe Nie Huaisang had just wanted to be a pest back then, bothering everyone with shitty candies.

“It’s acceptable,” Nie Huaisang said at last, returning the letter to Jin Ling. “Not great, but a clear improvement over the things you tend to say in person.”

“I can rewrite it again,” Jin Ling muttered, disappointed that all his efforts got him so little praise. “If you show me what to change…”

“No, the imperfections are necessary,” Nie Huaisang explained, opening his fan. “If it is too polished, it will be obvious that you’re not writing alone. It really isn’t so bad, anyway. Better than when your father… well, nevermind that. You’re not doing so bad. And inviting him to a Night Hunt is smart, I’m surprised you thought of it.”

“You don’t think it’s too bold?” Jin Ling asked.

“He’s a Lan, they don’t see Night Hunts as a prelude to flirtation,” Nie Huaisang said, before grimacing. “I wish I’d known that when I was young, actually. So don’t hope for anything more than a pleasant moment with a friend. Well, pleasant if you enjoy Night Hunting, which apparently some people do.”

Jin Ling huffed. Of course he liked Night Hunting. Any decent cultivator did. But of course, Nie Huaisang was hardly a decent cultivator, no matter how you looked at it, and his dislike of Night Hunts was no big secret. He only showed up if he had absolutely no choice, Jin Guangyao used to complain, and then he was such a hindrance that everyone would have been better off without him, especially poor Lan Xichen who’d had to rescue him more than once.

But still Nie Huaisang would go and try, Jin Ling remembered. He didn’t enjoy it, but he tried, at least if Lan Xichen was also present. And Lan Xichen did look happy about that, whenever it happened. Really happy, instead of just polite.

It really was too bad that these two had fallen out like that, because they’d seemed to have a good influence on each other, aside from the one murder. Not that any of this was Jin Ling’s business, of course, and he presently held little affection for either man.

And yet...

“Since we’re on the topic of letters. Have you ever thought of writing to Zewu-Jun?” Jin Ling asked, because if it were him having such a huge argument with someone he loved, maybe he would want someone to butt in and help. He wouldn’t like it, but he’d want it. “Because maybe…”

“I have written to Gusu Lan a few times on official business,” Nie Huaisang coldly cut him, closing his fan with a snap. “Aside from this, I have no reason to correspond with anyone there.”

“But maybe you could…”

“I have nothing to say to Lan Xichen,” Nie Huaisang explained, reopening his fan with an impatient flourish. “You see, I am not sorry for what I’ve done,” he said with a cruel smile. “Your uncle deserved to die. He was an awful man, who did awful things, and if I’d truly had my way, he would have died an awful death.”

Jin Ling, who’d thought that losing an arm, being stabbed by his closest friend, and then having his neck snapped by the enraged fierce corpse of one of his victims only to be trapped with said fierce corpse for a century to suffer untold torment had been a pretty awful way to die already, couldn’t help a frown.

He made a decision to never ask Nie Huaisang what he would have preferred to see happen to Jin Guangyao.

“I know what Lan Xichen wants to hear from me,” Nie Huaisang continued, fanning himself. “He most likely wants me to say that I’m sorry. And I could say it. I’m a very good liar, if I do say so myself. So I could lie to him, say exactly what he wants to hear, be exactly the man he wants me to be…” He paused and grimaced in disgust. “But in that case, I would just have turned into another Jin Guangyao.”

“And you don’t want to become like him.”

“I am like him,” Nie Huaisang snapped with such rage that Jin Ling jumped on his seat. “I can’t change that now. I am a good liar, but I’ve decided long ago I wouldn’t lie to myself, and I know what I am. As for Lan Xichen, in spite of his blindness, in spite of his errors, he deserves better than to fall prey to another liar. And that’s why I cannot…”

“You really should write to him,” Jin Ling insisted. “And tell him all that stuff. I mean, since you don’t have regrets and you know you're an asshole, then it’s no big deal telling him things as they are, right? And then at least he gets to know the full truth. You old people really should be more honest instead of making everything complicated all the time.”

Nie Huaisang glared at him, as cold and angry as he’d been the day before, but Jin Ling realised it was already starting to lose its effect on him. It wasn’t so different from when Jiang Cheng threatened to break his legs over every single little annoyance.

Well, it was a little different in that Jin Ling still wasn’t sure Nie Huaisang wouldn’t murder him if he was certain to get away with it, but it was still the same general sentiment.

Jin Ling didn’t even mind that Nie Huaisang impatiently ordered him to leave, grumbling about disrespectful children, time wasted on educating idiotic youths, and how he refused to be involved in this any further. This, too, Jin Ling had heard before from his uncle, and he’d learned to ignore it all.

If the letter and the Night Hunt didn’t work, Jin Ling knew for sure he could come and ask for Nie Huaisang’s help again.

#xisang #zhuiling #lingzhui #jin ling #nie huaisang #mdzs #operation woo a lan #jau writes

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chibinekochan · 3 years

Text

How to become a Demon Ruler 102

Part: 01 I

After getting adopted by the Demon King * better known as Diavolos dad *, you get sent to the demon prince castle.

There you are supposed to get your proper education from your new adoptive brother and his butler.

GN. Reader insert

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At that moment I open my eyes and almost have a heart attack when I find Barbatos looking at me. "Wah, what are you doing here?" I yelp in surprise.

"I'm ashamed if I startled you. It's time for dinner." Barbatos is calm as usual and smiles at me. It's a bit unnerving if I'm being honest.

"Next time you should knock." I say with a frown.

"Very well, I will remember that." Barbatos face doesn't even twitch.

He is a real pro. I have to admire that dedication.

I get up from the bed.

Barbatos stands there, seemingly waiting for a chance to assist me.

"Do you wish to change?" Barbatos tone doesn't seem to imply that I should change my clothes.

"No, I'm good..." I'm hesitant if my answer is right and carefully peek at him.

Barbatos serenely smiles at me. "Then we should head to the dining room."

I'm starting to wonder if anything would ever wipe that smile off his face. I don't think I want to find out.

Barbatos escorts me to the dining room. It's more of a banquet hall. It's so vast, I can barely see the other side of the room.

Diavolo is already sitting on the table and smiles happily at me.

Barbatos shows me to my seat.

I sit down, anxious of what to do or say. Everything is still sinking in.

"How do you like your room?" Diavolo breaks the silence.

"It's very charming." I can't tell him that it's too big or that I'm nervous about breaking anything if I look at it too intensely. So I'm just being gracious.

"That's great to hear. I was worried if you could feel at home here but I'm delighted you like it." Diavolo seems so genuinely pleased that it makes my heart ache.

"My lord please don't pressure the young liege." Barbatos softly reprimands Diavolo.

I hold my breath for Diavolos reaction to that.

"Oh, did I do that? I apologize, I might be a bit too excited about having such a cute sibling. Don't mind me." Much to my surprise Diavolo waves it literally off.

I feel a bit embarrassed about being called cute but I can't say anything to stop him. "It's alright." I offer him a faint smile.

"Don't encourage him too much." Barbatos almost whispers this to me, but it's obvious that Diavolo can still hear him.

"Shall we eat then?" Diavolo's expression has not changed at all.

I nod and our meal begins.

The meal includes several courses. I do my best to remember what cutlery to use for certain dishes but frankly I have never seen any of the food being served.

A few times I direct a desperate glance at Barbatos and he kindly points to the correct silverware. Then I look at Diavolo on how to eat the meal. He doesn't seem to mind his own manners that much.

Our meal is a bit strange, but I am more than full by the end of it.

"That was extremely pleasant. How did you like our food?" Diavolo seems a bit worried, like I didn't eat enough. I mean he did eat a lot more than I did.

"I have never eaten anything like this before but it was absolutely delicious. I want to compliment the cook." I state the genuine truth. Some of the dishes looked a bit dubious but everything tasted very good and some dishes were similar to human food.

"I'm extremely delighted to hear that." Barbatos tone is gentler than before and his smile reaches his eyes. So he must be very happy.

"Wait, don't tell me that you prepared all of this?" It surprises me to say the least. Typically, something like this would be done by a kitchen chef.

"Indeed, I take pride in my cooking." Barbatos nods.

"That is extremely impressive." It's hard to believe, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the butler of the demon prince is top class.

Barbatos seems to let his mask slip for about a nano second and bestows me a genuine smile when our eyes meet.

It gives me pleasant shivers.

"As much as I'd love to idle chat with you but I fear we have a lot of significant things to talk about. So we should move to the living room." Diavolo seems regretful when he says this.

"We can talk casually once we are done." Whenever I see him, looking even slightly sad, he reminds me of a big puppy and can't help cheering him up.

"Ohh! That is an excellent idea." Diavolo nods.

I swear that I hear a slight snicker from Barbatos, who stands behind me. I'm uncertain if I should acknowledge that.

I stand up and Diavolo walks beside me, he is cautious to follow my pace. I appreciate that greatly.

The living room is just as big and gaudy as I expected. Somehow I'm slowly getting used to it.

Diavolo sits down and motions me to sit across from him.

Barbatos moves quickly to serve us both tea.

