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handmade-witch · 11 days ago

Text

meeting in my bedroom?

SYNOPSIS: You were the beloved, helpful houseowner full of objects who were head over heels in love with you. Which would’ve been great if you weren’t completely dense to their flirting.

TAGS: GN!Reader, VERY suggestive, Everyone Falling for the Same Idiot, Mentions of alcohol / drinking (it’s a party), not proofread bc i lazy eheh...

W.C: 4.5K | CHARACTERS: Dorian, Dirk, Hanks, Volt, Eddie, Betty, Keyes, Hector

AO3: yasminwayne Ko-Fi: buy me a coffee!

Your entire house was deeply in love with you. Hopelessly and pathetically in love with you.

Which was… a bit of a problem.

Not for them, of course! For them, every brush of your hand, every conversation, every time you offered to help was another arrow through the heart! Proof that their feelings were mutual.

But for you? Well... you were just being nice.

You always had been funny, patient, and warm.

You gave everyone birthdays, even if they didn’t have one, just so they could feel celebrated. You mended them when they cracked, chipped, or broke. And you always handled them like they were something precious.

You were, quite literally, the glue that held the whole household together. So naturally, they fell for you.

No one was entirely sure when it started. It was less like a singular lightning strike and more like a slow flood, realization blooming like ivy around the chest, subtle and soft and then suddenly everywhere. You would walk into a room, hair messy from sleep, holding a mug half-filled with tea you’d forgotten you made, and every eye would turn to you with the same expression of love.

But there was just one problem for them...

Their human was so, so, so horribly, painfully, devastatingly dense.

Dorian liked to think of himself as a door with standards. A gentleman of structure and duty. He had withstood years of rough treatment—slams, kicks, storms, and the occasional toddler with a marker.

But despite everything he’d already endured, nothing could have prepared him for you.

You padded barefoot out of the bathroom, damp from your shower, skin dewy, and towel hanging dangerously low.

The hallway was quiet, sun slanting in through the skylight in lazy golden beams, warming the floor under your toes as you hummed something off-key. You smelled like soap and warmth and innocence, and it was driving Dorian absolutely mad.

He tried to avert his gaze, to maintain his usual composure, when a thump caught his attention.

"Oh shoot!" you gasped, chasing after something.

A hairbrush, Dorian registered distantly, just before it slipped from your hand again and clattered against the hardwood. It bounced once, twice, then came to a rest, pressed right up against the base of his frame.

Before he could even attempt to register what was happening, let alone help, you were already by him, reaching for it. You bent forward, and your towel, already scandalously low, hitched down just a little.

Then, suddenly, the backs of your thighs pressed warmly against his front, your ass making full, unintentional contact with his crotch.

Dorian froze. His entire frame locked in place. His hinges seized with a creak so soft it was barely more than a breath.

"Oops!" you said lightly, still crouched. "Sorry, big guy."

Big guy.

"Didn’t mean to bump into you," you added, voice bright and oblivious.

Brush in hand, you stood up and glanced back at him, one hand settling against his side. Your fingers trailed along his suit like it was nothing.

Something inside Dorian snapped. In one fluid, startlingly effortless motion, he reached around your waist, his arm wrapping across your stomach as he hauled you back against him.

You gasped, startled, as your spine collided with his chest. He completely dwarfed you, the breadth of his body enveloping yours, his height casting you in shadow even in the golden hallway light.

One of his hands slid upward, settling over your ribs. His palm alone spanned nearly the entire width of your torso, his fingers grazing the edge of your sternum.

"I do wish," Dorian muttered, his voice low and gravelly near your ear, "you’d stop calling me that."

You blinked up at him, that same unfazed, sunny smile creeping back up on your face.

"What? Big guy?"

Dorian let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a grumble, low and rough in his throat. "You're doin' it on purpose now."

"But you are big!" you said sweetly, as if you weren’t driving a stake directly through his wooden heart. "And to be fair, you were in my way."

He just stared down at you, jaw clenched, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. For a long, loaded moment, he just stood there, trying to decide whether you were messing with him or were really this much of an idiot.

Then finally, after what felt like minutes, he exhaled sharply, muttering a low curse under his breath as he let go of you.

You giggled, entirely unbothered, and gave his arm a light squeeze, right over the solid curve of his bicep.

"Guess I’ll just have to squeeze past you next time," you teased, nudging a hip against his side before walking away, towel swaying with every step.

Dorian huffed, pink creeping up his neck.

"Hate to see you go," he muttered under his breath as his eyes followed you, "but love to watch you leave."

House - 0 | Homeowner - 1

Hector was overheating.

Literally, yes... his filter was long overdue for cleaning and his internal systems were running hot, but also in the other, far more inconvenient way. The emotional one. The one caused by you sitting on your knees beside him, pulling his panel open like you were undressing a lover kind of way.

It wasn’t good for his circuits. It wasn’t good for his systems. And it was absolutely catastrophic for whatever vaguely heart-shaped piece of him had decided it was a good idea to fall in love with you.

"I’m so sorry, Hector," you murmured, your brow furrowed in soft concern as you wiped delicately at the filter casing with the edge of your cloth. "I should’ve cleaned you days ago! I kept meaning to, but everything’s been so hectic lately. You must’ve been so uncomfortable."

He wanted to respond. Really, he did. But he was fairly certain that if he tried, his voice wouldn't work.

Instead, Hector emitted a soft, strangled click-hiss, his cooling fan sputtering to life.

You, of course, mistook it for a glitch.

"Oh no, that sounds awful!" you murmured, your voice full of guilt as you leaned in closer to inspect the exposed panel.

One hand of yours braced lightly against the edge of his casing for balance as you peered into the tangle of metal and heat. Your breath warmed the inside of his frame. Your fingers skimmed the edge of his vent. Your hair, damp from your shower, fell forward and brushed against his shoulder.

That was the moment Hector ceased to function as a coherent being.

His fans rattled audibly, and he briefly considered whether it would be more dignified to combust on the spot or simply roll back into the vents.

"A-Ahm," he choked, voice static-cracked and strained as his systems tried and failed to recalibrate. "You’re... v-very close."

You didn’t move away. Instead, you looked up with wide, apologetic eyes and that same devastating softness in your expression.

"I know! Sorry—! I’m totally crowding your space, aren’t I?" you said, voice sheepish. "But your filter’s delicate, and I didn’t want to tug anything wrong. I’ll be quick, I promise."

Hector was going to die right here on the attic floor.

You resumed brushing the filter with small, circular motions. Flecks of lint came free like snowflakes, and every time you leaned in to inspect your work, Hector buzzed faintly in the chest.

"I don’t deserve this kind of attention," he said finally, voice quieter now, but more intentional. "N-Not unless you... mean it."

You looked up, soft and earnest, your eyes wide and full of the exact kind of kindness that had ruined his life.

"Of course I mean it! You take such good care of the house. Of me. I just want to return the favor."

"I wasn’t talking about the maintenance," he tried again, more firmly this time. "I meant your hands. The way you touch me... The way you speak to me."

You blinked slowly. Then lit up like you’d solved a puzzle.

"Oh! I’ve been watching a ton of HVAC maintenance tutorials on YouTube," you said proudly. "Is it working?"

Hector made a sound like he'd been punched in the chest.

"Yes," he said, flatly. "You’re very good at... modulation."

"Thank you!" you chirped, beaming at him as you resumed your gentle work. "Your filter’s almost totally clear, by the way. You’re going to feel so much better when this is done."

"I already feel better around you," he muttered.

You glanced up. "Hmm? Did you say something?"

"Nope... Must’ve been... one of my vents…"

House - 0 | Homeowner - 2

"Ah, ah—no, no, no, my dear," Keyes said, clicking her tongue and stopping you mid-chord with a firm press of her hand over yours. "That is not D. I don’t know what that one was, but it certainly wasn’t D."

You blinked up at her. "Oops! Sorry. My fingers have a mind of their own."

"Hmph," she muttered under her breath. "They should ask for directions, then."

With a sigh, she straightened beside you, every inch the proud, long-suffering teacher. You were not the composer she’d imagined when you first started tinkering at her keys. But still, you were… something. Despite being a hand-me-down, she’d become yours. You had carved out space for her and shown a stubborn eagerness to learn.

She guided you patiently, though her eyebrows betrayed her irritation. You were clumsy, untrained. And yet there was something undeniably charming, infuriatingly so, about the way you kept trying. The way you beamed every time a half-correct note rang out from her keys.