Diavolo looks slightly troubled when he starts talking. "Father has informed me of what he expects from you. I protested against placing this much pressure on you. Sadly he can be quite hard headed. So I have decided to give you Barbatos as your personal attendant. He is very well versed in all the things you will require in order to succeed. I also rely on him greatly. I'm very confident that he will teach you everything that you need to know." Diavolo smiles kindly at me.

Diavolo emphasizes the word trust. I'm certain it can't be easy for a prince to trust anyone.

"This is a great honor but isn't he your personal butler?" I wonder if he will be okay without Barbatos.

"He is, but I'm convinced that I will be able to survive without him." Diavolo doesn't seem to think it's an issue, at least.

"We will see about that. I can merely hope you don't think that I will neglect my duties towards you just because I'm the young lieges Butler at the moment.” Barbatos didn't miss a beat.

He can be pretty brutal, but that doesn't faze Diavolo at all. I start to wonder if anything troubles him.

Diavolo shrugs. "You should give me some more credit. At any rate, I know training will be difficult but I will make sure that you also get to rest. In about a week there is a formal party at the house of lamentation. I think this will mark the ideal opportunity for you to gain some experience from a formal event in the devildom. Do you think you will be capable of handling it?" Diavolo looks at me with a hopeful gleam.

"A week? Isn't that a bit too soon? I don't know anything about demon manners." I'm quite baffled.

"I have observed your manners and there aren't any glaring issues. Actually you possess more manners than some other demons that I know. From what I have noted, I would say that you are simply unfamiliar with the kind of food we serve. Other than that we probably should add some dance lessons and teach you some information that will be helpful for you." Barbatos seems to have everything fully planned out.

"We should go shopping to get some elegant clothes too." Diavolo seems to agree with this plan.

I'm just glad that they don't perceive me as some sort of social pariah. "If you think that I won't embarrass you, I will do my best." I give him a faint smile. I have an uneasy feeling about it to be honest, but it's hard to resist his smile.

"You would never embarrass me, you are my dearest little sibling after all. If anyone dares to cross you they will dearly pay for it." Diavolo says this without a hint of sarcasm.

I'm not sure what to say to such a bold statement, it's pretty sweet that he admires me this much already. Even when I'm slightly concerned since it hasn't even been a day yet. Maybe this is completely normal for Diavolo?

"Please don't do anything rash my lord." Barbatos refills his cup, and I feel a sense of relief. At least Barbatos is calm. "Defending the young master is my job after all. I will let them pay dearly." My eyes widen from these words. For many reasons. First of all he has a slightly scary aura for a brief moment, and on top of that, him calling me master does certain things to me.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary." I'm not quite sure who I'm defending here.

"You are certainly a kind person." Diavolo emphasizes this by nodding.

"I think you should head to bed now. Tomorrow will be a long day for you." Barbatos speaks politely, but he leaves no room to disagree.

"I think you are right." I'm too tired to fight right now and just agree.

“Sleep tight. I hope I can be there for tomorrow's breakfast but for dinner I will definitely join you.” Diavolo sounds like a doting big brother.

It makes me giggle a bit. He seems to register this as happiness and smiles at me.

“Thank you, have a pleasant night.” I respond in a kind manner with a smile.

“Thank you and don't hesitate to ask me if you need anything. I should give you a phone.” Diavolo has apparently just thought of this.

“I will make sure that you get one by tomorrow morning.” Barbatos leaves absolutely no doubt about that.

“That is very kind of you.” I wasn't expecting this.

"Don't worry about it. I'm determined to make you feel at home here." Diavolo speaks with great determination. I can't help but believe him.

Somehow I start to hope that his words will come true. "I hope so too." I say softly, unsure if I'm telling the truth.

Barbatos nods, as if to assure me.

Then I stand up and once again follow Barbatos to my room. "Thank you for escorting me Barbatos. Have a pleasant night." I feel grateful towards him.

Barbatos seems slightly surprised but then smiles at me. "Sleep well master, and if you require anything please call me." It seems like he wants to add something but doesn't. Maybe he just wants to give me some space. I appreciate that.

"I will do that." I assure him.

Barbatos waits for me to close the door, and I can hear him walking away.

I let out an audible sigh. This definitely won't be pleasant.

My body is tired but my mind is racing, so I decide to take a look into my bathroom.

Much to my surprise I find the bathtub filled with steaming water and a flowery smell fills the air.

I wonder when Barbatos did this. Well, it is possible that there are other servants. Still pretty impressive.

I smile and undress quickly.

The bath melts much of my tension. Somehow my thoughts calm down.

I mean I got a personal butler, and my new older brother seems to be a great guy. Suddenly I feel like I might actually be able to do this.

This thought leads me to a deep sleep as soon as I hit my bed.

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I'm opening a taglist for people who want to be notified of new posts. For now I will post a new part every weekend. Probably every saturday.

Have a great day everyone.

#how to become a demon ruler #obey me #omswd #obey me fanfic #demon ruler 101 #obey me!#obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me reader insert #obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me au

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weeb-writor · 3 years

Text

Meeting Shouta’s parents on Christmas

Hello all you beautiful people! So here is the last part in the Aizawa mini series. I fell in love with all these Characters and this head cannon so I will probably revisit them! As usually the reader is neutral in every since of the word! I hope you guys enjoyed this series.

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Aizawa Shouta x Reader

After a month of preparation you meet Aizawa’s Parent over the course of a week

Words: 3,098

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

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“Ooh my goodness what are we gonna do!?” You said pacing around your living room. Shouta looked at you and chuckled at your frazzled state.

“We get in my car and drive to my family house as planned, pretend to enjoy ourselves so we can come home and cuddle with my fat cats.” He said, pulling you into a hug.

“You want me to show up to meet your parents without the gift I ordered for you dad? Shouta are you outta your mind.” You said to him with a pout.

“Well that's debatable but I do know my parents and they aren't even expecting anything so it's fine. You can just tell them we’ll get it to him when we get it. Now let's go!” He said trying to drag you to the car.

“Aizawa Shouta! I am not going anywhere unless it's to a store to buy your Dad a gift.” You said giving him a glare. He stared back as if to question if you were being serious. You cocked an eyebrow at him, challenging him to disagree.

“Were gonna be late to get there, do you want that?”

“Better to be late than to show empty handed especially when everyone else has gifts.” You said with a shrug. Aizawa laughed but nodded as you both went to the store. You wandered around the place for an hour before you found something you actually liked. Now you were in the car messily wrapping in as you pulled into the driveway of your destination.

“Okay goodness gracious we barely made it but we're here and I have gifts for all your siblings and their lovers and their kids! Didn't think I would pull it off but here we are in one piece.” You said mostly to yourself.

“Kitty Cat you start talking to yourself and I might leave you to enter the den of wolves by yourself.” Aizawa said as you both got out of the car. You let him take in your overnight bags and get help for the millions of presents somehow packed into your small car you didn't wait long as you felt as presence behind you.

“Hello you, perfect example of a gorgeous human being!” The voice said from behind you.

“Shinji, how nice to see you.” You said with a sigh.

“You know if you’re tired of sighing that way… I have a better way to make you sigh.” He said winking at you. You had to push back all the thoughts of murdering him and just smiled but before you could say anything another voice interjected.

“See I told you we had to come out here! Shinji stop hitting on y/n their dating our little brother you snake.” Saika said, hitting him over the head.

“Can't help it, sis!” He said with a laugh.

“Well for this week you absolutely will have better control overself or so help me God Shinji! Anyway y/n you’ve got me, Shinji and sora at your beck and call, what do you need help with?” Saika said with her graceful smile.

“Oh just this.” You said pointing to the car packed with presents. Sora seemed to choke on air at the amount of gifts.

“God, didn't Shouta tell you didn't have to buy everyone a gift, you poor thing!” Saika said hugging you.

“Well he did but I just really like you guys and loved getting to know you this past month so I wanted to.” You said waving her off.

“More like you wanted to impress our parents, huh cutie?” Shinji said teasing you before he started to grab presents as to avoid his sister wacks.

“Ignore him! My mom is dying to meet you, Shouta’s never brought anyone home.” She said as her and Sora grabbed some more presents. As they went in you pulled out the last two rounds of presents and waited for Aizawa who wasn't far behind.

“Hey love are you ready?” Aizawa said, picking up the presents you set out.

“I am totally not!! I barely remember everyone's name! We should just slip away right now!” You said beginning to pace some more.

“Babe i'm gonna go inside and wait on you, come in whenever you want but remember we are late.” He said with a light chuckle.

“Sho!! don't you go into your house without me!” You said picking up the gifts and following him like a lost puppy. That was that and soon you were inside the house with a lot of eyes on you. You followed aizawa while bowing and placed the toys underneath the huge tree.

“Alright now that that’s done let me meet the one whose stolen my baby’s heart so effortlessly!” A woman said coming over to you. You bowed deeply to her and she let out a melodious laugh.

“How cute, no need to bow so deep! I should be bowing to you, you who is able to make my stoic Shouta blush, giggle and pout!” She says grabbing your face and pulling it around as if to inspect it.

“Oh Honey, you stop it! They are just being polite, you know like Japanese culture requires them to be.” A tall man said coming over to you.

“I'm just saying! Anyway you can call me Mina and this is my parasite of 41 years Hirohito! Nice to meet you!” She said hugging you, you were a bit surprised by how informal and kind they were.

“Excuse my parents, they were born and raised in America! No less Japanese but they are a bit more informal and that does shock a lot of people.” Shojiro said scratching his neck.

“Oh hush boy! Don’t put a warning label on me and your mom as if we are damaged goods.” Hirohito said, knocking him over the head.

“Now it’s getting later we should all wash up and get ready to eat! I made something special for you all. And Sho I put a king size bed in your room since you’ve finally brought someone home. If you want to take advantage of that and make me some grandchildren then don’t worry we will hold up dinner for you!” His mom said kissing his cheek. He groaned and grabbed your hand and pulled you away and soon you were in his room.

“See, was that so hard?” Aizawa said with a flushed face.

“Ehh you look like it was, tomato paste! But I think it went okay! I can do this!!” You said hyping yourself up.

“Yes you can, kitty cat. After dinner only 6 more days to go.”

“WHY do you guys do Christmas gatherings for a week!” You whisper yelled at him.

“Because we have a doting mother who wants to smother us every chance she gets and a father who would do anything for her.” He said serious, you laughed and got ready for dinner. When you and Aizawa made it to the dining room, you were met with three huge dining tables. Almost every seat filled.

“Sweetheart, you and y/n come sit right here! I’ve got so many things to ask you!” His mom said waving you over.

“Thank you… Mina. Your way to kind!” You said with another bow. Dinner was pretty quiet at first but how quiet can you be with like 30 people in one room.

“Saika, dear, you were in charge of the schedule this year can you read it off for everyone.” Mina said.

“Of course! So on the 20th aka tomorrow it’s all about decorations and the tree! 21st is all about taking the kids to see Santa! 22nd is Family photo day! 23 is the gingerbread houses contest and reindeer games! 24th is sugar cookie making and movies! 25th is a grand breakfast and present opening! Bring forth the cup of straws!” Saika said giggling. Sora rolled his eyes but got the cup and passed it around, everyone taking a straw.

“Okay now blow into if red dust comes out you’re in charge of taking the kids to see Santa!” She announced and everyone did. Of fucking course red dust billowed from you straw. You looked at Shouta and he shook his head at you and your heart dropped.

“So then it’s me and you, how fortunate!” Shinji said waving at you. You couldn’t control yourself and your head dropped onto the table dramatically.

“Haha, Shinji y/n already knows what a pain in the ass you are! you must be losing your style dear! Not to worry y/n, Shinji will be on his best behavior won’t you?” Mina said as an ominous silence fell over the room. Shinji didn’t hesitate to nod.

“Okay then! Y/n, welcome to the Aizawa family. I hope you enjoy your first Christmas with us! With that let us begin the 6 days of chaos!” Mina said laughing lifting her glass, everyone joined laughing. Okay maybe this won’t be so bad you thought for a brief second.

20th - 5 Days till Christmas

“Dad I understand you like to hang lights up dangerously but do you have to drag y/n into it.” Aizawa said as he watched you nervously. You were on the roof helping his dad put up a few decorations and lights.

“Of course I did, if they’re gonna be an Aizawa one day they gotta learn all our trade secrets.” He retorted as if it was common knowledge.

“I’ve never seen my little Sho so worried. I can’t figure out if it’s because your kind and you love him so much or if you’ve got him by the balls or maybe even both.” Mina said with a slight chuckle. This made you warm in embarrassment and you lost your footing and began to fall, of course taking the old man with you.

“Shit!” Aizawa said as he quickly used his capture weapon to grab both you and stop your impact from being damaging.

“Yeah alright, me and y/n are opting out of decorations this year.” He said dragging you who was still in his captured weapon toward the door.

“Oh honey calm down it would have just been a small bump and maybe a sprain. Would you at least help Shinji and Sora with the kids, decorating the tree?” She said with a kind yet manipulative smile. Before either of you could respond yelling was heard from inside

“Damn it, Yukio stop breaking the glass ornaments and Maki stop recording and help me!” Shinji yelled.

21st- 4 Days till Christmas

“Shinji what the hell do we do!” You said pacing.

“Hold on stop talking I’m thinking.”

“Like hell I’m trusting your brain! We just have to ask them to let us take pictures anyway.” You said with determination. You see everything was going well until and elf said something to Haru that Jun took as bullying. A fire light in that boy like you had never seen he was on top of the elf giving him the business in seconds. After he just mumbled things like ‘Bakugou said you can’t let people bully you.’ And ‘gotta put bullies in their place.’. Then when you tried to get him to apologize he glared and said ‘no, I can’t let that bully win’ and just like that y’all were kicked out.

“No look let’s just disguise them! Tetsuya and Haru stitch clothing and Haru and Umi switch! Then Maki will take them and her pictures with them.

“What about Maki though they saw her!” You said not believing you were actually going along with his crazy plan.

“Oh I have a change of clothes, gotta be prepared when you’re going out with uncle Shinji!” She said cheerfully.

“That’s my girl! Now go do this thing!” He said giving her and high five. Someone how Shinji’s ridiculous plan worked and the parents didn’t even notice, they were all too drunk or tired.

22nd - 3 Days until Christmas

“There is no way I'm taking pictures wearing this.” Sora said as he pulled the clothes from the box.

“Yeah mom, why did you make Sho pick clothes this year you know he cant even dress himself! It’s because you babied him so much, you know.” Shojiro said, looking as equally as disgusted at the clothing.

“Hey now! I put my baby in charge of the clothing and you all are gonna wear it, end of discussion. Also if anyone babied him it was all of you so blame yourself.” Mina said, ending the discussion as Shouta wore a crazed grin.

“I like the clothes Uncle sho’ta.” Nozomi said rocking on her heels.

“They are pretty cute huh?” He said ruffing her hair.

“Ah ah ah! Don't you go infecting my kids with your bad fashion sense!.” Saika said, covering Nozomi's ears. At this you all broke out into laughs before heading to put on the outfits and prepare for maybe the most embarrassing photos known to man.

23rd - 2 days till Christmas

You were not an artist by any means but when you heard the winner got the honor of passing out presents you were purposely trying to lose. You knew them apart mostly but if they were all wearing the same pajamas with their hair tied back it was going to be a stuttering mess. However your plan of making a 3 out of 10 gingerbread house was foiled quickly. Aizawa wasn't really a competitive man or so you thought but when you to were paired against Shinji and Shojiro he went berserk! You looked at the gingerbread MANSION with a sigh.

“Shouta i’ve never seen you so invested! It's amazing.” Said Shizumi the resident artist in the house.

“Yeah uncle Shouta and L/N! You definitely got my vote!” Daisuke said smiling at you, you smiled back at him warily. The family all wrote down the people of their choosing and put it into the Santa hat. Now as names were being drawn you were biting your nails.

“Shouta and Y/n will be our Clauses this year.” Hirohito said with a small smile.

“Yay y/n wins.” Haru and Jun danced around you. You giggled before glaring at Aizawa in a way that said when we get home your sleeping on the couch, he just kissed you sweetly.

24th - 1 Day till Christmas

“Uncle Shouta stopped making so many cat cookies! Santa wants other shapes too!” Tetsuya said, hitting Shouta repeatedly on his legs. You laughed evilly as you formed another cat cookie and wrote Shouta’s name on the corner.

“I like your cat cookies.” Nozomi said, playing with her hair. Aizawa picked her up and spun her around.

“Okay, yep that's weird Baby brother! Why is Nozomi clinging to you? What did you do?” Shiori said looking back and forth from you and Shouta.

“Nothing.” Shouta said with a smirk. The family then looked at you hopeful.

“Well would you look at that! It's about time to watch the Grinch isn't it, Rei?” You asked the young boy. He eagerly nodded wanting to escape the situation.

“You got Rei too? What is happening!” Saika said as she grabbed Rei bringing him to her chest.

“Huh where is your DVD player? I got to put the disk in.” You said completely ignoring her.

25th - Christmas Day

The gift giving had been going pretty successfully. You only Stuttered a few times but you hadn't given anyone the wrong present and let Shouta take the ones with Nicknames you didn't know. But this right here was the moment of truth, the moment you had been preparing for. In your right hand you had a gift for Shizumi and in your left one for Saika. You looked at the two twin like sisters and handed the gifts to each respectful sister hoping you were right. They opened the gifts and smiled so you guessed you were correct had everyone's eyes not been on you, you would have done a happy dance.

“Alright last gift before Mom and Dads are for Miss Nozomi!” Shouta said signaling you to get the present you and him picked out for the young girl.

“Alright this is from me and Uncle Shouta!” You said to the girl handing her the blue box. She said a quiet thank you before tearing into the box. Inside the box was a note which she took out.

“Look at your favorite uncle.” She said before looking straight at Shouta making all the other brothers gasp. In Shouta’s arm was a cute 3 legged kitten which had the girl darting toward him but slowed when she got to him so as not to scare the cat.

“Thank you!” The girl said, rubbing at her teary eyes. You and Aizawa had been teaching her how to care for cats knowing she wanted one. In all honesty she knew she was getting a cat she just didn't know when. You had asked her parents as well but didn't tell then when either so as to have a bigger reaction from the family.