Keyes then heard three notes in a row, clear and clean, ringing out like an actual chord. You gasped, delight blooming across your face as you turned to her.

"Wow! I almost got that chord right. I’m totally getting better at fingering you!"

There was a pause.

There was a very long pause before the piano lid slammed shut with a violent clang, the strings inside shrieking in protest like she’d just tried to swallow a metal pipe. You flinched hard, yanking your hands back before the lid could slice your fingers clean off.

"What was that?!"

"Nothing!" she barked, voice jumping half an octave. "Just—a tuning fault! Environmental conditions. Hector! I do not like how he has set the temperature of this room."

You gave her the softest, most earnest look imaginable. A small frown, all concern and kindness. It nearly destroyed her.

"Aww, sorry about that. I bet you’d sound amazing if you were properly tuned. I already cleaned Hector’s filter, but I’ll take care of you soon, I promise!"

Keyes was burning. She could not deal with that kind of tenderness. Not from you. Not from the person who just said "fingering" her like it meant nothing. Like it was lunch talk.

Then, as if that weren’t enough, you giggled and reached over to lift the piano lid again. Only to dramatically slam one of her lowest keys in a perfect imitation of her earlier screech.

"NAIIIIIIL on a chalkboard," you said, grinning wide. "Just like that, right?"

Keyes dropped her head into her hands.

House - 0 | Homeowner - 3

You were sitting cross-legged on the rug in the living room, surrounded by a battlefield of tangled laundry, a knotted-up clothesline, scattered socks, and five very stuck Hanks.

"You guys really need to stop trying to Hank-glide near the drying line," you said, exasperated but patient, gently working a stubborn knot off Hank 2. "This thing’s practically a choking hazard."

"Heh. You know what else is a choking hazard—" Hank 3 started, grinning from where he was half-hogtied in last week’s laundry.

"Don’t even finish that, bro!" Hank 2 blurted, voice cracking halfway through.

His face was scarlet, practically steaming. Hank 2 wasn’t even breathing at this point. He was just desperately pretending this wasn’t happening, not like this. Not with you this close, crouched over him, touching him like he hadn’t had dreams about this exact scenario.

"Hold still," you said softly, slipping your fingers under the clothesline tangled around his waist. "I’m gonna try to ease it off—"

You pulled hard, and the knot cinched immediately. It went down low, squeezing snug around Hank 2’s hips.

The poor hanger’s soul evacuated his body. The noise that came out of him started as a gasp but ended up as a breathless whimper.

"Oops!" you winced. "Sorry! I’m just trying to get you out without, like… yanking your frame clean off."

“I—I’m gucci,” Hank 2 managed to croak, not nearly as convincing as he thought. “Straight chillin’, homie.”

You tilted your head, frowning as you inspected the knot wrapped tight around his leg. “But… you’re really red. Is it cutting off your circulation? I can try wiggling it loose. It’s just… tight in here.”

That earned you a chorus of wheezing and muffled laughter from all around the room.

Hank 1, already freed and standing off to the side, cleared his throat a little too sharply. “Yeah. Tight. Needs gentle handling. Real finesse job, dawg.”

You glanced over your shoulder and grinned at him like he’d just handed you a compliment. “Mhm! Oh—hey, I’m gonna try to get Hank 5 loose first, but don’t worry! I’ve got magic hands.”

You wiggled your fingers proudly, flashing that sweet, innocent smile that had absolutely no business being as dangerous as it was.

“And you know, I’m super good with ropes,” you added casually, crouching down again to inspect the tangle near Hank 5’s thigh. “Sometimes you just gotta work it slow—back and forth—till it gives.”

“Back and forth,” Hank 3 echoed faintly, eyes fully glazed. “Right on, baby…”

The Hanks weren’t exactly the sharpest objects in the house, but with how dense you were acting, they were starting to think your head might actually be emptier than theirs. How were you going to say stuff like that, all sweet and serious, crouched between someone’s legs, and not realize what you were doing?

Hank 5 watched as you stepped over with that focused little frown you always got when you were being gentle. His head tilted slightly, eyes following every movement of your hands.

"You take care of us so much," he murmured before he could stop himself. It came out lower than he meant, rough around the edges, too honest.

You glanced up at him, beaming like it was the simplest truth in the world. "Of course! I love caring for people."

He flushed, hard. Something inside him flipped like a switch. He had no business thinking what he was thinking, but it was already there, thudding behind his ribs like a heartbeat.

Bet you’d love to take care of a baby, too, his mind supplied hazily. My baby. Ours.

He swallowed hard, biting the inside of his cheek before anything worse could slip out.

When the final knot slipped free and the line fell away from his leg, Hank 5 let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The movement tugged the rest of the line taut, and with a soft snap, the section that had pinned Hank 2 finally gave way, freeing them both.

You lit up instantly. “Yes! Okay, that’s two down!”

You turned your attention to Hank 4, who was somehow tangled in both the clothesline and your pajama pants.

"Hmm. This one’s tricky," you muttered. "It’s wedged real deep."

Hank 4 looked down at you, lip caught between his teeth, cheeks tinged pink.

"Oh yeah," he grinned, voice dropping like he thought this was a very different kind of situation. "That one’s in real deep. Might need some serious effort to… ease it out."

"Might take a few tries," you agreed. "That’s fine. I think long, twisty cords are fun to handle."

From somewhere behind you, Hank 3 groaned. "Oh my god, bro. Bro."

With a few steady tugs, the final loop slipped free. The cord gave a soft snap as it came undone, and before you could even register it, Hank 4 let out a surprised yelp.

“Whoa—!”

He toppled backward in an ungraceful sprawl, limbs flailing briefly before landing squarely in Hank 1’s lap. There was a distinct oof from both parties.

“Okay! That’s four.”

Now, only one Hank remained.

You turned toward him, brushing a few strands of hair from your face as you assessed the last, worst knot job of the bunch. Hank 3 was slumped against the wall, half-pinned by a spiderweb of cord. It looped around his chest, through the sleeves of his wingsuit, and—

You paused. Blinked once. Then again, slower.

“Uh,” you said carefully, leaning in to poke at a stubborn knot. “Okay. So you’re… like, really tangled into my underwear.”

Hank 3 looked down at the spot in question. Then up at you.

"I’m good right here," he said, grinning way too brightly. "Don't need to untie me, gorgeous."

House - 0 | Homeowner - 4 | Hank #3 - 1

Dirk sat cross-legged on your closet floor, half-buried beneath a pile of costumes and old clothes. In one hand, he held up a glittery mesh crop top. In the other, what looked like the shredded remains of faux leather pants.

"So… Volt and Eddie’s Halloween party," you said, rummaging through a plastic bin with half-peeled stickers. "I want something cool. But also, like… hot!"

Dirk blinked up at you, adjusting the pirate hat you’d thrown on him earlier. "Is that why you dragged me in here? Costume triage?"

"Yep!" You held up a sheer, iridescent bodysuit with a smile. "Too much?"

Dirk made a strangled sound, his voice catching in his throat as he stared at the outfit. It barely qualified as clothing, and now all he could picture was you in it.

"Y—yeah. No, yeah. That’s… that’s definitely a bold choice."

You grinned, clearly taking it as a compliment. “Perfect.”

Then, you turned away and pulled your sweatshirt off in one smooth motion. Underneath, you were just in pajama shorts and a cami. You tossed the sweatshirt onto the pile beside him like it was nothing.

Dirk, still sitting cross-legged on the closet floor, looked like you’d physically drop-kicked him.

You held the bodysuit up to your chest, turning toward the mirror. "Do you think Volt or Eddie would wear something like this? I want to match their vibe, y’know?"

Dirk let out a very soft, very audible groan through gritted teeth. "I think if you show up in that, nobody’s gonna be thinking about the damn fusebox."

You blinked, tilting your head. "Huh?"

He coughed once, looking down at the crop top in his hands like it held all the answers. "Nothing. You’ll look great. Totally… on-theme."

You brightened. "Perfect! Help me zip?"

He stared at you for a moment like you’d just asked him to diffuse a bomb with one hand while blindfolded.

"Yeah. Totally. Yep. Zipping. Great," he muttered, voice a little too low, a little too strained. Then he lifted two fingers, curling them in a lazy beckon. "C’mere, bug."

You turned around and stepped in close, presenting him your bare back. The bodysuit was already halfway up your thighs, hugging every curve like it had been poured on. Dirk’s breath hitched. His hands hovered, fingers twitching slightly before they settled on the zipper.