“No need to thank me! Just promise me to take care of him real well.” Aizawa thumbed away the last of her tears. She nodded rapidly before snuggling the kitten who seemed to enjoy the attention. The last arc of gift giving went well as did the extravagant breakfast you had all prepared together. Now you were all saying goodbye.

“Y/n dear I do have one last parting gift for you.” Mina said as you rounded the corner with your bags. You placed down your bags and went to her side.

“I know you and Shouta haven't been together too long but I want to thank you. He acts tougher than he is. He would rather bear all the responsibility and pain and suffer alone. Not to mention the way he puts himself in danger rather than ask for help. With you he seems different, and you put him in his place. You’ve made me feel at ease for the first time since he entered UA as a student. So welcome to the family, we're so glad to have you.” She said putting something into your hands. You bowed at her and opened your palm to see a key to this house and a few pictures taken over the course of the week. You waved goodbye to them all and got your bags and made the short trip to your car where Shouta was waiting.

“Why do you look like you're going to cry.” He said worried.

“Because there are 365 days till next Christmas.” You said to him smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~

MHA Masterlist

#bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa imagine #Aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa shouta x reader #mha x reader #bnha aizawa #shouta aizawa #domestic fluff #aizawa x reader

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intu-witch-tion · 3 years

Text

You’re An Asshole, Javier Peña. {Javier Peña x Female Reader} Ch. 1

Summary: (I just finished Narcos for the second time and therefore have Javier on the brain.) You are a CIA agent working alongside Javier, who is an absolute JERK to you for reasons unknown. And to your dismay, you have been sent on a mission together.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: excessive foul language, angst, sexual implications, reluctantly soft!Javier

You sat at your desk, leaning over your typewriter, focused on the report you were instructed to complete. But you were soon interrupted by a pair of hands reaching for the piece of paper from your machine and pulling it from the roller.

“What the fuck, Javier!” You exclaimed, standing up and reaching over the desk to steal back the page and missing as he crumpled it up and stuffed it into his pocket.

“What the hell was that little stunt you pulled back there?” He glared at you, his jaw tense. Both of your hands rested flat on the desk as you leaned over with a fierce look on your face.

“Give me back my report. Now.” The look on your face was serious yet flustered.

“I told you not to involve yourself in my case.” He retorted, his voice deep with a tone of warning.

“You should be thanking me. If it weren’t for my intel, Rodriguez wouldn’t be in custody right now.” You made your way around the desk slowly, ready to fight for your report that was stuffed into his grey pleated pants.

“You don’t know that…” His voice trailed, unwilling to admit that it was slightly possible you had helped his case.

In a swift motion, your stilettos slid across the floor as you tried to reach your hand into his pocket to retrieve what was yours. But he was faster than you, grabbing your wrist and giving you an admonishing look. You gritted your teeth, your other hand flying up to slap him across the face but once again, your plans were foiled, as he stopped you with his firm grip. Both of your wrists were held tightly in his grasp as you tried to twist and pull your way free.

He smirked at you, pleased with his triumph when Murphy walked in to see the two of you glaring at one another. “Uhhh. What’s going on?” He stared at the two of you for a moment, arms folded over his chest. Javier’s grip on your small wrists was unrelenting and no matter how hard you fought to free yourself, there was no breaking loose.

“Agent Peña has a very funny way of showing his gratitude for my assistance with the Rodriguez case.” You say through gritted teeth. Murphy sighed and shot Javier a look and in a matter of seconds, you were released from his grip. You rubbed your wrists, the skin a bit tender and made your way back over to your desk, adjusting your typewriter with a new piece of paper, a grimace plastered on your face.

A few minutes later, a balled-up piece of paper flew across the room, landing on your desk, courtesy of Javier. You cut eyes at him as he leaned back in his chair. You unfurled the page and proceeded to retype your report as the room fell silent for the next few hours.

Javier’s phone rang, breaking the silence. He took a long drag from his cigarette before answering it. You glanced over at him to find that he was looking at you, his eyes quickly diverting to his desk as he held the receiver to his ear.

He hung up the phone, standing from his desk, his back turned to you as he walked away. “Y/N. Stechner wants to see us. Let’s go.” Your brow furrowed, confused, and irritated at his piss-poor delivery of the message. You stood up and trailed after him.

Javier didn’t even bother holding the door for you as you walked into Stechner’s office. You scowled as he sat down. You reluctantly took the seat to his left. Stechner was scanning over some documents on his desk and then looked up at the two of you. “We have reason to believe that Pacho is meeting up with Navegante tomorrow night. And we need someone to get close to hear what they are planning. Y/N, since you have proven yourself useful in acquiring intel, we are going to send you in, under cover. Peña, you’ll be her back up.”

Javier shot up in his seat, white knuckling the arm rests. “Wait—hang on a second—is that really a good--” He began to argue, but Stechner held up his hand to shut him up. “Don’t argue with me. Learn to work together or I’ll suspend you both.” Your jaw dropped and you glared at Javier, but you chose the high ground. “Yes, sir.” You say obediently, standing to take your leave. Javier groaned, turning on his heels and back to his desk.

When you get back to your workstation, you stop at Javier’s desk. “Do you have to be so goddamned disagreeable? Am I that awful to work with, Peña?” You ask him, your face flushed as you look down at him. Refusing to look up at you, he reaches into his pocket for a cigarette, lighting it nonchalantly. He inhaled deeply, releasing an exhale as smoke purled from his lips. He said nothing. You huffed angrily at his disrespect, swiping your hand across his desk and knocking a stack of documents onto the floor. “You’re such an asshole.” When you turned your back to him, Javier sighed, clenching his jaw.

The next day…

You walked into the station, wearing a sexy yet professional black dress that hugged your curves in all the right areas. Red stilettos and red statement jewelry tied the look together. Knowing you were going under cover tonight, you made sure that you were dressed and ready so you could get down to business right after work. You turned heads the moment you walked through the door.

Your heels clicked against the linoleum floor as you made your way over to your desk, tossing your purse onto an empty chair. You didn’t catch the stares you received from Murphy and Javier as you settled in and started reviewing the file in preparation for tonight. You chewed on the end of your pen as you adjusted your reading glasses up the bridge of your nose.

As you were focused on your research, you didn’t notice Agent Garcia approach your desk. “Buenos Dias, Agent Y/L/N.” He started with a smile. You looked up at him, unamused but doing your best to remain polite. “Garcia. What can I do for you?” He perched onto your desk, half-sitting, half-standing, a grin on his face. “You uh. You look really nice today.” He managed. You grimaced, putting your pen down and pursing your lips. “Thank you, Garcia. Anything else?”

Javier groaned and rolled his eyes, fists clenching tightly. “Garcia, get the fuck out of here.” Peña blurted. Garcia stalled for a moment and realized that you weren’t going to protest for him to stay. He left in a hurry. When he was gone, you turned to Javier with a sneer. “I am more than capable of fighting my own battles, thank you.” Javier let out a sarcastic chuckle. “I didn’t do it for you. He was getting on my nerves.” You scowled and continued your evaluation of the report in front of you.

“We are leaving here at 3. Make sure you’re ready to go.” Javier stated plainly and you threw him a quizzical look. “Isn’t that a little early? The dinner isn’t until 8pm.” He walks off without a reply.

You sat in the passenger seat of Javier’s Ford Explorer, arms crossed over your chest staring out the window. You had been on the road for 40 minutes, stuck in traffic. “This is why we needed to leave at 3.” He bemoaned. You shot him a look. “I had shit to do. And I thought you were just being dramatic.” He rolled his jaw in irritation. You didn’t think it would be a big deal leaving at 5 as you originally intended. Javier had been pressuring you to leave but you had so much paperwork to catch up on and a lot to do to prepare for this dinner.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, crossing your legs. Javier’s eyes glanced over at you, admiring the way your black dress hiked up over your thighs. He pressed himself back into the driver’s seat, swallowing a lump in his throat. His right hand fell onto his knee, squeezing it into a fist and stretching his fingers thusly.

“So, what’s your plan?” He asked you suddenly, eyes glued to the road ahead. You brushed a piece of lint from your dress. “You’re not the only one who knows how to charm someone with witty conversation.” You remarked blandly. He chuckled under his breath, smirking over at you. “Oh yeah? So, is that little black dress of yours a conversation enhancer then?” His words were snide and if you didn’t know any better, tinged with jealousy. Your jaw dropped as you pushed your tongue along the teeth at the back of your mouth. “Fuck you, Javier.” You turn back towards the window.

“You couldn’t handle it, querida.” He chides and it took everything in you not to grab the wheel and turn the car into a tailspin. But you refused to give him the reaction he wanted. “You don’t know a fucking thing about what I can and cannot handle.” Your words were calm and placid. He turned to you quickly, surprised at the confidence in your voice, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, ma’am.” He replies with a smirk, looking back at the road.

An hour later, you arrived at the restaurant. It was nearly 8 o’clock and you knew that Pacho and Navegante would be arriving soon. Javier parked the car across the street as you opened your purse, applying a fresh coat of bright red lipstick. Javier watched you as you lined your lips slowly. Catching him staring, you turn towards him and he clears his throat a little, looking out the window to his left. Your face flushes a little. “I guess I should head inside and wait for them to arrive.” You said, reaching for the door handle of the car. A firm grip on your arm stops you from going any further. “Wait—” he blurted. You turned to him with a questioning look on your face. It was silent for a moment and you waited for him to speak.

“Be careful, Y/L/N.” He said after a long beat of silence. You were taken aback by the sentiment, so accustomed to his cold and unpleasant nature towards you. You gently place your palm on his hand which was still gripping your arm and smiled softly before opening the car door and walking towards the restaurant.

10pm

Javier sat in the car, slumped against the door trying not to fall asleep when he finally sees you step outside of the restaurant. Only...you’re not alone. Pacho’s arm was draped over your shoulder and you were laughing hysterically at something he must have said. Javier’s skin burned as he watched Pacho’s hand drop to the small of your back before he hands you a small piece of paper, kissing you on the cheek. Pacho climbed into his town car and drove off. You stand on the curbside for a moment, ensuring you are not being watched or followed before making your way back to Javi’s car.

Javier cuts eyes at you the moment you opened the door and you are immediately caught off guard. “What?” He rolled his eyes and groaned. “You were a little too cozy with him, don’t you think?” He accused. You glowered at him. Without saying a word, you handed him the small piece of paper that Pacho slipped to you. “What the fuck is this? His phone number?” Javier remarked rudely before snatching it from your hand. He unfolded it to see an address. You crossed your arms and glared at him. “He wants me to attend a party at his villa this weekend. And I believe La Quica will be in attendance.”

Javier was stunned. He couldn’t believe you had been granted an invite to such an exclusive party. “What did you have to do to get this?” He murmured, sounding almost disgusted. Your jaw dropped and you swiftly slapped him across the face before getting out of the car and slamming the door. Javier dropped his head back against the headrest of the driver’s seat and let out a loud sigh. “Fuck.” He groaned and opened the car door to chase after you.

He was shocked to see how quickly you could move in those red stilettos. You were already nearly 2 blocks away from him and he found himself having to jog to catch up. “Y/N!” He called after you, his tone laced with frustration. You didn’t know why, but you were crying. There was something about his accusation that hurt you. “Y/N! Would you fucking stop?!” You kept walking, picking up your pace now. You wiped your eyes and he caught up to you, grabbing you by the arm and turning you to face him.

As if on cue, it began to rain.

“Do you really think so little of me, Javier?!” You exclaimed, tugging your arm against his grip in futility. He looked shocked at your question. But you continued, not giving him an opportunity to answer. “You’re so fucking shitty to me. And now I learn that you think me no different than the whores who keep you company at night? I just—I--” Your words are cut off by his lips crashing onto yours, the rain quickly drenching you both as your mascara runs down your cheeks. His arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace and you whimper softly against his lips, pleasantly surprised by what was happening.

He pulled away suddenly, cupping your cheeks in his hands and swiping his fingers gently across the makeup streaking down your face. He wore a pained expression, despite the tenderness you felt from him. “Jesus fucking fuck, Y/N! I fucking hate that I think about you all the time! I fucking hate that I am always worried about your well being and you are ALWAYS getting yourself into precarious situations that only make me worry more!” He was yelling now, trying to carry his voice over the torrential downpour you were standing in. “ I fucking hate that the other agents at the station talk about you and I have to pretend I don’t care…Y/N…I fucking hate that you make me feel things I never wanted to feel again.”

You blink erratically, trying to keep the rain from falling into your eyes. Taking in a broken breath, you brought your hands up to touch his forearms as he maintained his hold of your face in his palms. You shake your head, fighting back tears and failing miserably as they pool against your eyelids, falling to merge with the rain. “Javi…” you muttered, barely audible over the splashing of rainfall on the pavement and tin roofs of the shops that surrounded you. He didn’t wait for you to finish, kissing you again in a fever. You moan softly, opening your mouth and granting his tongue access to yours. You kissed as the rain poured heavily and he stopped just long enough to pull you into an alley and up against a wall.

There was an awning that stopped the rain from falling and he stopped to stare at you for a moment, the golden glow of the streetlights glittering in streaks and puddles along the alleyway. He smiled at you and kissed you so gently you felt your soul leave your body for a moment. “You’re an asshole, Javier Peña.” You whispered as your eyes scanned over his face tenderly. He chuckled, leaning in to plant a kiss against the shell of your ear before whispering back, “I know, querida. I know.” You ran your fingers through his wet hair and closed your eyes.

You pulled him down to kiss you deeply and felt his hand peeling your wet dress from your thigh. “We should get you out of these wet clothes.” You could feel him smiling as he mumbled against your lips. You chuckled. “Mmm. I have plenty of dry clothes at home, Agent Peña.” You feigned formality and he pulled away slightly with a devilish grin. “I didn’t say anything about dry clothes.” He kissed you softly again, his wet mustache tickling your upper lip.

You slipped your red heels from your feet, too slippery to walk in them, and Javier immediately hoisted you over his shoulder. “Hey! What the hell?!” You cried out and he laughed, his hand slapping across the back of your thighs. “You didn’t think I was going to let you walk barefoot on a Columbian street, did you?” You yelped followed by hearty laughter as he stepped back out into the rain and towards the car.

Chapter 2*

#Javier pena #javier pena x female reader #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #narcos #narcos fanfic

99 notes · View notes

andorerso · 3 years

Text

secret love song

Princess of Lah'mu, Jyn Erso, is sick of pining after her royal bodyguard. So there's only one solution, really. Thrust into him into the arms of another.

(Certainly, she's had better ideas.)

“You should dance with her,” Jyn says when Cassian approaches her for the first time that evening. No doubt hoping to ask her for a dance instead.

Jyn knows that he doesn’t care much for this sort of dancing – he’s always preferred the lethal sort of two steel swords clashing together. But he’s polite enough to ask anyway, at every ball, without fail, for one dance. Only one because Cassian never wants more than what he can have and because Jyn always has someone else to dance with, some other aristocrat to entertain.

But it doesn’t matter; to Jyn, her one dance with Cassian is always the highlight of her night.

Now, she’s too frustrated—upset to dance with him. It’s better if she puts some distance between them. She thinks she’s going to embarrass herself if he comes too close.

“With who?” Cassian inquires, confusion written across his handsome face.

Jyn nods towards the lady, dressed in wine purple, brown hair elegantly twisted up in a bun, not unlike her own. She stands next to the grandiose fountain in the middle of the room, pretending to gossip and giggle with her friends, but Jyn sees her glancing at Cassian every couple of minutes like a moth drawn to a flame.

Helena Krennic is the daughter of Orson Krennic, who is co-owner of the Lah’mu Railways Company and founder of Krennic Bank, therefore a very important individual that she must impress – according to her royal advisor, at least. Helena herself is an accomplished pianist, an esteemed painter, an occasional poet, and an admirer of Cassian Andor, apparently.

Cassian swivels in the direction Jyn gestured towards, his frown deepening.

“Why?”

“Because she’s been looking at you all night,” Jyn answers, relieved to hear that her voice is not quite as bitter as she feared it would be. Yet, she can’t completely hide the contempt either.

“I haven’t noticed,” he says, and she knows he’s being honest. When it comes to battle, nothing escapes his attention, but with the ladies, he’s hopeless.

(Has he noticed that Jyn, too, has been looking at him since she was fifteen? No, he has not. Or perhaps he’d thought her crush childish. Perhaps he hadn’t realized that as she grew up, so did her feelings for him. She’s no longer a young girl admiring her older, braver, skillful royal bodyguard. She’s a woman who’s fallen in love with the forbidden fruit.)

She knows Helena isn’t to blame – Jyn has no claim on Cassian, who is a handsome young man, and whose noble job of protecting the princess made him even more appealing to certain people. Ladies have noticed him before. And while some find his background and lowborn status disagreeable, others deem it a testament of talent and ambition that he could rise as far as to be Jyn Erso’s royal bodyguard at such a young age. Rags to riches is an appealing fairytale. And Helena appears to be a fan of fairytales.

Jyn hates Helena for that. She hates herself for wanting Cassian, and she hates Cassian for being so damn wantable and for not wanting her back. Or if he does, for not showing it. Most of all, she hates the world they live in, and she hates the universe for making her a princess but making Cassian a nobody. It would be an impossible love affair.

“She’s the daughter of Orson Krennic,” Jyn pushes, metaphorically thrusting him into Helena’s arms because she finds it the most reasonable option – letting go of Cassian so he can belong to somebody else. Perhaps then she could learn to let go of her feelings as well.

There, have him, she imagines saying to Helena. The princess gives you her blessing. Have him, just don’t let me have him.

“You’re being impolite,” Jyn continues, throwing him a stern look. “Go and dance with her before she takes offense and tells her father that the princess employs a royal bodyguard with no manners. Queen’s orders.”

There’s a laugh in Cassian’s voice, only because he doesn’t quite realize the extent of her turmoil.

“You’re not queen yet,” he reminds her.