His fingertips grazed the dip of your spine as he slid the zipper upward, and you gave a little wiggle to help it along.

Once it was fully on, you turned to admire yourself in the mirror. "Okay, but be honest… Is this too sexy-scary? Or just scary-sexy?"

You bent forward slightly, twisting to check the fit. "It’s a little tight around the back…"

Dirk’s eyes bulged. "N-nope, it’s—it’s perfect. It’s barely clothing. I mean—it looks great. On you. In a way that’s… completely hot."

"You’re such a good hype man," you added, tossing him a wink. "I’d be lost without you."

He didn’t respond at first. Just nodded, very tightly. Then turned so fast he tripped on a hoodie sleeve and nearly ate the floor.

"Are you okay?" you asked, half-laughing, half-concerned.

"Yup," he muttered, breathless and wrecked. "Totally fine. Everything’s fine. The universe is testing me, but I’m fine."

House - 0 | Homeowner - 5

Halloween night at the Breaker Box was loud. Thumping bass, flashing neon strobes, and fog machines in overdrive.

Volt had wanted it to be big, a full spectacle, especially since this was the first time their human was going to be there. That was probably the only reason Eddie had agreed to it in the first place.

Eddie held down the bar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, expression locked somewhere between irritation and resignation as he poured drinks beneath the flickering lights. Volt, on the other hand, was in his element, gliding through the crowd, all confidence and charisma.

"Hi guys!"

Eddie turned just in time to see you walk in, dressed for the occasion.

And immediately choked.

Not on a drink. Not on smoke. Just on you.

Your hair was a wild halo of static-kissed chaos, somehow framing your face perfectly despite looking completely unintentional. The outfit you had on was a sheer bodysuit layered under a cropped vest, fabric clinging and torn in just the right places. Flashes of skin peeked through: a sliver of hip, a glimpse of collarbone, the gleam of a screw-shaped clasp on the choker around your neck.

You were Frankenstein’s monster. And you looked good.

Eddie felt his whole system short-circuit. And clearly, he wasn’t the only one.

The crowd quieted for a second as heads turned, eyes wide. People stared. Someone actually dropped their drink. Heat spread across more than a few faces.

"Live wire—" Eddie muttered, voice low and a little strangled. "What the hell are you wearing!?"

You beamed at Eddie, bouncing slightly on your heels, proud as ever. "Frankenstein! Well, Frankenstein’s monster, technically. I figured I’d fit right in with you guys, you know... all alive and electric."

Eddie just stared. It took him a second to actually process what he was seeing. The way the vest clung perfectly to your frame, the delicate stitching tracing your thighs and collarbone, the gleam of bolt-shaped earrings catching the light. You looked like you belonged here.

Like you belonged to him.

To both of them.

"My, my," came Volt’s voice from behind you, silk-smooth and slow like warm static down your spine. "Isn’t this a lovely surprise?"

You turned cheerfully toward him, just as the next performer, Keyes, hurried up to the piano. You gave her a bright wave, beaming with your usual sunshine.

Face flushed, Keyes dropped onto the bench and launched into her piece like it might save her life, fingers flying over the keys as if she could outrun the image of you still lingering in her head.

Beside you, Volt let out a low whistle.

"You look like our third," he murmured, eyes trailing from your boots to your vest, lingering far too long on the space in between. His smile curled slow and dangerous, pure voltage wrapped in charm.

You turned to him, head tilted in confusion. "Third what?"

For a beat, something sharp and electric flickered behind his eyes. Then, with a wicked gleam, he recovered.

"Our third piece," Volt said, lips twitching. "You complete the look."

"Oh!" You laughed, delighted. "Yeah, that’s what I was going for! I based this on your outfits. Thought it would be fun to match."

Behind the bar, Eddie made a sound that could’ve been a groan. His hand slipped while wiping a glass, knocking over a shaker, which he caught with reflexes just a second too slow.

“Mmm. They look great, don’t they?” Volt added smoothly, clearly enjoying the show, and the effect you were having on Eddie.

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, voice low and hoarse. “If they’re trying to kill me.”

You turned toward him. "What? Sorry—didn’t catch that."

Volt chuckled, low and knowing, stepping just a little closer to your side. “You’re going to be the end of him.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Why?”

Then you shifted, turned fully to face Volt, and that’s when Eddie saw the back of your costume. Or rather, the complete lack of it.

You see, what little fabric you had on in front didn’t quite make it all the way around.

Eddie dropped behind the bar so fast he nearly sent a bottle of rum flying. His ears went crimson. His entire face followed.

Volt, absolutely glowing with delight, slid an arm lazily around your shoulders like you were the night’s main event. Which, frankly, you were.

"Why don’t you come with me," he purred, steering you smoothly toward the dance floor, "before poor Eddison starts shorting out the liquor shelf."

House - 0 | Homeowner - 6

You yawned as you stumbled into the dim hallway, one shoe dangling loosely from your toes, the other long since lost to the dance floor. Glitter was smeared across your cheeks, streaked with sweat and eyeliner. The distant bass from Volt and Eddie’s Halloween party still throbbed somewhere deep in your skull.

You padded toward your room, dragging your feet like a glittery zombie, and found Betty sprawled across your bed, basking in the silver wash of moonlight spilling through the window. Her dark curls fanned over the pillow like a halo, and her lips curved the second she saw you.

"Well, well," she purred, voice all velvet and slow amusement. "Look who survived the electric rave."

You blinked at her, swaying like a drunk little sapling. "Betts… I think I danced so hard my toes forgot how to be toes."

She arched a brow, eyes glinting. "That would explain the outfit."

You hiccuped out a laugh and tugged your costume shirt over your head. Glitter exploded into the air like celebratory dust. "Too many layers. I’m like… a sexy onion."

Betty’s eyes followed the shirt’s arc as it floated to the floor, then snapped back to you, lingering as you struggled with the zipper on your pants. "If that’s what onions look like now," she murmured, watching you wiggle, "I need to spend more time in the kitchen."

"Whaaaat? Why would you do that?" you asked, half-wriggling, half-collapsing. "You’re a bed. Beds can’t be in kitchens."

Your pants finally gave up their grip, and you attempted to kick them off, only to faceplant onto the mattress.

Betty sat up slowly as her gaze ran over you, hunger wrapped in amusement.

"Poor thing," she murmured, voice sticky with suggestion. "Sounds like you need someone to… take care of you."

You groaned into the sheets. "I need coffee."

She paused. "What if I offered… a massage?"

You rolled halfway onto your side and squinted up at her. "Oh my god, no. If anyone touches me, I might vomit glitter. I’m unstable."

Betty blinked, clearly unprepared for that answer. "Okay… how about a bath? Me, Bathsheba, and you?"

You peeled your remaining shirt off with the elegance of a molting animal and flung it vaguely across the room. "No time. Must become one with this mattress."

Betty, undeterred, slinked forward on her knees and leaned close, her lips brushing your ear. "You know… some people sleep better when they’re not wearing anything."

You let out a blissful sigh into her stomach, your voice muffled. "Wow… You smell like sexy marshmallows."

Betty fell flat on her back, staring at the ceiling in utter defeat.

"Sexy marshmallows," she repeated, deadpan.

You gave a solemn little nod. "So soft and squishy. I’d drink you with a spoon."

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then Betty let out a long, tortured sigh and wrapped her arms around you, pulling your half-naked, glitter-dusted form flush against her.

"You’re lucky you’re cute," she muttered, tucking you close as you immediately went slack and boneless in her hold.

She traced gentle circles over your back, eyes heavy-lidded.

"You know," she whispered, voice low and dangerous, "if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me into trouble. Crawling into my bed, stripping down, whispering sweet nothings…"

You snored against her stomach.

Betty groaned, defeated once and for all. "Unbelievable."

House - 0 | Homeowner - 7

a/n: my laptop charger broke so im just trying to get my drafts out before it goes lowbat TT

my new charger comes in a few dayss so the part 3 to the 100 bfs fic will take a while

#giggling and kicking my feet!! 🥰🥰💗#i love my house harem!!#date everything #date everything x reader #dorian x reader #the hanks x reader #betty x reader #dirk deveraux x reader #volt x reader #eddie x reader

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handmade-witch · 15 days ago

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"I don't know why I didn't trust you to be on my side." "Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head?" "I should've let the jagged edges meet the light instead." "Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony, the song we couldn't write... "This is What it Sounds Like"

#kpop demon hunters #kpdh #rumi kpdh #mira kpdh #zoey kpdh

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handmade-witch · 17 days ago

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KPop Demon Hunters | “Okay, so I’ve been meaning to ask, why does the bird wear a tiny hat?” I made it for the tiger, but the bird keeps taking it.

#obviously he needs to make 2 tiny hats so they can each have one lol #kpop demon hunters #kpdh

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handmade-witch · 17 days ago

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KPop Demon Hunters | Derpy + Plant

#i LOVED kpdh it was so good 😭#i also love this silly tiger #kpdh #kpop demon hunters

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handmade-witch · 26 days ago

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IDIOT • EDDIE & VOLT

requests: open

warnings: drinking/being drunk (nothing major)

word count: 1.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i’m so glad this game has gotten me out of my two-year hiatus TvT these prompts are from my prompt list. but feel free to send me any original ideas you may have!

prompts: “i’m serious!”/ “…you’re smiling.” • “how much did you drink?” • “i’m not that drunk!”

*cross-posted on ao3

“We’re closed.”

Eddie’s gruff voice called out, not even bothering to look up from the glasses he was polishing. He expected the wayward patron to leave, the familiar squeak of the door signaling their departure. What he didn’t expect was to hear a voice, one he’s grown to know as Beverly.

“I know, I know. But it’s… important?”

This garnered Eddie’s attention, as his eyes located the personified mini bar, he noticed another being. Slumped against Beverly, with all the poise of a fawn learning how to walk, was you. Immediately, a sense of both irritation and protectiveness washed over Eddie. He moved from behind the bar, making his way over. “What did you do?” He asked, his expression dark and stoic but his voice giving away his concern. Beverly shrunk slightly under Eddie’s fierce gaze, laughing nervously,

“Well.. they offered to help me test out some new drinks, right? So, we started with mocktails and gradually made our way to cocktails and it.. just… kept.. going?”

Eddie just stared and Beverly continued her spiel.

“I did eventually cut them off, obviously. But we were having so much fun and they were complimenting my drink making. And you know business has been slow and they’re literally my only customer–”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eddie took a deep breath. “You couldn’t take them to Betty? Having them sleep it off is a better idea than taking them to another bar.” He stated. “They specifically asked for you and Volt. And I know you know how stubborn drunk people are.” Beverly explained, hoisting you up a little. While Eddie’s expression remained neutral, the subtle heat of his face flushing wasn’t lost on him. “Right. I guess we can–”

“Is that our live wire, I see?”

“Volt!”

For the first time since entering the Breaker Box, you spoke. Arms extending out as Volt approached, nearly face planting if it weren’t for him catching and holding you steady. As happy as he was to see you, Volt was perplexed by your drunken state. Normally, you never have more than two drinks with them so this was new. Volt looks at Eddie, a silent question in his expression. “Beverly had them test out several new drinks, many of which were alcoholic. Clearly.” Eddie stated, his sharp gaze never leaving Beverly. Another nervous chuckle escaped the minibar, “Haha, well I guess I better go. Bye!” And just like that she was gone.

Volt chuckled to himself, not taking this nearly as seriously as Eddie was. You could feel his laugh reverberate in chest, making you nuzzle into him more. Eddie just took in your state, as if contemplating on what to do next. “How much did you have to drink, hm?” Volt inquired, leaning his head down slightly to look you in the eye. You shrugged, meeting his gaze, “I dunno, like five? Six-ish?” You answered, your voice slurred. “They’re still coherent, that’s good.” Eddie commented, moving back to the bar to get, what you assumed is, water. Your bottom lip jutted out a bit and eyebrows furrowed, as Volt gently guided you to a booth.

“Don’t talk like ‘m not here.”

“Sorry.”

Once you sat down, Volt slid in the booth next to you, taking the glass of water Eddie handed to him and slid it in front of you. “Don’t take it personally, live wire. That’s Eddie’s way of showing he’s worried.” He explained. “I’m not worried. You had a few drinks, I don’t care. I’m more concerned about you drinking yourself into a state like this.” Eddie rebutted, deciding to stand rather than sit, subconsciously cracking his knuckles as he spoke. “What? ‘m not even that drunk!” You exclaimed, your voice way too loud considering the three of you were in close proximity to each other. “Right. Like you weren’t barely standing when Beverly brought you here. And damn near fell when Volt came over. Totally sober.” Eddie remarked, a sarcastic lit to his voice. Your brows furrowed once more as you looked off to the side, “You’re mean.” You comment, resting an elbow on the table along with your head in your hand.

Eddie scoffed in disbelief, looking to Volt for back up. “You are being a bit harsh, Eddie.” Volt added, a small smile still on his lips, clearly enjoying whatever this is. Eddie starts to speak before cutting himself off and sighing. He squats down on your side of the booth, a gentle hand taking residence on your knee. “Look. I don’t mean to be mean, I just– what if Beverly didn’t decide to escort you here? What if you decided to head here on your own? And you tripped on the stairs or something, breaking Skylar in the process. You could hurt yourself or worse and at the end of the day we’re still just objects. You would’ve been on your own.” Eddie stated, taking a breath. You hadn’t thought of that, though your thoughts were a bit scrambled in general at the moment. But, nevertheless, Eddie’s words resonated with you.

“You’re right, ‘m sorry for making you worry..”

“I’m not– it’s fine.”

Standing back up, Eddie gestures for you to scoot over and you oblige. Now sandwiched between the two, Volt slides the forgotten glass of water in front of you. “You should drink some, just to sober up a bit, yeah?” He suggests. You start to whine but Eddie isn’t having it, “Drink the water, it’s non-negotiable” He states, tapping the side of the glass. You huff and drink a tiny sip, drinking some more when Eddie gives you a look. “How are you feeling overall?” Volt hums, his arm draping over your shoulder and rubbing your arm a bit. “Tired, nauseous–” You start. “Don’t throw up.” Eddied interjected. “I wasn’t planning on it?” You reply, rolling your eyes.

Volt laughs at the banter, “That’s our live wire. You’re definitely feeling better if you’re giving Eddie an attitude” He comments. You sigh, leaning against Eddie, your eyes fluttering close. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your bed?” He asks, seemingly opposed but shifting to make you more comfortable. You say nothing, shaking your head as a response, turning to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. “You smell good.” You hum sleepily, inhaling his scent deeply. Sober you would be absolutely mortified by your drunk actions but that was a tomorrow problem. Volt snickered, coughing into his hand in a poor attempt to disguise it. He busied his hands, taking hold of your legs and lifting them up into his lap, stroking your calf gently as your breathing begins to even out.

Eventually, the pair felt your body relax completely, a clear indicator that you were asleep. “Should we take them to Betty?” Eddie asked quietly as his hand hesitantly came to stroke your side. “What? You don’t want to be their bed for the night?” Volt teased, smiling widely as a blush bloomed across Eddie’s face. “No. Skylar’s eventually gonna run outta charge and we have no idea of knowing when.” He stated, looking off to the side. “That’s true.. But do you really think they’re going to let us move them? They look mighty comfortable snuggled up next to you.” Volt chuckles, vaguely gesturing at your sleeping form. You were completely pressed against Eddie, face in his neck, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist, while your legs were resting on Volt’s lap. Eddie closed his eyes, huffing in response, he knew Volt was right.

“I didn’t finish closing.”

“Hm.”

“All that prep work is gonna be a bitch tomorrow.”

“Right.”

“But…”

“But?”

“I guess I don’t mind.. staying here… like.. this.”

This time Volt didn’t tease, just hummed slightly, acknowledging Eddie’s words. And so they sat, the two of them with you sandwiched in between them. “You know.. if this is the only way to get you to slow down and take a break, maybe our live wire should get drunk more often.” Volt commented, smirking slightly when Eddie groaned. “God no. They better not make this a habit, you’re both already enough to deal with sober. We don’t need to add alcohol in the mix.” He muttered. There was a brief silence before Volt spoke again. “You really care about them, hm?” Volt asked softly, knowing that being vulnerable wasn’t Eddie’s strong suit. Eddie stayed silent for a moment. “I mean, yeah. Don’t you?” He replied, the question rhetorical.