“But I am your boss,” she answers, leaving no room for argument. Cassian seems amused, not subdued, but he leaves as requested and asks Helena Krennic for a dance.

xxx

Jyn expected Cassian would dance with Helena once, maybe twice if she’s pushy, and then make his way back to her or blend into the background as he usually does at these gatherings. But he’s danced with her four times before retreating to a secluded corner, next to a painting of Jyn’s grandmother, where they stand even now. Conversing intimately with each other. Intimately, on Helena’s end, at least. Cassian’s expression is smooth, a mask, but Jyn has known him long enough to recognize that he is less than thrilled with the situation.

She’s watched them as she twirled on the dance floor, making polite conversation with men of power and great importance. She’s seen the way Helena pressed herself tightly against Cassian as they danced, and the way she played with her hair and leaned closer to whisper something to him as they talked. Jyn has sent him into the lion’s den, it seems, and Cassian could not find his way out.

So maybe she feels a bit guilty. Or angry. Or regretful, even. Whatever it is, between two dances with insufferable statesmen, Jyn makes her way over to the not so lovely couple and politely requests Cassian’s presence for a dance. Helena can’t say no even if she wants to. (And, no doubt, she wants to.)

Jyn knows it’s not exactly traditional for a woman to ask a man to dance, and she knows it will fuel gossip and scandalize the aristocracy, but she doesn’t care. She owes it Cassian to rescue him from Helena, and –

She changed her mind. She can’t let the other woman have him after all.

She pushed him towards Helena but she did it in anger, in desperation, in hopelessness. Seeing them together cleared up her mind. If she thought it would help her move on, she was sorely mistaken.

Cassian is relieved as he leads her to the dance floor but only Jyn sees the way his expression loosens. He doesn’t question her erratic behavior. Seconds pass in silence, Jyn trying to ignore how warm his hands are on her waist. How nice he smells. How right it feels to be held by him. How, if she squints, he almost looks like he wants her too.

She breaks the quiet when the song is nearing its end, knowing she’ll be soon swept away by someone else.

“Did you enjoy conversing with Lady Helena?”

There’s not much bite in her words anymore – Cassian’s embrace has mellowed her anger – but he still raises his eyebrows at her.

“I’d rather have conversed with two rabid dogs.”

Jyn’s snort is positively unladylike but his lips quirk at the sound. Her mood brightens.

“But you know this,” Cassian adds, dark eyes searching hers.

“Well, I just thought...” She shakes her head. The song comes to a halt but neither of them lets go. “I don’t know what I thought. But she’s very pretty, wouldn’t you say?”

“Jyn –”

Cassian is interrupted before he could say more and Jyn turns with a fake smile towards the newcomer – no other than Lord Krennic himself. Cassian bows, excusing himself, but Jyn feels his eyes lingering on her as he retreats into the shadows.

xxx

She doesn’t see him again until she’s back in her suite. Cassian waits for her in her sitting room, his cravat gone, his vest unbuttoned. Jyn felt dreadfully tired as she made her way up the stairs, her eyelids heavy, her feet aching – but now, seeing Cassian in front of her, she perks up. She could spare him another hour of conversation before retiring for the day. Especially since she’s barely seen him today at all.

“You’re in luck,” Jyn remarks as she plops down on a recliner opposite of him, hiking up her dress to remove her shoes. She massages her sore feet, wondering what it would take to convince Cassian to do it for her. Dancing all night really takes its toll on one’s legs – by the end of the night, she could barely stand.

“Lord Krennic doesn’t want a ‘strange figure like you’ around her only daughter. He’s tried to subtly persuade me to call you off, I think. As if you were my dog or something, can you believe it?” Jyn huffs, even though, yes, she can believe it, and so can Cassian. “In any case, I doubt Helena could pursue a relationship with you now. Even she has to realize that.”

Cassian scowls. He looks good like this, still in his fancy attire but comfortably messy instead of exceptionally neat. Jyn likes the way his shirt crumples up and the way his hair falls into his eyes. The way he leans back against the couch with leisure. He looks like Cassian now, not like one of the detestable dukes she’s had to endure this evening.

“Oh, don’t take offense,” she adds at his frown. “Krennic is a hateful man, he’s always been.”

Her blood had boiled at the way Krennic had spoken of Cassian – but she doesn’t want him to be upset now. Krennic doesn’t matter. Even the royal advisor doesn’t matter. She would always, always pick Cassian. (And if that makes her a terrible future queen… well. An issue for a different day.)

“I don’t care what Orson Krennic, or her daughter thinks of me,” Cassian says, his voice low. “I just don’t understand why we are talking about her again.”

She shrugs. “I thought you might want to know that she won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“I wasn’t very afraid of that.”

“Good then.” She nods, and they fall into a silence less comfortable than it usually is with Cassian. He seems calm as he observes her but Jyn feels her skin itch under his gaze. Does he see that when he looks at her? Can he sense her heart beating faster every time he’s in her vicinity? How much does he, her formidable royal bodyguard, truly notice?

“Jyn,” he drawls her name, a question in his voice. She looks up at him instinctively. “You’ve been acting strange.”

She swallows, trying to evade the question. “Have I?”

He nods. “Positively.”

“Strange how?”

“Strange about this Lady Helena business,” he says. He’s so calm, so in contrast with Jyn’s growing nerves. He’s figured her out. Hasn’t he? Of course he has. Cassian knows her too well. “If I had to take a guess, I’d say you were jealous of her.”

“I wasn’t,” she says – too fast. An amateur move. Is she trying to be caught? Part of her wouldn’t even be surprised. “Why would I be?”

A smile plays on his lips. Small but genuine. A far cry from his other smiles; polite, disarming, reassuring – all fake. She’s one of the few people who get to see his real smiles. She always feels pity for the rest of the world who will never know how beautiful it can truly be.

“I don’t understand why you should be either,” he says, rising from his place. Jyn remains seated, staring up at him as he walks closer. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

It’s not true, she’s never known – but he says it like a confession that she can’t misinterpret. It’s not a platonic statement, it’s not even because of his job as her royal bodyguard. It’s too… intimate for that. He means it the same way she only has eyes for him – exclusively, faithfully, admiringly.

Jyn’s heart stops for what feels like too long before it begins pounding in her chest. The shaky breath she lets out is audible in the quiet room, full of tenderness, longing and hope. She finally stands too, her aching feet forgotten.

“Do I?” she counters quietly, her eyes trained on his.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Cassian allows his feelings to show on his face, allows her to read him like a book. What stands out most is devotion – so strong and absolute, it nearly knocks her off her feet.

“I hoped you did,” he says, his voice honest and gentle.

“I didn’t,” she answers but her lips curve up.

“My mistake. I shall make it clear from now.”

Cassian reaches up, so slow like he expects her to object, fingering the golden barrette in her hair. He hesitates for a moment before removing it, his thumb catching on her cheek. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, brown locks framing her face, Cassian combing through them with his fingers.

“I like your hair down,” he tells her. Such a simple thing to say, but Jyn can’t hold herself back anymore. She reaches up to kiss him, gasping into his mouth as his hand wraps around her waist. It’s a quick but intense thing, stealing the breath from her lungs, making her tremble in his arms.

She pulls away to look him in the eye, voice low and insistent.

“Tell me again that you want me. And don’t ever let me forget.”

#rebelcaptain #dailyrebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #my fics #i wrote this literally 3 years ago and randomly finished the ending now #ehh i think you can kinda tell but #maybe someone will like it?#i really love royalty aus but i'm not sure if it's really the most fitting au for them #i struggled with making it work idk how much i succeeded

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forsakenoathkeeper · 3 years

Text

I Am Alive (chapter 10/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

The following morning, you were called into the police station to finalize the documents from yesterday's investigation. All they needed was a pen and ink signature.

Connor had been in conversation with another detective when you walked in; so, you decided not to bother him.

On your way out, you spotted Connor seated across from Hank. At first, you thought he was lost in his computer screen; however, he spun around to greet you as you approached, rising to his feet with a smile.

"Do you have eyes in the back of your head?" you teased.

"I do not. I saw the documents register to the case and knew you were finished," he answered, a little robotically. His tone didn't quite match the soft look on his face.

You stepped in a little closer, looking up at him with expecting eyes.

"I-" Connor cleared his throat. "-was unsure if you were alright with public displays of a-"

You reached for his tie, slid your fingers around the smooth velvet right above the clip, and gave a light tug. It forced Connor to bend down, just a little bit, and brought his mouth within range for yours.

You closed your eyes and leaned into the kiss with a smile, silencing him. He reciprocated, gently, closing his own eyes. It lasted barely a second and was hardly anything compared to what you had done last night; but, it left your tummy swarming with butterflies.

People could see.

Connor's coworkers could see.

Good.

"Ah, geez," Hank grimaced, rising to his feet. "Get a room."

You parted from Connor with a little giggle. When you released Connor's tie, he fixed it promptly, though it had hardly moved at all. It was impossible to miss the adorable, dorky smile he was trying not to wear.

"Damn kids," Hank grumbled as he walked away, coffee cup in hand.

"Are you heading back to work?" Connor asked softly, still standing close.

"Yeah, I better get back there before they have a kitten..." you trailed off when Connor's gaze shifted away from you and looked over your shoulder. The soft look in his eyes vanished, replaced with something cold.