“Of course, I just didn’t know about all your worries, have you always felt like that?” Volt continued, his eyes somber. “Not always but recently.. I don’t know. I guess you can say they’ve grown on me. And it doesn't help that this house is so big and that they're so clumsy. Anything can happen and we’d be none the wiser.” Eddie explained, his eyes downcast as he continued to rub your side gently. He sighed deeply, looking as though admitting his worries took years off his lifespan. “I really didn’t mean to be so.. y’know? They can just be so careless sometimes and it’s concerning. But I could’ve chosen my words better.” He admits. Volt nods, “You’ve never been too good with people. But you’re good with them, you apologize and explain your reasoning. I think they understand and don’t hold it against you.” Volt replies, reaching over to pat Eddie’s shoulder.

A beep emanated from your glasses, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere, most likely indicating a low charge.

“I guess that’s our cue.” Eddie muttered, his grip on your shirt tightening slightly. “Do you want to take them or should I?” Volt asked, knowing that at least one of them should stay behind, just to keep an eye on the Breaker Box. Eddie lifted you off of him slightly, pausing as you mumbled something incoherent, before looking to Volt. “You can take them. I’ll stay here.” He answers. Volt gives him a look, almost as if to say, “Are you sure?” But Eddie waves him off. Volt gently moves your legs off him, moving to stand and swiftly takes you into his arms. Immediately, you're nuzzling into his neck next, as if your body craves that closeness. “I had no idea our live wire was so cuddly.” He comments, his head dipping down to kiss your forehead. Eddie says nothing as he stands as well, moving towards you and planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. Already feeling Volt’s stare and hundred watt smile, Eddie groans.

“Don’t say shit.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

“Nope, I’m so serious about this.”

“...you’re smiling.”

And it was true, Volt was smiling, glad to know both of them have mutual feelings toward you. “I’ll be back.” He says, making his way to the entrance. Eddie nods silently watching the two of you leave. God, you were going to be the end of him.

The next morning, you woke up with the worst cotton mouth you’ve ever experienced to date. And the pounding in your head made it no better. You were for sure saying no to Beverly next time she offered bottomless taste testing. You turn over, placing your pillow over your face, in a poor attempt to block out the sun. You could just close Curt and Rod but if you got up, you were afraid the vertigo would hit you hard. Eventually, you removed the pillow, only to notice something on your nightstand. A glass of water, a small cup with three pills in it, and a note. Undoubtedly from Eddie and Volt, just from the tone alone.

Don’t be such an idiot next time.

Feel better live wire!

- E & V

#new obsession unlocked #date everything #date everything x reader #eddie and volt

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handmade-witch · 27 days ago

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my boys my boys my boys

#tom holland #danny ramirez #lewis pullman #joseph quinn #peter parker #joaquin torres #bob reynolds #johnny storm #spiderman #marvel #marvel mcu

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handmade-witch · 1 month ago

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#bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts #marvel #marvel mcu

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handmade-witch · 5 months ago

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It's Me

pairing - mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary - mattheo likes you but it's obvious you and enzo are meant to be together. or are you?

warnings - fluff, soft matty, alcohol

a/n - finally wrote something again yayy. very inspired by some drama going on in my irl friend group

wordcount - 1.9k

The Slytherin common room was already buzzing with energy by the time Mattheo came down from his dorm. The green-tinged light flickered off the stone walls, casting shadows over groups of students lounging on leather couches, laughter spilling through the space as firewhiskey bottles clinked together.

Though his focus was quickly pulled from the throng of people already there, travelling over to you.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, leaning toward Blaise as you laughed at something he said, your eyes glinting in the dim light. The sight of you like that—completely at ease, lost in the moment—did something strange to him, something he wasn’t sure he liked. He knew he should be used to it by now, the way you filled every room with your energy, the way you were always just a little out of his reach.

It didn’t help that you were best friends with Enzo, one of his closest mates. He tried not to look at you too much as he took his seat on Blaise’s other side.

Mattheo had spent far too much time watching the two of you, waiting for the inevitable moment when you and Enzo would finally admit you were meant to be together. He hated it—hated how easy it was to picture, how much sense it made. You, with your quick wit and that infectious laugh, and Enzo, with his natural charm and ridiculous smirk. It was obvious. Everyone saw it.

So, Mattheo never said anything. Never did anything.

And maybe that’s why, when Enzo finally arrived, a little out of breath from running across the castle, Mattheo’s stomach twisted.

“Sorry, sorry—bloody Peeves wouldn’t stop chucking ink at us—” Enzo announced as he stepped up to the group, running a hand through his messy hair. Then, with a grin, he gestured behind him with a goofy grin. “Anyway, this is Callie. Finally managed to convince her to be my girlfriend.”

For a moment, it seemed to Mattheo as if the room stilled.

He had barely registered the pretty brunette at Enzo’s side, still too focused on you.

You blinked once, then twice, and for a split second, he braced himself for—he wasn’t even sure what. Shock? Sadness? Some sort of realization that the person you were supposedly meant to be with had just introduced his girlfriend?

Instead—

“Oh my Merlin!” you shrieked, practically launching off the couch.

Mattheo’s brows shot up as you dashed toward the girl, throwing your arms around her in an embrace so enthusiastic Callie barely had time to react before hugging you back with a startled laugh.

“About bloody time!” you announced, grinning as you pulled away, hands still on Callie’s arms. “Enzo, how did you not tell me sooner?”

Enzo snorted. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, mission accomplished!” you beamed.

Mattheo frowned.

He thought there was something off about the way you were smiling, the way your voice pitched just a little too high. He knew you—knew how you talked when you were excited, when you were happy. And something about this—about you—felt forced.

Like you were covering something up.

Like you were trying too hard to seem fine.

His jaw tightened.

Of course, you wouldn’t want to break in front of everyone. Not here. Not now. But Mattheo had seen the way you and Enzo had always been together, the way you leaned into him when you were tired, the way he always saved you a seat. Maybe you had never admitted anything, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t felt something.

And now Enzo had moved on. And you—

You were pretending it didn’t hurt.

Mattheo’s stomach churned as you turned to him then, your eyes meeting his across the room. “Mattheo, come meet Callie!”

.・。.・゜✭・.

People were singing loudly and dancing around him, but Mattheo had long since stopped paying attention to the drunken revelry. Instead, his gaze had been subtly tracking you for the past hour—watching as you flitted between groups, laughing and chatting as if nothing in the world could possibly be bothering you.

But then, at some point, you had drifted off toward the corner, settling into a shadowy alcove with a drink in hand. Alone.

And that was what finally made him move.

He found you nursing a half-finished drink, fingers tracing the rim of the cup as you stared off into the flickering green light. He leaned against the wall beside you, arms crossed, the scent of smoke and cinnamon lingering between you.

“Alright,” Mattheo said, voice low, barely audible over the music. “You can drop the act now.”

You blinked up at him. “What act?”

“The whole I’m totally fine thing.” He tilted his head, watching you carefully. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You know, about Callie and Enzo.”

For a second, you just stared at him. Then, to his absolute confusion, you burst into laughter.

His brows furrowed. “What the hell is so funny?”

You set your drink down on the stone beside you, shaking your head as you tried to catch your breath. “You think I’m upset about Enzo?”

Mattheo stiffened, caught off guard. “Aren’t you?”

You let out another laugh, softer this time, and he could see the amusement written all over your face. “Mattheo,” you sighed, still grinning. “I love Enzo, but not like that. He’s practically my brother.”

His frown deepened as his brain scrambled to catch up. “But—”

“The reason I was a little down has nothing to do with him,” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “It’s actually really stupid.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Try me.”

You hesitated, shifting in your seat, clearly debating whether or not to actually tell him. Mattheo let the silence stretch between you, giving you space to decide.

Eventually, you sighed. “It’s just… it feels like everyone is moving forward, you know? Coupling up, confessing their feelings, being brave enough to actually do something about it.” You looked down at your hands. “And I can’t manage to do the same.”

Something sharp twisted in Mattheo’s chest.

“Who?” His voice was steadier than he expected.

Your eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“Who is it?” he pressed, shifting closer, his full attention on you now. “Who’s the guy you’re too scared to confess to?”

You immediately went rigid, the shift so obvious it almost made him smirk.

Almost.

“Doesn’t matter,” you muttered, suddenly very interested in your drink again.

“Oh, but it does.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make you squirm. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. “It’s no one.”

Mattheo hummed, unconvinced. He let his mind start working through the options. If it wasn’t Enzo, then who—

And then he saw it.

The way your fingers gripped the hem of your sleeve. The way you refused to look at him. The way your breath hitched when he shifted even closer.

It hit him all at once.

“Holy shit.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the realization burned through him like fire.

Your face went red instantly. “Mattheo—”

“It’s me.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

But he was grinning now, the weight in his chest replaced by something warmer, something far more dangerous. “No, you don’t.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled, reaching out to tug your hands away from your face. “You should’ve told me.”

You finally met his gaze, cheeks still flushed. “And what, ruin everything?”

Mattheo exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he studied you. You, who had been right in front of him this entire time. You, who had made him feel things he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.

“I should’ve told you, too,” he murmured.

Your lips parted slightly, eyes widening just a fraction. “What?”

He smirked. “Guess we were both cowards then, huh?”

You stared at him for a long moment before laughing again, softer this time. He wasn’t sure if it was the firewhiskey or the way you were looking at him, but something in his chest ached in the best way possible.

“Yeah,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I guess we were.”

Mattheo didn’t think this time. He just moved.

His hand lifted to your face, fingers grazing your jaw as he tipped your chin up ever so slightly. He wanted to give you time to pull away, to stop him, but you didn’t.

You just looked at him with wide, expectant eyes—like you had been waiting for this.

That was all it took.

His lips brushed against yours, hesitant at first, testing, like he still couldn’t quite believe that this was happening. But the second you exhaled against him, your fingers clutching at his shirt, he lost any hope of restraint.

Mattheo deepened the kiss, his other hand settling on your waist as he tugged you closer, swallowing the soft sound you made as your body pressed flush against his. His head spun, the alcohol and the way you felt under his hands combining into something intoxicating, something entirely addictive.

You kissed him back with just as much desperation, as if trying to make up for all the time wasted, for all the moments you had both been too blind, too stubborn, to see what was right in front of you.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your lips slightly swollen, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt like you had no intention of letting go.

He smirked, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Well,” he murmured. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “I do hate you.”

He only grinned. “You keep saying that.”

Before you could think of a retort, the music shifted—something fast, something intoxicatingly reckless—and Mattheo’s grip on your waist tightened.

“Dance with me,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “What?”

“Come on.” He tugged at your hand, a rare kind of excitement lighting up his face. “Before I change my mind.”

You hesitated. “I don’t—”

But he was already pulling you toward the throng of students swaying and spinning near the center of the room.

The air was thick with heat and laughter, bodies pressed close as the song pulsed through the space. Mattheo spun you once before settling his hands on your waist again, his fingers splaying over the curve of your hips as he pulled you against him.

Your pulse hammered, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders. “Mattheo—”

“Relax,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Just let go.”

And you did.

Because how could you not? When his hands held you like this, like he needed you close? When his dark eyes never strayed from yours, like you were the only thing in the room that mattered?

So you moved with him, your bodies falling into an effortless rhythm, his touch burning into your skin as he guided you, his smirk never fading as he watched you unravel.

“See?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “Told you this wasn’t so hard.”

You laughed, breathless, the sound lost in the music.

And as Mattheo’s fingers tightened around you, his grip firm and sure, you realized—

You never wanted to let go.

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

#cute cute cute!! 🤩💖😊#slytherin boys #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader

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handmade-witch · 8 months ago

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WICKED (2024) — dir. Jon M. Chu

#wicked #ariana grande #cynthia erivo #wicked 2024

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handmade-witch · 8 months ago

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"Glinda! Is it true you were her friend?" "Friend? Yes."

#wicked #wicked movie #wicked 2024 #ariana grande #cynthia erivo

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handmade-witch · 8 months ago

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WICKED (2024) dir. Jon M. Chu

#wicked #wicked 2024 #gif #ariana grande #cynthia erivo

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handmade-witch · 8 months ago

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with all the power in oz

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 2.2k words summary: the reader, rather anxious and studious, finds their self head-over-heels with none other than fiyero, supposed boyfriend to galinda upland. to placate this, they somewhat agree to meet him at the ozdust ballroom. a/n: YOU pronouns are used to address the reader, but there is no usage of y/n. just watched the movie today. tried to find a fic, couldn't. here I am writing one instead. reader worries a lot. so me. you're welcome. also, I'm going into this blind. I have unfortunately never seen the actual musical (downsides to living in the middle of nowhere) so I'm only going off based on wikis and the movie. it should be gn as I read through it like... five different times, but please let me know if I missed something!

Breathtaking. That's what he was. But could you truly refer to a man like him as breathtaking?

The very features that graced his face were absolutely mesmerizing, and you felt like a fool watching him at times. How could you not? He seemed so full of life, so full of... well, not a care in the world, really. It was as if he brushed everything off of his shoulders without hesitation.

You could only wished you were the same way.

No cares, no worries. How lovely that would have been.

No, you hold onto the things that happen to you as if you have no other way to live. You hold grudges, you think over things that happened years ago that no one could possibly remember.

For someone who wished to be a sorcerer, you had a hard time simply letting things go. Your emotions often got the better of you, even when you knew better. Even when you wished it could be the opposite. But perhaps that was the way of the world.

Not a man in Oz could tell you otherwise.

Books in hands, you crossed the path to your dormitory, brows cinched together in mild concentration.

You had a project in your history class, and an extensive paper to complete on the study of mathematics—of all the things you could have had, a paper in mathematics. You'd rather perform magic in front of the entire student body, but you couldn't.

As you walked, you heard your name come from behind you. Eyes flicker back, a soft frown on your lips. You see him—Fiyero. The one fool you meant to avoid with all the gumption within you.

You'd melt just being near him.

"Fiyero," you softly greet.

He gave you a charming smile, coming up to walk with you. "Heading back already?" he asked.

"I am."

"Working on the project, hm? We could work on it together if you'd like. I'm sure our minds could do wonders," he said, a playful wink coming from him.

"I'm fine," you simply said.

He blinked slowly, but his smile never wavered. "Come now," he said, your name leaving his lips rather sweetly. "Surely you're not going to spend the rest of your evening alone. Why don't you come to Ozdust tonight?"

You looked back at him, frowning. "Ozdust. Me. I don't think so, Fiyero."

"And why not? I'm sure you'd be as dashing as ever."

You stopped in your steps, eyes searching his for but a moment. "Dashing. Are you in earnest, Fiyero?"

"Yes," he said, smiling.

"And what of Galinda? You'll be with her. Why invite me?"

"She doesn't need to know. It's not her business," he said. "Besides, she will be busy with Elphaba. I'd much rather spend time with you."

"And I think you're just pulling my leg," you said defensively. You crossed your arms over your chest, careful to keep your books close.

"Pulling your leg? I haven't even touched you," he said, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Come now, don't play coy. You should come."

"And if I do?"

"Then I'll be quite happy."

You rolled your eyes and went to walk away.

A hand wrapped around your bicep, and you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.

His eyes widened a bit and he dropped his hand, albeit hesitantly. Perhaps he didn't think he would actually reach out to you. He cleared his throat.

"I really would like you to be there. You'll have the time of your life."

"The time of my life," you repeated. "I don't think you realize how much I dread parties."

"Have you ever been to one?"

"No."

"Then how do you know you dread them?"

"I just know," you said. "I feel it in my bones. I know going will just get on my nerves."

He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. "I think you're foolish for that," he said. "Come on. What are you losing? A couple hours to work on a project that you know you could finish in a morning session? You'll be fine. Come to the Ozdust tonight. I'll show you a good time."

You clenched your jaw. "I don't want—"

"—I would like you to be there. That is all. I won't ask again." He gave you another small smile before he looked away. "I'll see you around. Perhaps tonight?"

You stared him down. He would like to see you there? Was he being honest? And what of Galinda? Would he be going behind her back? Wasn't he madly in love with her, or something? Or was it the other way around?

He said your name once more, and you looked up at him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Right. Perhaps tonight," you softly said.

The smile on his lips was rather... hopeful than anything else. There wasn't anything smarmy by it. He seemed as genuine as the glint in his eye—the one he used when he spoke with anyone he trusted. At least, you hoped so.

The night came quickly as you finished up your outfit—one you would hope you didn't look completely foolish in. The color you chose seemed to fit well with almost anything, but you still worried. You always worried about something.

Time was of the essence. You weren't even supposed to leave Shiz University's campus, but here you were, sneaking like some scoundrel.

Well, perhaps you were, listening to the requests of a man who already had a girlfriend—a fantastically beautiful one at that.

But you paid no mind. You did what you could, and soon, you found yourself walking down the steps of the Ozdust Ballroom.

Never had you been in a place like this. It was almost... breathtaking, had it not been for the overpowering smells of perfume and some kind of drink wafting from the bar. Your eyes flitted from patron to patron until you finally spotted him—Fiyero.