"It's nice to see you again, detective."

You rotated around, following Connor's gaze.

This man's face had once been plastered over every magazine cover for business, wealth, and technology. Anyone who knew even a little bit about androids knew who he was: piercing blue eyes, a strong jawline, dressed impeccably.

Elijah Kamski, the inventor of androids. Two men were standing nearby, dressed as sharply as he was: lawyers, most likely.

"What are you doing here?" Connor asked. His cold tone didn't go unnoticed. It actually startled you a little.

Elijah was Connor's creator, even if he hadn't been working at Cyberlife at the time of Connor's inception. Some hostility was to be expected; but, somehow you doubted it was that simple. It sounded like Connor had history with Elijah.

"I've been asked to answer questions about Charles Reaves," he answered, seemingly uninterested in the whole thing. "I'm not entirely surprised to see you here - comfort zones, and all."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I enjoy being a detective," Connor replied, not bothering to mask his irritation. When Connor spoke was when you realized how close he was standing beside you. You could practically feel his voice modulator rumbling against you.

Something about Elijah really bothered him.

"Of course," Elijah replied. His eyes landed on you. "-and who might you be?"

You gave your name, followed with, "I'm an artificial biomechanical engineer."

"A fancy way of saying you work on androids. Wonderful. I haven't gotten to spend time with someone of a similar profession in a long time," Elijah replied, sounding oddly sincere. You doubted that your professions were anything similar.

You extended your hand, offering it to Elijah out of common courtesy. However, when Elijah reached for you, another hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

Connor's hand.

Your eyes shot up to the android, surprised by his actions. His LED was a strong yellow and his eyes were sharp, almost glaring at the man across from him. Elijah didn't seem at all bothered. In fact, he let out an amused laugh and started to smile.

He pulled his hand back and Connor let go.

"I thought you told me what you wanted wasn't important?" he stated, more so than asked, voice low, ensuring that others in the crowded room wouldn't be able to hear. It was clear that he was challenging Connor.

Your eyes moved back to Elijah, confusion heavy in your glance. His icy blue eyes shifted back to you for a second and then back up to Connor's fierce brown orbs. The implication made you nervous.

"You've changed," Elijah stated, sounding pleased by the discovery.

There was a retort ready to leave Connor's throat. He was interrupted, however.

"If you're done dicking off, Connor, there's work to be done," Fowler called out to him from the steps right outside his office.

Connor looked over his shoulder and gave his superior a curt nod.

"I better go," he said, rotating back around to look down at you.

When your eyes caught Connor's, it was suddenly easy to ignore Elijah, who was still standing there.

"Go catch some baddies," you replied, encouragingly.

Something danced behind Connor's eyes and his LED eased back to blue. You thought he was going to swoop down and steal a kiss; but, he didn't, turning away and walking past Elijah. He glanced at him briefly, a warning as he passed by, before disappearing into the precinct.

"Mr. Kamski we must-" one of Elijah's lawyers tried catching his attention.

Elijah lifted his hand, harmless, but arrogant, and the lawyer immediately stopped talking.

"I was hoping I could talk to you, actually?" he asked you, voice polite, sincere.

"I appreciate the interest, Mr. Kamski. But, I promise I'm not interesting," you replied stoically.

"I disagree," he replied with a quiet laugh. "You are an item with an android. I find that very interesting." It was kind of scary, really, how charming Elijah sounded. He sounded like he really meant it. "Please, humor me for a bit. If there's anything I can do for you in return...?"

You blurted the first thing that came to mind, doubting Elijah would ever consider it. "With the protests - lots of androids are afraid to look for help and supplies are limited as it is with Cyberlife's shutdown."

The corner of Elijah's lip curled slightly. "You want to help them?"

"Yes," you replied firmly. "I want parts for repairs - thirium pump regulators, memory units - things that are hard to get."

"That can be arranged."

"How do I know you're good for it?" you dared to ask.

Elijah laughed quietly, briefly. "I suppose you'll just have to trust me."

You briefly pondered exactly what the hell this man was planning on asking you. He was a millionaire, a super genius who created artificial intelligence and fully operational android skeletons.

You just repaired them. What could he possibly want to talk to you about?

Your thoughts wandered to Markus and Simon, and the many androids that were potentially going without repairs. Even if they couldn't feel pain, they didn't deserve to be broken, to be unable to speak, or hear, or see, or walk.

"Okay," you replied lowly. "I'll humor you."

Elijah nodded with a smile. "It wasn't too cold today. May we?"

He gestured to the hallway that led to the main entrance. You led the way, walking past him and heading for the grounds.

Elijah was right. The weather outside wasn't too bad. The air was crisp and chilly, but not unbearable. You were doing just fine in your jacket. Clouds were looming in the distance; but, they weren't going to make it before you were done.

The courtyard outside the station wasn't particularly impressive, but it was empty, and you and Elijah fit just fine on one of the benches.

For a moment, Elijah's focus was elsewhere. He seemed to be thinking, trying to decide where he wanted to begin. You felt small seated next to him.

Without taking a break or skipping a beat, Elijah asked, "are your desires because of what he is or in spite of it?"

"You want to talk to me about my relationship with Connor?" you blurted, surprised. You met Elijah's gaze uneasily.

He didn't budge. His expression suggested that he didn't see it as strange in the slightest. It wasn't what you were expecting. Then again, Elijah Kamski was one of the leaders of android inception. He was their creator, almost exclusively.

You were sitting with the man who made Connor's life possible.

That thought struck you like a hand across the face.

"I do," Elijah answered.

"I-..." you stuttered.

The obvious answer was on the tip of your tongue. But, was it the truth? You loved the android parts of him: the way his LED shimmered with emotion, the quirks of an android learning to adapt to human society, the unique way he talked, how powerful he was, the beautiful construction of his body, inside and out.

But, you also loved the parts of him that were not dictated by what he was: his kindness, his passion, his curiosity.

"Android or human isn't the point. I'm with Connor because I want to be - because I like who he is, regardless of the what."

"I see," Elijah replied softly. Something in the way he said that suggested he didn't quite believe you.

You frowned at him, but decided against arguing with him. It wouldn't have been entirely in good faith. You knew that your feelings for Connor were physical, too: both the android aspects and the parts that imitated a human.

"Why did you choose to be an engineer - specifically for androids?" Elijah asked. "It's a fairly new profession, for obvious reasons, and you're very young."

Elijah couldn't have been more than 40 years old, if you recalled correctly from the countless essays you had to write in college. He wasn't that much older than you. Yet, somehow, he managed to make you feel like a child.

You doubted the inventor of androids would be alarmed by your answer.

"Because I don't like people," you answered plainly.

If anything, he liked that answer. Through a smile, Elijah replied, "are they not people?"

Once upon a time, you weren't so sure. But, then, you saw their suffering, had been suffocated by the fear in their eyes. You saw them plead and beg for help. You had seen androids, designed with very clear instructions, offer unnecessary kindness that most humans never did.

"They're better," you spat back.

"Logic and reason above feelings?" he asked.

"They do feel," you challenged.

"How can you know for certain?" Elijah tilted is head a little, suspicion in his tone more so than doubt. It sounded like he was trying to plant a seed of distrust. "How do you know that androids are capable of real emotions and not just imitating what they've seen?"

"Humans are capable of the same fucking thing," you snarled. "Pretending to give a shit when they don't. When an android does it, it's programming. When a human does it, it's just fucking normal, right? What difference does it make?"

Elijah's eyes burned brightly, admiring the passion in your voice.

"What are you getting at, anyway?" you added on sharply.

"I made androids to make our lives better: they care for our children, our elderly, grow our food, do dangerous jobs, protect us... and fuck us."

You had read lots of articles about Elijah Kamski, saw many news outlets cover him. He had proclaimed many times that he designed androids to make everyone's lives better. He promised they were not capable of thought beyond their instructions.

"Many debate their intentions. If they can choose beyond their programming," Elijah continued, as if he had read your mind. Or, maybe, you just knew where he was going with this.

"Deviancy," you observed.

You looked away from Elijah, losing the tolerance for the ways his eyes burned into yours.

"Androids are perfect: beautiful, strong, compa-"

"Are you wanting me to tell you that I have a robot kink?"

Elijah huffed out laughter, brief and quiet.

"I won't pretend that Connor's not so beautiful that it fucking hurts," you whispered harshly, feeling ashamed. You dragged a heavy hand through your hair. "But that's not all. He's kind. He wants to protect people: androids and humans. He doesn't see it as their side and our side. He-... He's different. The way he sees the world, I want to see it, too."

"Maybe, then, you see why I'm fascinated by you," Elijah stated, standing up. Your eyes followed him, and you realized he was just casually stretching.

"Why do you find this so strange? Two people who want to be together - what's so weird about that?"

Elijah turned around, hands buried in his coat pockets.

"One was born twenty-something years ago. One was made in a factory a little over a year ago," Elijah answered casually.

"You don't think I've thought about that?" you asked him sharply. "That I haven't fought myself over whether or not this is right?"

Elijah didn't seem bothered by your moral dilemma.

"I'm sure you're well aware that all androids process at a faster rate than humans. They awake capable of comprehending things the average adult can... and then some. Your moral dilemma is pointless. I know they will bring humanity to places we couldn't even imagine..."

"-but you're fascinated with whether or not they can love," you deadpanned.

"I'm fascinated with love between an android and a human," he answered.

There was something unspoken in that observation. You wanted to ask him if he loved his creations, if he cared about their well-being. Elijah had been pretty careful to make no statements during the revolution, oddly enough.

"This couldn't possibly be worth your time, or money, Mr. Kamski," you uttered, suddenly sounding quite tired.

He chuckled sincerely. "Just look at it as... humoring someone who gained everything and... lost everything."

Another statement with something unspoken beneath. Did he mean Cyberlife? Elijah had departed from the company of his volition, if the news was to be believed. Maybe he experienced a moral dilemma. Or, maybe, if Charles Reaves was anything to go by, a difference in opinions.

"Before..." you began, deciding to take a gamble. "-when I first went to school for androids. I just thought they were interesting. Like spending company with humans without all the bullshit. I didn't think... they actually... felt anything."

You paused and let out a heavy sigh. It brought shame to you, admitting this. You thought about Connor, about Markus, about the many androids that came in and out of the clinic on a daily basis.

"My first job, I repaired manufacturing androids. These guys came in with their arms hacked to bits, covered in dents, legs falling off, torsos torn in two, singed and burnt to a crisp. Any job that risked injury, that's what they did."

You dragged a heavy hand through your hair. "Some of them were really afraid they were going to die."

You paused when you failed to suppress a sniffle and hastily wiped your tears on your sleeve. "I realized... I was wrong. I wasn't an engineer; I was a nurse... But, no one else saw them that way. Until-... The deviant uprising and I - I wanted to do something I was proud of for a change."

Elijah turned back around to face you, his expression unreadable. He was quiet, taking in the sight of you, seemingly touched by your empathy.

You wiped your tears away hastily and added on gruffly, "-and then I met Connor and now you're here asking me these fucking questions."

Elijah smiled again, his lip twisted like he didn't want to laugh.

"You're a liar, by the way," you accused, changing the subject.

Elijah didn't look offended, but intrigued.

"You said they can't develop consciousness or desires," you explained, remembering his speech quite well because you had to write about it.

You expected Elijah to say something about your accusation. You doubted he would defend himself, maybe dance around the subject, since that seemed to be his preferred method.

"You would know all about that," he stated, amused.

Before you could reply, Elijah continued. "I know this all seems pointless to you; but, I'm glad I met you. You put me at ease."

You frowned at Elijah's statement. "I don't see how: we did all this talking and nothing came of it."

His expression changed. He looked understanding, maybe even sympathetic.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm not always direct... The world's more interesting when there's questions needing answers. I wanted to see what became of the RK800; but, I didn't expect you."

You had a feeling you were blushing, being spoken about in this manner.

"His purpose is unique: an android designed to hunt deviants. If his blueprints had never been destroyed, maybe they could have made one incapable of deviancy: would have been the perfect soldier."

You stiffened when you heard Elijah's claim.

Connor was designed to-... what?

You didn't want Elijah to think this was news to you.

"His blueprints?" you uttered.

"Yes. Connor is-" Elijah answered lowly. "-the last of his series."

Talking about Connor like this stirred up unpleasant feelings in your gut.

"He is different from any other android," Elijah explained. When you looked up at him, you could see something akin to sadness in his eyes. "How isolating the world must be when you were made to hunt your own kind."

Connor wasn't alone. He had Hank. He had you-

But, this wasn't about you, or humans for that matter. This was about Connor. You had never seen him spend time with other androids, or with anyone besides Hank. He always drowned himself in his job. Maybe, Connor was lonely, and you had been too busy keeping him to yourself to notice.

"Fuck-" You wiped your eyes again and swallowed a whimper.

"I'm sorry for bringing you to tears," Elijah apologized. He sounded like he meant it. "Making you upset wasn't my intention."

Elijah was quiet for a moment, giving you a chance to calm yourself down.

"I'm afraid I've avoided at least ten phone calls during our conversation..." Elijah pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and eyed it grossly. "If we never meet again, I want you know that I valued this conversation dearly."

"Mr. Kamski," you blurted, before he could turn away. "Before you go, did-... Did you program them afraid to die?"

"No," he answered quietly, not even hesitating. "The will to live... It was an unexpected outcome."

...

Back at the apartment, Connor came in just after you had finished eating dinner. He greeted you with a kiss and turned away. Part of you didn't want to worry him, especially when he had an android homicide that was likely linked to Charles Reaves. That was another issue entirely; but, you promised yourself that you would be honest with him.

"I have to tell you something," you beckoned to him, grabbing his sleeve to stop him from retreating.

Connor turned back around to face you, eyes focused on yours, concerned.

"I spoke with Kamski after you left. He told me what you were made for."

Something akin to panic danced behind Connor's eyes. It was subtle; but, it was definitely there.

"I'm sorry, Connor. You should have gotten the chance to tell me yourself. I shouldn't have found out that way."

Connor struggled to maintain eye contact with you. His LED was yellow, spinning against his temple. He seemed to be searching his thoughts for what he wanted to say. "I don't know if I would have told you, honestly," he uttered lowly, turning away from you. "It's something I really... really regret."

"We all regrets things, Connor - bad choices we made, mistakes. It's norm-"

When he turned back to you, shame and anger were written over his face. You were a little frightened by that face - a face you hadn't seen Connor make before.

"I called androids 'its'. I - I treated them like machines - like things - my own kind. I destro- murdered - androids for being deviant."

"You were under control, Connor," you argued fiercely. "What choice did you have? You didn't have a choice! You did what you thought you had to do. That wasn't you, Connor."

"It's what I was made to do," he challenged. "It's what I knew how to do. I was good at it. How is that any better?" His tone was as calm as it usually was, but had some bite and venom to it. He was gesturing to himself with his hands, fingers pointed at his own chest.

"I was proud," he continued, volume rising slightly. "Good job, Connor. You stopped the deviants like a good machine!" He was taunting himself now. It hurt you to listen to him mock himself. "You did EXACTLY what you were told to do, without question."

You sniffled, trying to bite back tears.

Connor raked his fingers roughly through his hair before dropping them down to his sides. "I would say... 'I'm a machine designed to accomplish a task' - and I was proud of it. 'You can't kill me - I'm not alive'." Connor had a peculiar way of quoting himself, like he was talking about someone he didn't know.

"I was going to find the source of the deviants and stop them!" he added on, frustration and volume rising. "I held a gun to Markus' face! I contemplated letting Hank DIE for my mission. That's all that mattered - the fucking mission. It's not just regret! I'm a mach-"

"You didn't have a choice!" you practically screamed, silencing him. You felt it, the first tear fall.

Connor's eyes watched that teardrop slide down your cheek and the fire in his eyes extinguished. Realization struck him like he had just been slapped across the face. He was letting everything out on you, letting his regrets pour out and drown you.

"I could never understand what that feels like-" you paused, trying to hold back a sob. "What it was like to be p-put through that, Connor. To not see yourself as a living being - to think that you weren't alive - that your life didn't fucking matt-guh-!"

You choked back a sob, making a guttural noise. Your head lowered into your hands.

You could feel the android looming over you, close, protective, worried; but, when you looked up at him through tear-stained eyes, he seemed almost afraid to touch you, like he wasn't allowed to. Regret was written across his face again; but, this time, it was a different reason.

He had yelled at you when you hadn't done anything wrong-

He was taking it all out on you-

You took that initiative and reached for his hand. As soon as your skin touched, Connor laced your fingers like you were his only lifeline saving him from drowning in the ocean. He looked like he was drowning, like he was lost.

"You were a prisoner in your mind, Connor," you whimpered. "I'm glad that you're deviant," you whispered, trying to stop the tears. "I'm so proud to be yours..."

Connor surrendered, leaning in to let his temple touch yours. His eyes fluttered shut.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled," he rasped.

"I'm not crying because you were yelling," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "The thought of you not caring about yourself - thinking you weren't alive: that hurt me. Connor, I-..."

You wretched your hand free on his so you could wrap your arms around his back and pull him into an embrace. Connor's face slipped from your temple and sunk into your neck. His hands grabbed fistfuls of the back of your shirt and clung to you for dear life.

You pressed your cheek into his hairline and leaned against him. As always, Connor was solid, unrelenting against your force, holding up your weight with ease.

"I am alive," he uttered against your skin, like he was reminding himself of something important. "I am alive," he said again, his voice cracking.

You felt wetness on your skin and knew that he was crying. You squeezed him tighter and tighter, until it started to hurt. You pressed a wet kiss to his temple before resting your cheek against the soft skin there.

No one could tell you this wasn't real.

Flesh and plastic.

Blood and thirium.

Bones and metal.

It didn't change the hurt in his voice or the adoration in his eyes. It didn't change the way he couldn't hold back a smile when he was praised. It didn't change the way his hands held you when you were afraid. It didn't change his inquisitive nature or the care he held for others.

It didn't change-

-that you were madly in love with him.

#connor x reader #deviant connor #deviant connor x reader #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #rk800 smut #connor smut

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