He looked just as handsome as ever.

Good Oz, what in the world were you doing? This was foolish.

You took a step back, staring at Fiyero for a moment as he spoke with another man, drink in hand. You needed to leave. This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous! Never in a thousand years would you ever imagine yourself to do such a thing—

"You made it!"

Fiyero's voice rang out above the music.

You look to him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Because of course he saw you as soon as you had decided to leave.

Fiyero smiled and made his way to you, taking your hands in his, drink left with the confused man behind him. Surely he didn't just up and leave in the middle of his conversation.

You part your lips and go to speak, but to your dismay, Fiyero is instant.

"I was afraid you had changed your mind," he said. "You look ravishing, darling."

Your eyes widened. Ravishing? You'd been called many things in your life, but never ravishing.

"Galinda couldn't make it?" you asked.

"Wha—no, she couldn't. But what of it? I didn't ask her to the Ozdust, I asked you. I'm glad to see your face."

Warmth blossomed in your cheeks as you watched him. "Fiyero, please... I shouldn't be here."

"Oh, nonsense," he said, grinning all the while. "Come. Dance with me."

"But I don't—"

"—do not say you don't dance. I can teach you."

"Teach me?"

"It's as easy as breathing," he said.

"For you, maybe, but not for—"

"—humor me," he said, smiling.

You pursed your lips. Of course he had to give you that charming smile and the sweet bat of his eyelashes.

"I do not dance," you repeated.

"I think I will be the judge of that."

He grabbed your hands once more and pulled you out into the ballroom floor, smiling all the while.

"You'll be a natural. I can just see it."

"I feel like if I were a natural, you wouldn't have to teach me," you said, gasping as he pulled you close to his chest. His face was dangerously close to yours, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"You know," he began, eyes flickering back to your eyes. "We all start somewhere, do we not? You should know that better than anyone."

"What? What does that—"

He interrupted you by spinning you by your arm, back into his embrace. The music was rather ambient, not quite one for dancing so enthusiastically, but Fiyero embraced it. Hand to your hand, face close to your face.

"See? A natural."

"You merely spun me around, Fiyero. Do not be foolish."

"You could have fell flat on your face," he said, a boyish grin evident on his lips.

"Stop looking at me like that," you defiantly said. "You are far too close to me for my liking."

"Oh, feisty, are we?" he asked, moving his body along to the music and forcing you to go along, too. You nearly stepped on his toes several times. "I do not think there is anything wrong with the way I'm looking at you. You're rather breathtaking, if I may."

Breathtaking. The same way you had described him only hours before. He wasn't a mind reader, was he?

No.

Of course not. That was foolish. He was merely a man. Nothing of great importance—no power within him other than the power he held in every single eyelash as they batted down at you, making you melt over and over again.

"What of Galinda?" you repeated.

"What of her?"

"You shouldn't be calling someone who isn't yours breathtaking. It's quite..."

"There is nothing wrong with admiring the beauty in front of me," he said, your name playfully leaving his tongue. "Look at me. Galinda and I are only friends."

You rolled your eyes. "Do not lie to me."

His eyes widened a bit. "Lie? I do not lie. We are friends and nothing more. Though I do believe she thinks differently..."

"She must," you said, huffing softly.

"But that does not make it true. I have eyes for someone else."

"Eyes for someone else?"

He tilted his head once more. He was rather endearing when he did that.

"Who did I ask to their very first party?" he asked, smiling. "It's quite a feat, isn't it? Afraid you wouldn't show, and then you do, questioning me and everything I stand for, hm?"

Warmth found its way to your cheeks once more. You looked away from him. With the crescendo of the music, Fiyero pulled you closer, fingers lacing with yours. His lips hover dangerously close to yours.

"You know, if you would just give it a chance, perhaps you and I could make some magic of our own."

You let out a curt laugh. "You—oh, good Oz, I hope you never use that line on anyone! Has that worked for you before?"

He gave a cheeky smile. "It seems like it's working on you."

"Absolutely not!"

"Not even a little!"

"No!"

His smile only seemed to grow. "Truly?"

You looked away, swallowing thickly. "I mean... no. Not even a little. Not at all."

"You're lying," he said.

"I am not."

"I do think I know what I'm talking about," he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin of your cheek. "Come now," he said. "Stop with the lies."

You looked up at him, a soft huff escaping you.

"Fine. I lied. It may or may not be working. But it's not just because of what you said."

"Oh? Are you saying you like me for more than my suave words?"

"Suave words? Who in Oz said they were suave?"

He just smiled, his eyes flickering to your lips once more. "Do you think instead of just a dance, I could try something more?"

"Try what?"

"I think you know."

You blinked slowly at him, your fingers gently gripping onto his tunic. Your lips part in mild surprise, but you realize that you shouldn't have been. He'd been eyeing you the entire evening.

"Very well," you softly said.

"Wonderful," he replied, and in a swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours. It was short as he pulled back almost as soon as he had kissed you, but it was enough to keep you wanting more.

"Fiyero, that wasn't—"

"—come with me," he softly said, lacing his fingers with yours once more. "Somewhere without so many prying eyes, yes?"

Your answer was almost instant: "Yes."

Fiyero led you back up the staircase, and he didn't look back once at the ballroom.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Somewhere where I can see you and only you," he said. "If that's alright."

"Oh," you softly said. "Yes. That's alright."

"Then follow me," he said. "Do you trust me?"

You smiled sincerely for one of the first times in the evening. Did you trust him? What kind of foolish question was that? If you had the chance, you'd do whatever he'd ask of you. You found your answer rather quickly, knowing within yourself that it was far truer than any other statement you had ever uttered.

"With all the power in Oz."

#wicked movie #fiyero tigelaar x reader

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handmade-witch · 8 months ago

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your fiyero | fiyero tigelaar x reader

Pairing: Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader Summary: Ever since Fiyero Tigelaar started at Shiz University, he found himself fascinated by you – the one student who didn't care about him. When he notices you starting to struggle with something, he'll do anything to make sure you're okay. Warnings: Mentions of fainting, falling over, academic stress/burn out Word Count: 2.2k A/N: I've seen Wicked (the show) three times now with the amazing Australian cast that's currently touring and I fell totally head over heels with Fiyero, and then yesterday I saw the movie and fell even more in love with Fiyero and so I had to write for him. I do intend to write more for him, especially if other people want to read more! He's so fun to write for and definitely a challenge compared to some other characters I've written for in the past. I hope you all enjoy! 💗

It’s not difficult to sense the presence of Fiyero Tigelaar behind you as you leave Doctor Dillamond’s classroom, shoving your books into the bag over your shoulder. With the way the students heading into the classroom are staring at someone behind you, it’s quite obvious who they’re staring at. Everyone at Shiz University wants Fiyero Tigelaar.

Everyone, that is, except you.

“Classes are over, you know?” Fiyero’s voice comes from behind you as you round the corner, heading down the staircase leading to the courtyard. “You don’t have to rush off.”

Irritatingly, the fact that you can’t particularly care less about wanting Fiyero Tigelaar makes himwant you. He usually isn’t the type. If someone doesn’t like him – something he’s actually yet to experience – he would just let it slide. Why waste his energy? But ever since he’d started at Shiz and met you, he’d found himself unable to leave you alone.

“I know,” you glance back at him over your shoulder. “But some of us actually want to study and spend their time here learning, Tigelaar.”

Fiyero hurries his steps a little so he’s walking alongside you. “Did you miss the part where I said it was my job to corrupt my fellow students when I started here? It’s never too late, darling.” He flashes a grin your way.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him, right at the same time you almost miss a step and stumble a little. Fiyero is quick, catching your elbow to help steady you. You don’t look at him as you steady yourself, meaning you miss the look of worry in his eyes.

“Are you all right?”

You clear your throat and shake off his grip. “Consider me corrupted by your presence.”

With that, you make a beeline away from him and you’re glad to notice that he doesn’t attempt to follow you. You highly doubt that he’s going to follow you all the way to the library. Fiyero and the library have never exactly gone hand in hand.

The next time Fiyero bothers you, you’re sat on one of the benches by the gardens. There’s a book in your hands and he can see you staring intently at it as he saunters over to you. It’s almost like he’s approaching a wild bird or something, he thinks. If he moves too quickly, he’ll frighten you and scare you away. It’s the last thing Fiyero wants to do.

He’s a few steps away from you when you look up from your book and meet his eyes. His face breaks into a smile as he moves the last few steps and takes the spot beside you on the bench. You turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised.

“Now, don’t say I’m interrupting your study,” he begins. “That book is most definitely not in the curriculum. And yes, I did actually take the time to look the curriculum up after I saw you reading here the other day, if you can believe it.”

For a few moments, you only stare at him. Fiyero, for the first time probably ever, finds himself actually a little uncomfortable at your unwavering gaze. It surprises him. He’s never the type of person to feel uncomfortable. He’s confident in almost every situation.

You let out a sigh. “It may not be in the curriculum, but you’ve interrupted me nevertheless, Tigelaar.”

“Apologies,” he says, with a small smirk. “Am I corrupting you even more with my presence?”

“Something like that.” You close your book and sit it on the small space of bench beside you. You had actually just been reading the same page over and over for the last twenty minutes and trying to convince yourself to stop overthinking things.

You had so much studying to do, so much to learn and so many assignments to do and so little time to do it all. It was probably a little counterproductive to be sitting outside, reading a book and doing none of those things, but if you didn’t try and have a break from them all, you were pretty sure you were going to burn yourself out, which was the last thing you needed. It would have helped if you’d actually been able to relax and enjoy your book, though.

“Is it any good? Your book. Not that I’d read it, of course,” Fiyero grins.

You try your best to conceal your amusement. “I’d offer to lend it to you but, as you said, you wouldn’t actually read it so… I’ll keep it safe with me. I doubt the Winkie Prince knows how to properly take care of books if he can’t read them.”

Fiyero gasps jokingly. “I’ll have you know I can read, I just choose not to. I prefer to fill my brain with much more useless things. That way, I don’t have to think. It’s a peaceful way to live, my darling.”

You shake your head, this time unable to keep a smile off of your face. Fiyero likes the sight of it. It strangely makes his heart beat a little faster. He can’t actually remember the last time he saw you smiling… not that he’s been keeping track.

“How about you join me?” He offers. “No more studying for the rest of the day and no more thinking? I’m positive I could find something we could do to fill the time.”

The reminder of studying, however, brings you back to reality after you small moment of joking with Fiyero. You reach down and grab your book before standing up and turning to face Fiyero, who is looking at you with slight concern in his eyes at your sudden movement.

“I can’t,” you say simply. “I’ve been reading all morning and there is a lot I have to do. I’ll see you around, Tigelaar.”

He watches you with furrowed eyebrows as you walk away from him, clutching your book to your chest and heading in the direction of the library. Fiyero shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. He really thought today would be the day he’d win you over.

A week goes by without Fiyero even getting to utter a word to you. He sees you, though, fairly often around the school. In the courtyard, in the library (where he definitely didn’t go specifically looking for you), in history class and in the dining hall. But every time he’s thought to approach you, you’ve disappeared before he could even make his move. It’s on the seventh day when he notices that something is different about you.

You’re coming out of the library, carrying several books and what looks like a stack of papers in your hands when you trip. Fiyero isn’t quick enough to cross the courtyard and get to you in time to stop your fall. He does, however, take off at a run to be by your side as you start collecting all of the scattered pieces of paper and books that had fallen out of your grasp.

“It’s all right, Tigelaar. You don’t have to help me,” you mutter, trying to shove books into your already overfilled bag. “It’s a Friday night. I’m sure you’ve got other places to be.”

Fiyero, truthfully, does have other places to be. He’s been invited to the Ozdust Ballroom by nine separate people today. But how can he leave you to just clean all this up by yourself? He can see just by the look on your face that you’re utterly exhausted.

“I do,” he says honestly. “But I’ll help you with this first.”

He’s surprised when you suddenly stop putting things in your bag and when he looks up, he finds you staring at him again. It makes him uncomfortable in the same way he felt last week when you’d looked at him in a similar way.

“Okay,” you sigh.

Your lack of energy in fighting him is the second thing to make Fiyero realise something is wrong.

After the two of you finish picking up all of the things you’d dropped, the both of you stand. Fiyero opens his mouth to say something when he notices you start to sway. He’s quicker this time, moving to catch you before you fall. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you steady, while his other hand takes the book bag off your shoulder and moves it straight onto his. He’s surprised by how heavy it is.

“Woah, darling, what’s going on?” Fiyero looks down at you as you blink and push yourself away from him. “Hey, be careful, okay? I think you were just about to faint.”

You shake your head. “I just stood up too fast, that’s all.” You know the words are a lie, and you can tell that Fiyero knows that as well. First, he’d seen you trip coming out of the library, then he’d caught you when you’d almost fainted… you can’t hide it from him. That much becomes crystal clear immediately.

“Let’s get you somewhere you can sit down, okay?” Fiyero begins. “May I?” He gestures to you, asking silently if he can wrap an arm around you to support you incase you fall over again.

You nod and allow him to guide you just around the corner into the small seating area off to the side of the library. It’s dark, the lanterns not being lit yet despite the fact that the sun had gone down over twenty minutes ago.

“I swear I’m not usually this clumsy,” you say sheepishly. “That’s twice you’ve stopped me from falling in the last two weeks… I suppose I should say thank you, Fiyero.”

Fiyero sits you down gently on the bench and sits your book bag down on the ground. He crouches down in front of you and reaches up to take your hands in his. He’s surprised when you don’t immediately pull away from him. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”

“Oh,” you think on it for a second, trying to ignore the warm feeling of his hands and how comforting it is. “I guess I haven’t. Sorry, Tigelaar.”

“No, no,” Fiyero shakes his head. “Don’t go back to that. I like when you call me Fiyero.”

“Well, I suppose it is your name,” you offer a small smile.

“There’s that gorgeous smile,” Fiyero smiles back at you and squeezes your hands. “Now, are you gonna tell me why you almost just fainted on me and why you’re clumsier than you usually are, darling?”

You stay silent for a few moments and just when Fiyero begins to think that you might just brush him off and try to make a quick exit like you did last week, you start to speak.

“I haven’t really been sleeping well lately,” you admit quietly. “I’ve had so much work to do, I fell behind on my assignments and I took on some extra work from Doctor Dillamond and… despite my best efforts, I guess I let myself get a little burnt out.”

Fiyero looks at you with his eyes full of pity and you hate it.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “that’s not important. Why would you care?”

Your attempt to make light of the situation fails spectacularly, judging by the look that Fiyero gives you afterwards. You’ve never seen him look that unimpressed before.

“Of course I care,” he says, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why, though?” You can’t help but ask. “Why are you so fixated on me?”

Fiyero sighs and moves to sit beside you, letting go of your hands in the process. “If you’ll allow me to be honest with you for a moment,” he starts, “I suppose… you’re the only person at Shiz that doesn’t treat me like the perfect Winkie Prince that everyone thinks I am. You’re the only person that doesn’t think I’m perfect, and half the time you act like you can’t stand to be around me, and for some reason that only makes me want to be around you more.”

“Are you not the perfect Winkie Prince?” You ask.

Fiyero grins. “Oh, not in the slightest, darling. But let’s keep that between us. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. How does that sound?”

You don’t even try to hide the smile that comes to your face at his words. “You promise you won’t tell anyone about what happened today?”

“I promise,” he nods. “But only on one condition: you tell Doctor Dillamond you can’t complete the extra work you signed up for and you take a break to make sure you get plenty of rest before diving into your other assignments. I’m sure I can sweet talk some of the Professors if you need help.”

He smiles as you hit him with the same look as before, but for the first time, he doesn’t find himself feeling uncomfortable at the sight of it. Now, he finds it slightly amusing and incredibly endearing. He has always found you endearing, he supposes.

“Sweet talking my Professors will not be necessary,” you chuckle. “But okay. It’s a deal. And I’ll keep your secret too. You can continue to be the perfect Winkie Prince to everyone… except me.”

Fiyero laughs. “I’ll just be your Fiyero, then.”

“My Fiyero?” You repeat after him, eyebrows raised.

He ignores the way his heart beats faster at the sound of those words coming out of your mouth.

“Yes, your Fiyero,” he hums.

“Everyone will think that you finally corrupted me after all this time,” you joke, voice teasing. “I’ll just be like everyone else at Shiz. Part of the Fiyero Tigelaar fan club.”

Fiyero fixes you with a look. “Oh, darling. You could never be like everyone else.”

#grinning and kicking my feet! 💗#very cutesy #wicked #fiyero tigelaar x reader

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